Jaden Baker (55 page)

Turning to look over her shoulder, she said “Polish Arabian,” then left through the side door. She didn’t say how long she would be gone, so Jaden pursued her.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

She snapped her helmet on and adjusted something on the saddle of her horse.

“It means he runs fast for a long time, he can be a little silly because he’s not the world’s greatest thinker, but he’s got an amazing work ethic and he loves to go places.” She patted Adama’s neck and took a bridle from a hook on the shed wall.

“How long have you been riding?” he asked. She had a way of talking that he found interesting. Conversing with her was easier than he expected.

“Gosh, about six or seven years consistently, and I rode a bit as a kid. Have you ever been on a horse?”

Jaden got nearer to Adama, the gray Polish Arabian, and put out his hand for him to sniff. Adama’s nostrils flared as he took in the scent. His large dark eyes were alert, his ears pricked forward, listening.

“No, never,” Jaden said, feeling Adama’s soft nose. “This is the closest I’ve ever been to one.” He scratched the horse’s forehead and watched as Adama seemed to relax, putting his ears back and listening to Libby now.

“They’re a lot of fun,” Libby said. “Expensive, but fun.”

“He’s beautiful,” Jaden remarked, stroking the animal’s head. “I bet he’s fast.”

She studied him for a moment then said: “You want to go for a ride?”

Jaden stepped back. He had never seen a horse except for today. There were so many things already running through his mind and the idea of getting on a horse clogged his brain. Yet it sounded thrilling. Libby’s impish smile made the ladybugs in his stomach scuttle feverishly, tickling him.

“I don’t know how,” he said.

“Well, the premise is simple: stay on the horse. There are some helpful techniques, but the premise is the same in all disciplines of equestrian sports. I can throw the western saddle on Monty and we can go together if you’d like.”

It was a bad idea to go riding. There were still a million ways to humiliate himself. If he got hurt badly enough to warrant another hospital visit, it was all over. Archcroft was in pursuit, Madrid on the alert, danger in the air—all valid reasons to stay behind.

But he didn’t care.

“Okay,” he said, and with an encouraging grin, Libby went to ready the second horse.

Monty was a 12 year old Quarter Horse bay, which, according to Libby, meant he didn’t care about anything: fireworks, heavy traffic, or a nuclear blast. Jaden saw a clear difference in the two horses. Where Adama was alert and eager to get going, swishing his tail and nervously chewing his bit, Monty held his head low with his eyes half opened and his back leg cocked in relaxation. Even as Jaden scrambled into the saddle, his foot kicking Monty in the rear, the horse didn’t move. A good sign.

Walking to the trails was a weird sort of thing. Libby and Adama led the way, and Jaden and Monty followed, but the sensation was hard to adjust to. For one thing, the western saddle was uncomfortable, like straddling a box. Secondly, despite Monty’s casual-to-the-point-of-lethargic movements, Jaden was still worried he’d fall and get dragged through the dirt for miles, humiliating himself. He wore a helmet that was small and tight around his head, and his running shoes stuck inside the western stirrups added to his obvious idiocy. He was sure Libby thought he looked a fool, though she said nothing.

She, on the other hand, clearly knew what she was doing. Her saddle was small, tiny even, with nothing to grip or hold onto. Her hips moved with the horse, her legs wrapped around the barrel of his body, and even from this angle, Jaden could tell she, unlike him, was not terrified out of her mind, worrying about disfiguring her face.

When they reached the trailhead, Libby paused, waiting.

“How are you doing?” she asked, a crooked smirk on her lips.

“Fine,” he said, surprised at how casual he sounded. He was not feeling casual.

“Awesome. You want to trot a bit?”

“Sure,” he said, and not for the first time in his life, he wondered why he answered in the affirmative when he didn’t have the confidence to reinforce the statement.

The answer delighted Libby, and without seeing what she did to get her horse to move up the gait, she trotted out, Adama’s head arched gracefully, powering forward.

