Shy Girl & Shy Guy (Quartz Creek Ranch) Read online

  Text copyright © 2017 Kiersi Burkhart and Amber J. Keyser

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  Darby Creek

  A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  241 First Avenue North

  Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

  For reading levels and more information, look up this title at www.lernerbooks.com.

  The images in this book are used with the permission of: © iStockphoto.com/Piotr Krzes´lak (wood background).

  Front cover: © Barbara O’Brien Photography.

  Back cover: © iStockphoto.com/ImagineGolf

  Main body text set in Bembo Std regular 12.5/17.

  Typeface provided by Monotype Typography.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Burkhart, Kiersi, author. | Keyser, Amber, author.

  Title: Shy Girl & Shy Guy / by Kiersi Burkhart & Amber J. Keyser.

  Other titles: Shy Girl and Shy Guy

  Description: Minneapolis : Darby Creek, [2017] | Series: Quartz Creek Ranch | Summary: "The beautiful gray gelding Shy Guy is just as afraid of people as Hanna is of horses, but when a greedy local couple steal him, only Hanna and her friend can get him back"— Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015034005| ISBN 9781467792530 (lb : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781467795685 (pb : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781467795692 (eb pdf)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Human-animal relationships—Fiction. | Horses—Fiction. | Bashfulness—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.B88 Sh 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2015034005

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1-38281-20006-8/1/2016

  9781512404890 mobi

  9781512404906 ePub

  9781512404913 ePub

  For Mom and Dad: thank you for taking a chance on me, and for all the sacrifices you made so I could ride horses.

  —K.B.

  For my amazing cousins, Timshel and Theodora: you were the heart of my childhood and I am so grateful.

  —A.K.

  Chapter One

  Hanna pressed her cheek to the cool window as the clunky old Econoline van trundled off the highway. Hills carpeted in evergreens and wildflower meadows gave way to a cute, old-fashioned mountain town. It looked like it had been pulled right out of a painting hanging in her grandma’s house, one of those perfectly picturesque country villages. A quaint diner sat between a candy store and a rock shop. Couples walked hand in hand down Main Street. And every store had a horse painted on the sign.

  Horses. It was always horses.

  At least Quartz Creek Ranch was beautiful—or it had looked that way in the brochures Hanna’s mom showed her. As part of the ranch experience, the brochure had read, youth will be paired up with a therapy horse and given thorough riding instruction. Just the thought of the horses sent shivers prickling up and down Hanna’s arms. She retied her long, sandy-blonde ponytail for the tenth time and pulled her long legs up to her chest on the seat.

  “Everyone!” The brunette who had introduced herself as Madison back at the airport waved at them from the front of the van. “We’re almost to the ranch. If you look out the window on the left side, you can see our very own Quartz Creek!” She was one of the two head trainers at the ranch. The other was driving—a black guy who’d been the one waiting at the airport for her with a sign reading Hanna. He’d introduced himself as “Fletch,” spoke with a thick New York accent, and wore a big cowboy hat. Both trainers looked like they were in college.

  The two girls sitting up in the middle seat shuffled over to the left side so they could look out the window, crowding the skinny kid who’d sat down there first. Hanna had claimed the far back seat, thinking that was the best way to avoid attention—and to get enough room for her long, gangly legs.

  But that plan had backfired.

  “What’s her deal?” asked the Latina girl with bushy hair, glancing back over the seats at Hanna—and not appearing to care that anyone else could hear her. “She hasn’t said a word since we left the airport.”

  The redhead with the upturned nose shrugged. “She’s probably messed up.” As if everyone here wasn’t messed up in some way, thought Hanna. Parents didn’t send their kids to Quartz Creek Ranch for fun. It was rehab for “struggling youth,” as the brochure had put it. Without using the word rehab, of course.

  But Hanna wasn’t a “struggling youth.” Okay, so she’d made some bad judgment calls. She certainly didn’t deserve being banished like this. Six weeks in the dead heat of summer in the middle of nowhere, Colorado.

