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

  She paused for a long moment, surveying the five kids sitting around the room.

  “Please know that no matter what, we’re here for you. My husband and I started the Quartz Creek Ranch program as a place to learn and grow. We’re all here to get better, and we can help each other do that. Do your best at each thing you do, and the rewards will return to you twofold. We give you free time on the ranch so you can pursue your own interests—please be responsible with the freedom you are given. When privileges are abused, they can be revoked. So if you have any concerns at all, any of us are more than happy to help, to care, or just to listen.

  “Now let’s get eating!”

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  After a huge dinner of roll-it-yourself burritos, Fletch and Madison led them back to the van for their luggage. Fletch took the boys, the three of them laughing over some inside joke they’d already come up with, leaving Hanna with Izzy and Rae Ann.

  “Come on, girls,” said Madison. “Grab your stuff and head that way.” She pointed after the boys, where two little bunkhouses stood kitty-corner to the chicken coop and a huge, old barn with tractor parts piled up outside it like chopped wood.

  They had to pick their way past chickens pecking in the yard to get to the girls’ bunkhouse. “Honey!” Madison shouted up ahead, startling a hen. “Stay out from under foot or you’ll end up McNuggets!”

  The bunkhouse looked like something from an old western movie. The front porch creaked as Madison led them up the steps and through the equally squeaky front door. She pointed out the bathroom and then tapped a closed door. “This is my room. The rest is all you.”

  Two bunks occupied the main room, with a single bed relegated to the corner—enough to sleep five. Izzy and Rae Ann quickly took the bunk closest to the door and bounced up and down on the mattresses. Hanna wasn’t about to sleep in a bunk alone, top or bottom, so she dragged her duffel bag to the opposite end of the bunkhouse and deposited it on the lonely bed.

  “All the way over there, Hanna?” asked Madison, concern creeping into her voice. Hanna shrugged. “Okay, well . . . if the bunks are picked, we have a little tradition around here. Each new group gets to pick a name for the bunkhouse.”

  “A name?” asked Rae Ann. “Why? That’s sort of stupid.”

  Madison hid a laugh. “I said the exact same thing when I was your age!”

  “I still can’t believe you came to Quartz Creek Ranch . . . you know, before,” said Izzy.

  Hanna couldn’t imagine what someone like Madison had ever done wrong either.

  “I know,” said the horse trainer. “But let me tell you one thing: this place changes people. It changed me. And it will change you too. So as to commemorate the occasion and honor the tradition, we should give our bunk a name.”

  “Fine,” said Izzy. “Like what?”

  “Like . . . the Rockin’ Ladies Cabin?” Madison suggested. “Get it? Like a rockin’ horse?” Rae Ann let out a little snort. “Okay, maybe not.”

  Izzy raised an eyebrow. “It’s not even a very good joke.”

  Madison pretended to look hurt. “Well, you come up with a better name, then.”

  “What about ‘Pony Girls’?” said Rae Ann.

  “But they aren’t ponies,” said Izzy. “They’re horses. Ponies are small. Horses are not.”

  “Oh.”

  “No suggestions are bad,” said Madison.

  “Some are,” said Izzy. “Like, ‘Stinky Cabin’ would be a bad name.”

  “Unless we were all sweaty and gross from being outside all day,” said Rae Ann. “Then it might be a good name.”

  “Hanna?” asked Madison. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Hanna shook her head.

  “Cat got your tongue?” asked Izzy. Hanna said nothing.

  “It’s okay,” said Madison.

  “But how can we pick a name if she won’t make any suggestions?” said Rae Ann.

  “She can still vote.”

  So the brainstorming went on, until Rae Ann suggested Black Beauty’s Cabin, because of the big black horse they’d seen galloping by in the pasture on the drive up, and everyone voted yes.

  “All right,” said Madison. “Time for bed. Go brush your teeth and get ready. Then it’s time for lights-out.”

  Hanna waited until Rae Ann and Izzy were already inside the bathroom, giggling like hyenas, before she pulled her toiletries bag out of her duffel. Madison sat down on her bed beside it.

