Page 26 of A Bittersweet Summer

Sweat drips down my back, horse hooves scuffing up rocks as we walk in silence. I remind myself to pick out Deco’s hooves before letting him back outside.

The sky stretches overhead, fluffy white clouds dispersed above us like cotton candy.

In the early afternoon heat, I’m given a glimpse of summer, and can absolutely picture myself still working here. Maybe I’ll get to ride even more—earn Wes’s trust with the horses, and ride any time I want, even. It’s every horse girl’s dream, and it hardly ever becomes a reality, but I can hope.

“You haven’t seen me on a horse, and you’ve let me on bareback. This is a lot of trust,” I comment, knowing exactly how horse owners can be—and rightfully so.

Wes chuckles, the sound rich like the damp spring soil. “I am judging you pretty heavily as we speak. I’ll know a good deal by the time we get to the pond.”

“The pond?” I question, my heart hammering in my chest. Before he even says it, I catch wind of what we are about to do, and needless to say, I am utterly excited.

“We’re swimming.”

A smile breaks across my face as we round the side of the barn and enter the parking lot. At the base of the hill where the farmhouse sits, a small pond spews water from a fountain. The small dock stretches about ten feet over the water, and an unused paddle boat rests upturned in the lush grass.

“Please tell me we are swimming on horseback.” The words leak out of me—as if my excitement can’t be contained.

When I turn to Wes, noting the way his hair curls from beneath his helmet, I see something new.

The Wes I met in the coffee shop nearly a month ago had a tension in his shoulders. He seemed bogged down by life, anxious to check off our interaction like it was just another chore.

Since starting this job, he’s carried that weight around. It makes him a good boss since he’s always willing to jump in, and despite what I would have thought, he’s a very patient teacher.

Every once in a while, I get to see this different side of him. And this version? I like this version. So much so, I have to remind myself that mybossat my very newjobis just being kind.

Boosting the workplace morale, I suppose.

Grady continues working down at the breeding barn, and I find myself soaking in the May sunshine.

“You ever taken a horse swimming?” Wes asks, but I somehow don’t believe he doesn’t know the answer.

I’m practically buzzing with excitement. There’s no way he doesn’t sense that kind of energy.

“No,” I answer. “Never.”

“Well, grab some mane on the way out of the water, trust the horse, and let yourself float a little. He needs freedom if he chooses to go where the water is deeper. These horses are old hats at this, but I don’t want you ruining my lesson horse, so no mistakes.”

My smile falls—stomach plummeting along with it. “You’re serious?”

Wes chuckles. “No. That horse is old. Roe and I did this a million times growing up on these same horses. He’ll be just fine.”

I’m not sure how to feel about the confession.Roe and I did this a million times growing up.It feels forbidden to know this kind of information—like I’m being given a glimpse into his life—into the real Wes beyond mucking stalls and mending fences.

Wesley Miller has proven himself to be somewhat private despite sharing his home with a number of employees who help to keep the farm running. Somehow, learning about his childhood doesn’t quite fit the picture I’ve seen. I can’t make the puzzle piece wedge into place. The image I’ve constructed of him is rather grumpy, certainly fixated on to-do lists and run by a strict schedule. A random swim at the pond that mirrors his childhood? Not something I’ve seen in the last three weeks.

I press Deco on and give him his head when he noses the edge of the pond.

“Don’t let him roll,” Wes warns, and I can hear the warmth in his voice.

I push forward, heart hammering until the cold water nips at my toes. A laugh escapes at Deco’s heavy sigh—as if he’d waited all day for a dip in the pond.

“Oh my God, he loves it!” I shriek, only to be met with Wes’s laughter behind me.

Intrepid follows our lead until I'm fully submerged—floating above the horse's back and clinging to his mane to keep myself from losing him entirely. Deco holds his head above water, and we circle around until there is sand and earth and I’m on his back, but the water is rushing too quickly.

There’s no way this is going to end well as the horse heaves himself out of the water. Without the leg strength I once had, I’m left clinging to his mane, but even that doesn’t work.

I slide—unceremoniously—off the horse's back and land in the mud with anoofand a splash. Deco, for what it’s worth, ambles away before giving a full-body shake. He seems pleased to gobble up the bright green grass at the edge of the pond, and isutterly content with ignoring his rider, now sitting with mud and pond water up to her waist.