Little Red's Riding (Seven Ways to Sin 4)

7

Ruby

As far as ‘first days back home again’ go, mine could have gone worse. I could have been kidnapped or hit by a bus, for instance. If anything, it had been a clear and immediate reminder for why I left in the first place: too many broken lives, more than a few I’d had a part in breaking.

Lincoln, for all his faults, he’d cared about me. I suppose that was his biggest fault, come to think of it.

Ryder had cared for his sister, Tammy. And so had I, damn it. What happened to her wasn’t my fault. But Ryder had got it stuck in his head that it was. And when Ryder got something stuck in his head, good luck trying to get it out.

And Gran. Though she’d tried to appear cheerful, telling me nothing was wrong, she’d just been a little tired lately, I caught glimpses of pain every now and again when she thought I wasn’t looking. Oh, Gran. You’re the strongest one of them all. If you’re not feeling right, how can anyone feel right?

Waking up in my own bed alone, I was surprised that I actually missed Aiden. The feeling passed quickly once I got out of bed and into the shower. Mom was on the phone. The conversation sounded serious. I couldn’t stay in the house. The sun was out, and I needed to stretch my legs.

All the pain and the bad memories come for you when you’re lying still. Got to keep moving. They can’t get you when you’re moving.

I took my camera and headed out to capture the more pleasant side of my hometown: the horses.

Instinctively, I headed out for Magnolia Stables, where, as a child, I had learned to ride and to race. Halfway there I remembered what Ryder had said, that it had been turned into a cattle ranch. So, I decided, instead, to try and find some landscape shots: the winding creeks and rivers that cut through the sprawling fields and rocky slopes; the mountain peaks jagged in the distance.

I was conscious of the fact that I was walking back to the rodeo site, but I lied to myself and told myself that I was only taking pictures of the landscape, that when I got near the rodeo I would head back and take some pictures of the woods. But as soon as I saw the first trailer and the promise of horses it signified, I picked up my pace and hurried toward the ranch.

This time, I wouldn’t walk up the main lane. This time, like Wolf had accused me of, I would sneak around to the back, maybe get some shots of cowboys, unaware of my presence, as they rode or practiced their lassoing techniques.

The woods offered me good cover as I slipped behind the trees all the way to the outer edge of the adjacent riding ring. There were no riders out, but the stable doors were open, and I could hear horses and stablehands at work.

‘If I ever catch you round here again, I’ll…’ What retribution had Wolf promised me?

Though I couldn’t remember his threat exactly, the intent behind it was crystal clear. It did make me hesitate. But the pull the horses had on me was too strong.

There were no trees or trailers to hide behind as I approached the stables. I could only walk up, in clear sight, exposed, hoping I’d make it there and get off a few shots before Wolf or someone like him caught sight of me.

I was a few feet from the stable entrance when Wyatt came out of one of the stables, pitchfork in hand.

He startled me, and I jumped back and gasped.

He looked up at me and smiled. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and I could see the beginning of his ripped chest glistening from the sweat of his labor.

I put a hand to my mouth to hide any drooling I might have unconsciously been doing.

“Howdy,” he said, and he tipped his hat to me.

A feeble “Wyatt” was all that I could manage.

He pulled his hat back, the sun catching his tanned face, and squinting at me, said, “How’s your grandmother doing?”

I must have stood there a good minute wondering what he was talking about. Who’s my grandmother? And why is he asking me about her?

With his head, he motioned to my hand. “No basket today, but I see you’ve brought a camera.”

Basket?

Then I snapped out of it and reminded myself that I wasn’t at a photoshoot and this hunk before me was not my handsome model. You just met him yesterday when you were on your way to Grans.

Meeting Wyatt then seeing Gran, the two events had seemed worlds apart in my mind. I chuckled. “Right, my grandmother, Blanchette.” I tilted my head to the side. “I don’t know, to be honest. She looked good, lively, and full of good cheer. But I think it might have been an act.”