Read Online Crow Mountain by Lucy Inglis - Free Book Online

on your own every day?’
    â€˜Since I was fourteen. Gives Dad a break.’
    â€˜Fourteen? But how, without this?’ Hope patted the roof of the pick-up.
    He glanced down at the truck, with affection. ‘I learnt to drive in this old 250 when I was about twelve. She was my grandfather’s farm truck, bought her new in ’69. I inherited her at thirteen when Pops and my grandmother died. Their town car got hit by a truck outside Great Falls.’
    â€˜I’m really sorry.’
    â€˜Yeah, me too.’ He jumped from the pick-up bed and opened the passenger door. ‘Breakfast?’
    Back at the ranch, they ate breakfast with Cal’s father in the kitchen. Meredith had already gone for the day. After that, Cal led Hope out to the barn, where outside one of the hands was checking the saddle on a small, grey horse. Cal took over and pulled Hope to stand in front of him. ‘Don’t stand behind them, it makes them nervous. And I’ll be to blame if you get a kick in the chest.’
    â€˜Right.’
    â€˜Stirrup.’ He held up the piece of iron. ‘And leather.’ His fingers shifted to the strap.
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ She saluted.
    â€˜Put your fingers where it fastens to the saddle, arm straight.’ He took the stirrup and measured it against her arm, then down, against her ribs a little. Then he bumped her to one side and began adjusting the leathers. Moments later, he led the horse to a section of tree stump and handed her on to it. ‘Meet Misty,’ he said. ‘Now, swing your leg over, that’s it. American saddles aren’t like English ones. You sit in them not on them.’ He set her foot into the near-side stirrup. ‘Heels down.’ Gathering the reins, he put them in her hand, his fingers folding around hers to show her how to hold them. ‘Misty’s a good girl. Just trust her. Put your heels against her sides to go forward and then relax your legs and pull back a little to stop and tell her to whoa. OK?’
    â€˜OK.’
    Two hours later, Cal helped Hope down from Misty, catching her as she slid to the ground on legs clumsy with being in the saddle.
    â€˜Oops!’
    â€˜Go easy, the blood can rush to your feet.’
    She laughed, giddy with the riding and being held. ‘That was such fun, thank you! She’s so lovely.’
    They shifted apart, self-conscious.
    Cal cleared his throat. ‘You look a little peaked. Maybe you should go back to the house and have some tea or a nap or something.’
    â€˜I have a chemistry project. And Mum will be annoyed if she catches me sleeping in the day.’
    He gestured with his chin without meeting her eyes. ‘In the barn, if you head to this end, there are some stairs to the loft. You can crash out there if you like and no one will know. You’ll have to ignore all the crates of junk Mom’s cleared from the attic though. She wants me to go through it and see if there’s anything I want before it goes to the incinerator. Take a look if you like.’
    â€˜OK, thanks. And thanks for this.’ She patted Misty. ‘It was great.’
    He nodded, walking away, the horse trailing in his wake. Hope found the stairs to the barn loft. It was far bigger than their flat in East London. It was all one space, with a sink and a kitchen counter, a two-burner gas ring and a few shelves at one end, with jars of coffee and sugar. The rest was taken up with a big bed and two broken sofas facing an old TV.
    All along one side were crates and boxes filled with typical attic contents. Hope began to look inside. Some of them contained a large collection of fairly recent football trophies, an athletics medal, a pile of school exercise books and a sketchbook of drawings, all of horses. Another of the boxes contained cookery books from the 1960s and another held all sorts of old treasures, including a little black beadwork bag, a sewing kit, a pair of silver-framed