Saddled (The Stables Trilogy #3) Read online

  Saddled

  Penny Lam

  Copyright © 2015 Now and Wren Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  cover design by Katie Pearl

  [email protected]

  Chapter One

  “You’re pretty stupid, Belleza.”

  Raúl was sitting in the blue wingback chair in Maple’s tiny room. It was just a guest room now, though. Maple was packing her things. A pony didn’t get a room. A bed. Clothes to wear.

  “No one asked you to be here,” Maple complained. She didn’t mind parting with most of her things. They were just that, things, and easily replaced. Most of it, anyway. Her book, thumbed through and a comforting escape for years, sat in her hands. It shouldn’t be so difficult to part with. It was a paperback. The cover was peeling and split, the spine broken. Most of the pages had a stain on them, or pencil marks from thoughts she’d had. She doubted a used book store would accept it; it had no resale value.

  But it had value to her. Reluctantly, she placed it in her bag. When this was done, when she’d grown stronger and earned J.B.’s love--

  “What exactly do you think is going to happen, Maple? Now you’re going to be just another one of them,” (so far, Raúl had refused to say pony, something Maple couldn’t help but notice), “and you’ll be sold, and I’ll never see you again. You’re my only friend here.”

  That last complaint struck true. However tenuous, Maple and Raúl were friends. He’d been there for her despite her not giving back as much as she received from him. “You’re a good guy, Raúl, and this won’t be the last you’ll see of me.”

  His face blackened. “Most owners don’t bring their pets back, Maple. Once you’re sold, that’s it.”

  He wasn’t going to let her pack in peace. The air was stifling with the conversation that needed to happen. Maple needed to reassure him. She plopped on the end of the bed. Her hands trembled a little, shaky and unsure with the future. It seemed Raúl wasn’t the only one who needed reassuring.

  “I’m not going to be sold.” She said it so they’d both believe it.

  He didn’t buy it. “J.B. won’t be with one of his stock. I’ve never seen him try anything with any of them. Ever. It would be bad for trust and bad for business.” Raúl ran a hand through his hair, staring at Maple with a book of complete disbelief

  “He's never been with one of his ponies for sale,” Maple said, “But that doesn't mean that he's opposed to the idea.” This was added as a hopeful afterthought. “He’s done it before.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Raúl’s truly baffled face left Maple feeling foolish. “Well, he and Rachel--”

  “Oh, shit.” The color blanched from Raúl’s face, and his eyes were filled with something too close to fear. Maple broke their gaze, her heart pounding. “Maple… I need to show you something.”

  “Show me something? I don't have time for that.” Her face grew wary. Maple didn’t like the direction the conversation was going. She glanced hesitatingly at her suitcase, but there wasn't time for doubt--Raúl grabbed her hand and pulled her from her room.

  They went quickly through the gallery, her feet nipping at his heels. It was impossible not to notice the new paintings on the walls. These were the black ones that were more visceral, filled with fear and pain. They felt ominous and oppressive, their black surfaces turning into eyes that flashed warnings to her as she followed Raúl.

  “Where are we going?” She asked in a hushed whisper, eyes darting back and forth. They were in J.B.’s corner of the home, a place they absolutely should not be in without J.B.’s express permission.

  “There's something you need to see.” She wouldn’t get an answer from him, his determined steps leading them straight into the heart of danger.

  They turned down a familiar hall. Its many locked doors loomed before them. How many rules was she going to break? How far must she push her welcome? Maple was submitting herself to the stable to leave this sort of inquisitive daring behind. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest as she glanced at J.B.'s office. “We can't be here!” She spat in a low whisper.

  “He’s never here this time of day. We’ll be quick.”

  It must be nice to not live in fear of J.B. It was a startling form of envy. Raúl had a history with J.B., a tie that made him bold. Whatever their relationship, Raúl was walking pointedly toward a room like he owned the place. It was Maple who was dragging, skin clammy and eyes darting.

  They came to the one room she’d not been in. Maple watched with fearful eyes as his hands grasped the knob and turned, her breath aching in her lungs, begging to be expelled. It left her in a whoosh as the door swung open.

  The room was dusty. Clearly no one had been inside for a long time. In her peripheral vision, she saw women’s clothing hanging in the open closet and various memorabilia that obviously belonged to Rachel on shelves and the dresser. But her eyes were drawn to the single thing in the room she couldn’t avoid.

  A giant portrait hung on the far wall. The portrait was of a tall, slim, and gorgeous woman standing in front of the human stable. Her raven hair fell in luxurious curls. Her curvy body was clad in a form-fitting jacket, riding breeches, and tall leather boots. Against one of those boots, a riding crop was resting. The painter of the portrait managed to capture a feeling of anticipation; Rachel’s smile was dark, with a hint of malice. The crop gave off the impression of false leisure, hovering like it could whip out from the painting and strike at any moment.

