3 A Horse of Course

Hooves thundering,

The horse is master of winds.

— A flash of lightning —

I must ride at his mercy.

Together we fly far.

The world blurs into nothing.

Pencil skirts aren't very practical for riding horses, so I'm forced to sit upon the great beast's rump side-saddle. Allegra May has claimed the space nearest the horse's neck, leaving me to cling desperately to the back of her father as the horse gallops down the road. I could almost swear the horse wants me to fall off.

I've never seen a real horse before, let alone ridden one.

"What's a matter, ain't you never seen a horse before?"

and

"I think she's scared of 'ol Charger, Pa."

Yes. Yes, I am.

That horse has teeth in his mouth that he made sure to show me before Pa helped me up.

I'm still red in the cheek thinking about how hard it was to scramble up onto that beast. My new husband  had to help me, even then I barely made it up in one piece. Now, it's me holding on to him for dear life.

Oh.

I learned his name when we went into the village to sign the marriage papers.

It's Flint Jackson.

I guess that would make me Mrs. Flint Jackson.

Flint Shiori.

A slight smile tugs at the side of my lips. This might not be the rom com story I imagined for myself, but I like the sound of my name attached to his, even if the marriage contract had me keeping Nakamura. Turns out, not all Asians follow the Japanese tradition, even worlds away in this 'magic cowboy land.'

Charger the horse charges down the road, kicking up dust in his wake. He's singularly focused — home. Which I'm told is about two miles ahead. And just when I'm starting to settle into the idea of gripping my new husband's muscle-clad torso — he smells like jasmine and that molasses candy, by the way — the estate comes into view.

It sits a-top a high hill with endless stairs rising up to its massive front gate. Charger rushes up the stairs, bouncing us widely and giving me further excuse to wrap my arms tighter around Flint's warm sides. Even so, I'm afraid I'm going to tumble off backwards onto the stone steps. I shuddered at the thought as I bury my face into Flint's back. Don't look down.

We pass through clouds, rising steadily higher with each stomp of the horse's hooves.

Charger comes to a halt on a short landing at the top. Before us stands the red lacquered gate. Hanging from its pagoda-style roof is a huge set of water buffalo horns.

"Welcome home," says Flint in his deeply accented baritone.

Getting down from that great big horse is almost scarier than getting up. The ground looks a million meters below me.

"I'll stay here."

Flint Jackson raises an eyebrow with a laugh.

"Suit yourself."

He starts to walk away and Charger decides he's free to descend back down the steps to graze.

"No! Get me down! Get me down!" I shriek.

"Charger, get over here."

At the sound of his master's voice calling him back, the horse swooshes his tail and obeys.

Flint Jackson's great big arms reach up for me and he pulls me from the horse. But he doesn't set me down just yet. He holds me in his arms close to his chest so I get another heady whiff of that honeyed jasmine scent of his. He looks me in the eyes, studies me.

"Allegra's mom passed away when she was only toddling. Poor girl's not had a woman's influence to guide her. She's wild and unruly. I expect you can help tame her into a right proper lady?"

"I will try."

"Good," is his gruff reply.

He sets me down and opens the gate. We step into the courtyard where a grand traditional style Asian home awaits. But this isn't Asia. When I'd asked them on the ride over, neither of them knew what I was talking about. This land is called Monkey Kingdom, but — mind you — that's just its name in English.

"Suppose you want to sleep in the bunkhouse?" That same sly smile I'd spotted on Allegra May's face, slides over Flint's.

"What's a bunkhouse?" I ask.

Allegra May sidles up to me and firmly crosses her arms. "No, Pa, don't go getting any ideas. Shiori sleeps in the Big House with us!"

It's hard to say 'no' to Allegra May. She's got a mean glint in her eyes that could make a grown man cry. Flint isn't crying, instead that sly smile of his deepens.

"Only if she can make it past Po."

He gives another laugh and then heads off in the direction of the main house. Turning back to me he says, "Dinner's in an hour."

