Across The River

I sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. It was that time of year again. The time my mother referred to as “crazy papa days.” I smiled. I missed my mother; she always could calm my father. She however had travelled to go check on and possibly buy some new foals for the ranch and I was stuck with the “crazy papa” for the next couple of days. Talking about the crazy papa, I could see him literally marching towards the house from the kitchen window. It would take him exactly fifteen seconds to walk through the door. “Colette!”                                                                                  Okay I was a bit off, he made it in twelve and I was in trouble, he had addressed me by my full name. That was always a bad sign. I was tempted to sigh again but quietly against it. There was always the possibility that my ‘harmless’ sigh would just make his mood worse.                                                                                       “Yes Papa,” I responded in my sweetest daddy’s little girl voice. It worked, for a split second then he seemed to remember why he was mad in the first place.                                                                                           “The horses for tomorrow have not been groomed!”                                                                                 “Hernandez was supposed to do it.” In my head I was already thinking of a million and one ways to kill Hernandez. We had a deal!                                                                                            “Well, he has not done it and frankly he doesn’t know the horses’ tail from its mane. Get on it and have those horses ready. Tomorrow is a big day.”                                                                                             “Yes Papa.”                 

I quickly got myself out of kitchen before my father could cook up more things I should do. The whole tail and mane thing had been an over the top exaggeration. Hernandez now seventeen had been with us since he was fourteen and he knew just as much about horses as any decent rancher would. He was young but he worked really hard and on any other day, he was my father’s favourite person but this was clearly not one of those days. The ranch had two main parts, the rehabilitation centre and the racehorses. Tomorrow happened to be the first day of racing season. A local racing event with mostly horses from ranches within the county. The localness of it however is what made it such a big thing. The most wins from the day gave the ranch owner bragging rights till the next event. For the record, we had done really well over the last few years. There was however major rivalry or in my opinion unnecessary animosity between my father and Emmanuel Cortes who owned the ranch which was technically our closest neighbour. A small river ran between the two properties and my father often referred to the Cortes’ as the “folks from across the river.” In public they might not have been friendly but they were civil to each other and I thought Mr Cortes was pretty nice. Back at home though, my father did not always have the nicest things to say about him. Apparently Emmanuel Cortes knew nothing about horses, had no love for the animals and just had a lot of money to pump into the business. Whether this was true or not, the fact was they had some pretty great horses and had won enough races to prove they were more than a rich man’s past-time. My mother often said that was what probably irked my father the most, how Emmanuel Cortes could still do well with the races when he had more money than passion. Personally, I loved the racing. The wins were awesome of course but it was the actual race, the rush of adrenaline that made me feel alive. The wind in my hair, the sheer thrill of it all, that was like pure freedom. I raced for me, and tried to win for my father. I arrived at the stable and as I entered, I was met with neighs of greeting. “Ola mi Amor’s.” There were three horses competing tomorrow. Two in two different flat races and one in the barrel race. I gathered all my things from the back of the stable and got to work. My arrangement with Hernandez had not been because I did not like grooming the horses, I actually found it calming. There is something about talking to animals while doing a seemingly mundane repetitive task such as brushing their coats that is comforting. Besides the fact of course, that they do not talk back which I like to believe means they agree with your point of view. I however had something else I had needed to do and Hernandez was supposed to have covered for me. Then he had decided to go missing in action. Good thing was he couldn’t vanish forever and I was patient. I gave Skye one last brush, a pat on the head and I sighed. Tomorrow was going to be his first race, a flat race and I had the honour of riding him. He was a beautiful animal and really fast too. A gorgeous Arabian, all gleaming brown coat with a glossy black tail and mane. His legs were also partly black which made him look like he was wearing socks. He really was a beauty to look at, but like all royalty in my opinion, he had a ridiculous stubborn streak. I was nervous about tomorrow, not that he would hurt me or that we wouldn’t win but that he would refuse to race. The only reason why I was going to be the one racing with him was because out of all the jockeys at the ranch, I had the most success with getting him to obey commands. That track record was however far from perfect.                                                       “You have to behave tomorrow Skye”, whispered to which he responded with the lowering of his head making me laugh.                                                                                                                                                                                                       “Yeah, you are saying that today, then tomorrow you wake up all high and mighty on me.”                                                                                                   I picked up my bucket and moved on to my second client who was also doing a flat race but a different one. She was a lovely perfectly tempered light brown quarter horse named Star. Just then I heard the door to the stable open and I turned to see Hernandez walk in.                                              “Hernandez!”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Äaah Cole, lo siento”, he said hurrying towards me. It was really hard to stay mad at Hernandez mainly because of his looks and also his Spanish. Most people at the ranch could speak basic to fluent Spanish; Hernandez however spoke more Spanish than English which I found really sexy. Now if he wasn’t three years younger than me…. I giggled to myself.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        “What happened to you? Papa was not amused.”                                                                                                                              “Fui a buscar los zapatos de caballo nuevos.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Öh, its okay, next time do give me a heads up year?”                                                                                                     “Si. I do DeAngelo, you do Star?”                                                                                                                                                                                           “Sure.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                              DeAngelo was the third horse competing tomorrow in the barrel race. He was an all-black thoroughbred with a white patch on his head which reminded me of an angel’s halo. With Hernandez helping, the rest of the grooming went by quickly and quietly and we were soon done. He offered to clean up and I decided to head back to the house and get dinner started.                                                                            

