Her father had been the one who’d taught her how to properly groom a horse, how to set up a jumping course in the exercise ring; and it was he who stood ringside as she performed for judges during various riding events. Her grandmother always called him “the cheerleader without pom-poms.” Now that he needed cheering up, Shannon didn’t know how to do it. He simply wasn’t interested in the things he’d always loved and cared about.
As darkness settled in the barn, she realized that she’d been gone longer than she’d intended. She jogged to the house. “Dad said to eat without him,” she reported to her mother as she came into the brightly lit kitchen.
Her mother scooped macaroni and cheese onto a plate, but Shannon noticed that she looked worried and preoccupied. Shannon sat down and shoved the food around her plate. “Dad acts like he’s not very interested in working with Black,” she said quietly.
“He’ll help,” her mother said with a smile of encouragement. “You’re a wonderful rider, Shannon. We bought this horse because we both believe you have a real future as an equestrian. You need a quality horse if you plan to get to the top.”
“But if Daddy won’t work with me—”
“He will,” her mother insisted. “Give him some time to get over this little spell.”
“But why does he have these bad moods?”
“Everybody has mood swings.”
“I know, but—”
Her mother interrupted. “Look, it’s obvious that you’re not a little kid anymore, Shannon. When you were younger, it was easy to cover up your dad’s ‘bad days.’ They always pass.”
“But Dad seems to have them more and more often. Why?”
“I don’t know why, but it’s nothing for you to be concerned about. This one will pass, too. You’ll see.” Her mother added, “He’ll be working with you and Black full-time very soon. Don’t forget, he’s your biggest fan.”
Shannon wanted to believe her mother, but she felt like there was a high wall between her and her dad. Now that she needed his help with her new horse, she couldn’t figure out how to jump over it and get close to him like she did when she was a little girl.
A late-afternoon thunderstorm had come up so suddenly that Shannon was confined to the stable. The week had dragged past. She’d worked with her horse by herself several hours a day. Heather had helped too, but it wasn’t the same as working with her father. Several times, Shannon had noticed Zack watching her as he did his chores, but he didn’t come over to talk.
She was upset that her father had gone away for several days. He hadn’t said where, only that he had business to take care of out of town. He had returned the night before, but hadn’t seemed any less moody. She sighed, watching the rain fall and feeling trapped because of it.
“It can’t last forever,” she told Black, who moved restlessly in his stall. She patted his neck and he nuzzled her shirt pocket. “You’ve already eaten all the carrots,” she told him, holding open the pocket for his inspection. “See? All gone.”
Black shook his head and Shannon laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re a horse, but you act like a pig.”
She heard noises coming from the tack room, and when she went to investigate, she found Zack. He was soaping a saddle that straddled a wooden bench. Shannon felt her cheeks burn. He must have heard her talking to her horse. “I thought I was alone,” she blurted.
He kept applying polish in brisk circular motions. “I can’t do any of my outside chores, so I thought I’d do something in here,” he mumbled.
Shannon realized that he was as self-conscious as she was. “I thought you got off at four.” The wall clock read four-fifteen.
“Can’t go anywhere until the rain stops. I’m on my motorcycle.”
Shannon entered the room. “Careful or you might rub a hole in it,” she kidded.
His neck and ears turned red. “Sorry.”
Seeing that she had an effect on Zack made her feel courageous and giddy. “I wasn’t telling you how to do your job. I was just making small talk.”
“Oh.”
Shannon settled onto the cot and propped her boots up on the old trunk that had been her father’s when he’d been in the Army. A small window with dusty panes, now streaked with rain, allowed soft light into the room. She inhaled the rich smells of leather and soap, mingled with hay. “I love this tack room, don’t you?”
“I like this whole place,” Zack replied, looking up at her for the first time.
“Do you know what I think?” she began, and he gave her a questioning look. “I think that as soon as the rain stops you and I should go riding.”
