Thief of Happy Endings Page 4

  I could eat an entire box of granola bars. “Thanks,” I say.

  It’s hard to keep up with Kaya in the half-light. She bustles up the trail with way more pep than should be allowed at this time of the day. After a few steps I notice the birds are up, too, and the air smells like wet grass. It’s cold, but in a good way that wakes me up. “What are we doing?” I say.

  “Outhouses,” she says. “You’ll have to start with them every day. I’ll help you this morning, but you’ll be on your own after that.”

  “For the whole summer?”

  “For the whole summer.”

  Once I get past the smell it’s not that horrible. Which is kind of like saying once you get past the wetness of it, swimming isn’t so bad. But I don’t have to do much more than restock the toilet paper, wipe everything down, and make sure that there’s no gross-out mess. I get to wear gloves and a nice denim apron Kaya gives me, so it makes me feel like a high-class maid to my fellow campers.

  “Is anyone else ‘on scholarship’?” I ask, making air quotes with my fingers.

  “Ethan’s stacking wood for the breakfast fire.”

  Ethan is the tall kid from Texas. It makes me feel a lot better to know I’m not the only one working the early shift. Although I’m pretty sure I got the short end of the job stick.

  “You’re excellent at this,” Kaya says. “You must be a big help to your mother.”

  Guilt floods my head for a minute. I am a big help to my mom, and she sent me here. I hate to think what the bathrooms at my house are going to look like by the end of the summer. I have a little brother who can’t aim and two clutter cyclones for sisters. I hate thinking of Mom doing all the work alone.

  When we’re finished, Kaya gives me a lilac tree air freshener to hang in the corner of the outhouse, which actually works. She nods at me and smiles. “It’s the little things that change the big things.”

  I like Kaya.

  * * *

  We meet Ethan down by the campfire. He’s finished stacking and started a roaring fire in the pit for breakfast. He’s covered in sawdust, but somehow he still looks tidy. He gives me his chill smile. “Hey, how’s the morning treating you, Colorado?” Ethan’s like a foot taller than I am. He has hair on his chin. I look like I’m in fifth grade. If he wasn’t so nice I’d think he was making fun of me. “I knew being a boy scout was going to useful one day,” he says.

  He was a boy scout? I didn’t know people still did that. “How did you know I was from Colorado?”

  Ethan looks at me, suddenly very serious. “Didn’t you know I read minds?”

  Kaya shakes her head and smiles. “Or he read your sweatshirt.”

  I look down at my clothes for the first time today. I’m wearing one of my dad’s old University of Denver sweatshirts.

  “What’s your job, Colorado?”

  “Cleaning outhouses,” I say.

  “Outhouses, huh?” He pinches his nose. “You must really want to ride horses bad.”

  “You’d think,” I say, mostly to myself.

  Kaya looks at Ethan’s stacks of wood. “You are an excellent worker, Ethan. You and Cassidy have that in common. That will make your summer and mine much better.”

  “Go, team morning shift,” says Ethan, like it’s cool to be the poor kids. Actually, with Ethan doing it, maybe it is cool. At least cooler.

  Ethan puts a little more wood on and then leaves Kaya to watch his fire and start the coffee. He jogs up the trail to his tent whistling as loud as he possibly can. I wonder what it would be like to feel so confident and cheerful every morning. I’m seriously proud of myself for just being out of bed. Then I remember what we’re supposed to be doing in a few hours.

  “Are you going to be around when we ride today?” I ask Kaya as we walk back to my tent.

  She nods. “Are you going to punch Coulter again? Because I wouldn’t want to miss that.”

  I snort, which makes everything that much more embarrassing. “Horses make me panicky. When I was little I got bucked off . . . into a fence.”

  “I bet that was scary for you,” she says. “But you know the first rule of horses.”

  I do. And I hate it.

  “When you fall off a horse, you have to get back on.” She puts her arm on my shoulder. “You’re not going to get hurt today. You need to trust that.”