Allegra gives me a pat on the shoulder as my new husband disappears.

"I think he likes you."

She thinks.

How encouraging.

Allegra May and I head for the outdoor kitchen where a fire's already been burning, ready for us to start cooking.

Now, I guess I should confess that I had been bluffing when that handsome man of mine had asked if I knew how to make kimchi flapjacks. In truth, I had no idea what a flapjack was, but I'd at least tasted kimchi. Thankfully, Allegra May had guessed as much, and was happy to help me as we flip one flat pancake after another.

Dinner is served beneath the canopy of a sakura tree. A long low table is set out with a light pink tablecloth which seems a bit fancy for the ranch hands lounging around it. From what I can tell, these men are decent, all smiles and polite language as they greet me.

"Boss man's finally taken on a new wife!"

"Right pretty, ain't she?"

and

"It's about time Allegra had another woman around here."

One of the ranch hands — he's introduced himself as Cody-Ax and, quite frankly, I'm not sure if he's a bear or a man — asks if I'd met Po yet.

From what they they tell me, he's a great wolf of a dog. Jet black with beady red eyes. Swift as the wind and deadly. He'd like nothing more than to rip me limb from limb.

I purse my lips as I finish serving the flapjacks and sausages we've cooked up. Allegra May's also brought a tankard of chilled water buffalo milk to the table. The men keep talking, spinning tales that I'm not quite sure are appropriate for the dinner table.

Flint Jackson sits at the middle of them. He hasn't said a word the entire meal. I can't tell if he thinks the flapjacks are acceptable or not. At least he's eating.

And then I spot my first glimpse of Po. He creeps behind a bush. He is shadow and death. His eyes are rubies set with fire. His teeth are bared in a fierce-looking snarl. He is more wolf than dog. Po meets my gaze — his eyes are full of warning.

I sit and eat my flapjacks, listening to Allegra May and the men chat around me. I consider the stack of still uneaten flapjacks on the serving platter. They're round and slippery. Tasty and chewy. An idea takes root in my mind as I lean over to grab another. Slowly, I take the flapjack in my hands.

My new boots are sturdy, strong leather with good grip on the soles. I could run in these boots if my plan doesn't work.

The men stare at me, curious to see what I'll do next.

"He'll just as readily eat you as anything you're thinking of offering him, " Flint warns.

Stepping away from the table, I slowly creep toward where Po hides in a hedge of hibiscus, eyes burning and legs quivering as he watches me. He licks his lips, revealing glistening white fangs. His nostrils flare, in-and-out, in-and-out. He's smelling the treat I hold out to him, but he does not grovel. Neither does he snap.

I kneel before him so that our eyes are on the same level.

No one speaks.

I hardly breath.

The flapjack is still warm in my hands.

A round pancake delight.

Tasty and tempting.

I'm about to do something incredibly daring.

Stupid.

Insane.

With a quick breath in, I flick my wrist, sending the flapjack soaring. It's rounded ends flap, wings taken up with the wind. It turns. Careens. Entices.

And the wolf is born again as a puppy, entranced by an object thrown.

Po bolts, his muscled limbs stretch and spring as he himself takes to flight. He whips his neck toward the soaring flapjack, opens wide his mouth, and his tongue reaches to close the distance. Teeth connect with the soft bread-y taste of the warm pancake. He spins mid-air, landing with perfect elegance upon the mossy lawn.

The fire has gone from his eyes, replaced with the doe-y innocence of youth. Po bounds in my direction, slobber slipping out the sides of his wolf-y maws. His tail wags with delight as he drops the now moistened flapjack at my feet.

The silence breaks as the men cheer. I am the hero of the moment. The victor who has tamed the savage beast.

I turn my triumph toward Flint Jackson. He sits there at the table, arms crossed, and that sly smile… He gives only the slightest nod of acknowledgement.

I can sleep in the Big House! <3