Monty did not wait for Jaden to figure out how to proceed. Unwilling to be left behind, he took the trot and followed Adama, Jaden bouncing in the saddle, wincing with discomfort. Ahead, Libby was posting in her saddle, rising and falling with the horse. So Jaden tried that. He felt like an imbecile, making a mockery of himself. It would be obvious, even to the untrained eye, that he didn’t know what he was doing. He was out of balance, rising and falling at all the wrong moments.

When he and Monty caught up to Libby, she smiled at him. “Rise and fall with the leg on the wall,” she said, pointing to Monty’s left shoulder. “Watch his shoulder. When it goes forward, you go up, when it comes back, you sit down. It takes some getting used to.”

Trying to rise and fall with the leg on the wall (there was no wall, what the hell was he supposed to do?), Jaden encountered another problem. Monty had awoken. Riding next to Adama, Monty’s formerly lazy demeanor transformed. His head was up, and instead of plodding along lazily, Monty’s legs flew, his stride larger and quicker than before.

Libby’s reaction was not comforting. “Oh yeah,” she said offhandedly, “I sort of forgot to mention that Monty is kind of competitive.”

“What?” Jaden asked, pulling on the reigns.

“He likes racing,” Libby said. “But you’re doing fine.”

That was a matter of opinion. He was being bumped all over the saddle, and he was sore in places he didn’t want to be sore. His arms flopped, and his fingers were numb from gripping the horn of the saddle while trying to hold the reigns.

“Okay, so here are some things you can try,” she said.

“Yes, please, things to try!”

“If you’re feeling out of balance, reach back and grab the seat of the saddle. It’ll pull you down not up, like the horn. Also, relax. Think of how a ball bounces. The more tension, the higher it goes. If you relax, you shouldn’t bounce so much.”

Jaden reached back to the lip of the saddle, and tried relaxing his legs. It was easier said than done, but after a while he did notice a difference.

“I should also run through the emergency protocol,” Libby said matter-of-factly. She held onto the reigns with one hand and used the other to talk to him, her upper body turned in conversation. He should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. Now there was emergency protocol.

“If Monty decides to speed ahead and you want to slow down, don’t pull back like you’re waterskiing. Pull one reign and turn his head until he stops. Give and take. Also, if he does get going a little too fast, stand up in the saddle to keep from bouncing off.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaden said, alarmed by the alarm in his voice. “We’re not going to go faster than this, are we?”

Libby continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “When going up-hill at speed,” she said, and Jaden felt himself breaking out in a sweat of panic, “lean forward a little and grab, well, no you can’t grab his mane I shaved it off. Oh well.”

“Oh well?”

“If we get going down-hill at a clip, you’ll want to lean back a little. Just remember to stay on the horse and relax.”

“I don’t want—” but his protests were drowned out by the sudden thundering of hooves. Libby and Adama surged forward into a gallop, and Monty would not be left behind.

Jaden tightened his grip on the horn as Monty engaged his hind legs, causing Jaden to creep back on the saddle. If not for that death grip, he would have slipped off the rear and ended up sitting on the trail, watching Monty gallop off without him.

He stood in the saddle, somehow remembering Libby’s instructions. Standing did minimize the bouncing, but he also felt stretching soreness sneak into his thighs, calves, and lower back.

The wind roared in his ears, and once Monty caught up with Adama and Libby, he kicked into a higher gear and steamrolled past them.

The sight of Libby’s broad and giddy grin released the tension in his body. Monty thundered ahead, pounding the ground with his four hooves, while the wind rushed through Jaden’s arms and ears; the speed was exhilarating. The sensation was intoxicating. This was freedom.

After a few strides, trees whistling past them, puddles splashing under hoof, Libby retook them, her beam of a smile still shining, pony-tail bouncing on her back. As he watched her, Jaden felt his cheeks stretch into a matching grin. In that moment he forgot everything and lived there, in the present, surrounded by trees and laughter.

