My One and Only

And Nick. Apparently his equestrian-enthusiast father had taught him something about horses, because he looked quite at ease on a black horse, ignoring me and talking with Emily, his employee, whose horse’s name was Sweetheart (please). I wondered if she was more than his employee…she was tossing out a lot of doe-eyed looks and dimpled smiles. Good luck, kid, I thought. My condolences. Oh, and by the way, guess what Nick’s horse was named? Satan. I know. You’re telling me.

I turned back to Bob, tried to grab the saddle horn and get my foot into the stirrup. Bob may have been at death’s door, but he was still standing, and he was very tall. And wide. And somewhat swaybacked. After four or five tries, in which one foot was trapped in the stirrup and the rest of me was hopping madly to bridge the gap, I finally managed to crawl up Bob’s side and sling my leg over the other side. By now, Bob’s head was almost touching the ground, as he was fast asleep. I gave the reins a gentle tug, which resulted in absolutely nothing.

“Bob? Time to go, big guy,” I said.

“Okay, people, my name is Brianna and I’m your guide today, welcome to Glacier National Park and thank you for choosing Highland Stables,” Brianna called in a long-suffering, well-practiced monotone. “For those of you who’ve never ridden before—” pointed look at me, still trying to wake my steed “—to make the horse go, give a firm kick to the horse’s side, you will not hurt the horse, to make him stop, pull back gently and firmly on the reins, to go left, lean the reins to the left, to go right, lean the reins to the right.” She heaved a mighty sigh. “Everyone set, okay, let’s go, the horses know the way, just sit back and enjoy nature’s splendor, please stay in line and in case of grizzly sighting, do not panic.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” I said to Dennis’s back. “Don’t bears eat horses?”

“They’re probably hibernating. Don’t worry, hon. I’ll protect you.” My boyfriend turned around and tossed a confident grin my way.

I gave a reluctant smile back. “Thanks, Den.” Such a good guy. And maybe me cutting him off was working, because last night had been full of heavy sighs, tossing and turning from his side of the room. Perhaps a change of heart was coming for young Dennis. One could never rule out the motivation sex provided, after all.

As the other horses left the corral, Bob sleepwalked forward, plodding gloomily and with great effort. Needless to say, I was dead last. The path led into the woods, Lake McDonald glittering in the sunshine on one side, pines and aspen and huge chunks of gray rock sloping upward on the other. Sunlight fell in patches through the forest. The trail was wide and covered in pine needles, the leather of the saddle squeaked, the sounds of the others talking and laughing drifted back to me. The air was so pure here. Even though it was only mid-September, it was cool; someone had said snow was predicted for later in the week, which apparently was par for the course. Clouds scuffed along the mountain on Lake McDonald’s far side, and the woods were rich with birdsong.

My reverie was cut off as Bob veered over to a tree and began eating leaves. “Come on, Bob,” I said, pulling on the reins and trying not to hurt his mouth. “Let’s go, pal. No snacking.” Bob, who may have been deaf, ignored me. The other horses continued on. “Bob, come on! Behave.” I gave another tug. Nothing.

Just then, Brianna cantered down the line of horses. Thank goodness. Or not…she stopped up ahead at Dennis’s side. Perfect.

“Brianna,” I called, “Bob here keeps trying to—”

“Have you, like, ever ridden before?” Brianna said to Dennis. “You’re totally a natural.”

“Thanks,” Dennis said, smiling his I’ll save you, little lady smile. “Nope. This is my maiden voyage. I’m Dennis. I’m a firefighter.”

“Shut up,” she sighed, her face glowing.

“Brianna? Bob keeps eating leaves,” I said as my horse once again swiped a mouthful from a tree, practically yanking my arms from their sockets.

“Have you ever, you know, saved someone’s life?” Brianna asked.

“Oh, sure. It’s just part of the job,” Dennis said. “This must be wicked awesome, though, living out here. Man.”

“It’s cool,” she answered. Or I thought she did…their voices were fading as the distance between us lengthened. Yellow foam dripped from Bob’s muzzle as he continued to chew placidly.