  You’ve always liked horses, Hanna, her mom had said as she filled out Hanna’s application for rehab camp—even attaching a pristine school photo in the top corner. Horses! You should be happy.

  Learning to ride will be great for your posture.

  They’ll teach you discipline and manners. You could use some of those.

  The van took a sharp right turn, and Hanna grabbed the ripped seat back for balance. At least there was one rule about this place she liked: parents couldn’t call or write letters. Kids couldn’t even bring phones or computers with them. Quartz Creek Ranch was a no-contact zone for a whole six weeks.

  Like going to Antarctica.

  “This is Bridlemile Road,” said Madison, gesturing out the front window to the gravel road that ran between a row of trees and a glittering creek. “Named for Will Bridle’s great-grandpa. Mr. Bridle’s family has ranched on this land for generations.” Fletch followed up with a few jolly honks of the van’s horn. Hanna closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat.

  Maybe this whole thing could be all right, she thought. Maybe her mother sending her off to this remote place could be cool, as long as she was left alone to enjoy its natural beauty.

  By herself.

  Alone.

  Maybe the horses were optional.

  Soon the van stopped, and Madison bounded off to open the gate for them. Through the windshield, Hanna could make out a sign erected above it: QUARTZ CREEK RANCH. The letters were smoky and blackened around the edges, like a cattle brand.

  Once the van had passed through the gate, Madison closed it behind them and hopped back in. “You may think Disneyland is the most fun place on Earth,” she said conspiratorially, “but it doesn’t hold a candle to Quartz Creek.”

  The girls at the front rolled their eyes and laughed to each other.

  As the van drove by, horses trotted up to the fence on the other side of the creek, snorting and swinging their heads. Hanna’s chest tightened at the sight of them.

  “Ooooh,” said Frizzy-Hair Girl. “I hope I get to ride that pretty black one.”

  Right—they’d expect Hanna to ride here. The tightness in her chest dropped into her stomach. Those weren’t six-inch-tall plastic critters with painted-on manes, like the hundreds of toy horses she’d amassed on her bedroom shelves as a little girl—the ones that had made her mom think the ranch was a good idea.

  No. Out in the field stood real, living, breathing horses, a thousand pounds each and all of it hooves and muscle. Even if Hanna could get on a horse, she’d never be any good at riding. She’d end up thrown and trampled, and her mom’s long list of ways Hanna hadn’t lived up to her expectations would grow longer.

  Soon the van pulled in
to a driveway and parked in a lot in front of a big ranch house. Hanna waited until she was the last one in the van before departing with her backpack. Fletch was waiting for her as she came out the sliding door.

  “You okay?” he asked when he saw her face.

  Of course she wasn’t okay. She could be hanging out with her friends back home—swimming in the neighborhood pool, going camping with her dad, and getting ready for track season. Instead, she was stuck here for six weeks.

  “Fine,” Hanna said. “I’m fine.”

  Fletch tilted his head, his hat almost slipping off his short hair.

  “All right, well, head on inside the house, Hanna.”

  He said her name like he knew her, like they were friends already. It made her happy and sad, all at the same time, because she knew she’d disappoint him, as she always disappointed everyone else.

  Chapter Two

  The ranch house had a towering, sloped roof that blocked the blazing sun as it set to the west. Madison led the five kids around the side of the house, past the main doors, and onto a screened back porch. She opened a smaller door there into the house. “First, the mudroom,” she explained. “For your dirty shoes. Come on in.”

  Inside the house, the walls were painted rust red and it smelled like cinnamon buns. Hanna’s mouth watered as she followed the others down the hall and into the main room, where a wood fire crackled invitingly.

  “There they are!” An old woman with a wild mane of curly hair shot up from her chair. “Welcome, welcome! Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “What are you cooking in there, Ma Etty?” asked Madison. “I smell cinnamon.”

  The old woman laughed. “Just wait. That’s dessert.” She ushered the kids inside, and Hanna took a seat on the end of the couch with Fletch and one of the boys from the van—the tall, dark-haired one who’d slept most of the trip.

