“How did you do it?” she whispers.
I shrug. “I did what I thought you’d do,” I confess. “I brought her handfuls at a time until she turned and came over to finish the rest, and it worked.” Her smile widens, and it’s one of the few times since we’ve met that she actually looks happy.
“How did Sundance do?” I ask.
“Okay,” she says. “Alexis, that girl who came with us Friday, is going start coming over to help out. My mom used to give her lessons, so she’s familiar with these guys. With the extra help, he might be able to start looking for a home in a month or so.”
She rests her head against me, and I know she’s tired. She got up at six thirty. I heard her alarm go off and her groaning as she pulled back the covers.
“How do you find them homes?”
“The Internet is really helpful,” she says. “But my mom was always super strict with who they went to. She looked at where they’d keep the horse, what vet they’d use, and required two letters of recommendation.”
“That’s intense.”
“It is. She really cared about the horses. She’d keep them here as long as it took, though it never seemed to take that long. It’s kinda lame, but I always felt like something up there was finding the matches, rewarding her for her kindness.”
“That’s not lame,” I say, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You might be right. There aren’t a lot of kind people in this world. I hope they are rewarded.”
“My mom was one of them, and not just with the horses. She’d help anything and anyone. It didn’t matter. If you needed something, my mom was there.” She closes her eyes, and I can feel her hurt. I run my hand down her back.
“You’re kind too. One of the kindest I’ve ever met.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Nah. I just like horses more than people.”
I laugh and look at Phoenix, trying to see the beauty behind the fear and the scars. “Do you ever wonder why people are cruel?” I have, quite often. And not just people, but the world. When the darkness takes over, I struggle to see the point of living in the world.
“We live in a world where people mistake kindness for weakness, and nobody wants to be weak,” she says slowly. “I think people confuse courage with cruelty sometimes, but they couldn’t be more wrong. It takes courage to be kind, to do what should be done. Standing up for yourself, doing what’s best for you…where do you draw the line? At the expense of others?” She shakes her head and lets out a breath. “Being kind doesn’t mean you get walked over. It means doing the right thing, not the easy thing. It’s having mercy and wanting to contribute to a world that’s larger than yourself.”
Her words awaken something inside of me that tingles uncomfortably: the truth. I’ve done what was easy, what made me look and feel good in that moment. I’ve put others down, taken advantage of anyone I could, and used my fame to get my way. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? How could it be wrong if it was expected?
“Ready to ride?” she asks, taking a step back.
“As long as you are.”
“I am,” she says. “I’m going to run inside and pee first, and grab us water bottles and food.”
“That’s a good idea,” I tell her as I follow her out of the stall. She eyes Phoenix one more time, a slight smile still on her lips. I change while she uses the bathroom, putting on jeans, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. When I go back downstairs, Haley is on the back porch, calling Chrissy inside.
“It’s too hot for you,” she tells the dog. I love how she talks to animals like they are people and can understand. “Stay in here where it’s cool and I’ll let you out later, okay?” She gives the dog a treat before we go into the pasture to bring in the horses.
A short while later, they are saddled up. She holds Benny’s reins as I get on. He doesn’t stand still like the well-trained horses I ride on set.
“He’s an asshole,” she says as she effortlessly gets on Shakespeare. He stands perfectly still. I watch her sink into the saddle and relax instantly. It’s been a long time sine she’s ridden, but it looks so natural for her. The worn leather of the reins slides through her fingers, and her feet slip into the stirrups. Her shoulders go back and she smiles, tilting her head to the sun. “Don’t be afraid to be assertive with him.”
“Thanks for making me ride the arse,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
Haley laughs. “If he’s too bad, we’ll switch. He’s good on trails though, and he’ll pretty much just follow Shakespeare anywhere.”
She cues the white horse forward, and Benny falls in step behind him, just like she says. I didn’t have to do anything. I’m a little relieved since I had problems with a well-trained horse like Rusty. We ride down the driveway and cross the street, going along an overgrown path that leads to woods. Haley slows Shakespeare to a stop.
“Do you see that barn?” she asks, pointing across a weedy field that’s encased by trees.
I lean forward, one hand on the saddle horn, and squint. “I think so. I see something.”
“That barn and the land has been for sale for years. It’s way overpriced, but my mom wanted to buy it and expand the farm. She wanted to take in more rescues.”
“Sounds like she was an amazing person,” I say.
“She was.” Haley takes a breath and runs her fingers through Shakespeare’s mane. “The barn is full right now. Sundance shouldn’t be there, or he should at least be in the process of finding a home, but, well, you know. Having another barn for more rescues would be nice.”
“Isn’t it a little far from your house?” I ask.
“It’s not that bad, really. My mom had the crazy idea of making it a legit non-profit organization with workers, and running clinics on behavior problems. It would be open to the public, so she didn’t want it that close to the house.” Haley smiles and shakes her head. “I want to buy it, even though I can’t manage the one barn I have. But I want to for her, ya know? Maybe someday.”
She cues Shakespeare forward and turns around, and sunlight sparkles in her eyes. “How good of a rider are you? You said you’re, uh, a beginner, right?”
I laugh. “That’s a nice way of putting it. I think I’m okay, but the horses I ride are always very well trained with their handler nearby. I get constant cues and help,” I admit. It’s not like this, even though you’d never guess by watching someone riding a horse on TV or in a movie. Someone is nearby at all times. I’m never just out in the open.
I’m never free like this.
She pushes Shakespeare into a trot and circles around. “Put your arms down,” she says. “If Benny bolts and you need to pull the reins back, you’re going to run out of room when your hands hit your chest. Think of it like a “V” with the reins. It gives you much more control.” I nod and lower my hands. She slows next to me. “And push your heels down. Actually, bring your whole leg back and sit deeper in the saddle. Like this.” She pitches forward then slowly rolls her hips into place. “And when you want him to stop or slow down, ask with your seat first.”
“Come again?”
“Here, watch Shakespeare.” She loosens her reins and asks him forward. She shifts her weight, sitting on the back pockets of her jeans, and the horse stops. “He’s very responsive. Benny isn’t. He’s an ex-racer and was trained to have someone pulling on his mouth. But sitting deep helps. He knows what you’re asking.”
“And they can feel all this through the saddle?”
“Oh yeah. Horses are incredibly sensitive creatures. Shakespeare is calmer and easier to ride than Benny, but you have to be aware of everything with him. Just brushing your legs against his sides can make him go forward. You have to really communicate with him what you want.”
“I’m starting to think I’m clueless about horses.”
“Not totally. You’re doing really well. I’m kind of nit-picking. It’s hard not to do.” She smiles and trots around us again. “And I do like a man who can ride.”