You probably shouldn't read this if you really liked WW. I shot for that style, but I don't think I quite got there. I may remove this and edit it to put more Witch. Jake came back in, and he and Sam kept wanting to talk and I was like, "No!" I need to tell you off the bat that there will be one more chapter from Jake's POV, where Witch finally figures out that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. A lot will be cleared up then. Hold on to your hats! It's one year of emotional growth in 11,000 words. Did I manage it?
The morning sun hadn't yet poked over the mountains in the horizon, but Sam didn't care. She had awoken before dawn for almost a year now, and her necessary chores were mostly done. The saddle she'd been lugging hit the ground when she scanned the pasture. Ace snuffled her hair, as fury built inside her. That rat had stolen her horse. Again. He had completely screwed with her yogi mindset, and what's more, he knew it. He delighted in throwing her off center. He was probably gloating right now, if he hadn't crawled back into his bed.
Sam smiled at Ace, "We'll show him, right?" His dark eyes promised that he had confidence in her abilities. Sam felt a rush of love for Ace, and his unwavering support. "But first, what's say you and I tackle some yoga?" Sam left the saddle over the fence.
Sam hopped the gate. Ace nuzzled her shoulder, and she kissed his wonderful face. "You're such a wonderful boy, Ace." He never left her side, not for anything.
Sam began her routine as she had for the past months, with the lotus pose. This venture had begun when she couldn't sleep during the school year. Ace was still, and Sam drew her booted heel up towards her abdomen, and crossed her legs, right leg resting atop the left as she found her center on Ace's back. He turned his head to look at her, and she smiled. He was used to her antics. Sam spent a few moments just connecting with Ace. The morning was awakening around them. Sam heard Gram open the chicken run, and Pepper call out to Gram in greeting. Nobody sought her out, instead she and Ace were left alone, working through various poses, both on and off of his back. At times, she was silent, and other times, she spoke to Ace, whispering words of connection and reassurance.
She couldn't do her favorite pose without someone to hold Ace, so she settled for closing her routine by saddling him up and doing saddle twists. When the last breath left her body, at the end of an eight count, Sam leaned down, unhooked the gate, and rode Ace into the rising sun. He nickered in joy, greeting his friend Strawberry as they passed her by, and the morning looked bright. Later, she would kick some rumpus, but for now, she had a morning ride to enjoy. She was alone, and by now, she was more than fine with it. She didn't even hurt when the thought that it shouldn't be this way crossed her mind. She didn't feel like her soul was bleeding. Sam crossed off another day in her mind. Every day she could count as this new normal, whatever it was, was a victory.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Her iPod, luckily, didn't skip as she ran along the path between River Bend and her closest neighbor. The miles sped by in the early morning, as her thoughts matched her pace. Sam was glad she'd loosened up with some yoga. Her run was fueled by indignation and vengeance. They were hardly meditative thoughts, but the energy propelled her to Three Ponies quickly. Sam used the solitude to reflect on the mishmash her life had become.
The brush and rocks moved by as Sam recalled racing over this very terrain seven, no, weeks eight weeks ago. That night had been nothing short of magical. Out of nowhere, Jake appeared. Sam recalled the elation that had filled her in that moment. She'd spotted him out of the corner of her eyes, and felt Digger match Witch stride for stride, until they slowed. No words were spoken between them that night. Their very togetherness had been enough.
Sam had held out hope that she would see Jake the next day, but of course, he didn't show until mid-afternoon. The day had felt endless, but when he was finally in front of her, when she could finally say her piece, they didn't speak. The moments had felt too full to use words, not when she couldn't find them. Sam felt like she'd swallowed her tongue, and that ticked her off. She was hardly 15 anymore. Her nervous system didn't seem to care that she was mature. But, Lord, she'd missed him. Her skin tingled with his very presence, and that made her angrier still, with herself. If she couldn't keep her composure, she wouldn't speak. He'd left behind a girl, she knew, and it wouldn't do to prove he'd come home to one as well.
Seeing Jake slide so easily, so presumptively, back into routines that had shifted without him had robbed her of any goodwill towards him, mostly because it unnerved her that any sense of equilibrium she'd built had been knocked out from under her with one blink of those mustang eyes of his when he sat atop Digger. She was better than that, to be so totally shaken by his reappearance, presumptive as his actions were. What did he expect, that she had stagnated, waiting for him? They worked in relative silence that day, and the next, and the next. There was nothing to say, it seemed, beyond the little things that needed to be said for work to be done.
Sam's iPod changed songs, and she recalled the last time Ace had requested it in the barn. While it had been playing, Jake had spoken. They spent countless moments together, but neither of them broke the silence about the past year in any meaningful way. Just as Sam had worked to put together the words to say, "I missed you..." Jake had spoken, breaking into the symphony that was her racing blood and pounding heart.
"I'm leaving tomorrow, Sam." He'd pulled his hat down low dodging the horse, "I need you to keep Witch for me. I'm going to the police academy." Sam's stride on the dirt path nearly stumbled as she recalled realizing that he was leaving again, leaving, and probably going back to school right after. His assertions to Pepper, and to Dallas even, that he was home for good had meant nothing. Sam knew her thoughts were irrational, but they were what they were, at the time.
She stopped thinking, and instead allowed herself to feel the weak morning sun that would bake them alive in a few hours, smell the deep tinge of earth in the air, as pungent as the iron in blood.
Still, Sam had realized something and backed off from speaking, that night in the barn. Witch was hers. It was done, or she had thought. Jake had opened his mouth to speak, but Witch head butted him, pushing him forward, and he had to go. Sam stopped working up the gumption to say that she'd missed him. He obviously hadn't missed her. He never talked about it, and now, it seemed they were moving on again.
She vowed that night that she would not call this time. She'd called Jen, and Jen had sighed, and told her to do something or stop fretting over it, so Sam had. She had moved on, too. It was not his fault that he had to live his life. She had to live her life, too. They had their own lives. He wanted an easy friendship back, well, he could have it at the expense of any emotional intimacy. Sam was nobody's fool, nor was she a glutton for punishment. She would not open herself to pain.
