Page 122 of Saddles

I’m usually not one to eat it when it’s cold outside, but consider me a convert.

When we get back to the house, I’ll have to offer her something else to lick.

At the end of the lane leading to the ranch, I pull over to the long bank of mailboxes, slowing down in front of mine.

Along with a tuft of envelopes and fliers are two small rectangular boxes addressed to April.

“Looks like you get all the fun stuff today.” I hand them to her and she peers at the labels.

“Oh! My new phone finally got here! I might be able to catch up on all of my missed calls.” Her face pales. “A month’s worth. I can’t believe it’s Christmas tomorrow.”

It seems so long ago. I’ve nearly forgotten what life was like without April in it.

That part of me died that day in the snow. Every memory I have, I want her in it.

I pull up to the front steps and put it in park, but leave the engine running. Stepping around the hood, I open her door and help her down onto the snowy ground.

“I’m going to take your saddle to the tack room. I’ll be back in just a few.” Carrying the other bags of things we picked up in town, I drop them inside and then climb back in the cab.

This ranch is huge, and even just driving down the lane takes a few minutes.

The leather and oil smell is still pungent as I hoist the pad and buckles over my shoulder. One of the long belly bands flops over my chest, etched with tiny flowers.

They’re dyed a soft blue, in dainty designs.

I feel like I should know it, but I’ve never been much of a plant guy.

Pepper raises her head and nods, pinning her ears and baring her teeth as I walk by.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t your problem anymore. You buck April off, though, you and me are gonna have words.” Almost as if she understands, one ear raises and her lip drops.

“Atta, girl,” I grunt, pushing into the tack room.

The truck is still idling when I get in, and head to the house.

Our house.

In such a short time, April’s made it a home.

I look forward to going there. The four walls that used to torture me in silence are a welcome retreat when she’s there.

Her mouth is twisted with just the pink triangle of her tongue poking out as she flips through her phone. “I got in. I can’t believe I remembered my password!” She takes the last bite of her cone, then rinses her fingers under the sink before resuming her scrolling.

I hang my hat and heavy coat on the hook near the entry, then pull a beer out of the fridge before finding a spot on the couch to stretch out.

We had a big meal in Campton, making me drowsy.

“What the fuck?” she exclaims and rushes to the cushion next to me. “That bitch, Norma, left like five messages.” She hits the play button and puts it on speaker.

“Hi, April. I’m really sorry about your dad, and think we got off on the wrong foot. Can you give me a call? I’d love to go out for coffee sometime.” The nasally voice has a sing-song quality as she talks.

April’s brown eyes are saucers. “What kind of Twilight Zone shit is this?” She flicks her thumb over the screen. “That was the day after we saw him. All of her calls are after that.” Her brows scrunch as she starts the next one.

“Hi, April. I’d really like to chat. I think we can be really good friends if you’d call me back?” Norma’s voice reeks of desperation.

April shakes her head slowly. “I gotta backtrack. This one is from the hospital after we visited.”

I’m still irritated with how damn rude her father was.

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