Page 28 of Love Is a War Song

Hangovers were the worst and this one felt like it lasted the full week since our night at the honky-tonk.

I was never drinking again. The image of Lucas’s horrified face after I vomited on his boots played on a loop for days.

I put everything I had into working and cooking to ignore the undercurrent of embarrassment in all my interactions with him since the honky-tonk.

The rhythm of the ranch reminded me of a simple eight count of choreography.

I could do it with my eyes closed. Every day it was getting easier to wake up at the buck-ass crack of dawn to make breakfast and I was actually getting good at it.

The sweet potato pancakes I made were seriously the best; both Red and Davey had seconds.

It helped having access to the internet.

Better Homes was good and all, but the recipes felt dated and heavy. If there was one thing I could add my little Avery flair to, it would be adding in lighter and leaner meals. As much as I loved butter, eating pounds of it would do no one any favors.

The attic was looking better, and I started posting things online to sell—mostly the big items first—and raised a couple thousand dollars so far.

Lottie was thrilled, and I felt like my contributions were actually making an impact.

I was working hard behind the scenes to fulfill my end of the deal with Lucas.

It was all administrative and not as exciting or as fast as I thought it would be.

I had reached out to my lawyer and financial adviser, but one was on a summer vacation and the other was at a conference, so I would have to wait awhile for their responses.

I kept digging through the attic hoping to discover a gold mine.

I didn’t find gold, but I did find a box full of vintage leather boots—I had to keep them.

I’d add it to the Save the Ranch fund later, because these things were my perfect size.

Now I didn’t have to go line dancing in my stilettos…

if I ever bothered to try line dancing out here again.

If I did, it would be strictly to dance, sober.

No more grab-happy mean cowboys looking for a cheap thrill in the back of their trucks.

Lottie and I visited Bessie again, and I played her piano for her as she rested.

I could tell hearing the instrument made her happy and it was no trouble for me to do it.

Even if she liked to tell me I was a little pitchy at times.

Nothing like the honesty of an unpretentious old woman to keep me humble.

I needed it. The honesty, but also the connection. There was nothing surface level or superficial about my interactions with anyone here and it was refreshing—even if those I encountered were rough around the edges, there was never any malice.

Since finding my mother’s girlhood room, I lacked the courage to ask Lottie about it. We had gotten into the groove of life on the ranch together, and I was worried asking any touchy questions would cause her to clam up and shut me out.

Sundays were slow here as I had found out.

Lottie went to church every Sunday morning and then had Bible study with her girlfriends.

She never pressured me to attend with her and I was grateful.

I was already under so much scrutiny that I didn’t want to bring God, or Creator, as everyone called Him here, into it.

Of course, we still had to go and care for the horses, but there was a laziness to the cadence of how we completed these tasks. It was like the horses even knew it was supposed to be a day of rest as they took their sweet time to come when called.

I would never get used to these creatures.

Peso over there had a twinkle in his eye, like he couldn’t wait to eat the rest of my hair.

I wove my hair into a braid around the crown of my head to reduce the risk of flyaways being in horse-chomping range.

Today, Lottie announced she was going to teach me how to ride on my own.

She intercepted me when I tried to make a run for the landline to call home and beg my mom to get me.

I was stuck and forced to contend with all of my heritage, even the four-legged monsters.

“Do I get to ride Rakko?” I asked, perking up. Lucas made it seem easy to ride him. Rakko. Not Lucas. What was wrong with my brain?

“No.”

“He is the only one that likes me.”

“Horses can sense if you’re scared and will try to assert their dominance. You’re gonna ride Peso and show him who’s boss and that your hair is off-limits.”

“Can’t you just tell him for me while I stand safely behind this gate?”

“C’mon, Avery. Time for you to be brave, girl. Peso is one of our friendliest and perfect for beginners. Now step up to him and give him this carrot.” She handed me a crooked carrot from her back pocket.

I took the orange offering and walked up to Peso on slow feet.

“Hold your hand out flat and give him the carrot,” Lottie instructed.

I did. His lips brushed my palm and his ginormous teeth gobbled it up. I whipped my hand away, lest the creature thought more of me was on the table as a snack.

Peso stood there amused, jaw chewing his treat in small circles.

“G’won and pet his face and tell him how pretty he is.” Lottie stood a ways away, petting Rakko.

