Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I step to his side. “Hi there,” I say softly, and he reaches for my hand and lifts it with his.
“She won’t hurt you,” he says as she makes a little noise and takes a step back.
“I won’t hurt you,” I assure her, and she looks in my eyes, almost to my soul. “I promise.” She takes a step to our hands.
“Do you want to take her out?” he asks, and I just smile up at him.
“Will she let me?” I ask.
“Only way we will find out is if we try,” he states, and I can’t contain my excitement as he opens the stall and walks in to grab her bridle. I see she already has a saddle on and everything.
“I haven’t ridden in over eight years,” I admit as we walk out with the horse next to him.
“It’s just like a bike,” he says, and when we are in the fenced area, he holds out his hand for me. I put my hand in his as I put my foot in the stirrup and then get up on her as I hear him. “You be good with her,” he tells the horse. “She’s special.” My chest tightens at his words as he looks up at me.
“I’m going to go get my horse, and we can go out on the trail.” I nod as he turns and jogs back to the stable.
“We’re going to be just fine. I’m scared too,” I admit, and she bends her neck to eat some of the grass.
A minute later, he’s walking out with a brown horse, stopping and getting on it with ease as he trots over to us. “You two look good,” he says, and I just smile. “Let’s go that way.” He points to the side as we follow him.
“How are things?” he asks once we start on the trail.
“That’s a loaded question, Charlie Barnes.” I try to make a joke of it. “How are things with me?” I shrug. “I’ve had better days,” I say softly, “but then again, I’ve had worse days.” I swallow down, knowing he knows what I mean.
“How are things with the bar and stuff?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer him honestly. Because even though it’s been better, is it good enough? “I’m hoping we can crawl out of the hole. But I’m not sure.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, and I look over at him.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” I bark out, and his head snaps over to look at me.
“I can honestly say I have no idea what the fuck you are saying.” His voice is tight.
“We are practically bankrupt,” I start. “My father is dying, and the only thing I want to do is make sure he knows that everything is going to be okay.”
“He’s dying?” he says in a whisper.
“It’s why I came back to town,” I say, looking ahead, blinking away the tears that threaten. “No matter how bad I thought it was going to be, it’s a million times worse.” I see him hanging his head. “And now I’m just trying to get things going again.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how you feel.” I just nod, the lump in my throat is the size of a softball. “What do you mean, you guys are almost bankrupt?”
“Cartwright,” I say the name I wish I never had to say again. “Apparently, their reach is long-lasting. We lost our distribution, and the bar is bringing in no money. We haven’t produced anything since I’ve been back, and I’ve been coming up with ideas on how to get people in the door.”
“How?” he asks, and I say the ideas I’ve come up with, including the ones of having the out-of-towners buy some bottles from us. “If anyone can turn it around, it’s you.”
“It’s also my fault that all of this is happening,” I admit. “If I would have just shut my mouth.”
“Then the families who suffered wouldn’t get the justice that they deserved, and it would all be a lie.”
“Nothing good came from that day in court,” I remind him, “not one thing.”
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and I look over at him, “more than you will ever know. More than I can ever explain.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “The only thing that matters is making sure my father knows we are okay. The only thing I want is for him to know that, whatever happens, the business is going to be okay and we are going to be fine.” The tear falls. “And I’m going to stay until then.”
“Then what?” He doesn’t look at me while he asks the question.
“Then I go back to my place, I guess.” He stops his horse from walking, so Goldilocks also stops.
“This is your home.” He looks up at me.
“I don’t know where my home is,” I admit. “Maybe in all of this I’m going to find my home.”