“Bob. Enough,” I said in my lawyer voice. “Giddyup.” That didn’t sound very commanding. “Bob. Move it!” He responded by lifting his tail and fertilizing the trail. I gave the horse a gentle nudge with my heel. He didn’t move. Tried again, more forcefully this time. Nothing. “How’d you like to be castrated, Bob?” I asked. That and another good swift kick got the horse moving, albeit at the speed of an earthworm. But at least we were moving. The sound of Willa’s laughter floated back to me, and I couldn’t help a smile. She was so sincere, so well-meaning, so kindhearted. She’d come a long way from that bed-wetting, pale little ghost I’d first met.

As we got further away from the lake, I could hear the constant shush and gurgle of a stream. Bob plodded along, occasionally favoring me with a grunt or a slight snore. I could see the tail of Dennis’s horse ahead of me, maybe twenty yards or so. He didn’t seem to notice my lag time. I didn’t really mind, to be honest—under the best of circumstances, family gatherings tended to give me hives. Literal hives—I was a redhead, after all. Very sensitive skin. Family events were, in a word, tough. My recalcitrant father, the constant cacophony of BeverLee’s often inane chatter, my endless worry over Willa’s many ill-fated choices. Dennis made things easier…his easygoing nature and ability to see the best in everyone was a good example for a porcupine like myself.

Despite my being far behind the other riders, it still felt as if a line connected Nick and me. That unpleasant buzz of electricity hadn’t stopped humming, and even though I couldn’t see my ex-husband at the moment, I felt as if I knew exactly where he was.

I was good at staying in control; you had to be, if you worked in my profession. You got used to people spewing bile or sobbing or hating you. The worst thing you could do was react. It was just harder than I expected, canceling out Nick. Even Dennis’s good-looking, brawny presence wasn’t helping on that front, and the significance of this wasn’t lost on me.

The beauty of the forest began to seep into my prickly soul. Sunlight cut in golden shafts through the thickening cedars and hemlocks, and the woods took on an otherworldly, greenish hue. Birds flitted and hopped in the branches. Their songs were so different from the throaty cries of the gulls or the rasping calls and clatter of the crows back home. A woodpecker drilled into a dead branch, and in the distance, I heard a strange, flutelike trilling overlaid with what sounded like the bark of a small dog. Too bad Coco had to stay behind at the lodge. She would’ve loved to trot off and investigate. And the smell here! The rich, sharp scent of cedar thickened as we plodded along, and I found myself gulping in great breaths.

God’s country. I was almost glad I was here.

Then Bob did an odd little twirl, nearly unseating me, and faced backward on the trail. “Whoa, big guy!” I said, clutching the saddle horn. Bob made a funny noise—blowing hard through his nostrils—and began backing up, off the trail and into the woods, jerking his head up and down. “Bob! Stop, buddy!” It was as if he was having a seizure or something, shaking and jerking. “Bob? We’re not supposed to—oh, crotch.” All the breath left my lungs in a rush.

About thirty yards behind me, where we’d been just a moment before, right in the middle of the trail, was a bear. A big bear. A grizzly on all fours, looking at his next lunch.

My limbs turned to water. “Oh, no, no, no,” I breathed raggedly, clutching the saddle horn as Bob continued to back further off the trail. “Go away, bear, please, please, please. We’re…um…way too…big…too big to eat…oh, crap.”

Bob came to an abrupt stop. My hair snagged on a branch, pulling hard, and I squeaked in pain, grabbing the lock of hair before it was torn right out. I risked a painful glance behind me…seven or eight tightly knit cedars in a little grove, almost a shelter. Or a trap. Forward was the bear…backward was a wall of cedar.

Swallowing convulsively, I tugged at my hair—damn it! It was really caught. If Bob bolted, I’d be out a fair chunk. Not that I’d mind, of course, it certainly beat being eaten alive. Could I climb the tree? Should I try it? Bears could climb, right? Oh, this day just got suckier and suckier!

Bob seemed to agree. He gave a high-pitched wheeze, then shook violently, as in a death spasm or something, what did I know? “Don’t die on me, Bob! Now is not the time! Calm down! It’s just a…just a grizzly bear.” My voice was tight with panic.

The bear stood there on all fours, shaggy and fricking huge. Even from this distance, I could see its long, gleaming claws. Razor sharp, no doubt. “Not good, not good, not good,” I whispered. My heart pounded so hard and fast I thought I might faint. Which would not advance the case of my survival. I took a breath, trying to think.

