If Wishes Were Horses (19 page)

H
OW ARE THEY
doing?” Ram asked Wyatt later that afternoon.

Wyatt looked over at his father. “Not too badly,” he answered. “But they're still new at it. You know what they're like at this stage.”

“Yep,” Ram answered. “They all want to run before they can walk. And if I remember right, you were the same way.”

Ram and Wyatt were standing in the larger Flying B riding ring. Six teens, including Trevor, sat in a line on their horses, waiting. Three blue, fifty-five-gallon plastic drums had been arranged on the ring floor in a precise clover-leaf pattern. Just then everyone heard a sharp rebel yell, and Mercy rode into the ring. As she did, Wyatt started his stopwatch.

Although Wyatt still had issues with Mercy, he had to admit
that she was the best barrel racer he had ever seen. With Krista's blessing, Mercy had always overseen this part of the equestrian training. After some soul searching, Wyatt had countermanded the harsh order he had given Mercy about staying clear of Trevor. Although Trevor had been selected for this training, he told her, she would still be running this show. He also said that if she knew what was best for her, she wouldn't treat Trevor any differently from the others.

Wyatt and Ram watched Mercy's horse charge headlong toward the first barrel. Approaching it properly was critical. The rider had to control the horse's speed perfectly as they entered the “pocket,” the area in which the horse could make its fastest turn. Just as important, performing the first turn well was crucial to properly setting up the two more that would follow.

As her horse entered the pocket, Mercy's form was perfect. Sitting deeply in her saddle, she held onto the pommel to steady herself, her other hand using the reins to guide her horse quickly around the barrel. Mercy's inside leg was wrapped tightly against her horse's ribs, to provide her mount with a steady focal point for the turn.

Dirt flying from her hooves, the horse raced off toward the next barrel. After completing two more barrel turns, Mercy charged her back out the way she had come in, and Wyatt stopped his watch. From start to finish it had taken only sixteen seconds, a good time for any barrel racer.

Mercy walked her panting mount back into the ring then turned to face the group of waiting teens. After removing her hat and letting it hang down her back, she leaned down onto her saddle pommel.

“Because you're here for only a short time, you won't be making turns that fast,” she cautioned them. “Just the same, like anything else, you've got to do it
right
before you can do it
fast
. Because you've all done this well at a walking pace, today we'll start trotting. Only after you've mastered this phase will you be allowed to gallop. And remember—we succeed only as a
group
. Nobody moves on to the galloping phase until everyone gets this part right. Also remember that, like you all, your horses are also being trained in barrel racing for the first time. That's another part of the process—learning something together. Now let's get at it. Trevor, you're first up.”

Just as Mercy had taught him, Trevor trotted his mare out of the ring and into the yard outside. Then he trotted back in and made for the first barrel. At about ten feet away he slowed his horse to a stop and then backed her up a bit, to remind her of where the turn would begin. He then prompted her again and trotted her around the barrel.

When he had cleared the first barrel, he promptly started trotting her toward the second one. This stop-and-start procedure was to be the same at all three. But this time, after stopping his mare and then starting her again, Trevor's eagerness got the better of him. He spurred her on too fast and drove her too close to the second barrel, knocking it over.

Mercy was about to shout at him gleefully before remembering her promise to Wyatt. Instead, she bit her tongue and trotted her gelding over. Trevor was already off his mare, cursing to himself as he set the barrel upright.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Trevor answered angrily. “I hurried her.”

“And how will you do it differently next time?” Mercy asked.

“Keep the speed the same as we enter each pocket,” he answered. “But it's so hard! Keep the speed even, grab the saddle pommel, keep my inside leg tight, steer the horse…Jesus, how'd you get so good at this? I'll never get it!”

“With an attitude like that, you're right,” Mercy answered. “Okay, you can get back in line.”

After Trevor and Mercy had ridden back, Mercy looked at Tina. “You're next,” she said. “Let's see what you've got.”

