Deeper Than Secrets

CHAPTER 4 | Beau

CHAPTER 4 | Beau

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I meet Charlie down by the lower barn. Usually, we keep newly-arrived horses here for quarantine or client horses if there isn’t room at the main barn. Today, Charlie’s down there with Adele’s retired gelding, Ace. They both look up as I slide the heavy doors open, casting a wide wedge of sunlight across the brick floor.

Charlie glances at his watch. “You’re early. Weren’t you supposed to stay at the auction until later?”

“Something came up.”

Charlie nods like this makes perfect sense. For him, it probably does. Lanky and dark-haired, Charlie mostly survives on coffee and beef jerky. He takes a weekend off maybe once a quarter, but when he does, he comes back four days later smelling like perfume and beer. If you ask him what happened, he’ll just shrug and say, “Life, man.”

“Hey, Ace,” I say. The dark brown gelding nickers at me, and sniffs my pockets for treats. I unwrap a peppermint and give it to him. “Did you bring his tack?”

“Yeah. Over there.” Charlie nods toward a saddle and bridle tucked into a corner, waiting for me. “Explain to me again why we can’t do this up at the arena.”

I pick up a saddle pad and smooth it across the gelding’s back. “Because everyone at the farm will effing show up to watch, and I’m pretty sure I know how this is going to go, and I don’t want witnesses.”

“But you’ll let me. I’m honored.”

“Don’t be. You’ll get to call nine-one-one if it goes worse than I think.”

Charlie curses a blue streak under his breath. “It’s an honor and privilege working for you, you know that?”

I grin at him. Charlie’s an ass, but since I have also been called an ass from time to time, we get along. Plus, he’s an amazing groom. I hired him a few years before the accident. He was with me at my last Olympics. Other people might not like him, but my horses do and that’s always been good enough for me.

I place the saddle on Ace’s back and tighten his girth, ignoring the twinges in my hands. They don’t mean anything. They don’t. I can always get help saddling and un-saddling. It’s the riding that’s the important part.

“So what’s the deal?” Charlie asks as we walk Ace to the other end of the barn so I can get on. There’s a grass arena just beyond the paddocks. It’s shady and private. “When did the doc clear you for riding?”

“She didn’t.” I check the girth one more time before pulling my stirrups down to mount.

Charlie watches me, still scowling. “You fall off Ace I’m telling everyone.”

“I’m not actually worried about falling off.” Even with the pain and numbness, I know I can stay on a dead quiet horse. It’s how I feel sitting on that dead quiet horse that worries me.

I lift my left foot to the stirrup, find my grip, and swing into the saddle, landing softer than I thought I would.

Okay, I think. Not bad so far. Ace flicks one ear back, patiently waiting for me to get my act together. I gather up the reins, threading them clumsily through my numb fingers as my other foot finds its stirrup.

“Ready?” Charlie asks.

I nod, squeezing my calves into Ace’s sides. He obediently moves off, ears pricked, heading toward the arena like we do this every day. Gotta love a horse that knows his job. I concentrate on moving with his stride as we walk under the stretch of oaks lining the fence line.

It almost feels...normal. I’ve been riding since I was three, competing since I was six, and have probably logged tens of thousands of hours on horseback. Sitting up on Ace is like coming home.

It’s also aggravating my hip. I ignore the flashes of pain, and as we turn into the grass arena, I ease Ace into a trot. The flashes turn to sickening pangs and I grit my teeth.

If I can’t manage this on Ace, I’m in serious trouble, I think and immediately shove the thought away, concentrating on circling back and forth around the arena. After a few minutes, the pain subsides into twinges again and I decide to push it.

I ask for a canter. Ace’s shoulders lift as his hind legs come under, lifting us into the canter. The energy rides right up my spine with lightning. Briefly, my vision wobbles.

Most horses have a twelve foot canter stride—meaning they can move twelve feet forward with one step. Some horses are larger, some are smaller, but most jump courses are created with that twelve foot stride in mind.