The horses huffed air, their bodies tense and sweaty. Jaden understood how they felt, as he too was sore from the ride. His lower back and legs throbbed in a pleasant way. Galloping through the forested area had been adventurous and he was glad he had gone.

“Did you enjoy your first ride?” she asked, her voice falling among the gentle clip-clop of hooves.

“Yes,” he answered honestly. “Very much. I still think you’re crazy.” Jaden guessed they had reached at least thirty miles per hour, and on a horse, that was terrifying. The crazy statement was taken as a compliment, for Libby smiled and did a little bow.

“You know what they say: What doesn’t kill you may put a branch through your face.”

Back at the house, Libby dismounted gracefully as Jaden tripped and nearly fell, managing to recover in the final seconds. Giving Monty a final pat, Jaden unfastened the cinch and pulled off the saddle, putting it in the shed in an effort to help.

She hosed off the horses and put them in their pasture, where both rolled in the dirt, covering themselves with mud. Jaden wanted to help but didn’t know how, so Libby carried on as if he wasn’t there, feeding them hay and topping off their water bucket. Jaden felt awkward watching her, like he wasn’t supposed to be there, so he went into the house to wash his hands.

Jaden had lived alone for so long—most of his life—that living in someone else’s home would take some adjusting, even if it was only for a few days. He wondered how he could assist Libby, or lessen the burden he would have on her grocery list, but each chore or favor paled to the help she provided. Her kindness was unmatched.

“I reek,” she said as she came inside, sweeping strands of hair out of her face with a dirty hand. “I smell like a horse and I need to not smell like a horse, so I’m going to go shower and become human again. Do not take this announcement as an invitation,” she said as she went upstairs without looking at him. “I know I’ve got it going on, but I’m saying this so you don’t think I’m avoiding you. Make yourself to home, within reason.” She was almost out of his view when she hollered. “Don’t eat my ice cream!”

Jaden chuffed a laugh under his breath as she closed her bedroom door. He smiled when he thought of their outing, and how happy she was to be out riding her horse. He was glad he’d ridden with her; it had been surprisingly fun and distracting. As he looked over her books in the living room, he couldn’t wait for her to come back downstairs.

Many of the books on her shelves were ones he’d already read, so he abandoned them to search for his cat. Jaden called for him, but Cat was nowhere to be found. Trinity and Tucker were eager to help, and followed Jaden down the hallway, upstairs, and into the guest room, their tails held high, like skunks. After a while they grew bored, and trotted to Libby’s bedroom, waiting for her to come out of her shower.

In the lull of time, Jaden thought about Joseph Madrid, a worm of fear burrowing into his gut out of habit. He was ashamed to be so terror-stricken at the thought of the man. Angry, that’s how he should feel. Vengeful. When he thought of Madrid finding him, Jaden felt like a little boy. Ten years gone, and his face was the only thing that had changed.

He sat by the bed, leaning against the mattress and pulling his knees into his chest. Where would he go now? Never, in the twenty-five years of his life, had he stayed in one place for so long. Ten years. The idea of running was unappealing. He didn’t want to leave Seattle.

Libby’s bathroom door opened and she padded down the hall. Jaden rubbed his face and got off the floor to follow her downstairs. He was hungry again, but wanted to help with dinner. Before leaving his room, Jaden grabbed a fistful of cash and stuffed it in his pocket. He was determined to pay his own way; he would insist upon it.

In the kitchen, Libby sorted through her mail. To his surprise, delight, and frustration, she’d changed into shorts and a tank top. Staring like a zombie, he approached her, his eyes focused on her chest.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, tossing an envelope aside and reaching for another, not looking at him. “I’m not in the mood to cook. I was thinking cereal or take-out. Do you like Teriyaki? There’s a great place a few miles from here, I could go get something.”

He was aware that she spoke, saying something about food, but his mind wandered to a place where Libby wore fewer clothes.

“Jaden?” she said. He saw her face lower into his range of vision.