Once Mel began leading the family rides, Jeb began acting more like an indulgent big brother to her then, as if she was an unpaid servant. Mel didn't know whether his change in attitude was because she was doing her job well or because he'd become friends with her mother. He could be trying to please Dawn by being nicer to her daughter. When a week passed and she hadn't received a pay check, she asked him, “How much does a wrangler make?”
“Enough to starve on,” Sally said over his shoulder as he lugged the last of the tack into the small barn.
“Nobody starves on this ranch,” Jeb said.
“True enough,” Sally said. “It's the good cooking keeps us all here.” He disappeared through the open barn door carrying a saddle.
“You said you'd pay me if I led the family rides, didn't you, Jeb?” Mel demanded.
“Yeah, well. Yeah, I did, didn't I?” Jeb rubbed the back of his neck as if he were regretting that. “Okay, you're on the payroll.”
She believed it when the first check came the next Friday, small but real. Mel squealed with delight and handed it over to her mother to deposit in a bank account for her. She was so thrilled with the card-sized bank book that she carried it out to the tack room where Sally was mending a bridle and made him look at it. “Can you believe it?” she said. “I'm really on my way to buying my own horse.”
“I'll say,” he said. “Looks like you've gotten to be a regular riding fool this summer.”
“No, I haven't,” she said, quick to correct him.
“Folks who like horses mostly like riding them,” Sally said, shaking his head as if he didn't understand her.
“I like them just as much when my feet are on the ground.”
Sally grinned. “I once had a horse turn around and bite me in the butt right after I'd fed him, and my feet were planted firm as rocks on the ground.”
She laughed.
“It hurt,” Sally said indignantly. “You think a nip from those big square teeth don't hurt?”
“Did you bite him back?” Mel asked.
“No, but I whacked him good. So what's the real story, Mel?”
“Why should I tell you? You don't tell me anything.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How come you never got married?”
“Who says I didn't?”
“Then what happened to your wife?”
Sally swiveled around on the nail keg he was perched on to face her. “It's a long story.”
Mel promptly sat down on the dirty wooden floor, cross legged, to show her readiness to listen.
“See, I worked on a ranch near where I was raised in Texas,” he said. “I was just a kid, and I didn't know much, but I knew I liked the ranch owner's daughter a whole lot. And she liked me. But she was her daddy's little girl, and he thought I was no-count and always would be. Truth is I wasn't any great shakes at school and cowboys don't never get rich. Anyway, when Clara, the old man's daughter, told him we were fixing to get married, he said to wait. She figured waiting wasn't going to hurt us and that he'd come around to liking me in time. So we waited. We waited and years passed and nothing changed.” Sally stopped to remove his beat-up cowboy hat and rub his head. “You sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes.” Mel brought her knees up and rested her chin on them, preparing to listen some more.
“Okay, so one day when Clara was edging onto thirty and I got my first gray hair, we eloped. Came back married. Her daddy was mad. He said we could stay on the ranch, and it would still be Clara's someday. But if we set off on our own, he'd make sure she never inherited it. Well, that ranch was a piece of Clara's heart. So we stayed, and her daddy worked at making my life miserable any way he could.”
“Like what did he do?” Mel asked.
“Oh, he found fault with every chore I did, made me out to be a fool or an idiot. And Clara got uptight because we couldn't seem to make a baby. One day I had enough of it. I told her either she left with me or I was leaving by myself. Well, she couldn't bring herself to leave her daddy or the home she grew up in, so I went.” He shrugged. “And here I am.”
“She never asked you to come back?”
Sally smiled. “We stay in touch regular, Mel. But we're both as set in our ways as her old man. So like I said, I'm still here.”
“That's so sad,” Mel said.
Sally shrugged. “Okay, that's my story. What's yours, Mel?”
Mel looked him in the eye. “If you got mocked for looking like a scarecrow in horseback, would you ride?”
“Who told you that?”
“A girl who knew. I was riding her horse in a show, and I messed up bad.”
“You have a lot of riding lessons before hand?”
“No.”
“So what are you telling me? You try something once and blow it and that's it? You give up and decide you can't do it?”
She shrugged.
“Anyways, you ride just fine now,” he said.
“I do?”
He frowned at her. “Of course you do. Think I'd let you take off on Colby if I didn't think you were a good rider?”
“Oh, Sally,” she said, and she hugged him hard.
* * * *
Every week for the rest of July, Mel led family rides around Beaver Lake. Twice a week on different days, she led groups up to the picnic grounds for a breakfast hike. That was the other easy trail. Nothing happened, nothing bad. No one mocked her riding ability, and after a couple of weeks, she rode relaxed in the saddle on Colby's back. He wasn't the affectionate horse that Lily was, but he was alert to everything around him, his dark eyes took in every variation in his surroundings—the ranch's van parked in front of the dining hall, the lawn mower buzzing past the pond, and Mel herself when she appeared. “At least Colby recognizes me and comes to me when he sees me,” Mel told Denise. “Although, I suppose that's because I give him treats.”