“You know I don’t own a horse.”
“Black needs the exercise and so does Pippin. You can ride her.”
“I can ride Pippin?”
“Sure. She’s a great horse. There’s a stream on the back acres of the property and neat riding trails.”
His expression was shy, but eager. “Is it all right if I don’t use a saddle?”
“You mean ride bareback?”
“If it’s all right.”
“Okay—Pippin’s pretty tame. I’ll ride Black without a saddle, too.”
“I’ve seen you working with him. Is he doing okay?”
“He’s a fast learner. So far I’ve only used the lunge rope and side reins, but next week Dad’s supposed to help me, so then it should go faster.”
“I think the rain stopped,” Zack said, peering out the window.
Shannon jumped up. “Then come on. Let’s bridle the horses and hit the trail.”
“You’re sure your parents won’t mind?”
“Are you sure yours won’t?”
His face flushed. “I told you, I live with my grandmother.”
She waited for him to say something more, but when he didn’t, she attempted to regain the spirit of fun and called, “Race ya!” Then she bolted for the door.
Chapter Five
The trees were wet and raindrops sprinkled on Shannon’s hair and shoulders. Beneath her, she felt the solid, well-muscled back of her horse and behind her, she heard Pippin snort. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Zack swaying comfortably with the horse’s plodding gait. His long legs dangled past Pippin’s flank and he seemed quite at home. “I thought you said you couldn’t ride.”
“I can’t ride like you,” he answered. “Up and down in perfect rhythm in that little English saddle.”
“It’s called ‘posting,’ ” she said. “How come you can ride bareback?”
“Promise you won’t tell?” The trail through the trees had gotten wide enough for him to pull up alongside of Shannon.
“I promise.”
“Next door to my grandma’s place is an old farm. There was this horse that grazed in the owner’s back field. He was young and I’d heard that he was wild, you know, not broken in for riding.”
“Horses like that can be dangerous.”
“I used to sneak over and give him carrots and apple slices and we got to be friends.”
“You did?”
“Then one day when no one was around, I just swung my leg over his back. He didn’t like it at first and he bucked and I fell off, but I didn’t give up. After a while, he didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes late at night, I’d sneak over and ride him in the moonlight.”
“No one knew?”
She saw Zack’s ears redden. “I know I shouldn’t have, but the horse didn’t seem to mind.”
“You had fun?”
“It was great,” he said, patting Pippin along her neck. “I felt so free—like I didn’t have any problems—and I pretended that I was the only person in the world. I’d go galloping across the field feeling like the wind. Like this,” he called as he galloped off.
Shannon reined in Black and watched as Zack turned Pippin in a wide arc and finally stopped beside her. She wondered what Zack’s problems were and wished he’d tell her. “Do you still do it?” she asked him. “Do you ride in the moonlight?”
“Not anymore. Abo
ut a year ago, the people sold the horse. I’ll never forget standing at the fence and watching them load him on a trailer and drive away. I felt like I was losing a friend.” Shannon understood completely. Horses had always been special friends to her—more important than people friends sometimes. “Do you have any pets?”
Zack flipped his black hair off his forehead. “My grandma’s allergic to animals, so I could never have any. I guess that’s why I like working at your stable so much. I get to be around animals all the time.”
“Maybe you can get a horse and board him at the stable. That way he’d always be yours.”
Zack shook his head. “Grandma doesn’t have money for a horse, and whatever I earn goes to helping us out.”
His admission surprised her, and once again she wanted to ask about his life. She almost did, too, but Zack urged Pippin forward and took the lead on the trail. She hugged her knees into Black’s flank and clucked. The horse picked up his gait. Riding behind Zack allowed Shannon to study him. Sunlight flickered leafy patterns off his straight back and squared shoulders. She decided that he had a fine physique, and wondered if he thought she was pretty.
She heard the sound of the creek up ahead and called, “The water’s probably running swift because of the rain, so be careful.”