  “Hey, Hanna,” she said. “I know how you feel, you know. Us versus them? I’ve been through it too. I’ve felt like I’m the only one I’ve got. But do me a favor, please? Try and make friends. It’s going to be a long six weeks if you don’t even try.”

  “Okay,” said Hanna automatically, but she knew it was going to be a long six weeks, no matter what she did or tried.

  It was a horse ranch, after all.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning was a flurry of activity. Madison told them to get dressed and get moving to breakfast, because they had a big day ahead. And breakfast went about the same as dinner the previous night: everyone else talked loudly, while Hanna sat quietly at the far end of the table.

  Just the way she liked it.

  Over scrambled eggs and bacon, Ma Etty addressed the kids.

  “Who’s ready to meet their horse?”

  Cade threw up his hand and shouted, “Me!” Izzy laughed at him.

  Ma Etty grinned at his enthusiasm. “Glad to hear it, because we’ve picked out a special horse for each of you. You’ll have a riding lesson with your horse every morning, under Fletch and Madison’s instruction.”

  Every single morning? Hanna shrank lower into her chair, as if she could turn invisible and avoid her riding lesson altogether.

  “Then, after lunch, we’ll divide you up into pairs for other tasks the ranch needs done. And trust me when I say a ranch needs a lot!” She counted off on her fingers. “Weeding, mucking stalls, collecting eggs, feeding the chickens . . . We’ll try to give you something different every day so you can have a go at lots of things, and you’ll rotate partners as often as possible. After chores, you have free time until dinner.”

  “What do we do in free time?” asked Rae Ann.

  Ma Etty grinned. “Whatever you want! Within reason, safety, and sight, of course.”

  After breakfast, the kids were led by a horse trainer out of the house, one at a time, until only Hanna was left, sitting alone at a graveyard of biscuits and eggs while Ma Etty and Mr. Bridle did dishes. Dread turned the food in her stomach to a roiling pulp.

  “Hanna?”

  At the sound of her name, Hanna glanced up. Madison smiled a wide, toothy smile and gestured for her to follow.

  “Come on. It’s time to go and meet your horse. The others are already out in the corral warming up.”

  This was the moment she’d known was coming since she got on the plane back in Michigan. A shiver slithered up her spine.

  After clearing her place at the table, Hanna followed Madison’s bouncing brown ponytail out into the warm summer morning. The ranch was alive in the sunlight, bright and green and bursting. As the two girls weaved among chickens pecking in the yard, Madison babbled about the horse she’d handpicked for Hanna. Gentle Lacey was a pony, she said—a little shorter than your average horse, standing at only thirteen hands high. A perfectly comfortable size for someone Hanna’s age. Lacey was getting on in years but still knew how to run when Hanna was ready to run.

  Hanna didn’t have the heart to tell Madison she would never be ready to run.

  They crossed a little bridge over the creek into a wide-open space clearly meant for horses. Closest to the bridge sat a small corral, with tall metal fencing; behind it stood an old, weathered barn that was so big, it seemed to be peering down curiously over the rest of the ranch. An arena with a wood fence, big enough to pen in a whole cavalry, had been built to one side of the barn. In it, the other kids were already walking their horse
s around. Beyond the barn and the arena, a fenced-off pasture skirted the ranch and snaked off into the distance.

  Madison led Hanna to the barn and opened the doors with a creak.

  Inside, it smelled like old wood, leather, and manure—like horses. Hanna’s hands were trembling in her pockets by the time Madison reached the stall on the far end of the barn and tapped the door.

  “Here she is.”

  A brown nose reached over the top of the stall door, and Hanna took a step back. Madison patted the nose, crooning, “Hey, Lacey, pretty girl. How are you?” Lacey’s furry head snorted and sniffled for treats, and Madison pulled a little brown biscuit from her pocket.

  The pony’s head was huge, even bigger than Hanna had expected—certainly large enough to bite off a hand. When Lacey’s white teeth darted from her lips to eat up the treat, Hanna cried, “Watch out!”

