Although he wouldn’t admit it, Ben felt as excited as a kid at Christmas while waiting for Ashley to arrive with the horse. He didn’t know a lot about the mare other than that she was a sorrel and sixteen years old. That was it. But he trusted Ashley’s judgment. After all, she’d come highly recommended. Although to be honest, he wasn’t sure that was the reason for his trust.
It was a quarter after six when the red pickup with the white horse trailer pulled into the yard. Ben waited for Ashley to drive all the way up to the barn. After the truck had come to a full stop, he stepped to the door and opened it for her. “Glad to see you.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Did you think I wasn’t coming?”
“No. No, of course not. I’m just eager. Once I’ve got a horse on the place, it’ll feel more real to me.”
She laughed softly as she dropped from the cab, her boots raising little dust clouds. “That I can understand. Come on. Let’s get her unloaded.” She headed for the rear of the trailer. Ben followed and watched as Ashley freed the mare’s rope and backed her out. Afterward, she walked the horse around in a slow circle so Ben could get a look at her. “She’s under fifteen hands. A good size for kids who’ve never been around horses before. And she’s docile.” She stopped walking and rested one hand on the mare’s neck. “With good feed, she’ll probably perk up some, but I don’t imagine she’ll ever be high energy. She seems to live at a slower pace.”
Ben stepped forward and stroked the horse’s head. “I like her, Ashley. Looks like I’m getting a good deal.”
“You are. I put a saddle on her and rode her a bit. She’s got a good way of going. Her mouth’s soft, and she’s sound.”
“Should we put her in the paddock or in a stall in the barn?”
“Let’s start with the stall. That way you can control her feed for the first few days.”
“Sounds good.” He led the way to the barn and opened the door wide.
Ashley took the mare to the first stall and put her inside. Then Ben exchanged places with her, moving around the horse, letting his hand trail over her back and haunches before lifting her hooves one at a time.
“You do know the front end of a horse from the back,” Ashley said as she observed him.
He laughed, but his answer was serious. “I avoid telling lies, Miss Showalter. They come back to bite you in the end. I’ve learned it’s better to tell the truth from the start.” He straightened, patting the mare’s side before stepping toward the gate. “Does she have a name? I forgot to ask.”
“Nope. The guy I got her from didn’t know what it was. Didn’t care either.”
Ben shut the gate behind him and stared into the stall at the mare. “Hmm. Any ideas?”
“Naming an animal is kind of a personal thing. It has to fit you as well as her.”
“I’ll have to give it some thought, then.”
Before they left the barn, Ben made sure the mare had water, and Ashley gave him instructions regarding feed. Then the two of them walked to the house. He left her on the porch while he went inside to get the check. When he returned, she stood at the porch railing, staring out over the alfalfa fields to the west.
“It sure is pretty here,” she said without looking his way.
“I know.”
“It’s my dream to own a place something like this one day. I hope there’s still land left if I can ever afford to buy.”
“Do you own the place you’re in now?”
She met his gaze and smiled. “Me and the bank. I got a small inheritance when I turned twenty-three. Something my dad set up before he died. That gave me enough for a down payment and an affordable house payment that fits my salary.”
“What do you do?”
She shrugged. “Nothing fancy. Retail sales. Mostly I’m a floor clerk, although I help cover the checkout stands when I’m needed. I’ve got flexible hours, which I like. What about you?”
“I had my own construction business.” He leaned his shoulder against a post. “But I sold it earlier in the summer so I could concentrate on getting the Harmony Barn off the ground. Now I’m doing handyman kinds of things. Like you, it gives me more freedom with my time. And it’s a whole lot less stress than having a crew and paying salaries and all that.”
She nodded in understanding.
Looking at her, Ben wondered if she had a boyfriend. Probably did. A real-life cowboy would be his guess. He couldn’t imagine her with a man who wasn’t as involved with horses as she was.