At the stream’s edge, Zack slid off Pippin and crouched. Shannon slipped off Black and joined him. Water poured over rocks and pebbles in the stream-bed, pushing sticks and debris in its current. “I like the way it looks,” he said. The water looked wild and white. It splashed as Zack dipped his hand in it.
“You like being outdoors, don’t you?” Shannon asked.
“I always have. Don’t you?”
“Yes. I’d rather be here in the woods with my horse than anywhere else.”
“You’re lucky you got to grow up in a place like this.”
“Dad’s family, the Campbells, have had this place for years,” Shannon told him. “I guess one day it’ll belong to me.” Saying it aloud weighted her with a sense of responsibility she’d not felt before. Someday all this land, the farm, stables, pastures, and house would be hers because she was the last of her father’s line. She remembered in particular a day that her father had told her as much. He had acted as if his owning the farm was a burden. “The landed gentry,” he’d declared sarcastically. “We’re the fine old Southerners who hang onto our traditions at all costs. We do whatever we must—whatever’s expected of us. We must protect the family reputation above all else.”
Zack interrupted her thoughts by asking, “If you don’t make the Olympic riding team, will you come back here to live?”
“I guess so. It’s home. Making the team is only a dream—and a long way off.” She laughed. “I still have to face tenth grade next year.”
“At Baylor?” The sprawling private school that overlooked the Tennessee River was well-known in the area.
“It was my grandfather’s alma mater. When it went coed a few years back, Grandmother said he’d be proud to know that a Campbell was still attending. How about you?”
He named one of the larger public high schools. “It’s not so bad—a person can get lost in the crowds.”
“Do you want to be lost?”
He turned toward her, his dark brown eyes shadowy. “I never wanted to stand out and I never have.”
She couldn’t imagine why he chose to be a loner. With his dark, good looks, she’d have thought he’d be popular. She dropped her gaze, trying to hide her feelings toward him, and stood up. “So you keep to yourself and shovel out stables. You like riding horses in the moonlight and—” She stopped, because she didn’t want him to think she was teasing him. Shannon reached out and took his arm. “Hey, I think all that’s great. I’m not making fun. Honest.”
“The job’s the best thing about this summer,” he said softly. Shannon felt her stomach turn a flip-flop. “I like your family,” he added, looking past her toward the trees. “You’re lucky.”
“You keep saying that.”
“It’s true. Your mom’s really nice.”
“And my dad? What do you think of him?” Shannon asked, eager for Zack’s opinion.
“I don’t think he likes me very much.” Zack shook his head and a puzzled frown settled on his face.
“Of course he does. Why do you think that?”
“He’s sort of moody.”
In spite of knowing that what Zack said was true, she wanted to defend her father. “He’s just preoccupied, that’s all. Mom says he’ll snap out of it soon.”
“I found him in the tack room last week,” Zack explained. “He was just sitting on the cot and staring at the floor. When I apologized for interrupting him, he acted like he hadn’t even heard me speak. I wasn’t sure what was going on.”
Shannon squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what’s wrong. His work used to be important, but now he acts like he doesn’t care about it anymore. He talks about stuff I don’t understand. I wish I did.”
“Maybe he’s got something heavy on his mind.” Zack picked up a handful of pebbles and began dropping them methodically into the surging creek. “Do your mom and dad fight?”
Shannon hesitated. Even if they did, she’d always been taught not to speak about family disagreements. “Not very much,” she said finally. “Mom says we have to be patient. I know she gets mad at him sometimes, but they never yell and shout at each other.”
“That’s good,” Zack said. Shannon wondered why he’d asked, but before she could ask him, he said, “Sun’s starting to go down. Maybe we should head back. I have to get home for supper.”