  I wish I could. I really wish I could. But nobody can promise that.

  Darius blows his sick horn. It’s even louder than Ethan’s whistling. The man can make some noise. I figure that ought to wake up everything in Wyoming. But the worst part is that it means the day is officially starting.

  * * *

  Coulter stands on his stump with the smoke of the campfire rising behind him. He holds his hands up. “Today, campers, we begin our study of the horse. The first thing you must know is that a horse is a large animal that can accidently hurt or even kill you if you are reckless. Is that clear?”

  So that’s not at all terrrifying. I see a few other kids nodding, including the dude with the bolo weirdness.

  “The second thing you should remember is that a horse has the power to transform you.”

  I keep nodding. It seems a little out there, but I’m willing to go with it for now.

  “You won’t be riding your yearling mustangs. We like to give ’em time to grow a bit and stop being so stupid. You’ll gentle the mustangs and ride our saddle horses. Most of these saddle horses know more than you do, so please be respectful of that.”

  “Let’s ride already,” whispers a painfully thin blonde girl standing next to me. She’s wearing riding leggings, tall English-style boots, and a shirt that looks like a pink tablecloth. She has a tiny black mole by her mouth I’m pretty sure she had surgically implanted there.

  “Respect, Miss Devri, is the hallmark of a true horsewoman. And a requirement for riding privileges.”

  Devri rolls up her lip. It makes her mole almost disappear. “Whatever.”

  Three girls behind her giggle. I can’t really see the girls laughing, but I don’t need to. I can just close my eyes and remember high school. Honestly, we have been here for less than two days. How do girls like Devri recruit minions so quickly? I guess there is never a shortage of people who are looking for someone to mindlessly giggle behind.

  “I am so sure,” says Devri.

  Coulter puts his hands at his side and looks up, as if he expects rain to fall out of the sky. Then he drops his eyes to Devri. “Unfortunately, Miss Devri, you will be returning to your tent now. At noon you can try again. We’ll see how fast a learner you are.”

  Devri shrinks a little but doesn’t move. You can almost hear the look of surprise on her face. Coulter looms on his stump, waiting, staring at Devri. She turns around and faces her squad behind her, but the other girls look down. Devri walks back to her tent.

  Coulter continues. “This is how the morning is going to go. We eat, do chores, and then ride. How does that sound?”

  I walk to breakfast with Alice. Her head is still in the right place, but she looks close to doing that turtle thing again. I ask her how she slept, but she doesn’t answer. She didn’t sound scared of getting on a horse in the tent yesterday, so I wonder what she’s afraid of.

  * * *

  Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez are the ranch cooks, and for me it’s basically love at first sight. Mrs. Sanchez wears her thin gray hair tied in a knot. She hunches a little and wears a bright orange parka you could see from space. Mr. Sanchez is short with small, swollen fingers. He walks like his hips need grease and his shoes are too big, but he smiles incessantly.

  We all line up at the griddle where Mrs. Sanchez is already flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. It’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever smelled.

  Mrs. Sanchez says to her husband, “Old man, where are the bottles of syrup?”

  “Syrup takes
sugar.” His mouth turns up at her, and he starts to back toward the kitchen.

  She holds her spatula up by her face and waves it at him. “Don’t sugar me, Mr. Sanchez.”

  “Can I help it, Mrs. Sanchez?” he says. He moves about as fast as the syrup he should be hunting.

  I step next to him. “I can get it,” I say.

  Mr. Sanchez looks confused. I wonder if I’m being stupid or insulting. I’m probably being stupid and insulting.

  “No, pequeña, you get in line.” He smiles. “But you can help with dishes.”

  * * *

  We all kind of hunker down together and shove the food in our mouths as fast as we can. Kids are already dividing up into little groups. For some reason Banner comes and sits with Alice and me instead of the Devri drones. She tucks her red hair behind her ears and sits between us.

  She turns to me. “What did you do this morning, scholarship girl?”