The second day he'd left had passed like his first one had, with a big breakfast. She was sandwiched between Jake and Brynna at the breakfast. She was a big girl, even if she did bolt to the barn right after. She could sit next to him and eat a meal, even if each bite tasted like sawdust and felt like lead. Max kept looking at her, though, like she was missing something big, and Sam had hated that, because she didn't want to be the villain that destroyed the picture of Jake in Max's head. Moreover, because of Jake, she'd had to listen to a litany of relationship advice from her stepmother for days afterward. As if they had a relationship. Friends returned one out of the million phone calls, letters, and emails she'd sent. Friends didn't blow friends off like so much trash, or dust.
She'd run countless miles a day the weeks he was gone, both the first and second time. Dad allowed her to help with his cases, and she and her horses had lived a fairly normal life. Jake was not a integral part of her life anymore, but at least the internal acknowledgment of that fact didn't make her feel like she had Phantom Limb Syndrome. Yoga helped that. She turned a bend in the path, and recalled Gram's ample hugs during the six weeks Jake was gone again. Sam didn't know why Gram was treating this like it was a big change. Him being home was the change, when she could have used the support of not being thrown in with him at every turn. Sam had returned the gesture of affection by starting breakfast some days, as she was always up before Gram anymore. She rarely slept, and she supposed she was moving beyond the teenager's time clock she'd had for years. She hadn't slept past 6 or so since Jake left the first time.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Surprisingly, he'd shown up back at home, and not at school, six weeks later, thinner, with a shaved head, and a shift in his posture. You could have knocked Sam over with a feather when he showed up at River Bend that weekend, and worked silently beside her, mucking stalls, staring at her as if he could consume her soul. She was not distracted by his presence, not really. It was simply that she was so used to working in solitude anymore. That was why she kept tripping over her feet and making stupid mistakes. Working with anybody, anyone on the planet, after being alone so long was plenty enough to cause her to blush at random moments, to want to go from crying to screaming in sixty seconds flat, though she never did.
It was then that Jake Ely, a sheriff's deputy so young that his mother had to sign off on buying his ammo, became a horse thief. He had ridden Witch to Three Ponies one night without telling her, like it was his Devine right, and that had been the last straw. Nobody, not even him, would pull one over on Samantha Anne Forester. He would not turn her into an idiot, not with his assumptions and a slow blink of those eyes. She was pleased, then, that she had taken up running during his year long absence. Jen said it was a obvious way of proving to herself that she didn't need Jake Ely, but Sam knew it was merely an activity to challenge herself with on early mornings when her body refused to sleep. She could only listen to so much RFD on the radio before she went insane.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Sam commenced her daily ritual as she reached the ranch house at Three Ponies, moving quickly as the iPod muted. She took the water bottle that Max had set out for her, and downed it on the way to the pasture. Luke smiled at her from the barn's doorway, and she waved, tossing the bottle in the recycle bin that had conveniently been left open by the aforementioned rancher. Sam hopped the fence, and inhaled. All hell was going to break loose at her next move, and she was more than ready.
Sam saw Luke and Quinn edge forward to watch. She could not go into the barn, not anymore. Sam counted to three, nodded to her clandestine audience, and put three fingers to her lips. Her whistle split the air as Witch came thundering up to her. Without missing a beat, she swung up onto the bare horse. With a soft leg and a small hand signal, Sam guided Witch out of the pasture. As they passed the house, it was all she could not laugh as Jake came bolting out of the house, his undershirt still creased from sleep, and his toothbrush hanging limply from his mouth. At his obvious displeasure at being outfoxed, Sam caught his eye, and grinned. Beat that, Ely.
Witch's pace quickened of her own accord, and Sam advised her to maintain her pace. "It seems to me that if you are going to interrupt my morning, the least you ought to be obligated to do is make it worth my while."
"What?" Sam asked, "Seeing Jake like that wasn't amusing? I think it was."
Witch made a noise that might have been, "Personally, I tend to look at a stallion's confirmation before I make up my mind as to his desirability. It also doesn't hinder his courtship if..."
Sam made a clicking sound to focus Witch, "Hey, now. I see that rabbit, too. You're okay..."
Witch huffed as she sidestepped, "If this is what I get when I try to give you advice, girl..."
Sam smiled and assisted Witch with calming words, "Yes, that was a silly rabbit, wasn't it?" Sam patted her neck soothingly, "Well, he's gone, now."
He was gone, and he'd never be back.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Two weeks later, her knee gripped Witch's hoof as she used a pick to clean it, with practiced moves. "You've got a manicure with the farrier next week. I spend more time on your nails in a week than I do on my own in a year." Sam mused.
Witch's hoof hit the ground. She turned her neck to the left to see Sam, "You could make an effort, you know. And anyway, it takes time and money to enhance my natural beauty. I sincerely hope you do not begrudge me my due."
"Yes, you like to look your best, don't you?" Sam finished with her other hoof, "You're such a pretty girl."
Witch blew out, "Don't patronize me. I'm neither a girl, nor merely pretty. I'm worthy of painting." She sniffed the air, "He's coming."
Sam nodded, "Yeah, I hear the truck, too. Let's go before..." There was a crunch of a footstep behind her and Sam steeled her spine. She focused on Witch, but it was no use. She prayed she wasn't blushing again. Privately, Sam wondered if she had some capillary disease.
She could practically see Jake moistening his cracked lips as he said, "I thought I'd catch you."
Sam spun on her heel to find Jake directly in front of her. There was enough space between them to breathe, to think, thank God. Witch stepped forcefully to the left, practically knocking her into Jake. Sam shot a look at the horse, who merely implied, "Who? Moi? Surely you're looking for someone else."
Sam rolled her eyes. Jake didn't move, and neither did Witch. There was no space between them as she asked, "What do you want?" His brown eyes sparkled, and Sam knew that her heart was racing. A slow grin took over his face, and Sam had enough. She had to get away. "I'm busy."
