Chapter Ten. Winnie

That afternoon, I'm scheduled to lead two trail rides. The first, immediately after lunch, is a private ride. A wealthy local family with extended relatives visiting from Mexico.

"Looking to see the best of what Texas has to offer, Winnie, so don't be shy about taking them the long way around."

The "long way around" is Mr. Michaels's way of communicating he wants me to take them down every rocky pass, across every babbling brook, and through several gently waving pastures until they're saddle sore and looking to spend some time relaxing by the giant outdoor firepit with several bottles of our most expensive wine.

"You got it," I agree with a smile. I check my phone to make sure I don't have any messages and slip it in between my boot and my sock before climbing onto Mab's back. With a click of my tongue, we approach the gathered group, already helped into their saddles by Camilla. A quick study reveals there're at least ten of them, but a good portion seem capable enough on horseback. A familiar-looking dark-haired girl around my age is giving her mom—older sister?—a hard time about her posture, but they're laughing and the picture of ease, so I know I won't have to worry about them.

I introduce myself and explain what to expect on our ride today. I offer a short lesson on basic steering and horse handling, but it's not necessary. Our horses could do this trail on autopilot. Because the group is so large and I'm the only one leading, I ask for experienced volunteers to hit up the middle and the back of the pack, then give them a short rundown of our travels today.

And we're off.

We're near the halfway point, closing in on the creek that outlines the farthest borders of the Michaels ranch. I give the cue to slow so everyone can gather near the water's edge and take in the view. This is my favorite spot on the property, and I tell everyone that, letting them know it's a good place to take pictures, before dismounting and offering my assistance. The dark-haired girl who was teasing her mother earlier dismounts beside me. She'd been in the rear because she said she was the most familiar on horseback. And it's clear she hadn't lied. She's a natural.

I give her my most professionally friendly smile, letting her speak first.

"You're a fantastic rider. Is she yours?" she asks, gesturing to Mab.

"Thanks," I say, then shake my head. "She's on loan, but to be honest, I don't think she'd say she belongs to anyone. More of a free agent, if you know what I mean."

"Well, yours or not, you fit well together. I know it's a trail ride, but I can tell."

"Thank you," I say again, more sincerely this time. "I think so, too. She was a rescue and hates pretty much everyone, but we seem to understand each other. I'm training her to barrel race, actually."

The girl's brows raise. "You race?"

"Only in practice. You?" And before the words totally fall from my mouth, it clicks in my brain. "Holy shh-moly you're Maria Santos." I smack my head. "I knew you looked familiar. I watched you in the high school nationals last year!"

"I am," she says, seeming pleased to be recognized. "Were you there?"

"Just on TV. I'm a huge fan! Of you and Duchess both. She takes the barrels like a goddamn dream."

"She does. And she's gonna be pissed at me when I get home, smelling like Jose Swervo over there."

I laugh, knowing exactly what she means, but before I can say anything more, we're interrupted by one of Maria's family members asking to have their picture taken. I walk around, taking several and chatting up the guests before I'm climbing in the saddle to head back to the ranch. We take the meandering way, but not so meandering the older folks start grumbling about sore bottoms. I casually wind us back to the firepit, which is already sporting a friendly fire and several Adirondack chairs courtesy of Case. Well played, sir.

I help folks dismount and accept their thanks, while also posing for a few more pictures. Maria jogs up as I'm leading Mab back to the stables and extends a hand, face down. Clearly a tip.

"Oh, that's not—"

"I insist. My uncle Rodrigo is never impressed with American riders, but he won't shut up about you and the trail. Well worth the gratuity. Please."

I take the cash without looking and tuck it away. "Thanks."

"I know you said you don't race, but you also said you train. I could use a partner. Someone to push me and maybe even exercise Duchess whenever I'm on the road. I'd pay you for your time. Not when we're working together, mind you. But, like, whatever work you'd do with Duchess. Please say you're interested. I've had a hell of a time finding someone I trust."

I gape at her for a minute, flustered. "You want to train with me? You don't even know me."

She rolls her eyes. "I've seen plenty."

"You saw a trail ride," I demur with a chuckle. "Anyone can—"

"Okay, fine." Maria cuts me off, her expression exasperated. "Camilla Gutiérrez and my mom are best friends. Since they were kids. She's like my aunt. She's been bragging on you for months now, and so I might've used this trail ride as an excuse to finally check you out and see what all the fuss is about. Now will you say yes?"

I'm still in shock, but before I can overthink it, I nod. "Sure. Okay. But I insist you practice with me a few times first before you even think about hiring me."

Maria holds out her hand again, and I shake it. "You have a deal."

Maria and I make plans for her to return on Friday afternoon with Duchess so she can watch Mab and me run the clover in person, and then practice together. I still can't believe all of this, but I'm giddy at the opportunity to even get to know Maria, let alone practice with her.

So it's just as well I'm finally leading Mab into her stall when my phone buzzes, putting the kibosh on all my happy vibes. At first, I ignore it. Everyone who matters should still be at school, after all. But it immediately restarts. I slide the stall door shut and double-check the latch before removing my gloves and pulling my phone out the top of my boot. It's the high school.

I groan and walk out of the stables, past a curious Case, and in the opposite direction of where Maria's family is still congregated around the fire. I make it into the open air of the back pastures before hitting Call Back.

"Hi," I drawl in my most professional tone. "This is Winnie Sutton. Someone tried calling me? I'm at work."

"Hi, Winifred," the secretary says. "So good to hear your voice, darlin'. Hold on just a moment. I'm transferring you over to Principal Butler."

I shift my weight, waiting for the transfer, my brain spinning through all the different scenarios of why the school would be calling me. Even though I graduated last year and have never broke a single rule in my entire life, I gnaw the inside of my lip, worrying maybe it's about me.

