Page 11 of Christmas at the Ranch
Samantha stifled a yawn. Obviously neither Arthur nor Drew believed in sleeping in during vacation.
“I came down to get coffee,” Samantha said. “Drew showed me how to use the coffee maker.”
“After breakfast all the guests are going elk watching in Grand Teton National Park,” Arthur said, pouring a glass of orange juice. “The car will leave at eleven a.m.”
A lump formed in Samantha’s throat. She tried to think of an excuse not to go.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to miss it,” she addressed Arthur. “I’m under deadline. I wouldn’t want to be late with the next book.”
Arthur turned to Drew. He smiled pleasantly.
“Tell Samantha how I feel about work and pleasure,” Arthur prompted.
“My father believes the most successful people know how to take time off,” Drew offered.
“The head of a rival publishing house taught me that early in my career,” Arthur agreed. “He invited me and Drew to his beach house in Costa Rica. I asked how he could rationalize owning a second home that was so far away. He waved at the flickering torches and white sand beach and said there he didn’t allow himself to think about business. When he returned to New York, he was ten times more productive. That’s when I bought my first house in Connecticut.” He beamed at Samantha. “You’re officially on vacation, and I expect you to do all the things the ranch has to offer. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
Drew turned to Samantha. He smiled and his eyes were the color of the winter sky.
“Wait until you see the elk, they’re the most magnificent animals in the world.”
Samantha walked briskly around the grounds. It was easy for Drew to say that elk were spectacular, he didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. A quick internet search revealed that elks weighed seven hundred pounds. The male elk’s antlers weighed forty pounds alone and during the winter they let out a scream called bugling that could be heard for miles.
Samantha had been tempted to call Charlie. But when she tookout her phone, there was a series of texts sent from Emily’s parents’ house in Vermont. Socks wore a red dog sweater and beside him was a dish of candy-cane-shaped dog bones. Samantha couldn’t complain to Charlie when Socks was having a wonderful Christmas.
In front of her stood the barn. She opened the door and walked inside.
One of the few animals that Samantha wasn’t afraid of was horses. She’d fallen in love with horses at the age of ten, when her mother gave her a copy ofBlack Beauty. Samantha read it every night and dreamed of owning her own black stallion. She spent hours reading about the brave horses of World War I. And she watched the movieSeabiscuittwice, each time using up a box of Kleenex.
On her third date with Roger, they took a horse-and-carriage ride through Central Park. It was her first Christmas in New York, and snuggling under the blanket, listening to the horses’ hooves clomping on fresh snow, was the most romantic thing she’d ever done.
Even after Roger left, she still wasn’t afraid of horses. There was something so calming about them. Sometimes when she had to go into Manhattan, she stopped at Clifton Stables just to feed sugar cubes to the horses.
Arthur’s barn had a timbered ceiling and plaster walls. There was a tack room and a separate room filled with cowboy hats and leather boots. The whole place had that wonderful barn smell. It was a mix of hay and horse feed, and something Samantha couldn’t name but was warm and inviting.
“You’re smelling Froot Loops cereal,” a male voice said behind her. “I mix it in with the feed. The horses love it.”
Samantha turned as an older man came out of a stall. He wore a flannel shirt and corduroy slacks.
“Bruno!” Samantha recognized the driver who brought her from the airport. “What are you doing here?”
“I look after Mr. Wentworth’s horses.” Bruno put down his bucket.
“I thought you were the chauffeur,” she said, puzzled.
“Only when Mr. Wentworth needs extra help,” he replied. “My main job is with the horses. Mr. Wentworth bought the barn and all the horses with the ranch.” He stroked a chestnut horse. “This is Blixen. He was born on Christmas a few years ago.”
“He’s beautiful,” Samantha commented. The horse had large brown eyes and a white patch on his nose.
“Go on, stroke his nose,” Bruno encouraged her. “Blixen can spot a true horse lover.”
Samantha brought her hand to the horse’s nose. It was moist and smooth under her palm.
“I’ve always loved horses,” Samantha confessed. “Though I only sat on ponies as a child.” She grinned. “There isn’t much horseback riding in Brooklyn.”
“Horses are very intelligent,” Bruno said thoughtfully. “The only time a horse throws its rider is if the horse or rider are in danger. If you listen to a horse, you’ll never get into trouble.” He smiled. “My wife, Elaine, says if people communicated as well as horses, the world would be a better place.”
Samantha wondered what would have happened if Roger had talked to her about how he felt. Would he have listened to Samantha? Or was he too focused on the picture he had of himself: partner in a sports law firm by the age of thirty, invitations to parties in the Hamptons. Could she have convinced him that he could be happy with less? Associate instead of partner, weekends just the twoof them, eating bagels and reading the sports pages ofThe New York Times.