"Hm?" Jake pressed, "Oh. Yeah. I know. Let's go." Jake took her wrist, and literally propelled her towards Ace. Sam exhaled, and hoped that the thumb pressing over her pulse would obscure her heart-rate. She was a bit dehydrated, so of course her heart was racing, beating quadruple time.
"Jake! What part of 'I'm busy' do you..." Sam looked at Ace. Suddenly, she realized he was her out. "I have plans." Her goofy horse was licking with abandon on his salt lick, and Sam wished she had a drink. Her mouth was dry and looking at the salt lick was not helping her.
"I know." Jake patted the horse, and Ace looked at him like he'd placed the very stars in the sky.
Her cowpony was taken in, but she knew better... Wait. "You do?" Sam felt relief. He'd leave. People left you alone when you told them you had better things with your time. Sure, it had taken her two semesters to figure it out, but not all ways of telling were verbal. She had learned her lesson, and he had been her teacher. Surely he'd get the message he'd spent so long sending.
"Yeah." Jake said, like she was missing something, "With me."
"I really can't." Sam said, backing away, nearly tripping over her own feet, "I have-have a...thing." She usually ate her dinner in the barn tonight, so no one would miss her if she said she had to eat at home. She did have to eat at home, just not in the house. Hanging out here, over dinner, had started when Dad had complained about her being so busy and never going out for fun. She said she had fun with her horses, and Brynna told him to leave her be. She was happy, alone.
"Oh, don't worry, we're bringing your boyfriend along." He quirked his eyebrow, as he saddled Ace, "Ace wouldn't want you to go without him."
That low-down rat! How dare he mock her? He'd be lucky if he ever got a girlfriend after they way he treated women. Sure, he had never been open to exploring things between them, and she hadn't figured it out until it was too late, too late, too late. He owed any member of the human race enough respect not to mock them after rejecting them. Sam snarled, "You're horrible."
Jake didn't look insulted. Sam stepped around to take the saddle off of Ace, but Jake moved quicker. Ace responded to his offer of the bridle. "I'm asking you to spend a half an hour with me, Sam, to figure out some of the logistics of this intern your father's getting." Sam had heard just about enough about this intern. Dad was getting funding through the same umbrella program that oversaw HARP to take on one intern to train in his footsteps of natural horsemanship and ecologically responsible ranch management. It was money in the bank, money and support they desperately needed. Dad seemed to think that she and Jake should be helping out more than Sam had time for. He never understood when she she said she was incredibly busy.
"Whatever." Sam blew out a breath, hating and loving that she had said it better than Daisy at her most bored.
Jake looked like she'd slapped him clear across the face as he looked at her, "Apathy suits you, Brat."
His use of that name set her off. She could not believe this. First he acts surprised that he doesn't know her, and then, when she finally proves that he doesn't, he ignores the lesson and steamrolls her with that name. He had no right to use it, anymore. "Well, sarcasm and verbosity are hardly your strong suits."
Sam turned to walk away. He followed after her, taking her arm. Sam wrenched it away. Jake flinched as she put more space between them. "At least I'm trying, here!"
"Oh, is that what this is? Trying?" Sam's tone left no doubt to as what she was feeling. She had been the one of them who'd tried, really tried, for a year. Maybe she should have driven out there, done more. The thoughts kept her awake, sometimes, but it was what it was. Now, it was too late, too late, too late.
"Yes." Jake forced the word through his jaw, "What do you want me to do?" He dropped his grip on Ace's reins, ground tying the horse as confusion caused him to tense.
Sam spoke, "This should come as no surprise, Jake, but I don't give a damn what you do!"
"Oh, that's real nice!" Jake said, sarcastically, stepping after her again. He circled around her. She would not turn around again.
"It's the truth!" Sam all but screamed, calming enough to continue in a measured tone, "I do not care. I could not possibly care less." She had said it to herself in the mirror, as a mantra, for the words to become toneless, statements of fact. The shock registered on his face, and it was a different expression from the dimmed pain she saw in the mirror.
Jake's eyes dimmed. He stepped forward, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sam's eyes flooded with hot tears as she spoke, "It means I don't even have the emotion left to hate you, anymore."
He turned on his heel quickly, then, and he took Ace with him. She was alone. This time, she wasn't sad. She'd done it, this time. She wasn't a victim. They didn't speak for six days, nine hours, forty-three minutes, and thirteen seconds. Not that anyone's mind kept track.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
When they did speak again, their relationship was cold, distant, and in tatters. She saw him out running some nights, most nights, and took to taking a different path. They walked past each other at Clara's and it was like they were strangers. Pepper referred to them as "SamandJake" like they were kids again, and she hid in the tack room until she could breathe again because it felt like a punch in the gut.
Things went on as they were, tense and miserable, for weeks. Summer began to wane, and with it it took Sam's resolve. This was so hard, so horrible. Sometimes, she had to check herself, after she realized that she was skulking around the barn just to hear him talk to Dad and Dallas. It was a low in her life that she didn't like to contimplate. Sam needed an outlet. Running wasn't cutting it, and to be honest, there was only so much solace her horses could provide. They were fighting an uphill battle, because the very person she was seeking to avoid was right next to her, day and and day out. Still, she didn't say a word, and what's more, neither did Jake.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
By the time the second quarter of school rolled around, Jake finally was hired by Ballard, when McAvoy went to Alabama. He got assigned graveyard. It was another reason not to sleep, Sam figured. Daddy installed a scanner the kitchen and the barn, and he and Jake often had it on when they worked in the barn. He'd tell Dad about the codes, and what they meant, what had happened at academy, in part, and things like that. Sam bit back a thousand questions a day. She knew Jake knew. She could see the hurt in his eyes, but the gap was too wide. She wouldn't jump. He wouldn't catch her, that much she knew. He hadn't the last time, and she hadn't even known that she'd taken the leap then. She knew now, and she knew how much it hurt to hit the rocks.