  It was as if she was daring you to misbehave. Eager for it.

  “My God,” Maple said, “you're kidding me.”

  The stiffness in the room, the smell of dust and carefully forgotten memories, reminded her all too well that it was no joke. How could she have been so stupid?

  “It was Rachel who taught J.B.,” Raúl said with quiet reverence. She glanced at him, and he was also looking at the portrait, gaze locked on it like he was afraid Rachel would punish him from beyond. “Everything he knows. She built the stable. She started the business.”

  Maple wished, more than ever, that she contained some ability to think ahead. To not remain in the shadows, hiding behind her past and pathetic needs, only reacting to situations. Then again, she was trying to be proactive with the stable. How fitting, she thought, that I was blind to this possibility.

  She’d assumed that Rachel had been a pony. Why had she thought that? Maple realized she’d never had a hint. That all she’d connected was that J.B. had been training since he knew Rachel, and that he was such a dominant, stern, and solo trainer that the possibility of him having a partner hadn’t crossed her mind. There was nothing, nothing, that had hinted at Rachel being a pony.

  What a fool she was.

  Raúl unintentionally salted the growing wound inside of her. “I mean, I've known J.B. a really long time, and he was never into the training and selling of women until he married Rachel. It was really her thing, not his.”

  Each word was a blow. Everything she thought she knew about J.B. seemed built on a lie. A lie of her own creation, which made it worse.

  “How did she come to it?” Maple’s words felt tangled in her dry, sticky mouth.

  “I never asked, Maple. Me and Rachel? Not that close. She was kind, and beautiful, and she had her own money when she met J.B. You can’t know how hard it was to find someone
that he could trust wasn’t after his wealth. I was just happy he was happy.”

  “And she taught him?”

  Raúl shuffled and looked at his feet. “I really don’t know the specifics, Maple. That was their relationship. You don’t go prying into J.B.’s business, you know? But she had the stable built, and he told us what was going to happen. We all signed NDA’s at Rachel’s request.”

  Maple wondered if it was possible to just spontaneously combust. To be so overwhelmed with surprise, or hate, or sorrow that the feelings ignited and consumed the body in flames. She wished it was possible, because it seemed the only way out of feeling as badly as she did in that moment.

  “So back out, Belleza.” Raúl was still speaking to her. She’d missed the beginning, but that last bit was clear enough. “Stop this, now. This isn’t the way to win him. It isn’t too late. He’ll refund you, you can come back to work, and we can forget all of this.”

  “No,” she murmured. “He wouldn't accept my check.”

  “Christ, he's not even charging you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I thought that was in my favor. Like maybe he wanted it as much as I did, underneath.”

  Raúl sighed, a ragged, frustrated sound. “Maple, nothing about that stable is going to be in your favor.”

  “I need it,” she argued meekly. “I can’t keep doing what I’ve been doing.”

  “J.B. told me about your ex. About the run in with him.”

  That jerked her from the well of despair she’d been hovering in. “What? What did he say?”

  Raúl stepped closer, placing his hand on her cheek. The stark warmth of his farmer’s palm felt comforting, like a wool blanket. “You said he hurt you. I didn’t understand. I should have listened.”

  Maple was mortified. She didn’t know how much J.B. had said and didn’t want to give any more away. She wondered if J.B. knew how much Raúl had told her of his own secrets. This is what it feels like, to have someone pry. Well, she deserved it.

  “It wasn’t like that,” she said, sounding weak in her ears. “I asked him to hurt me. I wanted it.”

  “And now you want J.B. to hurt you?” The hand fell away. “That’s asking too much of him. He doesn’t like hurting women.”

  Maple thought of his rough hands in the stable that first time. How he’d fucked her hard, on the gritty floor, punishing her before coming on her face. Or how he’d whipped her before making her come on his desk, her body shrouded in a lace formed of pain and pleasure. “I thought you didn’t ask about his private business.”

  Raúl took an involuntary step back. “You mean you’ve--”

  She said nothing, letting the sentence trail out into certainty.

  As understanding dawned on Raúl’s face, it dropped. He shook his head, trying to hold onto his disbelief. It was futile, and he bolted, leaving Maple with the picture of a dead girl to mock her.

  Chapter Two

  The phone rang five times before her mother picked up.

  Static crackled as her mother’s “hello?” pulsed through.

  “Hey, Mom,” Maple felt her mouth lift in a sad smile. She and her family were never going to be talkers, and it had been a while since she'd heard from home. Now it was going to be even longer.

  “Hey, Honey,” her mother's voice warmed immediately. Nothing could make a moment, however brief, better than hearing someone who was excited to speak with you. “You okay?”