Okay. So. What does one do when a grizzly is contemplating your death? Flee? Fleeing sounded good…a horse could probably outrun a grizzly. Right? Or not? Why did I have the oldest horse in America? Why wasn’t Seabiscuit my horse instead? But maybe this was good…after all, maybe I only had to outrun Bob. How about yelling? Should I yell? Yes! I should yell.

“Help!” I peeped, my vocal cords somewhat paralyzed. “Brianna!” Right. Too busy trying to seduce my boyfriend to save me. “Dennis!” Much better—firefighter, big, strong, used to saving people. “Den? Help! Dad? Somebody help me!”

Only the bear seemed to hear. It raised its nose and sniffed. Note to self—shut up. Already, images rolled through my head—my lifeless, torn body dragged off to a den where adorable cubs would gnaw on my carcass. My skull being found by a troop of Boy Scouts, who would deem the discovery wicked cool.

Bob, as if sensing my train of thought, gave a little buck, yanking my hair so hard tears came to my eyes. I clutched the saddle horn. “Stop it!” I hissed. “Don’t you dare dump me!”

Should I get off the horse? No. Or yes? I had no idea! Plus, my hair was still tangled in the branch. I really couldn’t get off Bob. What had Brianna said? In case of grizzly sighting, don’t panic. Great. Thank you so much for the detailed information, Brianna!

And then, blessedly, I heard hoofbeats. Slow hoofbeats, granted…no one was exactly charging to my rescue. The bear turned slightly, sniffing once more, and all the saliva in my mouth dried up. It. Was. Enormous.

“Stop! Grizzly ahead!” I called weakly. “Be careful!”

“Harper, where the hell—holy crap, that thing is f**king huge.”

It was Nick, coming down the path on Satan. And thank God he was here, ex-husband or not! He tugged on the horse’s reins, and the horse froze obediently, Satan’s ears were pricked; he was alert and clearly on edge, but he wasn’t moaning in terror, as was Bob.

“Harper? Where are you, baby?” Nick’s voice was calm, though why he sounded calm, I had no idea. He was a New Yorker, for God’s sake, not exactly a mountain man.

“Nick! We’re over here! My horse is stuck! And my hair is caught.”

Nick tore his eyes off the bear and looked in my direction. “Try not to panic,” he said.

“I’m not panicking. I’m just terrified.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Um…what’s the plan here?”

“I don’t know!” I returned. “I saw my first bear yesterday! You don’t have a gun, do you?”

Somehow, this made Nick laugh. “Well, sorry to say I left my Luger at home. Maybe I should I throw a stick at it or something?”

“No! Cripes, don’t anger it, Nick! You’d think that stupid guide would do more than flirt with my boyfriend.” Bob gave another shudder of fear. One of his front legs buckled, and my hair yanked on the branch. “Oh, great! My horse is about to keel over, Nick.” I swallowed. “I’m really scared.” Bob managed to right himself.

“Okay, I’m coming. Hang in there.” Slowly, without taking his eyes off the bear, Nick leaned the reins against his horse’s neck and gave him a gentle nudge. “Come on, Satan,” he murmured, and the horse, probably defying every natural instinct, obeyed. My heart squeezed. Nick was coming, and God bless him for it. Even if this meant the four of us—Nick, Bob, Satan and yours truly—were a juicier target, maybe there was strength in numbers.

The bear snuffled at the ground but otherwise didn’t move, which was good and bad—on the one hand, it wasn’t leaving, but on the other, it wasn’t chomping on our femurs, either. Bob gave another high-pitched wheeze, and the bear’s head swiveled back at us.

“Oh, crotch. Crotchety crotch crotch,” I said, sucking in a shaking breath.

“Try to stay calm,” Nick said. He was right next to me now.

“Okay, Nick. It’s just a grizzly bear, right? And they never hurt anyone. Those five-inch claws are for show only—”

“Harper, shut it. And hey. Don’t be ungrateful. I didn’t have to come back for you, you know.”

I looked at him. There was something about being around Nick that reduced me to a seventh-grade smart-ass…even with a grizzly bear staring us down. Nick, on the other hand, looked…ironic. One eyebrow was raised, and a little smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “True,” I said. “Thank you.”