Page 94 of Guitars and Cages

“You still remember how to saddle up, boy?” he quipped, trying to smile, trying to tease me, trying to make this into anything other than a last request that I was honoring.

“Yes, sir,” I said, as my heart thundered in my chest.

“Well then, get to it. What are you waiting on, city boy? Move.” His smile spread, and I finally managed one, too.

I grabbed the saddle he’d rested on the fence, carrying it into the corral. It didn’t take me long to get the horse saddled. My fingers fumbled for a moment, and the hand that should have been casted gave a painful throb when I wrapped the cinch around it to help pull the saddle tight. I made a quick adjustment in the length of the stirrups, and then I was in the saddle, feeling the power of the horse as he shifted.

I patted his neck and spoke to him softly, my eyes closed, a thousand things running through my mind. When I opened them I walked him around the corral, adjusting to the feel and moving with him, willing myself to relax, knowing I was the one making him skitter and break stride. I could have sworn I heard Gage’s voice yelling in my ear that I was a chicken and to “come on, dammit,” and I laughed and loosened my hold on the reins, stopped pressing so hard with my knees, and let my body settle into the rhythm the pinto set.

I saw Earl on the far side of the corral, sliding back the bars and opening the gate. Conner was at his side, and the old man was saying something to him, but what it was I couldn’t hear. The gate opened and I urged the horse toward it. I did hear the old man then, whooping like a cowboy from the Wild West and yelling at me to ride. We surged out of that corral like we were made from the same flesh and bones, fused together, my body low over the horse’s neck, the wind whipping past us, galloping the way Gage and I had raced over these very same fields.

I could hear him laughing in my ear, only he wasn’t behind me this time, but far ahead, and I was the one racing to catch up. I slowed the pinto at the gully and walked him along the ridge to cool him down, looking down into the valley until my eyes drifted toward the ramshackle house in the distance, where I used to live. It was almost shocking that it was still standing, that the elements hadn’t conspired to tear it down. I wished they had; no one had lived there in years, not since the old man had gotten locked away. A half mile to the left of it sat Chase’s old place, the fields connecting them ragged and overgrown. This was the legacy our father had left us; the place our grandfather had built with sweat and blood, fallen to ruin by hate.

With a shuddering breath, I turned away, guiding the horse back toward the ranch, our pace slower, giving me time to ride and remember. How much time passed, I didn’t know, but the sun in the sky had changed before I made it back to the barn. I was hoping Earl wouldn’t mind that I’d ridden for so long. Conner was sitting beside him when I walked the horse in and swung down off of him.

“He’s right, you were made for riding.”

I blinked, looking from Conner to Earl.

“You’ve ridden?” I asked as I took off the saddle and started rubbing the pinto down.

Conner reached out, stroking the horse’s head. “Yeah, but not like that.”

“He was born for the saddle. It’s a shame he won’t come back and run the ranch the way he should have.”

“Chase was the one with the family; it was right that he be the one to inherit it. It’s Rory’s now—what’s left of it, anyway. I rode up to the ridge and took a look; I couldn’t help it. It’s pretty bad down there.”

“I figured you would. You boys always used to race to the ridge and back.”

I nodded, reminded of what I’d seen while I’d been up there, the way Gage had seemed to be riding with me all the way to the fence line.

“Mike don’t ever answer his phone, but I’ll leave him a message, let him know what it looks like now, see if maybe he won’t do something with it.”

“And you?” he asked.

My hands stilled, the smell of leather and horseflesh warm and pungent all around us.

“I miss this, but it ain’t mine to come back to. My old man made it pretty clear that Chase and Michael were the ones who’d be inheriting the ranch.”

If only he knew why, maybe then he’d understand why my old man had picked those two to inherit the ranch, while cutting out the youngest three. They were the two he’d been sure were his sons, so they were the two he’d left everything to. I didn’t tell him, though; it didn’t matter now. “Thank you for letting me ride.”

His weathered hand clasped my shoulder, turning me toward him, pulling me into a tight embrace. “He’d have loved to watch you today. Thank you for honoring his wish.”

I held on tight, finding it hard to swallow past the lump in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes again and threatening to spill over. “I saw him in the meadow, on the piebald stallion he had when we were kids, laughing as we had one last race.”

I didn’t think it possible, but he hugged me tighter then, and when he stepped back we were both crying and trying hard not to show it, ’cause cowboys don’t cry, or so the slogan says.

“It better not take years before you come back here again, you hear me, Asher? If I have to wait until I’m parked on the porch swing yelling at the whippersnappers to get off my lawn before you come strolling through here again, I’ll take after you with my cane, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hugged me again, softer, gentler. “I still have faith in you, son. Deep down you still know right from wrong, so you go on back to your city now and get your head straight. I’ll teach that boy all he needs to learn until you get your head outta your ass and come back and do right by him.”

Damn. I sniffed and stayed quiet, ’cause I knew he would, and I’d always be grateful to him for that. With a deep, shaky breath, I stepped back and looked to where Conner stood, farther up the row of stalls, giving us room. I’d never even heard him move.

“Guess we’d better go so we don’t have to drive all night to get back.”

Conner nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be pretty late as it is—or early, whichever.”

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