  It was unusual question. Phone calls were rare, but surely not so rare it should inspire concern in her parents. After all, these were the same folks who’d helped her move out, not just once, but twice with a none-too-gentle shove to go make her way. They’d hidden their hurt at her leaving underneath callous and ambivalent disregard for her life.

  Something fluttered in her stomach. The purpose of the call had just been to warn her parents that she’d be unavailable soon. Hearing the innocent query, though (“You okay?”) caused Maple to hesitate. She wasn’t okay. She needed support, and tenderness, and maybe advice.

  Was this a chance? Some unknown connection with her mom, opening up just in time?

  “I'm fine, Mom,” she replied, tucking her knees up under her on her bed. She couldn’t bring herself to honesty. “Just wanted to get an update on y'all.”

  “Oh, we’re fine. Your dad’s busy getting ready for the new season. The last year he needs to work so hard, looks like. Stock looks real good, and he thinks is going to be able to put a big enough chunk on the loan to be able to cut back.”

  Neither of them mentioned it, but J.B. was the one her father had taken the loan out from. Money wasn't something good folks talked about.

  “And you're okay, Mom?” Maple found herself falling into the same old patterns. It had always been habit to ask her mom for something more, something personal. And--

  “You know I'm getting on just fine.” It was habit for her mom to avoid it. “What about you, Baby? Did you need to tell me something?”

  “Just that...” Maple hesitated. She couldn't really tell her mother what she was doing. And chances were her mother never would have found out if she didn’t. In all the time that Maple had worked at the ranch, her parents hadn't called once. But Maple didn’t believe in luck. Even if she did, she didn't believe that she had it. So she was calling her mother now instead of risking her mom trying to call her when she couldn't get to the phone. “Well you know, we're coming up on calving and auction season. Mr. Deyton says the days are going to be real long. I won't be near phone for a while.”

  “That doesn't surprise me,” her mother replied, letting out a little laugh. “Will you be home for Easter?”

  Of course this is what her mother would be worried about. One of the few times in the year when church became mandatory. Mabel hadn't gone since she turned eighteen, much to her mother's continuing disappointment.

  “I don't think so, Mom. I reckon I'll be here through summer.” She could practically feel the disappointment through the phone line.

  It was on the cusp of March. Still cold in the morning, frost continuing to coat the ground. But the days warmed quickly, and it wouldn't be long before they shifted straight from winter into summer. There wasn't much spring in West Texas.

  Six months from this phone call, Maple would find herself either in J.B.'s arms, or in a metal trailer being hauled to Albuquerque for sale.

  She picked at her fingers before resolutely pushing it to the back of her mind. “In fact,” she lied to her mother now-- not for the first time-- but that didn't make it any easier. “In fact, I'll be traveling with Mr. Deyton for the sale. I doubt I'll even have a phone on me. You can just call the ranch if there's an emergency, and I'm sure the message will get to me.” The lie sounded hollow, barely believable. Cell phones made lies like this wisp-thin, because why wouldn’t she just bring it with her?

  Maple held her breath, waiting to be busted.

  “Traveling for sales?” Her mother's voice lifted. “Maple, Honey, that's a big deal! You must be doing a great job! Maybe a humble farm life was the right fit for you after all! You just needed to get that wanderlust out of your system.”

  Maple’s heart twisted. It was the closest her mother head come to outright admitting that Maple had hurt her feelings with all of her choices. It wasn't a surprise, for her mom was an expert at passive aggressive conversation. But this wasn't subtle. It was her mother saying, you thought you were too good for us, but you weren't.

  “You know that it wasn't that I thought poorly of ranching,” Maple pleaded, “I just needed to--” Get the hell out of Dodge? Get whipped and fucked? Lick a man's boots? “--find myself.”

  “I’m happy you’ve found yourself at Mr. Deyton’s ranch. It seems like a good fit.”

  If she had any idea…

  “I guess I’ll go. Miss you.” Maple resigned herself to their par-for-course end of conversation. It always left her painfully aware of the distance that would always be between she and her parents. It was heavy, and it was lonely,
and maybe that was a part of why she clung so hard to the idea of J.B. He made her feel, forcing it into her skin and bones with his tools and his grim anger.

  “I miss you too, Honey. I'll tell Paw you called.”

  Dial tone.

  Her feet were beginning to tingle from the lack of blood. She unfolded her legs, grimacing as the blood rushed back into her feet and toes. There wasn't any more time for stalling.

  After Maple finished packing, she made her way to the gallery and living room. She sat on the couch and watched as cars and taxis pulled up. Winter kept the dust down but did nothing to muffle the kick and scratch of gravel.

  Out of the cars stepped the women. The new ponies, really. She'd known that she was not going to be the only pony, but it was still shocking to see the women, new and untrained and all startlingly beautiful, approach the house.