  “Hey,” he said to her, holding out a hand. “I’m Josh.”

  Hanna was so surprised by Josh introducing himself first that she took a lot longer to reply than was probably normal.

  “Hey,” she managed to say. His blue eyes glittered as she accepted his firm handshake. “I’m Hanna.”

  “Cool.”

  “All right, all right,” the older woman said, raising her voice a smidgen, but it was enough to get everyone’s attention. “You’ll all quickly find out we believe in action, not talk, around here—except this once. We’re gonna talk a little, lay some ground rules. I’m Henrietta, but you can call me Etty.”

  “We all call her Ma Etty,” said Fletch.

  “You’re welcome to call me that, if you like,” Etty agreed. “I’ve worked this ranch for twenty years and raised three kids, so I’ve certainly earned a ‘Ma’ somewhere in there.” Her smile was big and real, and unconsciously, Hanna unclenched her hands in her lap. “This here is my husband, Will Bridle.”

  A man emerged from nowhere, tall as a tree. His black hair was shot through with gray, and deep lines grooved his face. He reminded Hanna of an Indian chief dressed in settlers’ clothing in some old photograph.

  Mr. Bridle took off his hat, pressed it to his chest, and dipped his head politely. “Hey there. Name’s Willard, but you can call me Will.”

  “We still call him Mr. Bridle,” Madison stage-whispered to them.

  “My overly polite horse trainers aside,” said Mr. Bridle, raising an eyebrow at her, “I’m pleased to welcome you all to Quartz Creek Ranch.” His voice was so deep it sounded like a bear growling. “I’m not going to lecture. You all know what you’re doing here, as do Ma Etty and I. We picked each of you from our pool of applicants because we felt you’d make a good fit for our program and for each other. So our time together doesn’t have to be punishment. Great things happen to people on this ranch—if they keep their minds open to it. Just be respectful. That’s all I ask. Treat everyone and everything here with respect, and we’ll all get along great.”

  Etty grinned widely. “And I welcome y’all too. Our home is your home. While you’re here, don’t hesitate to ask for help if anything is troubling you.” She gestured to the two trainers, who stood up. “Madison and Fletch? Will you tell us a little bit about yourselves?”

  Madison was the first to speak. “I’m Madison Clark. I just finished my freshman year at the University of Colorado, on a swimming scholarship.” She jokingly flexed one arm. “On summer break, I come home, here, to the ranch.” She looked pleased to say that word—home. “My only advice is to have fun. And steer clear of my horse, Snow White. I love her, but she can be a real brat.”

  Mr. Bridle nodded sagely. Madison plopped down on the couch, and Fletch went next.

  “The name’s Samuel Harris,” he said, lifting his hat, “but everyone here calls me ‘Fletch.’ You know, after George Fletcher?” The kids all returned blank expressions. “Well, anyway. George was a famous bronc rider, like I hope to be someday.”

  “You will be,” called out Madison.

  “Thanks,” said Fletch, dipping his head so his hat slipped over his sheepish grin, and he returned to his seat.

  “At one time,” said Ma Etty, “Fletch and Madison here were just like all of you. But I’ll let them tell you their stories when they feel up to it. Know that you can trust them with anything—they’ve both seen a lot.”

  Hanna could tell that much from Fletch’s eyes. Even when he smiled, they looked somehow sad.

  “All right,” Ma Etty went on, holding up a sheet of paper and scanning it. “It’s time for you kids to introduce yourselves.” She looked right at Hanna then, and a jolt of fear shot through her. Hanna sat up as straight as she could, as if her mother were right behind her saying, Stop slouching all the time! Look at you, you look like a cavewoman.

  Ma Etty read the panic on her face and turned to someone else instead.

  “Cade?” she asked the thin, pale, freckly boy sitting across the room. “Will you go first? Tell us a little bit about yourself.”