Like Trevor, Tina trotted her horse outside and then wheeled him around. After taking a deep breath she trotted back inside then made straight for the first barrel. But unlike Trevor, she negotiated each of the barrels almost perfectly before leaving the ring. As she trotted back in, a huge smile spread across her face.

“Well done!” Mercy shouted, barely hiding her joy that a girl had just bested one of the boys. “Okay, John, now let's see how you go!”

As John started riding out of the ring, Ram turned to again look at Wyatt.

“Looks like James Dean's got some practicing to do,” he said dryly. “That's all right. It builds character.”

Wyatt smiled. “That's true,” he answered. Then he sighed and shook his head.

But I wish that Gabby were here, just the same…

T
WO DAYS LATER
Gabby sat at her homeroom desk, taking roll for her next class. As usual, her blasé tenth-graders slumped, chewed gum, and cast vacant looks at her. It was mid-afternoon, her wrist ached, and she was tired. Celia would soon drive her and Trevor home, and then take Trevor back and forth to the Flying B. Gabby would later share some Chinese takeout with Trevor, take a hot bath, and hopefully get a decent night's sleep.

Ten minutes into her talk about the battle of Gettysburg, a man opened the door without knocking and brazenly entered the room. To Gabby's utter amazement, it was Wyatt.

He was casually dressed in a navy polo shirt, tan slacks, and brown tasseled loafers. Without saying a word he found an empty desk about halfway back, and he sat down. After looking him over, several of the girls huddled across one of the aisles and started whispering urgently.

Gabby glared angrily at Wyatt. She simply couldn't believe her eyes.

“Excuse me?”
she asked loudly.

“Why?” Wyatt asked. “Have you done something wrong?”

Gabby stood from her desk and placed her hands on her hips. “That's not funny!” she answered.

Several of the huddling girls started giggling openly.

“Be quiet, you three!” Gabby ordered. She refocused her glare on Wyatt. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I've come to plead my case,” Wyatt said. “This seemed like the best place to do it.”

Gabby's eyes narrowed. “How'd you get past security?”

“I'm friends with Principal Marshall, remember?” Wyatt asked in return.

“He knows you're here?” she demanded.

“That's right,” Wyatt answered. He rummaged around in his pants pockets and produced a piece of green paper. “He even gave me a permission slip to visit your class. Wanna see it?”

More giggling arrived, louder this time. Gabby glared at the girls with deadly intent, and they quieted.

“No, I don't want to see it!” she said to Wyatt. “What did you mean by, ‘plead my case'?”

Wyatt looked around the room. “What do your students know about the legal system?” he asked.

“Very little, I imagine,” Gabby answered. “Why?”

“I've come to appeal my sentence,” Wyatt said, “and I thought they could serve as the jury.” He stood and looked around at the students. “You see, your teacher hurt her wrist because I insisted
on taking her riding, and she fell off her horse. I think that I should be forgiven. All in favor raise your hands.”

Gabby was about to protest when a slew of hands went into the air, most of them female. She scowled at Wyatt.

“Please meet me in the hall, Mr. Blaine,” she said. “Right now.”

Wyatt stood and cast another smile around the room. “She'll be right back,” he said. “I think.”

Laughter erupted again as he followed Gabby into the hallway. Gabby slammed the door so hard, Wyatt couldn't believe its glass panel hadn't shattered.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded. “This isn't the Flying B! You can't just barge in here and do whatever you want!”

“Never know until you try,” Wyatt answered. “Besides, you've been avoiding my calls.”

“There's a good reason for that.”

Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest. “So are you always this excitable around men, or is it just me?” he asked.

“Yes—no—Christ, what has that got to do with anything?”

Wyatt's expression sobered. “You left me little choice, Gabby,” he said. “I needed to confront you where you couldn't avoid me. I thought about going to your town house, but I figured that you'd shut the door in my face.”

“At least you got something right,” she answered.

Despite her outward anger, Gabby sensed her affection for him trying to overcome her heart again. “Why'd you make me go on that ride?” she demanded. She seemed so upset that Wyatt
thought she might actually stamp her feet. “I told you I was afraid of horses!”

