Mel's head ached. She lay in bed clutching her pillow, feeling not only angry, but confused and betrayed by the adults who had claimed to be trying to help her. On the one hand they were offering her her horse, everyone from Mr. Jeffries who barely knew her, to Sally, who seemed to care for her as much as she did for him. Even Jeb was offering her something most girls would be thrilled to get—the chance to be a wrangler riding her own horse, a way for her to pay for Cheyenne and keep him for herself.
On the other hand none of them understood that she was tempting fate by riding. Mr. Jeffries said Cheyenne had been sorry for throwing her. No doubt he had. Cheyenne had more human feelings than any other horse she'd ever met. He wanted to keep her safe. Mel was sure he did. But something unexpected would happen. It wouldn't be another dirt truck, just something that would make Cheyenne lose control of himself—something that would make any horse lose control. It wasn't fair of Sally to try and push her into riding again. He should see by now that she was jinxed.
That morning, her mother came in dressed for work in a jeans skirt and sweater. “The doctor said you ought to be moving around now to help the healing process, Mel. I don't think you should be lying in bed all day.”
Reluctantly Mel got up. She dressed and went to the main building in time for breakfast. Talk at the staff table was about Sally's going away surprise party Friday evening. They were passing around a funny card for everyone to sign and planning how to decorate the room for him. The new cook said she'd serve his favorite menu, which was grilled steak and chocolate mousse cake. They were all chipping in for a gift certificate to a western clothing catalogue.
“Clothes for Sally?” Mel asked in surprise.
“Well, he shouldn't go back to his wife in the same clothes he left in, should he? And my guess is he hasn't bought himself anything new in years,” Mrs. Davis said.
“Besides all his duds smell of horse even after they're washed,” the cook said as she put down a platter of eggs and sausage. That got a laugh from the rest of the staff.
“I expect he'll own his father in law's ranch one of these days,” Mr. Davis said.
“His wife's the one that'll own it when her father dies,” Mrs. Davis pointed out. “Anyway, he's going back for her, not the ranch. He really loves that woman.”
“We're going to have a hard time finding a wrangler to fill Sally's place,” Mr. Davis said. “He's as good as they come.”
Mel shut her ears to the chitchat. She still wanted to give Sally a special present to remember her by. What could she get him that would be as wonderful as the belt he'd given her? It couldn't cost too much because she didn't have any money to spare. All she had was needed to pay down what she owed on Cheyenne.
After breakfast Mel followed her mother into the office. Dawn was already seated at the computer terminal. “Mom, I need to give Sally my own gift, a really nice one.”
Her mother swiveled her office chair around and said, “I'm sure he'd appreciate anything you give him, Mel. How about we borrow a camera and take a picture of you and Sally together?”
Mel shrugged. “Maybe.” But she wasn't taken with the idea. For one thing, she hated having her picture taken. For another, it seemed vain to expect that her picture would mean much to him once he had returned to his wife.
* * * *
On Thursday Mel went back to school. Except for her homeroom teacher, no one seemed to notice she'd been gone. But at lunch Maryann, a dark-haired girl with blue eyes and broad shoulders said, “Is it okay if I sit with you and Denise?”
“Sure,” Mel said. She was glad when it turned out that Maryann owned a horse she had raised from a colt. She wanted to hear all about Cheyenne when Denise said that Mel had tamed a wild mustang.
“Wow,” Maryann said. “You must be very good with horses.”
“She's a real horse whisperer,” Denise said proudly.
School seemed less demoralizing now that Mel could credit herself with a talent for something. Even if she was a flop at math and English, she was good at taking care of horses. She was even improving in the art of making friends.
That evening at dinner, plans for Sally's party got extended because the owner was making an unexpected weekend visit to the ranch accompanied by eight of his children and grandchildren. He'd be arriving after the party, but he'd be there Sunday morning when they said their farewells. Besides, Mr. Davis said the owner had asked to have the typical introduction to the ranch that guests would get.
“Got to take them out to the big barn, and Jeb can maybe have Sally demonstrate horsemanship on Rover before he leaves us,” Mr. Davis said.
“Seems unfair to make Sally perform,” Mrs. Davis said. “He ought to be an honored guest seeing as it's his last day.”
