Free Summer Winds by Austin, Andrews & Austin Page A

muttered.

    ❖

    Mid-morning, Cash went into town with a laundry list of items Perry asked her to pick up from the lumberyard, along with filling up two empty diesel drums at the gas station. She was gone for several hours and I was restless. A million chores beckoned, but instead, I took a halter and went down to the grove and pulled Mariah out of the herd and into an alley between pastures. She had long ago decided I was the one person she would tolerate, and it was a rare occasion when she was uncooperative, despite what Cash had experienced with her.
    Too lazy to go get a saddle, I found a tree stump and stood on it to climb on her broad white back. Then I rode her slowly down the long grass alley between pastures. She was in a tolerant mood, listening to my commands, seeming happy to have been chosen from the herd.
    I edged her up to the end gate, bent over, and lifted the latch before urging her forward. She pushed the gate open with her body and I turned her quickly, after she’d gone through, in order to push it shut again. Certain now she was in a behaving mood, I clicked my heels into her sturdy flanks and moved her out across the prairie.
    The wind blew her big white mane and she snorted and pranced. It was a beautiful early summer’s day. Her damp back, wet from the slight exertion, both of us out of shape from the winter months, and the warmth radiated by her big body felt natural and free beneath me, an emotion only a horse could create.
    I’d ridden in college and, in fact, that was the tie that bound Johnny and Buck and me. We all loved horses. Plow horse, bronc, or pleasure horse, they were all kept at the big university barn, and that’s where one day Buck Tate encouraged me to give in and marry Johnny Blake. “But I don’t think I love him,” I remembered saying.
    And Buck replied, “Do you know for sure what love is?”
    I shook my head sadly, saying I didn’t.
    Must be Cash’s arrival that has caused all these crazy flashbacks, I thought. I turned Mariah in a circle, then signaled her to bend her massive body in figure eights. She bowed her neck and seemed to be performing for an unseen admirer. For a moment, my fantasy put us both in an exhibition ring, flowers entwined in her thick mane and the audience shouting approval.
    Out of the corner of my eye, where the ringside seats would be, appeared a vehicle parked in the pasture, a figure resting on the hood, propped up against the windshield. I turned Mariah’s head, pointing her in that direction.
    “You look awesome,” someone shouted, and I recognized Cash lounging on her makeshift metal bleacher. I nodded and tipped an imaginary hat to her.
    One leg stretched out in front, the other bent, hands clasped around her knee, she reminded me of a picture I’d once seen of James Dean.
    “Taking a day off?” My question was a bit sarcastic, meant to fend off any personal conversation she might be contemplating and to put her image back where it belonged as a ranch hand.
    “Took the things Perry needed to him. He said he’s through with me for the day. Anything you want me to do for you?”
    Was I imagining her tone? Everything she said seemed suggestive of more, as if she was playing with me, coaxing me into something.
    Mariah stomped with her right rear leg and I realized she was fighting off a horsefly that was buzzing her shoulder. I swung at it for her and she tensed up, so I patted her reassuringly.
    Cash put her hands up to her face, creating an imaginary camera, and with one finger she hit the shutter, at the same time making a clicking sound with her mouth. “Preserving this memory moment and later I’ll download it into my virtual photo album of Maggie Tanner, woman rancher.” She slid down off the Jeep and walked toward Mariah, who let her reach up and pet her neck. From my vantage point above, I could see how thick her black hair grew, almost like a horse’s mane, and how much stronger and broader her shoulders were than I’d