But of course it's not about me. It's never about me.

"Jesse's been gone since third period, Ms. Sutton. I tried to call your home number, but there was no answer. You're next on the emergency contact. While I have no reason to suspect your brother is in any danger, he's off school property, and this is considered a truancy. And"—he clears his throat—"it's not his first. I'm not sure how much longer we can go before getting the proper authorities involved. I realize things are difficult at home and parental supervision isn't what it should be, but your brother is skipping classes, delinquent on a number of his assignments, and his grades are dropping. Last week, he served detention with Mr. Wright for disrespectful speech."

I swallow a stream of my own disrespectful speech and instead thank him for the information. I end the call with shaking fingers. I crush the phone in my right hand, suppressing the urge to chuck it across the paddock. I can't afford another one right now.

I drop to my haunches, my head in my hand, and whip off my thin knit hat, forking my fingers into my long hair and pulling until I feel the hot sting of tears burning behind my eyelids.

"Fuck!" I mutter under my breath. "Fucking fuck shit fuck fucking fuck." I fall back on the packed dirt and sniff, drawing the back of my hand over my face.

"Bad news?" Case is behind me, and I let my head fall back with a groan.

"No, I'm fine. Just… resting."

"That was a lot of fucks for being fine."

I don't say anything, hoping he'll take the hint and leave.

He doesn't. Instead, he drops to the dirt next to me, stretching his legs out.

It's like a switch has been flipped inside of me; my heart starts racing in my chest. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting outside," he returns mildly. "Enjoying the nice day."

I scramble to stand and brush off my jeans, feeling breathless. "Well, I have shit to do."

He springs to his feet. "Okay, well, let me help. What else do you have to do this afternoon?"

I blink at him. "What are you talking about? I can't let you help me. This is my job. Your dad pays me to do this stuff."

"All right, fine," he drawls. His eyes lift to the sky. "I mean, I did help you with mucking stalls, and you didn't seem all that fussed then, but whatever."

"What? I thought your dad made you do that! I thought you were being punished for last night! For being drunk at the rodeo!"

"Wasn't drunk," he corrects with a stiff grin. "Have you forgotten already? Anyway, point being, I already helped, and no one fired you. Now. Why don't you tell me what's got you so upset?"

"Why do you care?"

His eyes widen, and he plants his hands on his hips. "Because you are clearly not okay!"

He's not giving up, and something inside me finally snaps. "Okay. Fine. You want to know why I'm upset? You're sure? I'm upset because my brother is apparently ditching school so often, the school is gonna have to call the police. Who will turn up at our door and start asking questions about why my dad's not home and is apparently neglecting his kids. And Jesse's gonna get kicked out of school and will probably run away. And then Garrett, who's barely ten, will be home alone after school because fucking Jesse can't be bothered to do one single thing to help me out and make sure she gets off the bus safely. Except, fuck!"

Tears spring to my eyes again, and I slump, defeated. "Except she won't be, because I will of course be there to pick her up. I'll leave work early and get her. And then I'll lose my job because I'll have to cut back on trail rides. And then who's going to buy Garrett her shitty Walmart shoes? Or put her through robotics camp so she can win scholarships for college? Or buy groceries?"

I'm crying in earnest now. "And the worst of it is, I don't blame Jesse for not wanting to go to school—for wanting to escape the reality that's our lives right now. To see his girlfriend and be a kid or whatever. But come on. What about me? When do I get to do those things? When do I get to be a kid? I've literally never just been a kid. And now the school is calling me like I'm his mom and I'm supposed to do something, but I have absolutely no idea what they expect me to do about it!"

To his credit, when I raise my eyes to Case's, he looks staggered. It's no wonder. I spewed a near decade of trauma right at his face.

"Okay. Hold on…" He rubs his hand down his face, and I swear he mutters something about Walker and lists. "So, Jesse ditched school today?"

"Apparently."

"What time is your trail ride this afternoon?"

"I have another in a half an hour."

"Great. Forty-five-minute ride should have you back here by three thirty. You do that, and I'll be here to relieve you as soon as it's done. I'll brush down the horses, and you can dash home and make sure Garrett is off the bus, okay? No biggie."

I prod for the hole in the plan, but come up empty. "That's—that could work."

"One day at a time, right?"

I exhale. "Yeah. Okay."

"Hey," he says and reaches for me. I think for a minute he's going to tuck my hair behind my ear or something, which would be… but he drops his hand. "I'm glad you told me. All of that," he clarifies. "Thank you for trusting me."

"You kind of goaded it out of me. I didn't mean to spill my guts."

"Close enough. As someone who literally spilled his guts recently, I can confirm it's kind of cathartic."

"And also gross."

Case smiles, and it's this fond, faraway thing.

"What?"

He shakes his head. "It's stupid. Toward the end, with Walker, he used to get super sick. The morphine made him vomit, so they had him on antinausea meds, but they made him hungry, and then his stomach would rebel. It was a literal mess. At first, it really bothered him for people to see him so sick. He was always begging his parents and Brody to leave the room. But I would stay overnight. That was my shift because, despite yesterday, I usually have an iron stomach. Walker could let it fly in front of me, and I didn't care. I used to tease him that he was saving his puking for my shifts. He would say, ‘Brothers who ride together, puke together.'" Case shakes himself. "I told you it was dumb. It doesn't even make sense, but—"

"But it does. You were the one person he could be vulnerable around, because you didn't flinch when he was at his lowest."

Case's blue eyes pin me, something new in his gaze. "Exactly. Yeah. So anyway, even if you were coerced," he teases, "I'm glad you told me."

I press my lips together, thoughtful, before I slowly nod. "Thanks, I guess, for not flinching. I can see why Walker kept you around."