Heck of a kiss

Chapter Eighteen

The next couple of weeks I saw Jabe practically every day. Because his cooking skills were shoddy at best, the lure of a home cooked dinner proved too much to resist. He would come over every day from his ranch, I would change out of my uniform and then we would go and ride the horses.

We would ride until almost sundown, then put the hungry horses away and tromp into the house, sweaty and tired.

Dustin came over more often too, sometimes bringing Liddy’s kids to play with Mila. They would stay all evening, shrieking and generally making noise, while they captured each other. In a month, it seemed like the house was never empty, someone was always coming or going. Whenever he had nothing to do, Josh would come over and hang out, eating our food and helping out with the heavy lifting.

Once a week Tasha and her daughter Abby would come out, and we would be silly girls all evening, watching chick flicks and drinking wine.

On one of the rare days when it was just Jabe at the house, we were outside, riding in the front pasture. Lesley was sitting on the porch reading, while Mila played with her dolls.

Pulling the reins to the right, I kicked Dancer’s left side with my heel making him prance to the side arching his neck dramatically. Jabe stopped Checkers and made him pivot in place, his back hooves staying in place and his front hooves crossing as he swung around in a circle.

We were both sweating profusely, little droplets sliding down my temples and down my neck, mixing with the dust and itching like crazy. My hair was up in a lank ponytail and little wisps escaped and clouded around my peripheral vision. 

Soaking through the green fabric, sweat covered the entire back of Jabe’s t-shirt, sticking it to his back like a second skin. A thick wet band ringed his hat and sweat dripped down his face in steady streams.

After twenty more minutes of hard riding, we dismounted, wiping our faces on our dirty shirts and leading our horses toward the barn. As Jabe closed the gate to the pasture, I looked up to see Lesley watching us with a wistful expression on her face.

Sitting on the sidelines watching us ride, after spending her entire childhood in the saddle must have been one of the hardest things that Lesley had to do.  She hid the pain well, but sometimes, when she didn’t think I saw, her face would lose its smile and her eyes would get glassy with unshed tears. I knew that she felt selfish for feeling this way, and I knew that she would never ask me to give up riding.

Looking down at the ground, I sighed, I wish there was some way to that she could get back in the saddle again. I had heard of some therapy organizations which used horses to treat patients with disabilities, but there weren’t any in our area and even if there had been, they were too expensive for our stretched budget.

Gripping the sweaty reins, I led Dancer into the barn, throwing his reins over his stall door and grabbing his blue halter off its hook. Carefully, I guided the bridle off of Dancer’s face and took the bit out of his mouth, putting the slimy bridle into my brush bucket to clean later. After fastening the halter behind his ears, I un-cinched the saddle and heaved it and the saddle pad off, staggering into the tack room and pushing it onto its holder. Out beside Dancer again, I grabbed a rubber curry brush and began rubbing his sweaty shoulder with it.

Moments later, Jabe came in and we both curried and brushed our horses, cooling them off after their hard work out. Shoving the heavy stall door open, I led Dancer inside and let him go, listening to him slurp the water out of his plastic water tub. Grabbing the rest of the brushes and equipment, I walked into the tack room and bent over, lining up the brush buckets underneath the saddle rack. When I straightened I whacked my head on the shelf above me and let out a yelp, clapping my hand to the sore spot.