Tethered

Ten || Lemonade

{Hungover On Heartache ~ Cam}

...Coming around like a steamroller wheel, we'll be a little stronger when we can heal, but that's gonna take time...

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     It starts slowly, this rush in my gut each morning as I stride out to the stables just before the sun has peeked over the hills. My promise stands as a candle lit in prayer, a small flame of hope I hold on to. I don't expect it to fuel me this much, but it gives me a steady focus; an eye-line like a ship's captain staring out at the horizon, waiting for the distant call that land is near. I know I am far away from 'land' or the end, in fact I know I've barely begun, but I am hopeful that I'm earning my keep here. I'm making myself useful, I tell myself each time I feel tired and ache from tip to toe.

     It keeps me going, past the late-night lights and early morning breezes when the nightmares come. They continue to leave my back sweating as I launch my body up and out of bed in the creaking darkness of my room each night. Still, I focus on that rush. The promise I made, aloud into the universe, even if it felt like the only people hearing it were Harley and me.

     Every day I am a whirlwind of 'what do you need?' and 'let me try'. Uncle Deacon doesn't hesitate to tell me what else needs doing or mending or painting, calling on me while Beau works hard working at the far edge of the field.

     Even Beau seems to be softening to my presence here, tipping his head to me and remembering to set three places at the table instead of his muscle memory of two. He still chides me, but I am learning that he likes the fight back, the scorpion sting of a response. 

     Uncle Deacon tells me of his plans for a new stable, which Beau has taken the lead on building. I half-joke that Beau seems to know how to do anything. He barely cracks a smile, but I see a small glitter in his eyes when I say it.

     After Uncle Deacon started winning the Derby the ranch was always full of riders and horses, lucky to have a stable for their horse, I'm told. The town would talk about the ranch like it was Graceland. But time, and people, move on to the next winners and their glory. The blood, sweat, tears and triumphs of the past wither and flake away like old paint. Uncle Deacon knew this and felt the flaking away every year after retirement, the Graceland hysteria of the ranch became quiet and empty, with only a few horses and more and more time to kill.

  "Once this new stable is up and running, it'll bring more money in, especially if out-of-towners for the derby catch wind of it," Uncle Deacon brimmed at dinner one night as he told me.

  "You gotta have money to get money," I hear Beau mutter under his breath.

     If Uncle Deacon heard him, he says nothing, and his face doesn't even betray any hint of recognition to Beau's comments.

     He isn't wrong, I think, wondering how on earth we can find the money for a new stable and keep the ranch running -- but I push on trying to put that gnawing negativity to the back of my head. It isn't the only thought I'm pushing away for as long as I can, my mind pretty adept to the skill, and all of them are going to have to wait.

     I busy myself with the horses, getting more and more into a rhythm with them with each passing day. While I brush and wash and let them roam the fields, I let my eyes wander to the edge of the field, hearing Beau hammering away at wooden beams, his mission of erecting a new stable in the forefront of his and Uncle Deacon's minds. Still, no matter how many times I look in a day, I don't see the rising of a stable past the long blades of grass.