“How about Mel does the demonstration,” Sue said. “That's what you're going to be doing next season when you take Sally's place, isn't it, Mel?”
They were all looking at her. Most had heard that Jeb had offered her a regular job for the following spring, but they also knew that Cheyenne was down at Jeffries' pasture and that Mel hadn't ridden since her accident.
“Sally'd like that, Mel being his student so to speak. He's the one who taught you about horses, isn't he, Mel?” Mr. Davis asked.
“Yes,” Mel said. True enough that Sally had been the one who convinced her she had a talent worth something.
“Mel's not riding that horse again,” her mother said.
“That so, Mel?” Mr. Davis asked.
“I don't know,” Mel said. She imagined herself riding Cheyenne around the ring, the indoor ring, a confined space. That would be safe enough, wouldn't it? And to ride Cheyenne again for Sally. She could do that much, couldn't she?
* * * *
On Friday afternoon Mel hitched a ride with Sue who was on her way home.
“You bringing your horse up to show him tomorrow?” Sue asked as Mel stowed the tack for Cheyenne in the back of Sue's jeep.
“I'm bringing him up so he'll be ready,” Mel said. She didn't know if she would be or not.
“I heard Jeb ask Sally if you were doing the demonstration tomorrow morning, and Sally said he couldn't say,” Sue said. “So Jeb asked me to do it on Rover. But it's no problem if you want to take over from me.”
“Thanks. I'll think about it,” Mel said.
At Jeffries' gate, Sue stopped and waited for Mel to collect her gear. After Sue had waved goodbye and driven off, Mel lugged the tack along the fence to where Cheyenne was standing watching her. The other two mustangs were grazing on the far side of the pasture as usual. Cheyenne snorted a greeting, ducking his head at Mel as he pranced up to the fence.
“So, hi,” she said. “How are you doing? I was laid up for a while. Otherwise I'd have come down to see you sooner. Is it fun being back with your friends?”
He reached over the fence rail and bumped her arm. “I guess you're glad to see me, huh? I'm glad to see you, too, Cheyenne.” She put her load down on the ground and gave herself over to caressing his head, breathing in the warm bread smell of him. When she kissed his muzzle, his tail swished with pleasure like a hula dancer's skirt.
“Sometimes you do act just like a dog,” she said. “You know that? A horse is supposed to have more dignity. Really, he is. Of course, I'm not very dignified either, am I?” She slipped between the rails into the pasture and got a halter on him. Then she walked him to Jeffries' house to let them know that she was taking Cheyenne up to the guest ranch and would keep him there through Sunday. Mr. Jeffries wasn't home, but his wife, somewhat distractedly, took the message with hands sticky from working her clay.
Walking Cheyenne five miles up the mountain, Mel wondered if the people in the cars passing by them thought she was some kind of fool. She planned to say her horse was lame if anyone stopped to ask why she wasn't riding him, but no one did. She got to the ranch and left the mustang in the little corral with barely enough time to get dressed for Sally's party. Her mother had bought her new pants. They were tan chinos, plain enough to be wearable. Mel ripped the tags off and was pleased to see they fit. In Sally's honor she even wore a new sweater, the one with an Indian design around the neck and shoulders. “Not bad,” Mel told her mirror image and reminded herself to thank her mother for picking so well for her.
Sally's face lit with pleasure when he walked into the dining room and found it decorated with balloons and banners wishing him good luck. Grinning, he sat down and read the card which showed a man riding a cow. Inside were the words telling him what a great guy he was and how they were going to miss him. He laughed about the gift certificate to the western clothing catalogue.
“You folks trying to tell me something?” he asked.
“We don't want to send you back to your wife looking shabby,” Mr. Davis said.
“She won't recognize me if I dress up too good,” he said.
Mel hugged him then and gave him the handmade card she had spent hours working on, a collage of ranch activities. Front and center was a cut-out photo of Sally with a gold crown on his head. Inside the card she had written, “You are the father I wish I had. Love, Mel.”
Sally thanked her and said gruffly, “Guess you know the feeling's mutual, Mel.”
And she did want to make him proud of her. But she didn't sleep well Saturday night, uncertain as she was that she should do it. Sunday at breakfast, Jeb asked her whether she was up for the demonstration of horsemanship that morning.