“Mom’ll be looking for me, too.” For the first time, she noticed that the woods around them had grown darker as the sun had sunk. Zack’s features were shrouded in twilight, and she couldn’t make out the details of his face. She’d never been alone with a boy like this and her heart thudded. “I’ll lead,” she said, grabbing a handful of Black’s mane and tossing herself across his back. “There’s a shorter way to the stables.”
On the ride back, she and Zack didn’t speak, but Shannon didn’t mind. She savored the time she’d spent alone with him and hoped they could do it again. As they neared the barn, the horses picked up their pace. “They know they’re going home,” Shannon said with a laugh.
“I’ll help put them up.”
“We need to make sure they have feed and water.”
At the stable, Zack pointed to a lone light shining in the tack room. “I don’t remember leaving that on.”
“You didn’t,” Shannon said. “Someone’s in there.” She dismounted and hurried toward the room. Zack followed her, and at the doorway she halted so abruptly that he almost plowed into her. She saw her father on his knees in front of his army trunk with its lid raised. He was methodically stacking items in orderly piles on the floor and on the cot.
“Daddy!” she said, her face breaking into a smile.
But instead of returning her greeting, her father slammed down the lid, jumped to his feet, and turned on her. His face was livid. “Don’t you ever sneak up on me like that! Do you hear? Don’t you ever, ever do that again!”
Chapter Six
Stunned, Shannon felt chilled. She stepped backward and encountered the solid body of Zack, who put his hands on her shoulders and drew her protectively against himself. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she mumbled. “I—we didn’t mean anything.”
“You startled me, that’s all.” His face regained some color. “I came down here to be alone.”
“We—Zack and I—we were out riding. We just got back and were putting the horses away and saw the light on.”
“I thought I might have left it on, sir,” Zack interjected.
“Forget it. No problem. I didn’t mean to overreact, but I wasn’t expecting anyone to interrupt me.”
“Isn’t it time for dinner?” Shannon asked. “Come back to the house with me.”
“I told your mother I wasn’t hungry.”
“You won’t
be eating supper with us again?”
Shannon must have sounded disappointed because he turned toward her and shook his head apologetically. “I’m really not hungry. Not much of an appetite these days it seems.”
She shifted awkwardly, then let her gaze drift to the stacks of items from the trunk. She didn’t want to leave him alone. He was acting strange and she felt anxious. “What are you doing? Spring cleaning?” She smiled shakily, trying some humor.
“Getting my things in order.”
Puzzled, Shannon took a step forward. Behind her, Zack moved too. “What things?”
“Shannon, I don’t need an audience.”
On the cot lay a stack of papers with official-looking U.S. government seals, a drab olive-colored canteen, and an old phonograph record. “What’s this?”
“It’s ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone,’ by Peter, Paul, and Mary.”
“I’ve never heard of them. What’s the song about?”
“About how young girls pick flowers and give them to young men who become soldiers who get killed in wars and end up in graveyards where flowers grow on their grave sites. Then the girls come and pick them and start the cycle all over again.”
“It doesn’t sound very happy.”
He sighed heavily. “It was a war protest song from the sixties. I liked it a lot.”
“Are all these things from when you were in the Army?” It was Zack who asked the question. For a moment, Shannon had forgotten he was still in the room.
“From when I was in Vietnam,” Mr. Campbell said. “It was a long time ago.”
Shannon said, “We read about the war in history class. My teacher said he went to Canada so he didn’t have to go fight.” Shannon knew her father had fought in Vietnam, but she’d never heard him discuss it. She asked, “What was it like over there?”
Paul Campbell leaned down and restacked a perfectly ordered pile of clothing. “I don’t want to talk about Vietnam.” His voice sounded cold and flat, making her shiver.
Shannon’s gaze swept downward to the cot. A gun lay on top of an old army blanket. Her stomach recoiled. She didn’t know her father owned a gun. He never went hunting like so many of his friends. He always said, “I want to save animals’ lives. I won’t destroy them.” She pointed to the gun. “Is that from the Army, too?”