nothing.”
Chloe followed him into the barn, watching how he chose a brush then paused before walking down the middle of the barn. It was warm inside and there was loose hay in the air, as well as the rich smell of horses and mucked-out stalls. She’d seen many of the horses out in the pasture, some with blankets on, but there were more in the barn. Those still in their stalls poked out their noses as Hunter passed, obviously curious. Hunter had a definite destination and he didn’t hesitate.
In the last stall, a dark brown horse with a star on her brow lifted her head over the wall of the stall. Chloe saw her eyes brighten even from a distance and knew. Duchess straightened, becoming several inches taller. Her ears flicked as Hunter walked closer and her nostrils flared.
“Hey, Duchess,” Hunter said. “Remember me?”
The mare’s foot stamped and she nickered. Obviously, she did.
“I thought we might head into the arena and dance, just like old times.”
Duchess neighed and stamped, as if urging Hunter to hurry.
“That’s my girl.” He rubbed the mare’s nose and gave her an apple, scratching her ears as she ate. He moved into the stall, still talking, and began to brush her down. She nipped at him playfully and her tail swung, giving Chloe the definite sense that she was glad to see him again.
Hunter brushed and braided her tail, using a red ribbon to tie it up. Then he brushed and braided her mane, twining it with ribbon, too.
“Doing the hair of all the girls,” Chloe teased and he laughed.
“It’s part of it,” he explained. “She remembers the ritual of preparing for competition. It might help her to remember me.”
“I don’t think she’s forgotten you.”
Hunter smiled. “No. Me neither.” He brushed Duchess again, murmuring to her the whole time. He lifted the saddle on her back and tightened the girth. Duchess was shaking her head and stamping with impatience. Hunter put on the helmet that Reg’s dad offered, then pulled a pair of gloves. Reg gave him his crop and he swung into the saddle with grace and ease, revealing how often he’d done it before. She could see that he’d done this for years and that he was good at it.
“You two look great,” she said.
Hunter winked. “Wait ’til you see us dance.”
He nodded and patted Duchess’s neck. Reg opened the gate of the stall and Hunter rode down the middle of the stable toward the riding arena. Reg and his family were looking on with obvious anticipation as Hunter rode Duchess to the middle of the arena. He patted her neck, then pulled out his phone.
“Let’s dance,” he said to the mare, then started the music.
It was Rhinestone Cowboy.
That wasn’t just Hollis’s song—it was Hunter’s. This was the version sung by Glenn Campbell, the one Chloe had heard a thousand times before. Duchess obviously recognized it, because she arched her neck and began to step in time.
Chloe had heard of dressage but she’d never seen it. She was completely unprepared to see the horse dance in time to the music. She’d thought it was a metaphor, but Duchess was dancing. The mare and Hunter had obviously trained together, memorizing a routine, and Duchess remembered a lot of the steps once she heard the music again. She raised her feet high and pranced, looking for all the world like a carousel horse with those ribbons in her mane. She danced lightly, moving sideways or diagonally across the arena, always in step with the beat. Chloe realized then that Hunter was guiding the horse too, talking to her, changing the position of his knees, using the reins so that she moved smoothly through the routine. The sight of them together made Chloe’s chest tight. Reg’s dad looked like he was going to cry.
She guessed that like all athletic competitions, there were certain steps that had to be included and she expected their performance wasn’t perfect after so many years without practice. But the horse’s joy and grace were evident and Hunter’s intensity revealed that this was something he loved.
How horrible it must have been for him to have had to go along with the decision to sell the farm and the horses. How horrible to then lose his brother and Hollis’ dream, which had taken the place of his own. How awful that he’d blamed himself for his twin’s death. Hunter must have thought he didn’t deserve to dream, and that Christmas wishes only came true