  Her yelp startled the horse and the trainer. “I’m fine, Hanna,” said Madison, pressing a hand to her heart to slow it down. Lacey whickered on the other side of the stall door. “Come on over here and give Lacey a treat.”

  But Hanna was rooted to the spot. Lacey snuffled at Madison’s arm again, looking for more treats.

  “Hanna?” asked Madison. “Are you all right?”

  Hanna tried to take a step forward, but she couldn’t get any closer knowing the pony was there. Madison’s smile faded.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t,” Hanna said, and started backing away. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t what?”

  Hanna swallowed. What could she possibly say? How could she tell a tough, cool girl like Madison she was plain afraid?

  “I can’t ride,” said Hanna.

  “What?” Madison frowned. “Of course you can. Not right now, of course, but that’s why you’re here—so we can teach you how to ride. As part of the program.”

  Hanna shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t ride. And I . . . I don’t want to.”

  Madison’s expression turned from confused to a little annoyed—the same expression Hanna’s mom had whenever Hanna slouched at the dinner table or used the wrong past-tense version of swim.

  “Well, now, that’s a little different. But your parents said you love horses.”

  “Toy horses! When I was seven!” Hanna cried, exasperated. Those beautiful toys were all stuffed in a box in her closet now. “My mom forced me to come here, you know.”

  Madison’s eyebrows went so high they disappeared under her brown bangs. “Forced you? That’s not what she told me, Hanna. She said you’ve always wanted to ride horses.”

  “She’s the one who wants me to want to ride,” said Hanna. “But I don’t. I don’t even like horses.”

  Madison stood there, speechless. Then the barn door opened, and Fletch entered, leading a paint horse with Josh sitting on its back. He helped Josh off and said, “Find another helmet that’ll fit you better in the tack room, and I’ll tie her up over here.”

  “Fletch,” said Madison. “I need your help.”

  Hanna’s stomach dropped like a stone.

  “What is it?”

  Madison ran her hand over her forehead. “Hanna doesn’t want to even get near little Lacey here. What do you think we should do?”

  With a calm that reminded Hanna of old Mr. Bridle, Fletch stepped between them.

  “All right. I’ve got it. Hanna, why don’t you and I go outside and take a little breather, away from the horses? Madison, Josh’s helmet is too small. Can you help out?”

  “Sure.” Madison turned and, without saying anything else to Hanna, trudged away. Hanna thought her face was probably purple with embarrassment. Madison must be furious with her.

  “Hey, it’s all right.” Fletch’s smile was broad and full of big, white teeth. She liked how genuine it was—and instantly felt guilty that she was going to disappoint him too. “Let’s go talk outside.”

  Once they left the horse smell behind, Hanna could breathe better.

  “There you go,” said Fletch, reclining against the fence. On the other side, the kids walked their horses in figure-eight patterns around barrels in the arena. They were talking and laughing, already friends, already having a good time, already settled in with their horses.

  “So, Hanna,” said Fletch. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking? Why don’t you want to ride?”

  She wanted to tell him—she really did. But how could Hanna admit she was terrified?

  “Look,” she said. “I really don’t like horses, okay? I didn’t want to come here. I even begged my mom not to send me.”

  Fletch studied her, and his gaze made her fidget. He looked right into her—and she could sense that he knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  “I’m sorry you don’t feel comfortable letting me in on what’s really going on,” he said. “But no one will force you to ride. We’ll work up to it together. Why don’t you watch the others for a while? When you’re feeling less anxious, we can try again.”

  Hanna nodded. She didn’t agree, but she didn’t want to talk about it anymore either. Fletch patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Hanna. There’s no pressure. It’ll work when it works.” Then he turned and disappeared back into the barn.

  Hanna felt even worse, having kept the truth from Fletch. So she did the only thing she could think of to do: she turned and jogged away, leaving the barn behind.

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  Running made sense when things got bad. When she ran, she could escape anything—including angry store owners who’d caught her stealing.