“Buena suerte manana”, he called after me as I left.                                                                                                                                                                     “Gracias Hernandez!”

Race day turned out to be a beautiful day, sunny blue skies with just the slightest of breezes. It was going to be an awesome day, I could feel it! Breakfast was a jolly affair with my father and my younger sister Lola who was home for the weekend. Lola was studying to be a vet at the local university and claimed she didn’t have the co-ordination to be a professional rider so she would stick to injecting the horses. Even after the previous days blow up, my father was in a happy mood which wasn’t surprising. It was the run up to the race days that seemed to get to him. The actual day was pretty good even on days when we didn’t win. After breakfast Lola and I quickly did the dishes and then we had a video call with our mother wishing us luck for the day. She also informed us that she might be home a day early if she managed to close in on a sale on two colts she had taken a liking to. Soon afterwards, we got all the horses loaded up into the vans and got ready to leave amid lots of well wishes from the staff who were staying behind. It took us just under an hour to get to the race venue and we immediately got them unloaded while my father went to sort out the paperwork. The flat race for Skye and I was one of the first races and a part of me was relieved. The uncertainty of not knowing whether he would act up or not was not pleasant to carry around for long. Once all the paperwork was done I chose to stay in the stall near the start with him until the race began. I was hoping I could somehow talk him into behaving and it was good that I was alone. Not all people who work with animals think it is normal to actually talk to them. About five minutes into our little chat I heard a voice ask, “Pep talk time?”                                                                                                                                I turned but didn’t see anyone; I hadn’t even heard anyone enter the stalls. A few seconds later, the owner of the sexy voice revealed himself and it took a lot of self-control not to let my jaw drop. Tall, dark, handsome, definitely Hispanic. He looked like an actor dressed up to play a role as a jockey. It took me a few more seconds to gather my thoughts and realise that he had asked a question. I gave myself a gentle mental kick, gentle because he was probably used to women reacting to him this way but still a kick because I had no right to react the way I did.                                                                                      “Ummm, he isn’t the easiest of dudes to deal with.”                                                                                                                                                                                He gave a chuckle, even that was sexy, I kicked myself again.                                                                                                                                             “Well you can’t blame him, comes with the good looks.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Just then the doors to the stalls opened wider and more people entered. It seemed the race was about to start.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                “See you after the race and good luck with your boy” , my actor-jockey said as he walked away probably to his own horse and all I could do was nod, I shook my head, meet a hot guy and two seconds later I’m already addressing him as “my” ,you’ve lost it Cole! I hadn’t seen which horse was his but that probably didn’t matter. He was likely just being polite and I was not going to actually see him again. I quickly got thoughts of him out of my head; I had a race to complete and a stubborn horse to deal with. I got into the saddle and as I gently rubbed Skye’s neck I whispered, “Don’t let me down boy.” Two seconds later the gates opened and we were off! The sudden burst of energy was exactly as I remembered and even better. Skye seemed to have been fuelled into action by the energy in the air and he was going all out. I could not have been more proud as we inched closer and closer to the finish line. A few seconds before we crossed however, I saw a blur of white from the corner of my left eye. We landed a second place but I was still thrilled. Skye had made top three in his first race. The winner turned out to be a stunning all white Arabian and the jockey was my actor-jockey. Good looks, great horse, great talent, I should have been jealous but I was too busy admiring both horse and rider. The medals and photo ceremony was held soon after the race and as we left the podium, Mr. actor-jockey said to me, “I see the pep talk worked.”                                                                                                                                I laughed, “Yeah I will remember that for the next race.”                                                                                                                                                                                                    “By the way, would you like to have a drink with me; I mean if you aren’t racing again.”                                                                                                                             I was stunned into silence which he probably took for indecision.                                                                                                                         “I’m Niall “, he added extending his hand which I was quick to take, soft hands I was quick to notice.                                                                      “Cole. I mean Colette but everyone calls me Cole.”                                                                                                                                                                   He had the most amazing green eyes I had ever seen on anyone with dark hair.                                                                                “About that drink? “He asked again and I realised I had not responded, a situation I rectified quickly. We arranged to meet in half an hour at one of the Mexican pubs close to the race venue.