Sam camped out in the barn when she felt alone and desperate just because she needed to feel close to something. This crushing isolation, loneliness, was the price she'd pay. She didn't know it was going to be so steep, but there was this whole facet of her world that no one knew anything about. She couldn't talk to Dad about her work with Witch, and she would die before she said, "I want to feel nothing, but all I feel is hurt." She felt close to Ace and Witch. She didn't feel isolated with them, trapped into a silence of her own making.
Sometime after Ace and Witch slept, Sam stared at the crack in the stall door. She wanted to get up. She had to get up. Without really considering it, she flipped the scanner on, and turned the volume down. The channel was correct, Sam knew, as soon as she heard what was going on. It was the county sheriff's scanner station. There was a domestic call, and then somebody was threatening somebody else with something. It was all the other side of the county.
Sam was seconds away from shutting the thing off in a huff, when the voice she was at once both dreading and dying to hear came across the line. Sam couldn't really follow, until she figured that Jake pulled somebody over for driving on a dirt road with no lights on and a big spotlights. He'd found poachers, idiots who came on the off season, even. Sam was wide awake, then, listening as he handled it calmly. The guy was half-drunk and easily detained. Sam extrapolated a lot from a few words over the radio. She listened, for hours, as scant few Jake's calls mixed with others. Finally, she heard him report that he was heading back in, and quickly shut off the radio. She didn't realize that Witch was staring at her as she bolted for the house.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Sam would never tell, but that radio dominated her life as much as her horses did, like two sides of a pendulum that she was holding onto, desperate for equilibrium. She slept in the barn more often, just because it gave her an excuse to stay awake when she couldn't sleep. Jake occasionally got a day shift when someone called off. Kenny, who had a deep voice, and tended towards long pauses when spelling things, called off one day to take his kids to a theme park. Jake got the shift. Sam only found out because Pepper mentioned it when he turned on the scanner like it was his daily soap. Jake never told her anything, and she would never ask. The barn was stifling in the early winter sometimes is, and Dad and Pepper were fixing a wall. Sam was brushing Ace. The radio was comfortable background noise, until Sam's heart stopped. She could hear the sirens in the distance, thick in the air as her head spun.
McAvoy's former partner Billy, who liked to say a'yup quite a lot, was on a call. Sam pictured him as being a stereotypical cop, with a doughnut fetish. His voice broke over the radio, his lazy composure gone as he advised dispatch to the need for backup. Some with warrants out his ears was evading arrest, and was armed with some sort of shotgun. They pulled out all the stops. Just when the dispatch called for all available units, Sam did the only thing she could. She led Ace out of the stall. If she pulled the the plug out of the wall as she walked past the outlet, she didn't care. This was no game, not anymore. It never had been.
Ace was sober company as Sam thought about going over to Harmony. She couldn't go there, even though it was November and freezing. She and Ace took a ride to nowhere. Sam didn't realize that she was at the boundary between Three Ponies and River Bend until Ace stopped. She'd given him leave to direct them as he pleased. She thought that they'd end up at the lake because Ace loved it there, and she had looked forward to tossing herself into the lake's frigid depths, even if she got hypothermia. She needed to feel. Her hair was heavy, even pinned up, and she was thinking about cutting it. Instead, Ace had brought her to the rise, where if you looked over, you were able to see cars coming into Three Ponies. She sat, transfixed, until a blue Scout came up the road.
Ace got them home safely, because Sam knew she wasn't thinking. Her mind kept playing over, and over and over, "I couldn't care less!" and she knew that the last real thing she'd said to him had been a lie. Leave it to Ace, her goofy goober of a horse, to make her realize that she cared. She still cared, too much. Sam wondered if it would ever stop, or would she be here, ten years later, on the fringes of his life, but secretly longing to be in the center of it all?
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Christmas was a blip on her radar. There was an ice storm. Life went on. She passed a math exam with a B+ and no tutor. Witch was, as ever, brutally honest. She gave Sam no quarter, stepping on her feet when she was distracted, or pushing into her shoulder when she wanted to cry. This was worse than before. They couldn't even be in the same room anymore and so Sam hung out in the barn. She wasn't depressed. She was busy. She and Witch were still working on their riding. She rode over to Harmony one day and Jen looked at her. "Can you believe it?"
"Hm?" Sam asked, distractedly. Witch was being particularly testy lately. Sam shifted a bit, and ran her fingers through Witch's mane as they rode along, meandering because it was a saturday in February and nobody wanted to admit that winter was really deeply here by going inside and warming up.
Jen pulled Silly into a complete stop, "You don't know." Witch caught something of interest in her gaze, and Sam had to walk her in a circle. The snow crunched under her hooves.
She came to a stop, "What?"
"Jake's gone and gotten another horse." Jen said, softly, "I heard tell that he got a really great horse from some guy, Charlie, over near his grandfather's." She urged Silly into a slow walk, "I guess he finally got tired of fighting with you over Witch. Congratulations, Sammy."
Witch's gate was smooth, even as Sam felt like the sky had fallen. All that came out was a broken sob. Jen looked at her quickly, "Oh."
"Dust, is all." Sam lied, trying to sill her tears, "I think I'm getting allergies." The tears on her face started to freeze.
Witch tossed her head, "Personally, I think all women should be born allergic to human males."
Sam was done. Witch was misbehaving and she was a mess. She couldn't be the kind of rider witch needed because her life was a mess. She knew she was messed up, getting some sort of something out of messing with Jake, but she would have sworn on a Bible that he enjoyed it, too. She thought, just sometimes, that he would be vibrant with energy, trying to outsmart her as she ditched his sorry self across the range. It was the only thing she had left, and now she didn't even have that. The cord of three strands, them, their horses, and their land, had finally snapped. "I have to go, Jen."
Sam raced off without another word, trying out outrun her tears. Her hair flopped down miserably and she realized something when Witch was thundering across the range towards home. Jake was done. This was his goodbye. A hope she hadn't known she had been harboring was crushed, like a pebble under a tire. The remnants of it formed burrowed into the bedrock of her soul, like an aching and gaping crack in cement.
Witch didn't let her cry. She veered into a hard left, towards Three Ponies. Sam gave her a command, "Witch. No."