“I'll walk Cheyenne into the barn,” she told Jeb, swallowing dryly. “And I'll do the demonstration. But about me being a wrangler next spring, I don't think—”
Impatiently he interrupted her, “If you're not going to work for us, might as well let Sue do the demonstration on Rover, Mel. I don't want to give the owner the wrong idea about our wranglers or about our horses.”
She quivered at his challenge and was tempted to give up and just let Sue do it. Then she could run and hide until Sally had gone. He'd be disappointed, sure. But he'd get over it. But what would he think of her? Mel took a deep breath, “Yeah, okay,” she heard herself tell Jeb. “I'll ride, and I maybe I could try doing the little kids' trail rides next spring.”
“Ten sharp then,” Jeb said. “You better show up in that barn on that horse, Mel, or both Sally and me are going to be disappointed in you. Hear?”
She nodded, because she had no breath left to answer. Quickly, she walked to the small corral and stood there holding onto Cheyenne's warm pulsing neck for the longest time. Finally he got restless and began to sidestep away from her.
At ten o'clock Mel had Cheyenne tacked up and ready, but she couldn't bring herself to mount him yet. Less than a year ago Lisa had called her a scarecrow on horseback. Had she really changed that much? Was her bad luck finally over? With a sigh, Mel led Cheyenne across the road and entered the indoor barn. Everyone was already seated in the stands listening to Jeb's endless spiel about the ranch and the rules to do with riding. The strangers sitting front and center had to be the owner and his children and grandchildren.
Sally was standing beside Jeb in the middle of the arena listening to him. Jeb was droning on about how he matched the level of riding skill to the various trails, and how he chose which horse would be a guest's mount for the length of his stay. Finally, Jeb turned to Mel who was standing a few feet behind him quietly holding Cheyenne's lead.
“Now Mel here is the daughter of our good-looking office manager. Mel's got a special way with horses, especially sick ones. That handsome fella hanging over her shoulder was a wild mustang, never had a saddle on him, never ridden by a human being before Mel got hold of him. Even now he won't let anyone but her ride him. So this demonstration of the basics of riding may turn out to be a little unusual. But we'll see. You ready to mount him, Mel?”
She looked at Sally. This was a test. She'd never been good at tests, but she had better ace this one. “Go, girl!” she told herself, and she swung lightly into the saddle. She gathered the reins in her right hand and waited until Jeb had finished explaining about not walking behind a horse, and which side to mount from, and that guests used mounting blocks for safety's sake even if they thought they didn't need them, and that children were required to wear helmets.
“To signal a horse to walk—” Jeb said, and Mel put Cheyenne into a walk. While she was listening for Jeb's signal to turn left and then right, back up, turn around, trot and lope, she was watching herself perform. She felt floaty and secure in what she was doing. Cheyenne seemed to be concentrating hard on getting everything just right. He had never been more responsive to her touch. It seemed as if she could have signaled him to fly and he would have, would have tried at least. She loped around the ring and as she approached Jeb and Sally, she saw Sally's ear-to-ear grin. Abruptly, she pulled Cheyenne up short right at Sally's feet and doffed her riding helmet to him. The audience murmured and began clapping.
“I'm proud of you, girl,” Sally said.
“I want you to be. Don't forget me, Sally.”
“As if I could ever.”
She leaned down and kissed his cheek, then she turned Cheyenne smartly and walked him out of the barn and back to his corral. For a long time after she had stripped him and brushed him down, she stood leaning against him, thinking. Nothing remained the same in your life, not the friends you made and moved away from, not even a substitute father who loved you but wasn't really your father. Possibly, her mother might yet take a notion to whisk them out of here and set them up someplace new, just as suddenly as she had last spring. Even the horse, who felt more like her soul mate than any human, could betray her by accident. The unexpected was always lurking in the shadows to change life in an instant, just like Sally said. But no longer was Mel going to cover her eyes and hide from life. No, she would risk. And if trouble came her way again, she would dredge up enough courage to face it and work through it.
Next spring she would be a wrangler, the youngest wrangler on the dude ranch. And when the storm came and the thunder rolled close by, she would deal with it. Maybe dealing with it would strengthen her for the next challenge. Anyway, she was proud of herself for coming through for Sally. Anyway, she was proud of herself at last.