Ever since those walls were erected a few years ago, the ranch has been closed off to anyone who’s passing by and that’s probably left people wondering what exactly lies beyond them, but there’s not really much to look at. People most likely imagine the ranch to be kept in pristine condition, with its own farmhands and pedigree horses and a newly built mansion home.Sonot true. The Harding Estate is nothing if not humble.
“Why wouldn’t you guys be allowed in?” I ask with a laugh, gesturing for them to come forward and join me. Aunt Sheri must be watching from afar, because the gate begins to close behind them.
“Well, it’s just. . .” Savannah starts, but then relaxes her shoulders and smiles brightly. “Never mind.”
It takes me a second to figure out what she was about to say.This is Everett Harding’s former abode, or something fan-girly along those lines. I shake the thought away and swiftly move on.
“So, what’s up?”
“We thought we’d drop by and see how you are,” Tori says.
The nose piercing she sported at the tailgate party isn’t there today and her look in general appears more conservative. I stare at her ankle boots, wondering how they don’t make her feet swell in this heat. I’m wearing flip flops, which isn’t exactly ranch attire, but at least they keep me cool.
“And my mom says Sheri still keeps horses,” Savannah says with an excitement that really isn’t all that subtle, her eyes roaming the fields over my shoulder in search of our stables.
Tori rolls her eyes and cups her hand over one side of her mouth as she whispers to me, “Yeah, she’s one of those horse freaks.”
I look at Savannah and smile. “So, you’re here to saddle up?”
“Seriously?” Her blue eyes grow wide and she looks as though she may burst like a firework, childlike happiness radiating across her face.
“Sure,” I say. “We all can.”
“Wait, wait,” Tori says, panicked. “Me? On a horse?”
“It’ll be fine,” I reassure her, even though my confidence is lacking just as much. I’ve helped Sheri out with the horses over the past week, sure, but grooming a horse – including brushing and braiding their mane – is a lot different than actually riding one. And I haven’t done that yet; the whole galloping-around-the-fields thing. Sure, I trotted about on my pony, Misty, when I was six, but that feels like a lifetime ago. But I don’t want Savannah and Tori to question my bloodline of ranch-owning relatives, so it’s time to ramp up the courage.
We head down the dirt track road toward the house, where Popeye gives us an enthusiastic wave from the porch, and then find Sheri walking through the field with a bucket in either hand. She seems skeptical and somewhat concerned when I ask if we can ride the horses, probably because she knows I have no real idea what I’m doing, but when Savannah assures her she has riding experience and will keep an eye on me and Tori, she loosens up a bit and agrees to let us take out the most calm and obedient horses she has. She leads us down to the stables and introduces us to our mounts, then she shows us (well, me and Tori) how to saddle up along with very detailed, specific instructions on how to ride.
“Do wehaveto do this?” Tori whines, securing the clip of her helmet. She stares doubtfully at the aptly named Domino, who stands placidly chewing on a piece of hay.
“You don’t want to miss out on the gossip, do you?” Savannah says. She gives me a pointed look and the two of them exchange another one of those private, knowing smiles that only best friends have.
Gossip? What gossip?
“Fine,” Tori huffs. “Let’s go, cowgirls.”
We guide the horses out of the stable and into the glorious sunshine. Every morning here is a gorgeous one, unlike the smoggy dawn skies of LA. My scalp feels hot already from this ugly helmet perched on my head, and I’m still wearingflip flops.I’m not fooling anyone – I am definitely not a country girl who rides her trusty steed off into the sunset, but at least Sheri seems highly amused as she watches us from afar.
Savannah effortlessly pulls herself up onto her horse, seated confidently while Tori and I struggle. Her French braids actually look nice under a helmet, whereas I must look ridiculous with strands of hair falling into my eyes and Tori looks just as silly attempting to climb onto a horse while wearing a skirt. My horse – Fredo – is patient, and I finally swing my leg over him while Savannah fights laughter. It takes Tori longer to get herself organized and by the time we’re all ready to set off, there’s a scowl etched onto her face.
“This is not what I consider fun,” she grumbles.
We head off across the field at a slow walk, though I can’t focus on anything besides trying not to fall out of this saddle. I wobble a lot, clinging onto the worn leather reins, praying that Fredo doesn’t get spooked and gallop wildly off. Falling off a horse and ending up in the ER isn’t the type of LA-detox I was sent here for.
“Mila, we have a confession,” Savannah says after a while of peaceful strolling. For all we’re complete amateurs at this, Tori and I do a good job of keeping in line on either side of her. We bounce along, our horses in a perfect row of three. I tear my eyes from Fredo’s luxuriant mane and glance over at Savannah, who watches me with a teasing smirk on her face. “We’re here because we want to talk to you about Blake.”
Nowthatnearly knocks me out the saddle. His name instantly gets my back up. “Blake?” I say as nonchalantly as possible, staring straight ahead and trying not to let them see my triggered reaction at the mere sound of his name. “What about him?”
“You guys went on a date the other night,” Savannah says matter-of-factly.
“Uh-huh,” Tori says. She leans forward on her horse so she can see around Savannah, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at me.
“What?” I splutter. How do they know about my night with Blake in Nashville? I didn’t tell anyone. “We absolutely werenoton a date. Did he. . . Did Blake tell you that we were?”
“He didn’tspecificallyuse the word, but trust me, it was a date,” Savannah says with a smug shrug of her freckled shoulders. “He took you to Honky Tonk Central! That’s literally his favorite place on planet earth, and he wouldn’t take just anyone there.”
I blink down at my horse’s ears, which twitch as if he’s listening too, seemingly barely aware that I’m weaving my fingers through his mane. Savannah somehow knows all of the details, like where and when Blake and I hung out, and ifIdidn’t tell her, then. . . “Blake told you about Wednesday night?”