The extravagant movers are wonderful to watch and even more fun to ride, but they’re hard on you too. You have to absorb all that swing and power through your core. And at the moment, I have no core. I have no back. I can’t feel his mouth. I can’t...I just can’t.

I pull up under a patch of shade and rub my right hand until black spots flash before my eyes. It isn’t supposed to do that anymore. The numbness should be gone by now. The pain should be a memory.

My mouth goes sour like I might be sick. I can’t ride like this. I need my hands, my legs, my back. Riding is all about communication. It’s weight and pressure and feel and right now, I don’t feel much of anything.

I walk back to Charlie and swing down from Ace. I pat his shoulder, and he bumps me with his nose, reminding me that pats are fine, but peppermints are better.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, fumbling as I unwrap another and give it to him. Charlie watches us without saying a word. Then again, he doesn’t need to. We both know how that just went, and we untack Ace in silence.

“I’ll turn him out,” Charlie says at last, taking the gelding’s lead rope from me. “Can you take his stuff back?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Beau?” Charlie hesitates, mouth pressing into a pale line. “I asked around about Landers.”

Everything in me stills. “And?”

“You were right: he didn’t pay off his debts until after cashing Arch’s insurance check. And you’re also not the only person who saw Parish coming out of Arch’s stall.”

“Who else saw?”

Another hesitation. Charlie looks at me like I’m some sort of stranger.

“Who else saw?”

“Kat Bowman. She works for the Fisher family. They were stabled just up the row from us.”

Blood thumps in my ears. “And she didn’t say anything? What the hell?”

“What’s she supposed to say? You’re the only one who thinks something went down with Arch.”

I hoist the saddle up, balancing it on one arm. “I’ll talk to her.”

“She won’t tell you anything more. I tried. She likes her job. What you’re digging for...it’s serious s**t, Beau.”

“No kidding. An animal died because Dell Landers killed him for the money. I was riding him and now my career’s—you know, what? Forget it.” I give Ace one last pat before turning away, walking straight through the lower barn and back into the sunlight. It should make me feel better, but my chest won’t loosen.

At the top of the hill, Ellie leads another one of our young horses to the mounting block and hops on. She points him toward the jump arena and he jigs underneath her. I rebalance Ace’s saddle in one arm and sling his bridle over my other shoulder, watching them. The young horse is a half-brother of Arch, fully owned by Adele. They look like bookends, almost identical down to the flashy white stockings and rich chestnut coats, and for a second, I feel like someone’s punched me in the gut.

It’s like looking at everything I lost and for another second, I hate her. Unreasonable? Yeah. Asshole-y? Definitely. I like Ellie. She’s a great rider and she’s only going to get better with time and experience, but right now? Right now, she can still ride and jealousy nearly drops me.

And rage. I knew Dell needed that check to pay off his barn bills—and if he couldn’t afford his hobby, I’m damn sure he couldn’t afford some of his business ventures. I bet those were paid off with blood money as well and I’m going to prove it. Just because this Kat woman can look the other way doesn’t mean I will. I need to track her down, talk to her, and—

“Beau!”

My back teeth click together. Holly. She sounds pissed too. I look up, spotting her coming around the side of the barn, loose blond hair streaming behind her.

“What?” I ask.

She stomps closer, eyes skittering over the saddle and bridle and then swinging to my face. She’s curious what I’m up to. If she asks, I’m going to tell her I need them for my date tonight.

I brush past her, heading inside the barn to hang up the saddle and bridle. The grooms scatter as we walk down the aisle. Clearly, my little episode at the auction has already reached them and they figure Holly’s about to finish chewing me out.

“Can I have a word?” she asks when we reach the tack room.

“Do I have a choice?” I hang the saddle on Ace’s rack and give Holly my laziest smile, the one that usually annoys her the most.

She smirks, and there’s something about it that runs chills down my spine. She’s up to something, and I don’t think I’m going to like it.

“I have great news for you,” she says.

“Oh yeah?” She’s close enough I can smell her perfume—the lightest mix of flowers—and catch myself taking a deep breath of it. “What’s the great news?”

“I’m moving in with you.”