Rustic Hearts

Braxton

 

I back the truck up to the barn and let down the tailgate, so I can unload the twenty-pound bags of salt I picked up at the hardware store. Snow has already started to fall this year. It’s not sticking yet, but with several elderly adults living and working on the ranch, it’s a priority to keep the walkways and steps clear of any ice hazards.

As soon as I open the double door, I see Sophie’s long blonde ponytail. She’s making her way down the aisle of stalls, peeking in each one, speaking softly to the horses as she goes.

We have four stalls here in the main barn for the family’s personal horses. They are separate from the stables, which is a little walk down the east side of the property, and house all the horses for Aunt Madeline’s riding classes and therapy camps.

I stop and watch Sophie as she almost reverently reads the name tag on each stall until she reaches the fourth one and freezes.

“Huck,” she says the name of the stallion aloud and then stands on her tiptoes to get a good look inside.

“Careful. He’s temperamental.”

She starts at my voice and turns to face me.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she scolds.

I drop the bag from my shoulder onto the barn floor. “Not sneaking. Working.”

She looks sheepish as she asks, “Is this horse male or female?”

“Male.”

She turns back to the stall and draws closer.

I walk toward her because the stubborn woman is not listening to my warning.

“Huckleberry,” she whispers to herself.

I stop and watch as she lays her cheek against the door and closes her eyes.

“Is his momma still alive?”

Confused by her question, I ask, “His momma?”

“Blackberry was his mom, wasn’t she? Is she still alive?”

“No. She died about two years ago.”

I watch as something washes over her. Anger? No. Grief.

Tears dampen her lashes, and she swipes at them with her eyes still closed. I feel like I’m imposing on a private moment that I don’t understand, but I don’t want to leave her propped against that horse’s stall.

“You mind moving back a few steps? I don’t want him to kick the door and hurt you.”

She opens her eyes as if realizing where she is again. She straightens and looks at me. “Why would he kick the door?”

“As I said, he’s temperamental, and he doesn’t take too kindly to strangers.”

As if on cue, Huck whi

Sophie hops back and then starts to soothingly speak to the animal, “It’s okay, Huckleberry. Did you hear us talking about your momma? I bet you miss her, don’t you? I miss her too. She was my horse and my best friend.”

Huck settles and pokes his head over the top of the door, and Sophie draws near again.

Odd. She doesn’t seem the least bit afraid of the large animal.

She reaches up to run her fingers down the horse’s long face. Then, she lays her cheek against his nose.

Huck doesn’t react; he stands there and lets the human nuzzle him.

“I left her. I left her right when she was about to give birth to you. I bet she wondered where I went and what she had done wrong.”

She wraps an arm up around the horse and holds on to his neck for a long while, and as much as I need to get the truck unloaded and start salting the sidewalks, I don’t want to leave with her so close to the unruly animal.

After a while, she releases her hold. She reaches into the pocket of her coat and pulls out an apple. Huck sniffs the offering and then gently takes it from her open hand.

“Good boy,” Sophie coos and gives him one more scratch on his nose before she turns and walks right past me toward the doors. “You’re right. He’s an ornery beast,” she throws over her shoulder in my direction as she exits.

I stand there, looking the horse in the eye.

“What was that, Huck?” I ask as he stares me down.

All I get in return is an agitated snort. Then, he turns his back on me.

Damn horse.

I guess all the creatures on this ranch are enamored by Miss Sophia Lancaster.

Traitors.

“Want to come out to Fast Breaks with us tonight?” Elle asks Sophie as we finish up supper and start cleaning the table.

“Fast Breaks?”

“Yeah, it’s the pool hall in town. Brax usually takes me on Saturday nights, being as Sunday mornings are the only ones he takes off.”

She looks up at me in surprise. “You take a day off?”

“Yep. Madeline insists. Walker handles Sunday mornings.”

Aunt Mad walks in at the sound of her name. “That’s right. Your life can’t be all work, Braxton. You have to actually live in between.”

“You teach Jefferson to do that?” Sophie asks.

“I’ve tried. But it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.”

“I bet.”

“Brax here is a different story. I still have a chance at convincing him that the ranch won’t fall to pieces if he sleeps in one day a week.”

She reaches up and pats my cheek. I appreciate the concern, but the truth is, I’d rather be up with the cattle than sleeping in. My eyes pop open at the same time every morning anyway; my internal alarm clock doesn’t give a damn if it’s Sunday or Monday.

“His wife will thank you one day,” Elle agrees.

“That’s my hope.”

Elle hands a plate to Sophie, who is loading the dishwasher.

“So, you want to come with?”

“Rain check?”

“You sure? It’s a lot of fun. Everyone in town usually ends up there by the end of the night.”

“I think I’m just going to read a little and turn in early tonight. I didn’t sleep much last night, and I don’t want to be too tired for Gram’s service tomorrow.”

The service begins right after church tomorrow at First Baptist Church of Poplar Falls. Gram was a well-respected and active member of the congregation her entire life. She spent a good bit of her time trying to wrangle us all in the doors anytime they were open.

“That’s probably a good idea, Elle. Gram would be mighty disappointed if we showed up haggard and hungover tomorrow,” I agree with the plan of turning in early.

Elle twists her nose in consideration and then nods. “I’ll call Sonia and tell her we decided to stay in tonight. How about we do a movie and popcorn instead?” she asks the room at large, but her hopeful eyes are directed toward Sophie.

“That’s a great idea. I can whip up some homemade chocolate chip cookies too,” Ria offers.

Sophie looks around at the expectant faces and hesitantly agrees, “Okay.”

Elle claps. “Yay! We can have a pajama party. I’ll go shower and change and meet you guys in the living room in half an hour.” She makes her way to me. “What about you? Want to join us?”

I wrap her in my arms. “Nah, pajama parties aren’t exactly my thing. I’ll leave you girls to it.”

I kiss the top of her head, and she scurries down the hall.

Sophie finishes loading the washer, and Ria begins to pull out the ingredients to make her cookies.

“Good night, ladies.”

“Good night, Brax. I’ll save you a few cookies for breakfast.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I head for the back door, and Sophie offers a quick, “Night.”

I nod in response as I walk out on the deck. It’s a chilly night. The snowfall only lasted a few hours, and the thin layer of white didn’t stick around long once the sun peeked back out a couple of hours before sunset.