Witch slowed, snorting as if to say, "Girl, you asked for my assistance. It would behoove you to take it."
Sam sighed, "Who am I kidding? I was never a match for you."
Witch dropped into a walk, obeying Sam and heading in the other direction. "You've only become less than what you really are because you stopped even making a modicum of effort to try. Maybe I was wrong about you. They say horses are flight animals. I've never met anybody so keen on running."
Sam went home and Witch pertly ignored her. She stared into space until Dallas flickered the lights and asked if she was okay. At that, Sam wandered out to see Penny. Penny knew a lot. Maybe Penny could fix this, give her perspective. She spoke softly to the horse, feeding her a treat. Penny was solid and comfortable in a way that Sam needed. She felt jittery in her own skin. She realized that Penny needed her blanket fixed and easily accommodated her while Pepper mucked her stall quickly.
For Sam, the cold was bolstering. It echoed that she could still feel. She ran her gloved hands over Penny, and knew that there was more than one way to see things. This new horse was irrefutable, in its meaning, but Sam knew she could control her reactions. Equine Yoga had taught her one thing, and that one thing was to appreciate the moment. She had not appreciated all of the moments she'd had with Jake, because she'd believed in her heart that they would never end. He had been home nine months, and they were completely gone, things of the past.
Sam knew, too, that she was in control of herself. She could not protect herself from this. How many times would she allow herself to feel so completely abandoned and alone? No. She would not allow this, not again. She knew what she needed to do.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
She waited three days, gave him yet another chance to say something. He didn't, why she didn't know. He wasn't even around. She didn't turn on the scanner. Sam drove the back way. She didn't want to run into the new horse. It was probably lovely, if he'd had the guts to replace Witch. Sam didn't even know why she was doing this. It occurred to her that she really was a glutton for punishment. She felt the tool in her pocket and knew that this was the only choice to be made. She had to honor Witch. She had not done anything to be abandoned like this, even if Sam had. Sam threw the truck in park, and unwrapped her fingers from the wheel. She rarely crossed the threshold to this barn anymore.
Still, she did it now with steel in her spine. She counted five stalls, noted the plaque on the door, and dropped to her knees in front of it. She had given him this, one of her first metalwork pieces, as a replacement for the name-card that each stall door had. Jake had smiled at her, and agreed that Witch needed something as special as she was to mark her home, though the Jake she'd known would never say the words. Sam thought she'd read it in his eyes, but she knew she'd been wrong.
This was not Witch's home, anymore. She was not alone, though. Sam would go to the mat for her if it was the last thing she ever did. Witch deserved that much. Her screwdriver was working on the second screw when a voice broke into her thoughts, "What are you doing?"
Sam didn't bother to answer Quinn. He could see, and saying anything would only be a waste of time. The screw dropped into her palm as Quinn spoke again, "I just asked you what you were doing."
"One would think," Sam said, stridently, "That it's obvious." She pulled out the third screw quickly and set to work on the fourth. "Call the cops if you've got a problem."
There were footsteps behind her and Sam knew that Quinn was leaving. She finished her work and pocketed the screws. The plaque was heavy in her hands, and she stared at the imperfections. The imperfections had made the art beautiful. The spot on the stall door where it once had been proudly displayed left a stark discoloration, much like remnants of anything might.
Sam knew she had wasted too long staring when two sets of footsteps returned quickly. Sam knew she couldn't walk away now. It was not Jake with Quinn, but Luke. Quinn was just as low as his brother. "...a mess, Dad. You know that..."
Luke held up his hand, cutting off his son. "It is not your place, Quinn, to get involved." Luke looked at her, and Sam minded her posture, consequences of the plaque in her hand.
Sam didn't know what to say. The plaque was Witch's, and Witch was now irrefutably hers. She did not waver under Luke's consideration. The screws were not hers, though. They were Ja- They belonged to Three Ponies. Sam palmed them, and extended them, carefully. She could not give into the urge to hug Luke. They had their own lives, now. "These are yours."
"Sam." Quinn bit out, "You have no idea what you're doing." His posture was as tense as Luke's was resigned.
"Maybe not, but I'm doing it all the same." Sam replied, turning to walk away, when Luke called out.
His words were measured, "There will always be a spot for that plaque here, Samantha, should you feel secure in entrusting it to Jake again." Sam knew they weren't talking about the plaque at all, nor even the horses. Sam wondered how much of her life she had spent so sickeningly transparent. Her heart was finally back in her own hands, even if it was as cold and detached as metal.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Jake marched into the barn at 7:42. Sam saw Witch perk up in only the way that she did when he was around. She didn't even know for sure, but Witch never led her astray, no matter how foolish the horse thought she was. "Well, Witchy, what's say we hold our ground?"
Sam had about thirty seconds to wait, as Witch stepped away from her, after being brushed and groomed. She would never have expected what happened next. Sam found herself pressed gently into the wall behind her. Jake's brown eyes looked down at her as he loomed over her. "Do you know what happens to horse thieves?"
"No." Sam hissed, angry and trying to think. He had no right to be in her space, to touch her with such gentleness. She knew that if this were work related, he wouldn't be leaning into her space, his eyes tracking every time she inhaled. She thought about getting free. It would be easy. One shift of her weight would have him stepping away, but she didn't do it. He wasn't holding her down. There was no force. She wanted this, whatever it was. She was a glutton for punishment because she knew that this might be the only time in her entire life that he pressed her up against a wall with fire in his eyes. Sam tried not to lean into his warmth as their breath mixed in the cold air.
"You ought to." Jake said, his gaze burning into her, as he pressed into her, "You really ought to. What the hell is your problem with me, Sam? She doesn't even like being at Three Ponies, and then I come home to find her plaque gone."
Her coat brushed his chest, and Jake pushed back one strand of curls with his free hand. The affectionate gesture threw her off. Sam was beyond being reserved and circumspect with her words, "Maybe, Jake, have you ever throughout that she doesn't know if you'll leave again, that's she doesn't trust you anymore, doesn't want to be open to that kind of pain, ever again? Have you considered that maybe moving on is the best thing for m- her?"