Because of the races, Pablo’s was extra busy. After looking around for Niall and not seeing him, I got a seat which gave me a view of the entrance and I ordered a Paloma. Niall arrived just as my order came still in his riding gear like me. For a split second I felt myself panicking. What if this was awkward and we had to sit through it till it was polite enough to leave? The panic however did not last. Time flew and we talked about everything from horses, to cars, to fashion! It felt like we had known each other our whole lives. I could not believe how easy he was to talk to.

It was almost three months since I had met Niall. I wasn’t exactly sure when we had moved from strangers too lovers, maybe the moment we met. Today he was meeting my parents officially for the first time and I was nervous. Not because I thought my parents would not like him, but something about him they definitely would not like. I had told my sister and she had advised me to break things off immediately before causing any drama. Clearly I hadn’t. Tonight was going to be the make or break of our relationship. All too soon it was time and from my bedroom window I saw Niall’s truck come up the driveway. I watched him, seeing him a lot over the last three months had not made me get used to how handsome I found him. My mother was there to open the door and he came in bearing gifts, wine I assumed and flowers. Definitely scoring points with my mother. I stood next to him and he held my hand squeezing it tightly. Our calm exteriors hid our nerves well. Dinner began shortly and almost immediately my father began the “Spanish Inquisition”. All was going well till he asked the question we were dreading, Niall’s family. I stopped eating, I couldn’t swallow anything.                                                                                                                                                                      “Actually, I have been living with my mother in Ireland for about seven years but I am back to help my father run El Viento.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              You could have cut the tension with a knife.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        “Your father is Emmanuel Cortes?”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               “Yes sir.”                 

"Colette you knew this?"

"Yes Papa."                                                                                                   “Young man I am going to ask you to leave, and never see my daughter again & I will tell you why.”                                       As the story unravelled, we got to learn that my father and Emmanuel Cortes had a past. Nearly twenty years ago, they had been business partners and best friends, co-owners of a racing stable which had since shut down. They had had a fall out when Emmanuel Cortes had dated my father’s sister, got her pregnant then dumped her because he had met Niall’s mother. That was bad but the thing that my father had never forgiven him for was that his sister had then attempted an illegal abortion which had resulted in complications almost killing her. Afterwards she had been unable to have children again and was depressed for years. He had vowed never to work with him again and walked out of their business and friendship. Everyone was silent, this was more than anyone had ever imagined. 

2 years later…                                

There had been times in the last two years that I questioned my decision and I could see Niall had the same questions too, we both just never voiced them. After the fateful dinner my father had given me an ultimatum, which side of the river I wanted to be on and as hard as it was I could not give up Niall. So three months after meeting, I moved in with him and five months later we were married , a small ceremony which my father refused to attend. It hurt being half an hour away from a home I could no longer visit. It however took my being involved in an accident that had me unconscious for four days for my father to realise being angry would not change the past. It was a month after I had been discharged from hospital and I was trying to follow Lola’s non-stop chatter about colour schemes.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        “Lola you do know Niall and I are already married right?”                                                                                                                                                                                                                      “Of course, but now we’ll have a proper wedding so the dads can irritate each other.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        I rolled my eyes at my little sister. It was however fun to see the excitement the reconciliation and upcoming wedding had brought to the two households. Just then, Niall joined us on the veranda, a tray of lemonade in his hands.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             “Just a question, since we are getting married a second time, does that mean we get a second honeymoon?” he asked to which I burst out laughing.                                                                                                                       “Guys! Get a room!"

It was good to be home.