Tears started invading her eyes, and she angrily brushed them away. “Goddamnit, Wyatt, I'm not Krista! And Trevor isn't Danny! Can't you see that? All the horse riding in the world isn't going to change that! You didn't respect my feelings, and I'll never forget it! And I'll never come back to the ranch!”

Gabby saw Wyatt suddenly blanch. He remained quiet for a time, thinking about what she had just said. It was clear that her words had stunned him. For a moment she thought she saw his eyes well up.

“And I'm not Jason,” he answered hoarsely, his voice a near whisper. “I have no need to control you, Gabby—that's not how I'm built. But you're right—I shouldn't have pushed you into it. And of course I understand that you and Trevor could never be substitutes for Krista and Danny, and that you would never want to be. Like I said, I'd hoped that if you went riding, then maybe you'd better understand what Trevor was experiencing. But I must admit that there was another reason…”

“What?” she asked.

“I wanted an excuse to be alone with you,” he answered quietly.

For a millisecond, a little smile crossed her lips. “Then why in hell didn't you say so?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Wyatt answered. “I know now that I should have. But if I hadn't intruded in this way today, you might never have known.” After looking at his shoes for a moment, he took a deep breath.

“When you fell off Caesar, I feared you were dead,” he said quietly. “So many terrible things ran through my head that I could scarcely breathe. The idea of losing you was unthinkable.”

His heartfelt words surprised her. But she was still unsure, and Wyatt's revelation only confused her all the more.

“Thank you for that,” she said quietly. “But I'm still not sure how to feel about the riding incident, or about you, or about ever going back to the ranch…”

After quickly looking up and down the empty hallway, Wyatt decided. He simply couldn't, wouldn't lose this woman. Taking Gabby abruptly into his arms, he instinctively pulled her close—so close that his cheek touched hers and she could feel the warmth of his breath. The suddenness of it was shocking, but she didn't fight it.

“I'm truly sorry, Gabby,” he whispered. “I meant every word I just said, and I need to be forgiven. We men can be slow learners, I know. But I understand about respecting your feelings. It'll never happen again, I promise. Please…I want you to come back…”

As she became lost in his embrace, for a few precious moments she put her arms around him. When he released her, her eyes remained closed, as if she was lost in some personal reverie from which she had no wish to awaken. Soon her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at his face.

“So am I forgiven, or not?” he asked.

“Did you really mean what you just said?” Gabby asked.

Wyatt smiled a little. “Cross my heart,” he replied.

She nodded quickly several times. “Then yes…,” she answered quietly.

“Good,” Wyatt said. “I'll look forward to seeing you out at the ranch later today, along with Celia and Trevor.”

After giving her a long, commanding look, he headed down the hall.

Still overcome by what had just happened, Gabby watched him go until he turned the corner. Then she leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath.

“Oh, my…,” she said quietly.

F
ROM HER PLACE
behind the ring wall, Gabby anxiously watched Trevor. Under Mercy's watchful gaze, he and the five other teens chosen to learn barrel racing were sitting on their mounts in the indoor ring, awaiting her orders.

Two more weeks had passed. Gabby's wrist had healed and the cast had come off, meaning that she no longer needed Celia's chauffer services. She had also fully forgiven Wyatt, despite his rather embarrassing way of asking. Although neither of them had mentioned it since, Gabby's memories of it remained as sharp as if it had happened only moments ago. She smiled knowingly.

Unorthodox, yes,
she thought.
But I have to admit that it worked.

Because Gabby feared horses, she had at first harbored misgivings about letting Trevor learn to ride. And falling from Caesar had certainly done nothing to help her overcome her dread,
either for herself or for her son. Even so, the program was helping Trevor change for the better, and she was immensely thankful. But during the last week or so, another worry had surfaced.

What will happen when the New Beginnings program ends?
she wondered.
Will he revert to the sullen, introverted young man he once was, or will the changes in him be permanent?

