One
Iwas watching Riley ride his thoroughbred, Tigger. Tigger was the beautiful bay color that identified his breed. He had four white stockings on his feet and a white marking on his face. Riley was guiding him around the barrels in the fenced-in dirt arena. Tigger was tired; I could tell by his body language the moment they completed each run-through of the course. Either Riley couldn’t tell or he didn’t care.
Riley was an asshole. He was a spoiled rich boy who didn’t give a damn about anybody but himself. It had been that way for years and years. I had a hard time remembering the times Riley had ever been nice to me. Those were a very distant memory, on the verge of being lost to time. Once upon a time, he had been my friend, but now we were as opposite as we could be.
Riley’s face did nothing to mask his disappointment in Tigger’s time on the course. His lips were set in a firm line, and his eyes looked like cold grey steel as he stared at Rodrigo, my fellow stable hand. Rodrigo had been keeping track of the time. Riley let out a string of curses that Rodrigo would never be comfortable with repeating then pushed Tigger through the course again. Riley would break this horse, make him lame if he wasn’t careful.
Tigger weaved around the barrels and made a sharp turn around the last barrel to head back to the start. At that sharp turn, Tigger lost his footing and went down to a knee. The horse had been scared and cried out. Riley, being the supreme asshole that he was, called out and smacked the horse on the rear, pushing him to get back up and finish the course. When they finished, Riley looked like he was ready to murder Tigger. The time from this run had to have been much worse than the last.
Riley looked like he was about to start yelling at Rodrigo, who had said something quietly to Riley.
Rodrigo was a gentle soul. His family originated from Spain. He was short like many horsemen were. He had black hair that was starting to grey and a round belly that was proof of his love for food. If I had a wife who could cook like his, I would probably be sporting a belly like that, too.
While Rodrigo looked like he could have been a tough guy, he was far from it. He was kind hearted and always took Riley’s abuse to heart.
“That’s enough for today!” I called out to Riley.
“Don’t you think that poor horse has had enough of your shit?”
I knew there would be consequences for my words, but I could handle Riley Reys. Rodrigo, on the other hand, hated confrontation, and his stomach would be tied up in knots for days after a verbal assault from Riley. Rodrigo shot me a look that said,Thank you.
Riley looked up at me, and if looks could kill, I would have gone up in a fiery ball of flames. His body froze up momentarily in anger.
Tigger’s head hung low, looking relieved to stand still on one place, even if Riley’s stupid ass was still perched on his back with spurs digging into his sides. That poor horse got treated like garbage by Riley, which was exactly why I would challenge Riley at every chance I got.
Most things got treated like garbage by Riley, except his truck.
I could say that I picked the fight with Riley purely to protect Rodrigo and Tigger, but then I wouldn’t be honest. Riley held himself on a pedestal way too high. I hacked away at it any chance I could get.
Riley jumped off Tigger’s back. He stormed toward the fence line where Rodrigo was sitting. He then threw the reins in Rodrigo’s direction, not caring if the other man had to leap forward in a rush to keep the nice leather reins from hitting the ground.
Riley’s quicksilver eyes never left me as he stormed out of the gate, slamming it shut. The sound echoed off the trees that were scattered through the pasture. I did my best to stand tall and still. The best thing to do when the King of Pricks got like this was to be firm and give him his shit right back. If he sensed weakness, he would hang around and prey on you further. If you gave him a taste of his own medicine, he couldn’t handle it and would storm away. Bringing Riley back down to size was a thrill I didn’t often shy away from.
He stalked across the manicured lawn. Everything around us looked calm and peaceful, except him.
Riley didn’t look like he would be backing down from this fight that was brewing between us. In fact, I was sure he was glad to finally have a good opponent to take on. Neither Tigger nor Rodrigo challenged him like I did. He looked like he could swing that fist in my direction and not think twice. Let him try.
The last time he tried to hit me, when we were kids, I put him in his place. I had wrestled him to the ground and had put his head in the nearby creek. We had been out of sight of the adults. He was too embarrassed to tell them what happened. He had known his father would belittle him for a girl half his size almost killing him. He would have never heard the end of it. So it was our secret, still to this day, amongst other things that we would both like to forget.
If he tried to hit me now, I’d give him a broken nose and I would go straight to his father. Physical assault of employees would not be a good look for his father’s business.
When I was in a foul mood, that creek where I taught Riley a lesson was one of my favorite places to sit. It lay on the perimeter of Golden Ray’s Farm, just outside the fence line. Its rocks had been polished smooth with time. They were the perfect size to toss when I needed to let off some steam. With it being at the edge of the property, it was a private retreat and given privacy by trees.
Riley stopped in front of me. His prominent jaw line was set. His grey blue eyes were locked on me in a liquid rage. His opened flannel shirt and white undershirt were damp and clinging to his abdomen. The dirt from the arena was drawn to his white shirt like a moth to a flame. His jeans were muddy, and his boots were even worse. His scruff did nothing to hide his contempt for me. His ear-length hair was wind-blown and had been caught by another breeze.
“Do not ever tell me what to do with my horse,” he seethed.
Riley was a hot head and bossy, but his one attribute was his looks. He wore the dirty old cowboy look well.
“I will tell you when you’re pushing Tigger too far. He is too good of a horse for a bastard like you,” I said calmly.
Flames danced in his eyes at his barely repressed anger. Inside, I could see how upset he was to be talked down to by me. All the more reason to continue, until one day he would learn his lesson and stop being an asshole.
My mother told me not to let Riley boss me around. She said his mother left him, and he was never taught to respect women. I had to teach him that he could not walk all over me. She told me that and then made me go ride Riley’s new horse, just to teach him a lesson.
I felt sorry for Riley, which was the only reason I hadn’t gone to his father William about his behavior. A small part of me understood that Riley was miserable. If I went to his father, I might make that even worse. I also took my mother’s advice to heart and no longer allowed him to walk all over me.
“Is this your farm? Is he your horse?” he asked, while pointing back to Tigger.
