Eventually we reach the house. Large, white, and sprawling, with a wraparound porch complete with rocking chairs, it’s one of my favorite sights.
Julie tells me her grandparents went to visit friends at a ranch nearby, so it’s just the two of us. She starts to bring her bag inside but I get out of the car and make a beeline to the barn. I wore leggings and my boots for the trip so I could literally hop right on.
“Who can I ride?” I call out to her as I run.
She’s laughing. “Anyone you want. Except Billie.”
“Why not Billie?”
“I don’t think she gets out much.”
I step inside the barn, the air feeling cool. Her grandparents have five horses. Both of them still ride, so they each have their own: Chester, a stunning dapple-grey mustang they adopted, and Marjorie, a sorrel draft/quarter horse cross. Then there’s Julie’s horse, Samson, a sweet buckskin, and Samson’s daughter, Billie, a tall bay paint. There’s also Sunshine, a palomino who belongs to the ranch hand who manages the cattle here. Sunshine is always off-limits because he’s not theirs, but I’ve ridden Billie before, and she’s never been a problem.
“Then Billie needs to get out,” I yell back at Julie.
All five horses poke their heads out of the stall, startled by my intrusion.
“Sorry, sorry,” I apologize to them, giving them a bow.
The horses don’t look amused, except for Billie. She looks excited to see me.
That settles it.
“You poor girl,” I tell her, coming over. “Haven’t been out in a long time?” I try to place my hand on her muzzle but she raises it sharply out of the way. She’s full of beans.
Julie comes in, shaking her head in warning. “She’s been out at pasture but she’s still going to be a handful. Are you sure you don’t want Chester or Marjorie?”
“Nah,” I say. “I need a little excitement too.”
I glance over at her and she licks her lips, wanting to say something, probably wondering if I’ll listen. Then she shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
We get the horses out into the crossties and get them tacked up. Billie stomps her hooves, always shifting, raring to go. When we’re ready and I’m trying to mount her, I can barely swing my leg up since she keeps on moving.
Maybe this isn’t a good idea.
The warning flashes in my head. It reminds me that I have a lot at stake, and things are already off to a rough start.
But I ignore it.
I manage to get my leg up and Billie bolts. I hang onto the saddle horn, keeping upright, and wrangle her back to a walk.
“I told you,” Julie says, bringing Samson up beside me. “You going to be okay?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her, flashing her a cheesy grin.
I am fine. Better than fine. It feels so fucking good to be up here, feeling the horse move beneath me. The wind is in our hair, a cool breeze, and the sky above the hills is large and magnetic.
“I missed this,” I tell Julie as we head toward the trails that lead into the valleys and hills. “I miss the peace. You know? I know soccer is my love but it’s so goddamn nice to be in a team of two. Just me and Billie. Or whatever horse. But you know, not having any pressure, no fans, no team counting on you. Just a partnership.”
At that, Billie gives a little buck and I laugh. “Easy now,” I tell her, gliding my hand down her neck as her ears go to and fro, and she’s fighting the bit a little. “We have all day.”
Julie and I ride side by side through meadows filled with green spring grass, the ground still a little muddy in places, a fresh scent to the air. Eventually it gets hotter and then we’re climbing up the trails into the hills, riding along ridges lined with sagebrush. From up here it feels like you can see forever.
Then we hear the distinct sound of thunder rumbling ominously.
Julie is riding ahead of me and turns her head to look behind her. I turn mine to follow her gaze. The clouds have grown into a large mass of darkness, billowing up high into the sky. It feels like we’re being approached by a spaceship from Independence Day.
“Uh oh,” I say.
Billie raises her head anxiously, starting to back up.
“Easy,” I tell her. I look at Julie. “Should we turn around?”
We both come to a stop and Julie remains twisted around, staring at the clouds. “I don’t think they’re coming here,” she says. “Look the wind is pushing them to the left.”
I stare at them. The sun is shining where we are, making the bright green hills stick out in contrast against the dark grey behind us. The grey mass is moving away from us, albeit slowly.
“It’s your call,” Julie says.
We’ve only been riding for a half hour so far, so I hate the idea of turning back so soon.
“Let’s keep going,” I tell her. “It’s moving slow and I’m sure it will miss us.”
So we keep plodding on. Billie seems to be getting more anxious, so the minute that we’re off the ridge and down into another valley, I let her open up.
I gallop toward the sunshine, face into the wind, closing my eyes at how free I feel, like I’m flying out of my life. Right now, right here, I don’t have to deal with the fact that the last time I saw my mother she was out on parole, and that she had invited me for lunch with her, only to have her take money from my wallet when I was in the restroom.
I don’t have to think about the way my father looks at me most of the time, like he can’t believe I’m his daughter, and the only time I see any love