During her last meeting with Dr. James, Gabby had asked that very question. Dr. James's answer had been honest, but far from reassuring. Sometimes the teens' improvements remain, she said; sometimes they do not. The only course of action was to wait and see.

Wait and see,
Gabby thought. Then her thoughts turned to Wyatt, and she sighed.

That seems to be the case with so many things in my life…

Gabby looked down along the observation path. Although she had always avoided watching the barrel racing, she'd come because today Wyatt had made a special point of asking her. He stood about twenty feet away, chatting with some of the other parents. His black Stetson was pushed back onto the crown of his head. The sleeves of his wrinkled, white work shirt were rolled up to his elbows; his expressive hands rested casually on top of the wall. When Wyatt smiled, Gabby watched the crow's-feet deepen in his tanned face and a pang went through her heart.

If wishes were horses,
she thought,
I could stay here with him forever.

As she returned her gaze toward the teens, she saw that they had begun trotting their horses around the outer edge of the ring. They were warming up, she guessed correctly. She became
so engrossed in watching her son that she didn't notice Wyatt approaching.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

Gabby turned to him and smiled. “Private stuff,” she said simply.

“Fair enough,” Wyatt answered.

They stood in silence for a time, watching the teens ride. Even when Wyatt didn't speak, Gabby felt his presence strongly. It was almost like she could hear his heartbeat and sense his masculine energy.
If only I could read his thoughts, too,
she wished.

“Trevor is getting better, isn't he?” she finally asked.

Wyatt again leaned his forearms on the ring wall. “Yes,” he answered. “He's had his share of difficulties, but he's improved a lot.”

Suddenly Gabby's worries about Trevor resurfaced, reminding her of the favor she wanted to ask of Wyatt. Deciding that now was as good a time as any, she turned and looked into his damnably blue eyes.

“There's something I want to ask of you,” she said. “I know how much you've already done for me and Trevor, but it would mean a lot.”

Wyatt smiled. “What is it?” he asked.

“After the program ends, could I bring Trevor out to the ranch once in a while?” she asked. “I'm worried that the changes I see in him might disappear after he leaves here. If he could ride one of the horses occasionally, it might mean all the difference. I'd be happy to pay you, and—”

“Pay me?” Wyatt interrupted. “Your money's no good here,
Gabby. Of course you and Trevor can visit, and as often as you want. It will be nice to see you again.”

Gabby didn't know what to say. Like so much about Wyatt, his answer had been cryptic. Although he had agreed, she had been hoping to hear more regarding how he felt about her. But still it hadn't come. As she turned to again look at the teens, Wyatt's words echoed in her mind.
“It will be nice to see you again…”
he had said. And that was all.

She had gotten her answer, but it felt unsatisfying. Then she looked at his right hand and again saw his wedding ring. It seemed that the simple gold band was an insurmountable barrier for each of them. Gabby did her best to smile.

“Thank you, Wyatt,” she said. “I really appreciate it. Trevor will be thrilled.”

Just then Mercy barked out another order to the riding group. Soon the teens and their horses had formed a line along the far side of the ring. Mercy dismounted and started carefully situating the three blue barrels on the ring floor. Despite Wyatt's apparent confidence, Gabby's all too familiar sense of worry again crept up her spine.

“Will he be okay?” she asked Wyatt.

Without taking his eyes from the rink, Wyatt nodded. “If not, I wouldn't allow it. And I'm particularly glad that you're staying this time.”

“Why?” she asked.

Wyatt smiled again. “Oh, I have my reasons,” he said.

After making sure that the barrels were placed properly, Mercy looked at Wyatt and he nodded back. She then singled out
Trevor and spoke to him. It seemed that at Wyatt's suggestion, Trevor was to go first. Trevor unexpectedly looked at his mother and tipped his hat toward her, causing Gabby to realize how much like a grown man he suddenly seemed.

