Dagger's Point

Chapter Fourteen

Dad is home when I pull up, and so is the fake red head. Sighing I grudgingly crawl from my truck, ready for whatever may await as I hear voices through the open windows. If I'm lucky I'll be able to get away with nothing more than a sideways glance, but something twists in my gut. Before I can reach for the handle the door swings open and Dad is glaring at me, body rigid.

Oh shit.

Cautiously I step past him as he slams the door behind me, I can't remember the last time he has been this mad. But then I see Mr. Oxford, sitting at my dining room table sipping from an ancient wine glass. My mouth goes dry.

"Ollie, sit down, we have some things to discuss." His voice is as hollow as his cheeks, beady eyes boring into me, a smirk on his lips.

I glance towards the redhead but even she seems pissed, or at least she acts like it, with her arms crossed and a deep scowl causing wrinkles to spring up across her face. I take a seat, wanting to run and positive that it has to do with Dagger. Somehow they've found out, maybe Jasper told his father. My heart beats faster and faster as I wait for Dad to take a seat, while the redhead hovers over his shoulder. I really should learn her name, but I also don't think she deserves one.

"Mr. Oxford told me about what you were doing the other night."

"I'm really disappointed in you. There are certain rules you need to follow and it's entirely ridiculous for you to just disregard them like that. And on top of everything disrespect Mr. Oxford."

"Yes, I for one am willing to let it slide this one time, but it cannot happen again." Mr. Oxford speaks in his slow winding way.

"What are you talking about?" I don't want it to be about Dagger, but I am also sick of them beating around the bus like children, let's get this over with.

"Don't pretend like you have no idea Oleander." Dad spits this out with such force that I think I can see moisture leave his mouth.

"I really don't know."

"Are you claiming you did not ride one of my horses last night without my permission?"

Oh that, I try to hide my relief. If anything my second thought would have been my assault on Jasper, but still anything is better than Dagger.

"Yes I did."

"I want you to apologize."

I frown at the table, looking at the lines in the fake, dark wood, trying to delay the inevitable. Technically I should just say it and get it over with, instead of acting like a child, but it pains me. He doesn't deserve an apology but at the same time I shouldn't have ridden that horse, or at the very least it would've been best if I had never gotten caught.

"I'm deeply sorry for breaking your rules Mr. Oxford, it will never happen again."

With that I stand, throwing a beaming smile at Mr. Oxford, before making a dash for the door, daring any of them to stop me. I need to go see Dagger, maybe even clean up the small tack room a bit, make it less terrifying to be in. The walk seems to take forever, partially because I have to go the long way, tracking through a few trees to come up behind the stud barn, a sure fire way to avoid the barn and the people that will be there. I don't want anyone speaking to Mr. Oxford about the girl they saw going down to the stud barn. The paranoia is strong, as i can't help but look over my shoulder reminding myself of the walk back from seeing him the other night, where I had thought someone had been following me, but I couldn't see anything. I shiver, stepping into the cool aisle way, finding it swept and clean, Simon must've just been here.

Dagger could care less when I reach his stall as he attacks his hay violently, tearing through it as if he will never eat again. I don't know if he has heard me or not, as I shove open the stall door. I see an ear twist in my direction, but he makes no moves to leave his food, so instead I go to him. I lean against him while he eats, allowing the sounds he makes to fill me with a peaceful feeling, I don't need anything else. Moments like these are what I live for now, the peaceful, simple ones, that don't mean anything but at the same time make the world go around. I rub circles into his dusty coat, trying to imagine what it would be like to ride him, to taste the thrill of galloping, to feel the joy running through him. He may be a dressage horse, but we both know that a gallop through a field is better than anything in the world. And even more so, because neither one of us have experienced it before.

I think then of Bea, there is no doubt in my mind that she would love to meet Dagger, the horse that isn't supposed to exist anymore. She would love it, and be furious about how the world has dealt him so wrong. In a way it is easier to imagine him put down, rather than locked inside a stall. I feel myself twitch at the injustice of it all, my mind going through that loop again and again until I feel his lips tugging at the hem of my shirt. I look over at him then, I know he can't see me, the cloudy orb merely filling space, but he knows where I am. I reach out to run my fingers along the whiskers on his muzzle, they are along and tickle the palm of my hand. If he was a show horse these whiskers would be a crime. But instead they are a novelty that I am just now starting to appreciate.

Outside the sun is gone, leaving behind a small glow, as the darkness creeps in around the edges, and with that I know what I am going to do. I slip into the aisle, not yet wanting to turn on the lights, even though it is almost too dark to see. I fumble with the tack room door, as it sticks for just a moment before swinging open. I find the light switch, bathing all the spiders in light, as well as show casing my neon green, and sparkly saddle cover. It had been a gift to myself a few years back, a special order from a company in Australia and bam, I had one more thing to drive Dad crazy with. He hated it because it wasn't classy and professional, but I love it, as it holds a special place in my heart.

I slide my arm under the saddle, lifting it up with the saddle pad I stashed underneath it, it's an older one, bright pink, and as offending to my father as the saddle cover was. I carry the load out into the aisle, stumbling slightly in the darkness. Dagger snorts, at me, though nothing else happens as I vanish into the tack room again coming out with the bridle. I am going to ride him, unless of course the tack doesn't fit, which is something that I did not think about before hand. I don't know if it's safe yet to turn on the lights but I do, finding a small thrill in this even more obvious act of rebellion.

Dagger hangs near the front of his stall, watching me carefully as I gather up the grooming supplies and enter his stall. We have done this enough times that he barely notices as I go as quickly as possible, trying to keep from chickening out. He knows something is up, I can feel it, but at the same time he doesn't seem worried about it. This, however, changes quickly when I carry in the saddle. He doesn't seem terrified of it, but at the same time, he huffs loudly, eyeing it carefully. I let him sniff at it, waiting patiently until he no longer seems to care about the brown leather.

Holding my breath I lay the pink saddle pad on his back, watching as his skin twitches but besides that there are no other reactions. Next goes the saddle, the girth clinking ever so quietly against the stirrups. I can feel his whole body freeze in surprise, or fear, I can't tell which. I wait again, ready to abort this mission if it bothers him too much, but he doesn't seem too upset about anything, at least not yet. Next goes the girth as I fasten it on, waiting for some type of reaction as I carefully pull it tight. So far everything seems to fit well, and Dagger has yet to throw a fit, or really act out in any manner. I wonder if the bridle might trigger it, as I bring it up to him carefully, posing it as a question.

Out of everything else he seems the least concerned about this, allowing me to easily slip it over his ears and mess with the straps until I have it just right. I take a step back to look him over, in reality he looks amazing, the brown leather pairing surprisingly well with his black coat and the pink saddle pad. It is then that I realize how serious this is getting.

I am going to ride Dagger tonight.

I take the reins in my hand, the leather smooth against my palms, and lead him from his stall. He doesn't do anything at first, just stands there, impossibly large, as he blends in with the shadows that the open door allows in. Leading him out into the night, I wait for some type of reaction, but instead he feels endlessly calm, walking beside me as if we do this every night. Without thinking I lead him over to the paddock fence, pulling the reins over his head as I climb it, trying to juggle everything all at once as I swing my leg over and gently sit in the saddle.

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Here's to shorter chapters!