Free Sunset Ranch by A. Destiny Page B

Stephen said, stopping beside me. “And those are roses.” He pointed to a brambly bush with simple, white flowers.
    â€œReally?” I looked more closely at the flowers. “They don’t look like roses.”
    â€œThey’re wild, so they look different. Smell them, you’ll see.”
    I sensed his eyes on me as I bent down. The scent was strong and sweet in the warm, still air. “Mmm. You’re right.” I straightened up and caught him staring at me. I swallowed and smiled back, and suddenly the air between us was electric, as if energy had passed back and forth.
    â€œHow do you know about flowers?” I asked as we started walking again. I was behind him now, and looking at his back made it easier to talk.
    â€œI like stuff like that,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m the nerd reading wildflower guides for fun.”
    I remembered I hadn’t told him about my discovery about Magic earlier. “Hey, I had a revelation about the buckskin earlier.” I recounted the trough incident. “So, my theory is that he’s afraid of running water.” I looked at Stephen sideways to gauge his reaction. “What do you think? Like maybe someone tried to force him to get near water, maybe the same person who beat him?”
    Stephen nodded, thinking. “Yeah, that definitely seems ­possible. We’ll have to test it out some more.” He was quiet, walking beside me on the path, his tanned hands wedged into the shoulder straps of his backpack.
    I cast him a glance. “What are you thinking about?” I winced a little as the words came out of my mouth. Ryan Davis had once told me that guys hated that question.
    Stephen raised a finger to his mouth and gnawed at a nail. “Not much. Did you think Rick mean what he said this morning?” His forehead was furrowed. “About assistant trainer, I mean.” A slight note of desperation had crept into his voice. I looked at him more closely. He continued to gnaw his fingernail. His other nails were bitten to the quick.
    â€œI don’t really know him that well,” I said carefully. I felt like I had stepped unknowingly off the boardwalk in a bog. There might be quicksand nearby, but I didn’t know where it was.
    â€œThis is it. Rick’s finally giving me a chance.” Stephen continued to bite his fingers.
    I stopped on the path and gently pulled his hand from his mouth. Blood rimmed the top of his index fingernail. We both looked down at it; then our eyes met. He shifted his grasp so that he was holding my hand. I inhaled. He gazed at my face an instant longer, then released my hand.
    We started walking again. The path inclined slightly now. The giant red rocks were behind us, giving way to arid scrub. Stephen’s footsteps scrunched on the dusty gravelly path. After a minute, he spoke. “It’s just my brother. It’s like my whole life, I’ve never been good enough for him. I’m always the one trying; he’s always the one deciding. Even when we were younger, my dad would put him in charge of the chores, and if I didn’t do them right, he’d whip Rick with a yardstick.”
    I winced. “Seriously?” Stephen’s dad sounded like the dad in The Red Pony , the John Steinbeck novel we’d read last year in English. In other words, totally scary.
    Stephen nodded. “That’s just how it is out where we are.” He shrugged. “Rick won’t admit that I’m not ten anymore, though.” His voice rose in frustration. “I’m never good enough for him—just like when we were little.”
    We were halfway up the incline, and I was definitely puffing now. I sank down on a large flat rock to one side of the path and dug my water bottle from my backpack. “Rick kind of scares me,” I admitted, taking a big gulp of water to clear my dust-parched throat.
    Stephen remained standing on the path, hands looped