  Cade swallowed, and then a torrent of words tumbled out of him: “I’m Cade William Benison and I just flew in from California and you wouldn’t guess by how pale I am, right? Everyone says that, but it’s because I really like video games and spend all my time inside or that’s what my mom told me when she signed me up for this.”

  A long moment of silence passed. Then Ma Etty cleared her throat. “Wonderful. Thank you, Cade. The ranch is a fantastic place to rediscover nature and the outdoors.” When Cade stayed standing, Ma Etty said, “You can sit. Who’s next?”

  No one raised a hand. Eventually she said, “How about you, Rae Ann?”

  The redheaded girl with the upturned nose jumped at the sound of her name. “Oh, well, okay. Hi, everyone.” She waved, as if the group was a pageant audience. “I’m Rae Ann Willis. Um, I’m from Vermont and my favorite color is blue and, um, I have a cat named Sadie. Who I miss. Already.”

  She quickly sat down.

  “Thank you, Rae Ann. Who’s ne—”

  “I’ll go.” The short girl with the big, frizzy hair stood up, interrupting Ma Etty mid-sentence. “My name’s Isabel, but you can call me Izzy. If I like you. Which I might not. But at least I’ll be honest about it. I’m from Arizona, and I’ve always wanted to ride fast horses, which is why I’m here.”

  Hanna didn’t think that was likely to be true. You didn’t end up at Quartz Creek Ranch just because you wanted to ride horses.

  “Thank you, Izzy,” said Ma Etty.

  “I’m not done,” she replied, which made the old woman’s face look, to Hanna, like a cat’s when its tail gets stepped on. “Everyone should know I plan to be the best. The best cow milker, the best horse brusher, the best egg finder, the best—”

  “Quite,” interrupted Mr. Bridle. “Thank you, Izzy. Please take a seat.”

  Izzy’s face turned bright red. Then she dropped back down to the couch with a loud hmph.

  “Josh?” asked Ma Etty.

  The quiet guy sitting next to Hanna shrugged and then stood u
p. “Name’s Josh Chiu. I’m Chinese. Well, my dad’s Chinese. But don’t ask me to say anything in Chinese—I don’t know it. I, uh . . . I live in Tennessee.” He shrugged again and offered nothing else.

  Ma Etty’s hair looked even more frazzled than it had a few minutes ago. “Well, then,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Josh.” He nodded and sat down.

  Dread slithered up Hanna’s spine. She knew what was coming.

  “Hanna?” asked Ma Etty. “Can you tell us a little about yourself?”

  Hanna crossed her arms over her lap but didn’t move.

  “Stand up,” urged Fletch in a whisper, and Hanna felt her legs rising to the occasion without her permission. Every face in the room turned to her. She probably looked like a praying mantis, all long, gangly limbs, her hands uncomfortably crossed. And she was even taller than Ma Etty now that she was standing.

  “Hanna?” the old lady asked her again.

  “Um,” sputtered Hanna. “My name’s Hanna. Hanna Abbott. That’s A-B-B-O-T-T . . . with two Ts. And I, um, well, I grew up in . . . Michigan. And I . . .” She looked around the room, trying to think of anything else she could say, anything that wouldn’t sound stupid and forced, but her mind was a blank, white sheet. She heard her mom saying, Stand up straight! I can’t believe I raised such a slouch. And that stuttering! You’ve never stuttered before, Hanna. Use complete sentences!

  “I like the color green and I steal.”

  She didn’t mean for it to come out, but it was the most complete thought in her head—that nonsense responsible for this whole stupid trip to Quartz Creek in the first place. Hanna abruptly sat down and stared at the floor, unwilling to look at the faces around her after that impromptu confession.

  The room was quiet for a second before Ma Etty said, in a low, sincere voice, “Thank you for that, Hanna. That was very brave of you. I’m sure everyone here has a thing or two they’re not proud of, and it’s important to remember our mistakes as well as our successes—so we can learn from them.” Hanna’s face burned like it were filled with lava. But Ma Etty clapped her hands together and moved on. “Well, I have one last thing to say before we sit down for dinner.”