"What?" Jake let go, and stepped back. Sam straightened and pulled her jacket down.
"I don't want to talk to you." She moved away. Jake shook his head, and muttered something. Darn right she never did. "What?"
Jake recovered and returned quickly, "No, you just want to make my life hell and scream at me."
Considering they hadn't had a real conversation in almost 600 days, that was a pretty bold assertion. Sam rolled her eyes. If she was saying something, she thought, let me figure out what it was, "Are you listening yet?"
"I can't even understand what you're saying." Jake said. "I'm real close to being done trying."
"As if you've ever tried." Sam asserted, ignoring the urge to walk away. This was it. She needed to stick this discussion out because she knew, deep in her soul, that this was the last time.
"I did. You have no idea what I did." Jake replied, "I don't have to justify my choices to you Sam, not when I made them for us."
"Don't give me that!" She nearly screamed, "Don't you dare give me that! At least give me the respect of honesty!" He didn't need to soften the blow by pretending there had been anything about them but a 'him' and a 'her.' There had never been an us, and to use that an excuse for his silence was beyond unreasonable.
Jake cocked an eyebrow, "The same honesty you gave me, when you marched into my barn and stole my horse?" Jake shot back, calmly in the way that only he could be in a situation like this. Anyone else would have been screaming.
"You don't love her!" Sam's rational mind shut off, and she was honest to a fault, "You moved on! You moved on, without even telling anyone about it, leaving me to figure it out myself. You abandoned everyone and everything that ever knew you, or loved you, or even wanted nothing more than to try! You did that, Jake, not me! You want her when you want her, and when you don't, well, let's not go there." Sam knew that she was shaking. "And let's face it, nobody wants to spend their life wondering why they weren't enough or even worth a postcard. It's hell."
Jake looked at her, baffled and shocked, "So. What you're saying..." He exhaled, "is that I need to let her trust me again." He straighten up again, and was looking at her earnestly.
Sam shook her head, "I think it's pointless. She's happy." She had learned to be happy. It was a hard lesson, but it had been well earned. He no longer had any portion of her life, or her heart, just the parts that she refused to give credence to by thinking about.
He cleared his throat. It sounded clogged and raw, "There's one thing you're wrong about Sam. So wrong I don't even..." Jake frowned, and shook his head. "You are too much." With that, Jake walked away.
Sam cried loud, gasping, ugly sobs, with tears and snot and an awful headache. Her knees gave way, and Witch, for once, didn't look at her with accusing eyes. Her sobs resounded in the empty barn. The end, Sam discovered, wasn't a loud fight. It was a sigh of resignation, and a whispered, "You are too much."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Life was one giant April Fool's Day joke, that went on and on because no one would scream "April Fools!" Dad piled mountains of work on her as Spring took hold on the high desert. In one month, the new intern would be arriving. Sam was tasked with getting everything ready for his arrival. She tried to avoid Jake. There was nothing left to say. She tried to structure her chores so that he wouldn't be the first and last person she saw but he was always around. He gave her her space, but if she was cleaning tack, he was mixing feed not three feet away. If she was sweeping, he was fixing something. It was like they were confined in this space, and so Sam figured that they'd better make the best of it.
He spoke softly, using measured tones, much like he always had. Sam didn't think anything of the fact that, by the end of April, she relaxed when they were together. Sam kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was only being nice because the work needed to be done and she tried not to become lost in the safety and joy of the part of her soul that screamed for her to try again whenever she saw him. They didn't say much of anything to each other, but the silence wasn't chocked with unspoken words. Sam had said her piece, screamed and railed at him and it was over. In a whisper, it was over. Her heart was still beating. The world still spun on its axis. It was over, but she wasn't.
Sam looked up when Jake appeared in the doorway. He held up a bag of Peanut Butter M&M's. "These are for you." He extended the bag to her, and his fingers brushed the back of her wrist. Sam tried to ignore the blood that rushed through her face at that simple contact. She dropped the bridle on the table and tore into the bag.
Jake looked at her reassuringly. Sam extended the bag, "Want one?"
He smiled. "No." Sam thought about the smile, one that was directed at her, for days after the fact. She was, naturally, in a bad mood with herself. She was still looking for signs of something that had never been there. What was she, seven?
M&M's didn't fix everything but they were a nice gift from Gram. Sam was preparing a Basics of Natural Horsemanship folder for Robbie when he arrived. The new intern was interested, but knew next to nothing, so Dad said it was her job to get him started. The vote of confidence was amazing, and gave her reasons to hide in her bedroom and avoid Jake.
She was more comfortable with him now. She wanted to be around him, as she always really had. She wanted to be with him, see the world next to him, and that scared her, just as it ticked her off. Could it be that her anger had really been loss? Had she really been mourning him, their relationship? Now that it was over and she had accepted that, she had begun to wonder if they could be friendly on a more regular basis, as they had been for the last few weeks.
She was looking over the final list when she noticed that she didn't have a list of bonding behaviors and excursuses. She made one quickly. She wrote about appropriate touching, and spending time in safe spaces together, wrote about providing support but not crowding, letting the horse set the limits as a matter respect.
Her scream echoed in the house as the pen ricocheted around the room. Dad was baffled as she rushed down the stairs and out of the house, grabbing her boots by the door. Gram held him off as Sam bolted for the barn. Moments later, she and Witch were flying across the range. She needed to think. She needed to feel. She needed to think her feelings out. It wasn't right, she knew, to believe with blinding intensity that someone loved you, because she knew that she was reading Jake's actions incorrectly. Even after all of this time, she still wanted him to love her. She was so gullible that she was willing to believe that he did at the slightest provocation. A bag of M&M's was not a declaration of eternal love, nor was the quiet way he'd supported all of her individual efforts to get ready for Robbie. Gentle brushes of his hand weren't invitations for affection. They were accidents, thoughtless and meaningless. He didn't dream about them.
As they slowed to a walk, Witch tossed her mane, and stomped a dainty hoof, "It is quite sweet in his own misguided way."
