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The corral seemed weirdly quiet after the kids of horse camp had scattered to the four winds, back to their homes in affluent suburbs full of private schools and expensive sports teams. Even the horses appeared expectant the first morning with no children, then confused, then vaguely disappointed as they lowered their heads to half-heartedly munch some hay. No fun and games today.
Ingrid missed the noise, the banter, the laughter.
One thing that had changed for the better, however, was her relationship with Ryder. She had seen him watching her during camp, impressed, unless she was just delusional about that, which was entirely possible. After the horse ride where Matilda in the pink shirt covered in teepees had fallen, he seemed back to his old self, no longer walking a wide berth around her, even chatting with her again.
In the corral, she shoveled horse manure as the morning stirred itself into gear. The sun climbed into the sky, light filtering through the trees, illuminating tiny flying insects and specks of dust stirred up by her shovel.
Ryder trekked down the trail toward the corral and called out, “Good morning!”
She stopped shoveling and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Morning,” she called back.
He walked toward the fence and moved into his usual position—foot on the lower rail, arms thrown over the top rail as he leaned in. “Hey, I have a group of six today for the short lake ride. Would you mind riding sweeper?”
“Sure,” she said, hopefully not too fast. “Happy to.”
He nodded and glanced at his watch. “They’ll be here in about an hour. I’ll start to saddle the horses.”
“I’ll just finish up here and help you.”
He didn’t budge from his post but kept watching her. She loaded up the last buckets of dirt and manure and carried them toward the gate. Ryder moved away from his post and opened the gate for her. He took one of the buckets, and they walked toward the far edge of the open field, fondly referred to as the ‘poop dumping territory.’ They shook the manure out of the buckets over the pasture grass then started back to the corral.
Ryder glanced at her. “When do you head to Stanford?”
His question caught her by surprise. “Golly, it’s still summer!” She didn’t add that she didn’t want to think about leaving the Ranch, abandoning all hope of seeing him each day. “September 15 is my last day here. My parents are going to move me to California right after that. I have freshman orientation September 20 and classes start a few days later.”
“What’s your major?”
“Animal science.”
Ryder stopped. “And what’s your goal with that degree?”
Geez, it was just like talking to her dad. “I’d like to go to graduate school in veterinary science.”
“You’re going to be a veterinarian?” He stopped. “Really? That’s cool. Very cool. Good for you.”
“I haven’t even started my freshman year yet, so we’ll see how it goes.”
Ryder fell silent as they resumed walking, and when they neared the corral, he turned to her. “About my reaction to, well, our kiss,” he began.
Ingrid’s internal temperature shot up about a hundred degrees in a second. She knew her face had to be beet red, and she quickly stammered, “We don’t need to, I’m so embarrassed, I...”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said softly. “Are you kidding? I’ve never been more flattered in my life. To have a beautiful girl like you...” Now he stammered. “The reason I bring it up is to explain. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you...”
Ingrid snorted. Dear God, she actually snorted out loud. “Oh, sorry, it’s just that, that’s what everyone says to me all the time. My parents, my teachers, my career guidance counselor. It’s kind of a cliché.”
“I get it, but it’s true. You’re going to California, which is a long way from Ellensburg, and it sounds like you’ve got a good six years of college ahead of you. Me? I’m very comfortable living on the family ranch in business with my brothers. I like living in the place where I grew up. I know a lot of people. It’s comfortable.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said comfortable,” Ingrid said.
“The other thing is,” he sounded resigned, “you’re going to meet people at Stanford. After a month in California, you won’t even remember me. What was that cowboy accountant’s name again, you’ll ask your roommate.”
She started to argue but decided not to.
“I don’t need the heartbreak, Ingrid. Been there, done that. Didn’t like it. Let’s be friends, enjoy our time together, then you can fly away to California with no strings attached.”
The words hung in the air. He had a point, which was highly frustrating since she’d decided she would marry him. She put on a thoughtful expression then looked him full in the face. “We’ll see,” she said, flipped her hair over her shoulder and headed toward the tack shack, leaving Ryder to stare after her.