  Here we go. “I cleaned the outhouses.”

  “Are you serious?” she asks.

  I nod and keep eating. It’s not like I can hide it all summer.

  She surveys the other kids, as if she’s looking for somewhere else to sit. “That’s so depressing.”

  I swallow my food. “Kind of crappy,” I say.

  Alice chokes a little from laughing and swallowing at the same time.

  “Well, I’m glad you have a sense of humor,” says Banner. “That must make being you a lot easier.”

  Alice doesn’t laugh at this. She just looks at Banner like she doesn’t agree. I think Alice is about the nicest person I’ve ever met.

  Banner says, “I just mean that, on top of last night and all, that’s so sad.”

  “You aren’t going to take that on your belly, are you, Colorado?”

  I look up, and Ethan is standing behind us. A big group of kids are standing behind him watching.

  He says, “Big Red, what you so mean for? How about some of that southern hospitality.”

  A few boys next to Ethan laugh.

  Banner glares. “And who are you exactly?”

  “Ethan Fredrick Philips the First. You want my phone number?” He laughs happily at himself.

  “I want you to stay out of my business,” Banner says.

  The crowd makes an Ooooo sound that I really don’t like. Alice’s head is completely gone.

  I say, “I’m going to go help clean up.”

  Ethan says, “Easy, Cassidy, don’t let Red here pick on you. Just not right.”

  “No one is picking on me,” I say.

  The chubby kid with the bolo tie walks up to us in the middle of all this. Today he’s sporting a camo shirt, extra starch. “Hello, ladies. Charles Remington. But people call me Charlie, except my mother, who calls me Charles,” he says, putting out his hand to Banner.

  Banner looks at his hand like he used it to clean the outhouses and then walks the other direction. Alice brings up her head and walks back toward the tent.

  “Is it something I said?” asks Charlie.

  Ethan puts his big arm around Charlie like they’re best friends, except Charlie looks like he’s going to a Halloween party dressed as a middle-aged man, and Ethan looks like he runs this place. Ethan says, “Charlie here is smarter than he looks.”

  Charlie seems completely unbothered by this commentary. “Actually, I am smarter than I look.” Charlie drags something out of his pocket that looks like a piece of rock. “I think it’s an arrowhead.”

  Ethan shakes his head. “I said he was smart. I didn’t say he knows anything.”

  Justin Sweet walks past and says nothing at all. I get that he’s an employee and we aren’t, but seriously.

  “Now, that dude is tightly wound,” says Ethan.

  “But what he did with those mustangs yesterday was impressive,” says Charlie. “If I could ride like that I’d clean up at that contest Coulter was talking about.”

  “If it was a toxic waste contest, you’d win,” says Ethan. “I thought I was going to asphyxiate last night. You are the smelliest dude I have ever met.”

  Charlie doesn’t even look embarrassed. “I know, right? I’m almost as bad as you are.”

  While Ethan and Charlie bond over flatulence, I watch Justin walk down to the pasture where the mustangs are milling around. I can’t help but notice his strut. Or whatever it is. That cockiness that comes off him like a smell. When he gets to the horses he hesitates for a minute with his hand on the fence. He surveys the horses, then throws an apple over the top.

  All the horses look at the apple lying in the dirt, but when a black mare steps forward, the big gray horse jumps forward and takes a bite out of her neck. The mare shrieks, kicks up her back legs, and runs. The gray horse jumps, flicking out his front hoof at the mare half-heartedly.

  Justin doesn’t even flinch. It doesn’t seem to bother him a bit that he probably just caused that black mare to get bit.

  The other horses all go flying to the other side of the arena. Even after they’ve all moved back away from the apple the gray horse keeps kicking, running the band into a smaller and smaller corner of the arena. He’s so big compared to the other horses he makes them look like ponies.

  “Is that the horse that someone gets to ride? He looks vicious,” says Charlie.