Trevor sat tall on Gypsy, the bay mare that had been assigned to him early in the program. He looked totally at home in the very boots and Stetson that he once swore he would never wear. Gabby had come to understand that the Flying B was a world away from the glitz and glamour of Boca Raton. She also knew that unlike most of the other teens, Trevor fit in this other world completely and without reservation. He sometimes seemed as much at home here as Ram and Wyatt. On a signal from Mercy, Trevor trotted Gypsy out the far exit.

After taking a deep breath, Trevor slapped the reins hard against Gypsy's rear quarters. Spurring her into a frantic gallop, he steered her back into the ring. Dirt flying crazily from her hooves, Gypsy thundered hard toward the first barrel. As Gabby watched her only child charge headlong across the ring floor, she held her breath.

To Gabby's amazement, Trevor was in total control of his horse. He stood confidently in his stirrups, letting Gypsy do all the work. His riding was so smooth and accomplished that his upper body hardly shifted on the thundering mare. While Gypsy's muscles moved smoothly beneath her shiny coat, Gabby caught an occasional microflash of the mare's shiny horseshoes, furiously throwing up dirt.

Trevor and Gypsy rounded the first barrel well, and then charged headlong toward the second one. Gabby watched in awe
as they also navigated that barrel with apparent ease. Trevor again slapped his reins against Gypsy's haunches, and they headed pell-mell toward the last one.

Digging in her heels, Gypsy seemed to literally spin on her hooves as Trevor gripped his saddle pommel and guided her through the pocket, his inside leg hard against her ribs to provide a strong focal point for her during the last turn. Then they thundered across the floor and back out the exit again.

Wyatt looked at Gabby and smiled. “Told you so,” he said quietly.

Gabby was speechless. She'd had no idea that her son could ride like that! From this day forward, she would never see Trevor in the same light as before. As Trevor and Gypsy reentered the arena, the parents clapped and cheered. Trevor rode Gypsy up to where Wyatt and Gabby stood waiting.

“That was wonderful!” Gabby exclaimed. “I had no idea that you were so good!”

Trevor beamed at her, and he again tipped his hat the way Ram had taught him. “Thank you, ma'am,” he said simply.

“Trevor and Gypsy have one more surprise for you,” Wyatt said. Without waiting for a reply from Gabby, Wyatt looked at Trevor and nodded.

Trevor produced a leather riding crop from beneath his saddle. As he spoke to Gypsy, he lightly tapped the crop against her right shoulder. Gypsy then lifted her right foreleg and bent it beneath her shoulder, causing her to lower on one side. As her other foreleg stood firm, she bowed her head before Wyatt and Gabby, her dark mane falling forward.

Gabby was so overwhelmed that again no words would come.
But it didn't matter, because no sooner had she reclaimed her voice than Trevor wheeled Gypsy around and trotted her back to the line of waiting teens.

“My God…,” Gabby whispered.

Then she realized something, and she looked at Wyatt. “You helped Trevor cook up that last bit for me, didn't you?” she asked.

Wyatt smiled. “Guilty as charged, yet again,” he admitted.

Gabby simply didn't know what to say. The gesture had been so touching that she would never forget it. “Thank you, Wyatt,” she said softly. “And thank you for taking such an interest in my son.”

Wyatt's gaze turned thoughtful. “You're welcome. Trevor is an easy person to like. And if I may be so bold, so is his mother.”

They stood there quietly for a time, looking into each other's eyes in much the same way they had that first evening of New Beginnings. Then they again turned and gazed across the arena. Mercy was sending the next teen out to begin her barrel ride.

Wyatt cleared his throat and looked down at his boots. “It's Monday,” he said. “Will you and Trevor be staying for dinner?”

Gabby nodded. “I'd like that. Besides, Trevor will brag about this all night! He might as well have an audience!”

“Good,” Wyatt answered. “Anyway, I have to get back. Will you walk with me?”

“Shouldn't we wait for the other parents?” Gabby asked.

As Wyatt grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkled up again. “Why?” he asked. “By now they can find their own way back to the big house, don't you think?”

While Gabby and Wyatt sauntered out of the ring, Gabby smiled.