“Or because he trusts you,” Denise said. “You're really good with horses, Mel.”
“You better think so if we're going into business together,” Mel said. And they slapped high fives.
By midsummer, the ranch had a full complement of guests to take out on the various levels of trail rides. Jeb and Sally had finally sorted out which horses did best leading and which didn't get along and were likely to fight if they were out in the same group. They knew which horses cared whose rump they followed, and which ones stumbled too often on rocky trails. They could warn a guest whose mount had a habit of nipping other animals or who would kick if another horse rode up his butt. The ranch was operating like a well-conducted orchestra, and Mel was proud to be playing a part in it.
Then one morning Jeb stopped beside Mel as she was grooming her tall, speckled horse.
“Nobody signed up for the family ride this morning, Mel, and my horse's gone lame, so I'm borrowing Colby.”
“But Colby's my horse,” she said in alarm.
Jeb ran his hand down the horse's shoulder making Colby shudder. “You bought him when I wasn't looking?” he asked slyly.
“I don't have enough saved yet.”
“Yeah, well. Then he's still out on hire to the ranch, right? You tack him up for me. I'm going to see how good you trained him.”
Furiously Mel did as she was told. In short order, Jeb swung into the saddle and led his riders out of the corral, opening and closing the gate from horseback. Mel had no more than half an hour to smolder with indignation before Jeb came loping back. His shirtsleeve was torn and his arm was bloody.
“This fool horse's more scared rabbit than equine,” Jeb said to Sally who'd opened the gate for him. “He don't like cars honking at him on the road and loose rock drives him wild.”
“He buck you off, Jeb?” Sally asked with sly sympathy.
“Now you know I can ride anything on four legs, Sally. I stayed on him, but he jammed me into a tree. Can't use him for trail riding, that's for sure.”
“He's fine with me,” Mel said, looking up from the sore on a horse's leg that she was bandaging.
“You think so? Well, it's your hide,” Jeb said, and he had Sally tack up another horse for him so he could rejoin the group that he'd left waiting for him up the road.
* * * *
One week, four of Mel's eight riders included a tight-lipped, frowning father, his twin ten-year-old sons, and a teenage daughter who was complaining about having to get up so early. “It's my vacation too, Daddy,” the girl said. “Why can't I just go on afternoon rides?”
“Because we're doing things together this week,” the father said. When Mel adjusted his stirrups, he asked her if she was going to be leading them.
“Yes, I'm your wrangler this morning. ”“My name's Mel.”
“You look young to be leading us,” the father replied. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Same age as my daughter.” Without another word, the man pulled his horse out of line and walked him over to where Jeb was standing with the checklist of morning riders.
“I want a more mature wrangler. It's dangerous to give a fifteen-year-old responsibility for a group of riders,” the man said to Jeb.
Jeb's jaw twitched. All available wranglers, including Jeb himself, were assigned to more difficult trails. “Mel's really good with horses,” Jeb said. “She's been leading this ride for weeks without a problem.”
“What if something goes wrong on the trail? How's a kid her age to deal with it?”
“She's got a cell phone. She'll call for help like any other wrangler.”
“I'm not comfortable with that. I'm asking you to send someone more experienced with us.”
“You can take the morning ride up to the breakfast stop on the mountain,” Jeb said. “We got a college boy leading that in half an hour.”
The man turned to his sons who were mounted and ready. The one who looked like a smaller, thin-lipped version of him said angrily, “You promised us, Dad.”
“My sons want to see the beavers,” the man said to Jeb.
“All right, tomorrow morning I'll switch wranglers around,” Jeb said. “You can do Beaver Lake tomorrow and today do the mountain trail. How's that?”
“We want to go today,” the other twin said.
The man studied his sons for a few seconds, shrugged, and said to Jeb, “Okay, we'll follow that girl, but I hold you responsible if anything goes wrong.”
Mel swung into her saddle and was ready to lead her group out when Jeb stepped up beside her to say quietly, “Be extra careful with this bunch. Don't let nothing happen or we're both in deep horse doo.”
Mel nodded and swallowed hard. She started down the road with a stomach clenched around the waffles she had had for breakfast. The two hours on the trail had better go off without incident or she'd lose her job and any hope of earning enough to buy Colby. The frowning father was riding tail for her group behind his two sons. Ahead of them was an older couple, not related to them. They'd introduced themselves as Sam and Mabel. The thirteen-year-old daughter rode in front of Mabel on a bay that kicked any horse that came too close behind it. Mel twisted around in her saddle and rode backwards for a bit to warn Mabel that she needed to keep her horse, General, out of kicking range.
“Will do,” the grandmotherly woman said.