"No, he can't have been trying that." Sam shook her head, the spring wind whipping around her, "I'm a person."
"And what" Witch exhaled as a hawk called from above them, "Does he understand? Horses? Or human women? He is courting you as a horse might attempt to bond with another horse. However, he has not displayed any real courting behaviors. There has been no aggression or invitations. He has not even attempted to sniff you. He must need lessons, though I've often wondered how humans go about that. Better yet, don't tell me. It is clear you do not know."
"Shh, Witch." Sam soothed. Witch noticed everything, and sometimes she got invested in them, as horses were wont to do. Ace still had trouble with garbage bags. He always gave them the side eye.
"You could try 'I love you.'" Witch turned round to nuzzle at Sam's leg. "Is that not what humans do before they mate?"
"I love you, too, Witchy." Sam replied, patting her with affection.
"Not me, you idiot girl!" Witch huffed, and nibbled at her pant leg like she might another horse's mane. "What does it matter if you love me? It is impossible not to love me. I am a Goddess."
Sam laughed at her horse's antics. Her heart was heavy, and still she laughed.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Witch's quicksilver hooves carried them to the Playa. It was freeing and glorious. Sam knew that they would mend their friendship. She was willing, she decided to tell him some things her pride had not allowed her to do in the previous months. But fi he had extended himself to allow her to feel comfortable with him, even when she had not really been uncomfortable, she would try. Sometimes, Sam realized, respecting yourself was about ending things well. Even if they could not rebuild some semblance of their friendship, she owed it to herself to be as honest with him as she could be. Not for his sake, but for own.
Maybe one day, she'd tell him about one time, many years ago, she'd been in love with him. Maybe she would smile as she said it, bumping into him at the grocery store with a cart full of children that didn't have dark hair and mustang eyes. Maybe she would go home, and tell those children that that was the man who had given them the horse they'd learned to ride upon. Maybe, too, she would tell them when they were older about what having a lost love had taught her. Maybe she'd try to explain how she'd come to understand that her expectations were not anyone's responsibility but her own, no matter how much she loved them. Hopefully, they would learn from her the benefit of self-honesty. Maybe they would understand that while relationships changed, that there was always something to be learned. Maybe they would understand that there came a time to learn, and a time to teach. There was a time, too, to move forward, to recognize human frailty and move beyond the hurt. This was that time.
Witch was right. She couldn't run anymore. There was nowhere left to go but inside herself. She had tried yoga, and running, and crazy horsemanship. She had tried it all, but she had never tried just letting go and trusting things to come out okay.
Sam heard the hoofbeats before she saw him. With a smile, she looked at Witch. "Think we ditch out tail, Witch?" Sam asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She heard Digger's hoofbeats coming. Jake was moving slowly, clearly looking for her. He'd said his goodbye. Now, she'd say hers, with joy and a smile. She'd say goodbye the way they'd said hello all those months ago.
Witch's ears pricked as Digger approached, and she started to move at Sam's signal. They trotted along, clearly sending a message to Jake, who called out "Sam! Wait up!"
She didn't look back. She heard rather than saw Digger accelerate. Why was he still using Digger if he had a new horse? In response, she and Witch did the same. It turned into a full out game of cat and mouse, as their rides had become, when things were better between them. Back when he first came home, she would sneak over to Three Ponies, leave Jake in the dust, and bring Witch to River Bend. The twilight was bright above them as Sam and Witch evaded Jake. Once he was no longer on their trail, they slowed down and crossed onto Forester land.
"Darn!" Sam muttered under her breath. "That rat!" Her elation plummeted, as she saw Jake leaning against the stairs of the front porch. He must have just come straight here, and not sought her much at all. She had not met her goal of beating him here.
Witch blew out a breath, and Sam took it to mean, "Shall we continue to evade him, as you are a worse flight animal than I, you silly child?"
"No, Witchy." Sam instructed with a slight signal, "Easy... We'll turn you out and you can play with with Ace, okay?"
Witch snuffled as they entered the yard. "My leisure activities hardly constitute playing. I am not a foal. It is not my fault your horse tries to rope me into his antics. We will address your abysmal grammar at at a later date. I require some libation."
Trying her best not to look at the approaching cowboy, Sam grinned as Witch slurped at the water trough, "Not too much, okay?"
Witch stepped away from the water, "As you wish. I demand an apple. Fetch me some apple slices, girl. I can smell them in your pockets."
Sam laughed as Witch nuzzled her body, clearly seeking a treat. "I haven't got a treat for you, Witch. Later."
Jake's voice reached her ears as his body pressed near to hers. He stuck out his palm, flat, and offered a pre-made treat to Witch. "Taking the long way doesn't always pay, does it, Brat?" Jake whispered. A bolt of something electric shot down into her, as his breath tickled her hair.
Sam didn't reply as she backed away. With a finely tuned hand signal, she gestured, and Witch followed her towards the pasture. "Witch." His voice was firm, "Your treat."
Witch's gait was full of sass as she ignored him of her own violation. Sam nearly laughed because unless Witch was making a point about something, she never turned down a treat. She slid the gate back into place with a firm click and hopped to sit on the gate. Sam schooled her face.
Jake approached, seemingly at ease. Sam focused on Ace, whom she was petting as he'd come up to the gate. "Hey, Ace. You're such a good boy. Having fun today?"
Ace's warm eyes told stories that Sam could not interpret. She brushed her fingers through his scrubby mane. "Silly cowpony."
Jake was next to her. Sam felt his proximity. She tried not to become lost in the fullness of the moment. At first brush, months ago, his arrival home had made her heart soar. That was, until the ride they'd shared over the range had ended. When Witch came to a stop all those months ago, so had Sam's delusions. She was not a wilting flower. She would not fall into his arms, no matter what happened. The past year had shown her that she could stick to her guns, hold her ground. Sam wondered if it was worth it, all the time, to be the one with the the hurt feelings and the higher morals.
