I glance around the landscape only illuminated by moonshine, taking in the place I was forced to leave when I was a child. I’ve never forgotten it though. My father lives about forty minutes outside of Bozeman near Big Sky, surrounded by mountains, woods, and open fields. Despite not being back for fourteen years, I still get that feeling of homecoming in my chest. Like the mountains are welcoming me home after a long absence.
The snow covers every inch of land around us in a soft blanket, giving the impression of a new beginning, as if nothing’s been tarnished or broken yet. It’s peaceful.
As we drive through the metal gate indicating the start of his property, I take in my surroundings, making note of the small changes, while I studiously avoid looking at my father. I’m still in shock he dropped everything to fly to Seattle, rent a truck and trailer, and pick me and Whisky up to stay at his place until we’re healed. To say it shook most of my views of the world would be an understatement. I expected I’d have to beg for his help. Instead, he told me to rest, and he’d be there in the morning. I barely had time to say “thanks” before he hung up, and I was left sitting in the hospital bed with my jaw hanging open, looking at Bob in bewilderment. When I told him my dad was on his way, Bob just smiled and looked at me with secrets and love in his eyes, the corners crinkled—an expression I’ve come to recognize—like he knows more than he’s telling me but is happy for me to be finding out.
I hate the look. I remember the first time I received that particular gleam in his eyes. Bob was teaching me how to start a three-year-old filly, Hurricane. The name definitely did her justice. I was sixteen and cocky, thinking I knew everything. I missed the signs that would have told me she wasn’t ready for me to sit in the saddle. Bob knew as much, but he remained silent. I didn’t know why at the time, but he was fighting a smile, something akin to satisfaction in his eyes. It was a look I deserved; I was too cocky for my own good back then. I needed to learn the hard way, and I ate dirt as soon as my weight hit the saddle. One minute, Hurricane was standing still, seemingly calm, the next she was bucking like a prized bronc horse.
That day, while I lay on the ground with a bleeding nose, trying to catch my breath, I learned a few valuable lessons. You have to pay attention to what is going on around you, not just to what you want to see because it fits in with what you’re trying to achieve. Patience is indeed a virtue, and some things can’t be rushed. And lastly, whenever Bob looks at me with that specific gleam in his eyes, fighting a smile, I know something’s up and to tread extra carefully.
Hearing my father clear his throat next to me reminds me of where I am, and I drag my gaze from the landscape to the house in front of us. The two-story A-frame log house hasn’t changed much from what I remember. I can see the wraparound porch overlooking the valley.
He pulls the truck to a stop in front of the house, obviously planning to get me settled first. “Wait.” I stop him from opening the door. He stops with his hand on the door handle. “Do you—” I have to clear my throat before I can continue, “Do you mind if we get Whisky settled first? I want to make sure he won’t cause any issues.”
He looks at me for a beat, a small smile tipping the corners of his mouth upward. “Okay,” he says before he continues down the lane toward the stable.
I fidget in my seat, not knowing how to act around him. I’m tempted to lash out at him. Put all the hurt and resentment I felt over the years at his feet, but that’s the old me. The person no one liked—myself included—who would inflict pain on others just so she doesn’t have to confront her own. I took me too many hours with a therapist to finally realize the only person I was hurting with my behavior was myself.
“Most of my herd is on the pasture to the north, pawing for the winter. I have the five three-year-olds I’m training in the stable, so Whisky shouldn’t be too bothered by other horses and will be able to rest.” He’s rambling, scratching at the dark stubble on his face.
For the first time since he picked me up, I really look at him. He hasn’t changed much from what I remember. His black hair is more salt-and-pepper, but his striking blue eyes—so much like my own—are still the same.
“Bob told me the vet in Seattle wasn’t able to determine how extensive the damage is, right?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I’m still staring at his profile and wondering how he can look the same after all these years, as if nothing has changed.
“Okay, I asked Kade to come out tomorrow to have a look at his leg. He’ll be able to give you a treatment plan and an estimate on how long it will take to heal.” He stops in front of the red-painted stable and pats me on the leg. “We’ll get you two ready for the Olympics. I promise.”
I snort. I’m not about to forgive and forget what happened and play loving daughter just because he decided to be a decent father for once and help me out when I needed it. “You can’t promise me that. No
