I tighten my thighs on his sides and adjust until I’m comfortable. A familiar feeling of contentment settles over me. “We need to do this more,” I murmur while rubbing his neck.
I barely have to move my heel before Scooby heeds my direction and settles into a slow trot, taking us out of the barn. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the trails, and it’s too dark to traverse them now, so I steer Scooby to the long drive and head toward the road. The clopping of his hooves drowns out some of the background noise and the hum of traffic from the expressway. I tilt my face up to the moon, letting the cool air caress my cheeks. I love it out here. I love how quiet and still it is. You would never know suburbia is seven miles away and there are several major cities within forty.
Up ahead, a car speeds past on Godferson Road. As it rounds the curve, its headlights hit a vehicle parked near my mailbox. I pull back on the reins, and Scooby comes to a quick halt.
The sight of the parked car is unexpected. I’m used to the passing traffic, but why would someone be parked at the entrance to my driveway? The lights didn’t illuminate the car long enough for me to guess what kind of vehicle it is. I’d say an SUV of some sort, but it didn’t strike me as a junker. I wonder if someone has run out of gas or has a flat. I contemplate going out to see if they need help, but I talk myself out of it. Everyone has cell phones nowadays. If they need help, they can call for it.
I move to the side of the lane, so I can blend into the trees. I feel exposed for some reason. There are no hazard or interior lights on, so it’s too dark for me to see if anyone is inside. If the car hadn’t driven by and lit it up, I probably would have been right on top of it before even noticing it was there. I suddenly don’t feel as content. My little piece of secluded heaven now feels downright spooky.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, startling me. Scooby tosses his head and snorts. I think it surprised him too. I engage the reins slightly, and he steps backwards. I’m not pulling my phone out of my pocket now. I don’t need to alert whoever is out there to my presence with the bright light.
When the car is well out of sight, I turn Scooby around to head back to the barn. I planned on going for a longer ride, but something feels off. I don’t like knowing there’s someone sitting at the end of my driveway. My phone goes off again, and this time, I tug it out of my pocket.
Winger’s name appears on the screen. I wasn’t expecting him to call so soon. “Hello?” My voice is pitched low, even though I’m well away from the car.
“What are you doing?” he demands gruffly, making me feel like I need to defend myself.
“I’m not at work.”
“I know. Where are you?”
“At home. Is something wrong?” It’s not like we’ve spoken on the phone very often, but he seems more ill-tempered than I’m used to.
“No, just checking to make sure you listened.”
I click my tongue and guide Scooby into the barn. “So you just called to check up on me?” I can hear the doubt in my own words.
The line is quiet for so long, I think he hung up on me before he finally says, “I figured out something for you to do.”
“Oh yeah?” That perks me up. I switch the phone to my right hand and dismount.
“What are you doing?” he asks, making me think he can hear the jostling of the phone and me shifting around.
“Dismounting my horse. Sorry,” I answer without thinking.
“You were on a horse?” he questions.
I’m blurring the lines again. Winger has no idea I live on a ranch, so I change the subject. “Yup, did you say you had some work for me?” I don’t know why him knowing about me riding makes me uncomfortable, but it does.
“Like a real horse? Forget it. Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you’d be available tomorrow evening.”
“I can be. What do you need me to do?” I inquire. I want to know what it is before I commit myself to it.
“Hang on.” The line goes completely silent. He either switched to another line or muted me.
I start to unbuckle Scooby’s saddle, and he snorts to remind me he always gets a treat after a ride, even a short one. “Keep your shirt on. Let me get this off,” I mutter.
“Who are you talking to?” Wing asks, sounding hesitant.
“Nobody.” There’s some mumbling in the background, but I can’t make out who’s speaking or what they’re saying.
“You said keep your shirt on,” he reminds me, so I know he had me muted. “Who’s with you?” he presses.
I hear a noise outside the barn like crunching gravel. “Nobody, I was talking to my horse,” I tell him softly, but now it feels like there may be someone else here. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up, and I have the distinct feeling I’m being watched. I stare out into the darkness, but I can’t see anything beyond the door. It’s pitch-black. My breathing picks up as another wave of unease passes over me. Could it be someone from the car?
“Fel, you there?” Winger asks, making me think it’s not the first time he’s spoken. I hum a small reply, keeping my voice low. “I just wanted to make sure you would be available for tomorrow,” he repeats.
I take my eyes off the door, hurriedly removing Scooby’s tack. I can only focus on one thing at a time, and it seems like my safety is the most important issue right now. “Just let me know. I’ll be around if you need me.”