Jake had, Sam realized, tried to say he was sorry, though she knew that he couldn't be, because he didn't know. Maybe that was her fault, alone. Deep in her heart, she touched the raw spot where the pebble had lodged into her soul and found that it really only hurt because she was not honoring what had been by letting it be what it now was. She felt hollow, and she was simply tired of being alone in her rightousness, tired of the silence. It came down to a soft sigh. She was done. There was nothing left to do, nothing left to accomplish but goodbye.
The sunset was fading around them and the lightening bugs were flickering. Sam inhaled, "It hurts, doesn't it?" She whispered, to herself, to him, to the universe, "You're confused, right? You have no idea why I keep running off, do you?"
"No." Jake was honest. His tone was bare, "But I know what it feels like."
"Good." Sam replied. She did not want to be petty or vindictive. She never really had. It was only that he had always understood, and she knew that she lived in fear that this was the one thing, the one thing in her whole life, that he would never empathize with. The feeling of loss and confusion was hard to get when you were the one shaking off the dust and leaving. She'd come to see, though, through Witch, that that was okay if he didn't understand. He would never understand her love for him, but that didn't devalue the knowledge that it had illuminated her. She had only wanted him to try to understand her. Now that he had, she could articulate it.
His hat cast a shadow over them as he turned a bit to look at her. "Good?" Jake echoed.
Sam nodded. "I think Gram made some pie. Do you want some?" This was goodbye. There was a goodbye in her offer, and Jake knew it, or she hoped he did.
"Will you sit with me?" Jake asked. He'd repeated the question she used often in their childhood. This time, it didn't hurt. They were honoring their history, without the burden of her expectations of a future. It was bittersweet.
Sam shook her head, "I think we're too big to share the chair, but I'll be around." It was all she could promise. The word "No." seemed wrong, but the traditional responses were no longer appropriate. They were not who they used to be. She would always, Sam realized, love him, want to be with him, because Jake was a part of her. It was as simple and as complex as that. She didn't want embraces, and rings, and babies. She just wanted her friend back. She wanted to feel what her horses made her feel, accepted and understood. The only trouble was that she wanted it from Jake. No one, no matter how they limited and defined their interactions, would replace him, not because of their history, but because she loved him and she couldn't change that fact. She could express it correctly, though.
She started to leave the barn, and Jake followed. He replied after a moment, "I will be, too."
He'd be around, and that was enough. Sam watched him as he stopped to speak to Witch, who was gnawing on the treat she'd previously declined. For the first time in almost two years, Sam got two pie plates out.
Outside...
He was making progress. Jake believed that in his soul. The last years had been hell on earth. Sam had cut him out of her life. It had nearly killed him to let her walk by him in public places and not be able to smile, to do anything to acknowledge what she was, and would always be, to him. It killed him to not slide into her booth at Clara's and steal her french fries just to make her smile. Jake believed that she was angry. He thought he understood.
Then, when she'd said that she she didn't have the energy to hate him anymore, he got scared as hell. Anger was merely the flip side of love, or so Grandpa had advised him a hundred times, after he'd yelled at him for not calling. It meant she felt something. The apathy that spilled forth from her passionate soul had him running laps, trying to figure out how you could screw something up so badly when all you were trying to do was keep it right. Those months had been agony.
He wasn't going to lie. He'd been mad at her, too. Angry that she had so little faith in him, furious that she was castigating him for making the best choice out of a handful of bad choices. He couldn't find the words to tell her. The riot of emotions had changed again within him, the morning he'd caught her wrapped up in a blanket, asleep, listening to the scanner.
Pepper said Sam did it several times a week. Jake realized then, that he loved her, still. Love didn't just run away. It withered, and it died. Their love, though, it had lived. It had changed. She cared if he was safe on the job. She cared enough to forgo sleep and sit in the barn. She loved him. It wasn't a romantic love, but it was vibrant.
He knew that when he first came home, that she had been going through some stuff. She blushed, and she stammered, and tripped, and make recidivous verbal slips. He did the same things, but she'd never seen, never noticed. The fact that she still loved him in some way had given him hope. His life was empty without her.
Then, when she'd freaked out because he'd started working with a horse for Robbie, he really understood. She felt abandoned. Their conversations had never, ever, for one second, been about Witch. Witch was chill. She got things. The idea that Sam believed that she wasn't enough had felt like a kick in the gut, like she'd torn out his soul, stomped on it, and decided she wanted to go back to San Fran.
He'd been desperate that night, for a plan, after he'd nearly lost control of his resolve in the barn. It had taken everything he had not to kiss her, when she was pressed up to the wall like that. He needed a plan. He had nothing. Witch had come up with it because she thought he was foolish and stupid anymore. She had reminded him of how to build a real, trusting relationship when he'd been doing reflexology with her. He never wanted to manipulate Sam, but he needed her to see that she could trust him when he said that he was never leaving again, that for all of things he had put her through, he hadn't understood what it would mean to her. He had to learn to think about her, as her own person, with her own way of thinking and feeling, with her own set of meanings. Witch had showed him that. He owed her one, "Thanks, Witchy."
She scoffed, blowing air out of her nostrils as she nuzzled him for another treat, "Don't call me that."
Jake turned to walk away, and Witch nickered, "For the love of God, say you're sorry!"
Jake turned and nodded. He needed to say the words, and tell Sam some things. Jake hoped that Sam would understand that he loved her, as a man loved the woman he wanted to build a life with. That had always been his motivation, even though he'd messed up by not saying something before he'd left. He knew that she didn't feel that way, and that was okay. He just wanted his friend back, and if that was the only way he could build a life with Sam, it would be enough. It would have to be.
It's another tequila sunrise
Starin' slowly 'cross the sky, said goodbye
It's been so long
Oh, and it's a hollow feelin' when
It comes down to dealin' friends
It never ends
Take another shot of courage
Wonder why the right words never come
You just get numb
Taqulia Sunrise, The Eagles
raynagirl: So glad you liked WW! I love it, too. It's probably my favorite one-shot that I've ever written.
Opal: I hope this meets with your expectations!
Signed reviews will be answered, soon. Much love.