“Well.” She stepped back from the railing. “I’d better get home. I’ve got chores of my own to do before it gets much later.”
“Sure.” He held out the check to her. “I really appreciate your help. Be sure to call me when you find another horse that might work for us.”
“I will.”
* * *
Ashley was fresh out of the shower, hair wrapped in a towel, when her phone rang. She felt a catch in her chest when she saw who it was. Something had to be wrong for her mom to call at this time of night. “Hey, Mom.”
“Are you in bed? Did I wake you?”
“No. I’m still up.” She slipped into her bathrobe and sat on the edge of her bed. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dylan.”
Ashley’s stomach sank. Of course it was Dylan. It was always her brother. “What happened?”
“I got a letter from him today. He’s having such a rough time. He’s depressed. He feels hopeless. I don’t know what to do. They won’t let us talk on the phone. They won’t let me go up to see him.”
“Write back and tell him you love him. That’s all you can do.”
When Ashley and her mom had met for lunch yesterday, neither of them had brought up Dylan. A pleasant change. For years her little brother had been the focus of almost every conversation they’d had. Dylan’s troubles. Dylan’s escapades. Dylan’s injuries. Dylan’s failures.
“It seems unfair,” her mom said. “He’s so far away from his family.”
Frustration coiled in Ashley’s stomach. “Unfair? Mom, he broke the law, and not for the first time. He’s an addict. He’s a multiple offender. He could end up in prison if he doesn’t toe the line. He was lucky to be ordered into six months of rehab instead of going to jail.”
Her mom choked on a sob.
“I’m sorry.” She was sorry. Then again, she wasn’t. She drew a slow, deep breath. “I’m not heartless, Mom. But Dylan can’t get better if you try to shield him at every turn. He’s got to be responsible for his own choices. You need to listen to the counselors. If he gets in trouble again, he won’t find a judge so lenient as the one he had this time.”
“Lenient?”
Ashley swallowed any further response. It would be a waste of words. Her mom was the queen of enablers when it came to Dylan.
“You’re too hard on him.”
“No, I don’t think so. I want him to be healthy and happy. I want him to be whole, the way he used to be when he was little, before he got into booze and drugs.” She drew in a slow breath. “I don’t want him to die like one of those movie stars or musicians we read about, mixing prescription drugs and alcohol, and suddenly their bodies give out when they’re only in their twenties.”
“Oh, Ashley.”
“It could happen, Mom. You know I’m right. You saw what he was like the night they arrested him.” She heard her mom’s muffled sob. “Write him back and encourage him. I’ll do the same. We’ll tell him we love him and to hang in there, no matter what.”
“If only I could see him.”
Ashley counted to five before saying, “They’ve got reasons for their rules.”
“I suppose.”
“Try not to worry about him. There are people looking out for him. You need to take care of yourself. Now, go to bed and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll try.”
After ending the call, Ashley remained on the side of her bed for a long while, not moving, thinking about her brother. Her first memories of him were when he was two and she was five. Dark haired with big brown eyes and a squealing laugh that could shatter glass. That had been her favorite Dylan. Next she remembered the scared kid on his first day of kindergarten when he wouldn’t let go of her hand. After that she recalled the boy sobbing as he lay on his bed after their dad’s funeral. All too soon there’d been the teenager stumbling around downstairs after sneaking out to drink with friends. And finally, she remembered the young man as he was led away in cuffs, dark half circles under eyes that seemed empty of life.
Wasn’t it strange how she could love and hate her brother at the same time? No, hate was too strong a word. She didn’t hate Dylan. But she resented all that he had done to their mom, and she resented the way his addictions had altered her own life too. Sometimes she wished she would never have to see him again, never have to talk to him again, never have to talk about him again.
With a sigh, she rose and returned to the bathroom, where she finished getting ready for the night. But once in bed, thoughts of her mom and brother continued to whirl, and even after she fell asleep, they were there, in her troubled dreams.