I stroked Peso’s nose. “There, there, cutie. Are we gonna have a good ride?”

I swear the horse’s eyes looked delighted. I guess Peso was a cute horse. He was a russet brown and I wondered why he was named after the Mexican currency. Now was as good a time to ask as any.

“That’s how much Red paid for him in Mexico,” Lottie explained.

“A single peso? That’s not even close to a full dollar.” I couldn’t believe it.

“He was a tiny calf and sick too. Red took him and smuggled him in the back of his car across the border and brought Peso here seventeen years ago. It took a while to get him healed up and strong, but now look at him. You’d never guess the odds were against him surviving a year here.”

“That’s incredible.”

“Yup. You ready to ride now?”

“I’d be honored to ride Peso. You are a cutie, aren’t you?” I cooed to him.

Lottie threw me one of the bridles she had over her shoulder. “Lead him to the barn and we will get him ready to ride.”

I’d watched everyone saddle horses over the past two weeks, but never with the intention of doing it myself. Lottie walked me through the entire process of getting Peso and Rakko ready for a ride.

The hardest part was making sure the cinch was tight but not too tight. I erred on too tight at first and Peso stomped his back foot in protest. But I finally got it right in the end.

We were still in the barn, but I was on a fully saddled horse all by myself, so I’d count that as real personal growth for me.

“All right, how do I make him go?” I asked.

“Click your tongue a few times and he should follow me.”

When Lottie was out of the barn and down past the paddocks with Rakko, Peso still hadn’t moved.

“Come on,” I urged, holding the reins and waving them back and forth as if I knew what the hell I was doing. I didn’t.

“Kick both of your feet to give him a nudge!” Lottie called.

Kick? I didn’t want to hurt him. As gently as I could, I brought my heels into his side but still got nothin’.

“You’re gonna need to do it harder than that!” Red laughed as he rolled the wheelbarrow back inside the barn.

“I don’t want Peso to hate me if I accidentally hurt him.”

“You won’t hurt him. Just stick your feet out and bring them in real quick—he will know what you mean.”

“Okay.” I followed Red’s instructions a little too well. We blasted out of the barn faster than a shot from a cannon. Peso zoomed past Lottie and Rakko and out into the open pasture.

I screamed as Peso galloped and my butt was bouncing up and down on the saddle.

“Stop!” Bump . “Peso!” Bump . “Please!” Bump . That last bump rattled my head and forced my mouth shut and I bit my tongue. I tasted blood. Great.

“Yank the reins back!” I heard Lottie yell from not that far behind me.

A lesson on how to steer would have been great before sitting on the horse.

“Whoa!” I yelled, pulling the reins as hard as I could, and Peso came to an abrupt stop. I was nearly thrown off him with the momentum. I clutched Peso’s neck, my nose up in his brown mane as I hyperventilated.

“I’m sure you realized that kick was too hard.”

I turned to face Lottie, Peso’s hair in my mouth, and I let out an unhinged burst of laughter. I survived. I was alive. And that was exhilarating.

Lottie laughed too. I looked down to Peso and it looked like he was laughing as well, his big teeth out in a smile.

“I think you need to go real slow and show me the basics, because I’m never doing that again.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing.” Lottie smiled.

We spent a solid half hour going over how to signal to a horse to get going, stop, slow down, and go faster. We practiced in the open pasture not too far from the barn. Eventually, Lottie said, “Okay, you’re ready.”

She clicked her tongue twice, and Rakko and Peso started moving. Lottie led us toward the trees where I went with Lucas to find Tilda. I wasn’t sure if I should mention that ride with him. It wasn’t romantic—we were looking for the horse—but still, that time felt special to me, private.

“Our property continues through here. There is a little horse trail and footpath but be careful comin’ out here on your own. It’s easy to get turned around if you don’t know where you’re goin’.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on being out here alone…ever.” I looked up at the trees overhead and wished I’d worn a sweater or a flannel. I hitched my shoulders up to my ears. “Have there been any reports about ticks carrying Lyme disease out here?”

Lottie turned back to look at me. “Not that I know of. I haven’t gotten a tick bite since I was a little girl. My blood has soured in my old age. So I guess I do gotta worry about you.”

“Was that a joke, Lottie?”