But then after they'd gone over the bridge and were climbing the rock-strewn slope to the road, Mabel turned to tell her husband something about the altitude pills he was supposed to have taken. “Are you feeling all right, sweetie?” she asked him, not paying attention to her horse.
General, feeling the reins loosen, started to trot, and in doing so, shoved up into the girl's horse, which promptly kicked a hind leg out. The girl screamed, and General bolted across the road. Mel scrambled after Mabel and caught her horse's lead line.
“Whoa,” she said. “Whoa, General.” She walked him a few feet up the hill ahead of the group until he had calmed. “Are you all right?” she asked Mabel.
“I think so.” I didn't fall off, did I?”
“No, you sure didn't,” Mel said. “I guess General just spooked when he got kicked. He'll be fine now. But maybe you better ride more back in the line, like behind your husband?”
“Good idea.”
Mel led General to his new place in line and returned to her lead position.
Nothing further happened on the ride. One of the twins saw the head of a swimming beaver, and the whole party got excited at the sighting. When they'd returned to the corral and had dismounted, the father said to Mel, “You did a good job back there. I can see why they trust you. I wish my daughter were half as capable.”
“Maybe she would be if she had my job,” Mel said.
He raised an eyebrow and half smiled, but his daughter whispered, “Thanks,” to Mel as she swung off her horse.
After the family had trudged off in their borrowed cowboy boots toward the main hall where the raucous lunch bell was summoning them, Jeb asked Mel, “So how did it go? Think he's going to complain to Davis?”
“He said I did a good job.”
“He did? Whew!He had me worried there. Bet he's a lawyer or some kind of big shot. Next time anyone asks your age, you tell them you're sixteen, Mel. We don't need more hassles than we already got in this job.”
That evening, Mel's mother said, “I'm proud of you. Jeb says you're mature and dependable, and he isn't much for praising people.”
“You can say that again.”
Her mother just laughed.
The next morning someone said, “Hi,” as Mel was tacking up a bay for an all day pack trip that Sally was leading.
On the other side of the corral fence was the girl who'd been on the family ride yesterday. “Hi,” Mel replied.
“Do you work all day, or do you have time like to have a soda or something?” the girl asked.
“I'm done for the morning as soon as I finish this horse.”
“Good. I'd like to hear about your life.”
Mel laughed. “It's not much of a life.”
“Oh, yes, it is. My dad respects you, and he doesn't respect any other fifteen-year-old girls I know.” Her eyes were intent on Mel.
Mel led the bay over to the mounting block when Sally called for him. “I'm going to hang out with her for a while,” she said, pointing to the slim, black-haired girl waiting outside of the corral for her.
“Good.” Sally smiled.
At Mel's suggestion, she and the girl, who said her name was Tanya, skipped the soda. Instead, they walked over the bridge to the petting zoo with milk for the calf.
“So doesn't your father respect you?” Mel asked after she'd introduced Tanya to the goat that put his front hooves on Mel's knees and tried to chew her belt. She pushed him down and scratched around his ears while he nuzzled her.
“Dad expects me to be perfect,” Tanya said. “And when I'm not, he gets mad.”
“Tough,” Mel said.
“So are you related to the owner or something that they let you be a wrangler?” Tanya asked. It was her turn to wrestle the goat away from her shirt, which he seemed to find tasty.
“No. I'm just good with horses. It's the only thing I'm good at.”
“Really?” Tanya pushed the goat away. It scampered off and leapt to the roof of the shed. There it straddled the peaked roof. When it bleated as if it were calling for help, both girls giggled. “I'm a good student,” Tanya said. “And I play two instruments, and I won first prize with a portrait painting of my brothers this spring, but my father says I have no ambition.”
“You're kidding,” Mel said. “What would he say about me if he knew all I want is to save up enough to get my own horse?”
“Makes sense. I mean you wanting a horse. I hope you get one soon.”
“I'm working on buying Colby. Want to feed the calf?” She offered Tanya the bottle she'd been carrying.
“Not especially. I don't like how it slobbers. How about we try out the swimming pool?”
“Okay,” Mel agreed. She wasn't much of a swimmer and hadn't used the ranch's pool once, but being sought out by a girl like Tanya was flattering. Tanya reminded her of Lisa. Maybe a little spoiled, but talented—a star. Lisa had reached out to her, then Denise, and now Tanya. If this kept up, Mel would have to give up thinking of herself as a social misfit.
She fed the calf and then ran to her cabin to dig out her old swimsuit. There it was, scrunched in the back of her bottom dresser drawer. Luckily, it still fit although it was a couple of years old. It was mostly her legs that had stretched out. Looking around for something besides boots to protect her feet from the rock strewn ground, she realized that all her belongings would fit in one suitcase. Tanya probably owned a roomful of stuff and here she was envying Mel. The idea made Mel grin.