Spring Loosened the Reins

Chapter 2: The North Paddocks

I rode the east track until Finch's breathing settled into a steady rhythm. The path dipped through a stand of bare trees and opened onto a strip of field overlooking the water. From there I could see the north paddocks, where wooden fences ran in long, weathered lines toward the old indoor school.

I had known Owen's family owned horses. I hadn't understood that the horses were part of a business the family might sell. The difference seemed obvious now. I'd been so focused on the wedding, on whether Owen and I could make a marriage inside a family that had known each other for generations, that I'd treated the property like scenery.

When I returned, Evelyn waited by the mounting block. She had changed into a wool coat and boots, though the morning was still young.

"Finch looks happier than when you took him out," she said.

"He's better than I am at pretending nothing is happening."

Evelyn's eyes followed my glance toward the north paddocks. "Owen told you."

"He told me there might be a sale."

"That's more than he told me at first."

"Are you against it?"

"I'm against selling something because no one has bothered to ask what else it could be."

I slid from the saddle. "Doesn't that make you against the sale?"

"It makes me against an answer being chosen before the question has been asked."

She held the horse while I loosened the girth. Her hands were calm and sure, her movements those of someone who had spent a long time around animals and never needed to announce it.

"Why did you buy these?" I asked, touching the green warmers.

"Because you ride."

"That's all?"

"That seemed enough."

I looked at her. "Most people in this house seem to want me to be something."

"Then you've met most people in this house."

Her mouth curved, but her face stayed serious. "Owen is trying to keep the estate from becoming a liability. He's not cruel. He is sometimes so determined to be useful that he forgets people aren't another problem to solve."

It sounded like a defense. It also sounded like a warning.

I put Finch in his stall and stayed to brush him down. I could have gone to the house and waited for Owen to make time for me. Instead, I watched Tom lead a gray mare into the next stall.

"Do you work with the north paddock horses?" I asked.

"Most of the horses," he said. "If the sale happens, we won't."

"How many of you?"

"Seven on the stable side. More if you count the people who bring in feed and haul bedding."

I pressed the brush along Finch's neck. "What happens to the horses?"

"That depends on the buyer." Tom gave the mare a carrot. "They've talked about keeping some. It's the people I'm worried about."

I kept brushing. "Did you know the sale was being discussed?"

"I know there's a meeting next week. I know there's a buyer who wants the land. I know we're told not to promise anyone anything." He looked down at the mare's muzzle. "That's the whole trouble with a promise, isn't it? It makes people think you can control what happens next."

I didn't ask whether he thought Owen could control it. I could already hear the strain in Tom's answer.

Later, I found Owen in his office, where a wall of windows faced the west pasture. The desk was covered in folders. A framed photograph showed him as a boy on a small pony, with Evelyn behind him in riding boots. I looked at it long enough to recognize her younger face.

"You rode," I said.

"Until I was fifteen." Owen closed a folder. "I was better at negotiating feed deliveries than keeping my heels down."

"Your mother still rides?"

"Not these days."

"Why not?"

"She broke her collarbone when I was a kid. She never trusted her shoulder after that."

"Did she stop because someone told her to?"

"No. She stopped because she chose to." He watched me take in the photograph. "I know the stable matters to you."

"I don't think you do."

He sat back. "Then tell me."

I had ridden professionally for a while, not long enough to make a legend of it but long enough to believe I could keep going. Then an accident put me in a hospital bed with a fractured pelvis and months of therapy. My gelding had been sold while I was still learning to walk without a cane. By the time I could ride again, the people who had controlled the decisions had stopped asking what I wanted.

"I was good," I said. "I loved it. Then it became something everyone around me discussed as if I weren't in the room. I stopped before they could make the decision for me again."

Owen's face softened. "I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I wanted our marriage to be about us, not my old life."

"It is about us."

"Then I need to know if you expect me to become someone else here."

"No." He answered too fast, then corrected himself. "I don't want you to give up anything you love. I do need you to understand that the estate is in trouble."

"I understand the trouble. I don't understand why I'm the only person in the family who didn't know about it."

He looked down at his papers. I saw a letter with the name of a development company across the top. "I should have told you."

"Yes," I said. "You should have."

He stood and came to me, stopping close enough that I could have leaned into him. "I'm sorry."

I wanted to accept the apology. I also wanted the information I had not been given.

"Tell me when the next meeting is."

"Next Tuesday."

"I want to hear what's being discussed."

"Of course."

He said it like the decision cost him nothing. I hoped it didn't cost him nothing. A marriage that only made room for me when I asked politely would still be a small place to live.