  As her shoes hammered the dirt with a dull thok, thok, thok, Hanna felt the rush start at her throat and work its way down to her toes, calming her mind, letting her forget all about the barn and Lacey and Fletch and Madison, and about how she’d told her mom this place wouldn’t work out.

  Her mom hadn’t listened. She never did.

  Thok, thok, thok. Soon Hanna’s thoughts were replaced completely by the steady beat of her feet.

  They carried her away from the barn, away from the other kids talking and laughing in the corral. Her feet pounded the grass as she followed the fence line uphill. The air turned chilly as she ran through the shadow cast by a huge butte standing a hair east of the ranch. The butte was gently sloped and green on one side, then jagged and rocky on the other, like a giant had sliced off a chunk of it for buttering his toast.

  After a while, Hanna’s panic faded and she slowed down to a walk. Up ahead the pasture fence dipped abruptly. She stopped at the dip and gazed down, still breathing hard from her run.

  She found herself standing at the top of a small crest. At the bottom of the slope, Quartz Creek bubbled along into a copse of nearby cottonwoods, the pasture fence trailing alongside it. The day was starting to heat up, and Hanna wished she could get closer to the creek, maybe dip her toes in it—but that would involve climbing over the fence and possibly coming face-to-face with a horse.

  Besides, she’d have to climb over not one but two fences to get there. Another fence, constructed haphazardly with wood stakes and kinked wire, sectioned off a smaller pasture inside the larger one—and with it, a chunk of the creek.

  What was this little pasture for? Were the Bridles keeping something separated from the other horses? Hanna didn’t think she actually wanted to know.

  Something moved in the trees. Hanna jolted. Whatever it was, it ambled around down by the creek, hidden by a low-hanging bough—and far enough away that Hanna could only hear the occasional rustle.

  Then a white tail flicked.

  A horse!

  Hanna backed away from the fence. But the tail swished back and forth, as harmless and peaceful as a blade of grass blowing in a breeze. After a while the grazing horse turned around and emerged from the trees.

  Hanna let out a loud gasp. It was beautiful—the prettiest horse she’d ever seen in real life, though from this distance, it looked like a toy. A white-flecked mane billo
wed down the powerful, faintly curved neck. Its coat was steel gray and shot through with white stars, like the horse had once been all white until someone dumped soot on it. Its barrel chest and sleek body reminded Hanna of a horse you’d see pulling a king’s carriage in Victorian England.

  Right then, it looked up—and spotted her. Hanna and the horse stared at each other, eyes locking across the pasture. Neither of them moved, each frozen in shock at the other’s sudden appearance.

  She should be afraid of it—what if the horse decided to come check her out?—but she found it impossible to look away.

  Then the horse reared, flicked its silver mane back, and galloped off into the trees.

  Hanna stood there, awestruck, wondering if she had really seen what she thought she’d seen. Then she saw the horse’s hooves had left holes in the grass. It had to be real.

  What was that she’d seen in those wide, brown eyes? Fear? And . . . something else. Something dark, hidden, imperceptible.

  Whatever it was, it made her chest ache. She felt like she’d seen a ghost.

  “Hanna?”

  She jumped at the sound of a girl’s voice. It was Izzy, and her lips were twisted up with annoyance.

  “What are you doing way out here?” Izzy said. “Everyone’s been looking for you. Madison and Fletch told us you disappeared.”

  “I—I’m sorry.” Hanna blushed purple again. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “What do you mean you ‘didn’t mean to’?” Izzy crossed her arms and gave a huffy pfft. “How can you ‘not mean’ to run off?”

  “It was an accident.”

  In the distance, voices called Hanna’s name.

  “She’s over here!” shouted Izzy, waving her arms as people came down the road. “I found her!”

  Madison ran up to Hanna, panting, looking both angry and worried. “Why did you run off like that?” Behind her, the other kids were whispering, until Fletch told them to keep quiet.

  “I didn’t mean to,” said Hanna again. “I just started walking.”