  Ethan says, “He’s just a frontin’ bully, like Justin. Not a fan of bullies.” Ethan smiles when he says that, but I’m surprised at the edge on his words. “On the other hand, maybe he just needs a little schooling. Somebody to show him how to behave.”

  Justin stands at the fence, and then he opens the gate and walks in. The horses are still moving around. But Justin looks as calm as if he were walking into a living room. I don’t think I’m ever that calm, even in my own living room. He stands inside the arena, horses flying around, and waits. After a few seconds everyone except the gray drops their head and looks at Justin. The gray stands off by himself with his backside, ready to kick, turned to Justin.

  I get a funny feeling in my stomach.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think that horse is very interested in school.”

  Chapter Five

  “CAMPERS. WE WILL now begin the main event,” says Coulter. He stands near us at the opening of the log pole corral that is in between the ranch house and the big meadow. He surveys the herd of saddle horses behind him and then turns to face us. He smiles through his beard. His voice is softer, like he’s talking to each of us personally. “Before we ride our horse we have to catch it.”

  “You mean like chase it?” asks a little kid with gold curly hair and a hardcore Bostonian accent standing right next to Coulter. He seems agitated, because he keeps wiping his nose on his sleeve and then looking side to side. It’s like watching a metronome with congestion.

  Coulter looks down. “No, not like chasing it. Danny, who let you in here?”

  “You did, Mr. Coulter.”

  “Well, don’t make me regret it. We catch a horse by communicating. We approach a horse with confidence and consistency. You will only hear me use those words about four thousand more times this summer.” He stretches his arm out and shows us a harness-looking thing, which I remember is a halter. “Always approach from the left so they can see you. No sneaking up on a horse. They’re like fat deer and will assume you’re trying to kill them.” He opens the gate to the corral. Almost all the horses instantly turn their noses to look at him.

  “Horses feel what we feel. So I walk up to the horse with the idea that I like him. I watch what he does. If he turns to me, I keep coming. If he ignores me or turns his butt to me, then I stop and make noise to get his attention. Like waving hello before you get to your friend down the hall. I want him to invite me. Once he does that, I keep going. Until I’m all the way to his head.”

  A square brown gelding turns his head as Coulter walks to him. The horse drops
his nose right in Coulter’s hand when Coulter reaches him. Coulter stands parallel to the horse and looks forward. “I don’t look him in the eye. I stand parallel. This lets the horse know I want to be part of his herd, but also that I respect his space.” Coulter takes the halter and drops it over the square brown gelding’s head. The horse barely moves except to put his nose in. Coulter brings the horse to Alice. “You want to saddle this old boy for me, Alice?”

  Weirdly, Alice keeps her head up and even smiles. She walks with the gelding over to a hitching post where she quickly ties some knot I’ve never seen, then grabs a grooming brush and goes to work.

  I think Alice has had more than a few lessons.

  “Who wants to go next?” says Coulter.

  Banner grabs a halter from Darius and walks into the corral full of horses without a ripple, just like Coulter. The horses turn to watch her, but they don’t move away. Which kind of disproves the thing about how horses can smell a predator.

  Everyone else gets a halter and wanders out to find a four-legged friend, with Coulter and Darius making recommendations. I stand there. I don’t want to be pushy.

  Kaya is right next to me. “Do you know which horse you want to catch?”

  “Do you have a Labrador retriever?”

  Kaya points to a brown-gray-blackish horse hunched over in the corner of the pasture by himself. He reminds me of old paint that’s splattered on the outside of the can. “How about we start with Smokey? He’s twenty-five and has arthritis. You two will be perfect for each other.”

  She seems nice, but I think Kaya has an edge to her.

  She shows me how to catch poor old Smokey and lead him to the post. He’s basically a bag of bones in a gray hair suit. Not that he’s skinny, but he’s just so ancient that everything is poking out in all the wrong places. I like him.

  When I finish brushing him, Kaya shows me how to put on a western saddle. It’s heavy and awkward. There are a lot of knots and straps. Smokey paws at the ground and nearly smashes my foot.