Playing the Polo Player

“That bastard!” I huff. Tears are stinging my eyes at the thought of having to be so cruel to the horses. While I am not against invitro, I don’t want to push our female horses to the brink of their health just to have more offspring for profit. I mean, yeah we are a business but we didn’t get into it to get rich. We just wanted to work with horses and make enough to live off of. Marcus is the one that’s money hungry and uncaring about the wellbeing of the animals.

“It’s all my fault,” Sierra croaks. I look over to see her on the brink of tears and my anger falters. “If I had been more honest when I started missing payments on the insurance, maybe we could have worked together to fix it… Then we wouldn’t be in this mess now with Marcus…”

“Don’t blame yourself,” I urge. “If I could stop being so scatter brained and help out with the management of the bills, then we could have worked together on it. You were trying to protect me and we learned the hard way that we shouldn’t do that when it comes to business. It’s okay, Si.” I reach and squeeze her hands. “We will figure it out… I mean, we have a couple of foals now. Maybe we should be a little more aggressive about finding buyers?”

We have online ads and flyers around town, but marketing has never been our strong suit. Honestly, the two of us should have likely never gone alone into business. While we are good at what we do, we don’t have much business savvy at all. Even after a few years of experience.

Sierra nods and wipes her eyes with her free hand. “I could see about getting us a permit or whatever for the farmer’s market this weekend? We had decent luck last summer with it.”

“Great idea,” I smile. “We will figure it out. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks, Luce,” she sighs, smiling weakly back at me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier. My head really has been in the clouds, hasn’t it?”

“More like the stratosphere.”

We chuckle and the tension eases. The truck is revved and we go about our chores. I hate feeling as though I haven’t been a good friend to her, but at least we have the sort of friendship that is more like being sisters. We can ignore one another, get on the other’s very last nerve, yell, cry, argue, and anything else. But at the end of the day, we love one another and will hug it out if needed.

There’s a wonderful rhythm to the ranch life, especially when you’re just working with your best friend. We joke, laugh, and chat as we repair fences, bathe and brush the horses, and even manage to laugh our way through shoveling shit. Even when the work is tedious, or disgusting, we enjoy it because it’s something we are doing together. And is what keeps our dream job going.

At the peak of the heat in the day, we decide to take a break and head to the house. Sierra is heading for the bathroom while I go into the kitchen to scrub in to prepare us something to eat. As I’m washing my hands, however, I can feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket.

RUPERT: Playing a match this evening at 5pm. If you and your friend want to come watch, I’ll take you both to dinner afterwards. Xx

“Sierra!” I nearly squeal. I bound through the house and toward the bathroom door. “Would you want to go watch a polo game?”

“When?” she calls through the door.

I glance at the time and bite my lip. “In two hours…”

The door opens and she studies me. “You mean that we have an hour to get ready, since the Polo Club is practically an hour away?”

I flash her a polite grin, “He said he’ll take us to dinner after.”

“Free meal on a rich man budget? I’m sold,” Sierra snickers and then steps out of the bathroom. “You can have the shower first. Hurry up, we need to get you all dolled up.”

Chapter Ten

Rupert

LUCE: We’ll be there. On the way.

I smirk at the text and tuck my phone away into my pocket as I walk Delmar out onto the field. My nephew Bryson is following behind me, though he doesn’t have a horse. If I didn’t love my sister as much as I do, I would have told him to fuck off after the car incident.

I mean, I do love my nephew, and I’m trying to be the father figure he’s been lacking for a few years. He’s just been on my nerves and entitled here lately, and I don’t like the way he spoke to Luce.

“What is this game about?” he asks.

I hoist myself up onto Delmar and Bryson hands me my mallet. “It’s just a scrimmage. Ron Mathers and I are practicing for a charity game that takes place in a few weeks,” I answer flatly.