Feeding the Heart (Serenity Stables Book 1): Falling in love over the healing of a horse.

by Wendy Nickel

  Note that there is still half or more of his grain left in his bowl.

  Stall?

  Clean.

  Could use more shavings for warmth, though.

  Josie ran down to the end of the barn aisle and shovelled fresh wood shavings into the awaiting barrow. She hauled it back down to Enzo’s stall and spread them in the cleanest corner.

  Parking the wheelbarrow just outside of his stall, she wondered if they should try to get him in the barrow like they did when he first arrived.

  No, he wasn’t that out of it. And trying to lift him might scare him, even hurt him, more than just trying to get him up to walk.

  No one was going to get hurt, and that included Carrie and herself. Josie checked her phone on the way back out to Carrie. Nothing. No messages. From anyone.

  Josie was running out of things she knew to do, which started to scare her. Carrie, thank goodness, was there, but she was upset, too. Well, thought Josie, we’re just gonna have to figure it out.

  That was the only thing they could do.

  First thing was to get Enzo up on his feet if they could. But it was while Josie was looking Enzo up and down and wondering what to do that saw it: a split in one of Enzo’s front hooves. Not in the middle of his hoof, but around to the side.

  Josie ran back to get her phone, snapped a picture of the crack in the hoof and fired it off to Cam without any explanation. Then she pocketed her phone while she and Carrie tried to rouse Enzo to his feet. They didn’t have far to go, but he’d be warmer and rest easier in his stall.

  Carrie had the rope at his head, and Josie was at his back and rear, nudging and supporting him to roll up so he could gain his legs. Both women stayed gentle and quiet, but they were firm in encouraging Enzo to get up.

  Eventually, Carrie’s firm pressure on the rope and Josie’s pushing at his back seemed to do the trick. Enzo got to his wobbly legs and began taking unsure steps toward the barn. But he was definitely lame on the leg with the vertical crack in the hoof.

  Josie documented and filed all the details in her mind as she and Carrie coaxed Enzo back to his stall.

  He so wanted to please them, it made Josie’s heart break. And it was obvious from the tension in his lips and the favor he gave to his leg that he was in some real pain. Two steps in, and just short of the high cushion of new shavings, he went down again. Exhaustion.

  Carrie went to grab a couple of blankets and Josie began to push clean shavings a bit closer to Enzo’s body for warmth.

  “Carrie, grab my phone, please?” Josie called, anxious to have some support or direction, even by message.

  “Yup. In my hand.” Carrie was back in a flash, her emotion and initial shock having been pushed aside in favor of action and a desire to help. Josie felt a lightning bolt of gratitude course through her, grounding her, and she reached up to receive her phone.

  It rang the instant it was in her palm.

  Pammy.

  Josie swiped to accept the call and put it on speaker so both she and Carrie would get all the direction they could.

  “He’s in his stall, but he’s down, Pammy. He has a split in his front hoof and he’s definitely lame on it.”

  Pammy, all focus and laser attention, began asking questions in single words.

  “Vertical?” She asked about the crack.

  “Yes.”

  “Front?”

  “No. Side. Inner,” Josie began to rub Enzo’s neck to help him relax. Carrie was already doing this along his back, over the blanket.

  “Cam?”

  “Called him. Haven’t heard back.”

  “Vet?”

  “Yes. Same. Pammy, when can you get here?”

  “I’m on my way, but I’m still at least an hour out. I’ll buzz both of them and see if I can catch them. That’s all I can do from here,” Pammy was firm, but Josie could hear the worry at the edge of her voice.

  “Wait, one more thing,” Josie jumped in, sensing that Pammy was going to hang up quick. “He hasn’t quite eaten half of his grain and none of his hay, either. He’s feeling some pain, Pammy. Is there anything I can give him?”

  “We have an apple-flavored pain powder in the feed room. Get him to eat some of his grain with it. Just about a quarter scoop on the dosage, Josie. That should take some edge off for him.”

  And then Pammy was gone and the line was dead. Josie knew that Pammy was anxious to try to get ahold of Dr. Grier, and maybe even Cam too, but it felt suddenly lonelier without her on the other end of the line.

  Josie and Carrie looked at each other.

  The question in Josie’s eyes hadn’t fully formed when Carrie offered to stay a little longer. She turned to look at Enzo, “I’ve got you, don’t I, Enzo? Yes, I’ve got you and we’re gonna make sure you start feeling better. Josie’s going to make up something wonderful… and we’re going to need you to eat it, my good boy.”

  Enzo’s eyes were half closed, but his breathing wasn’t so hard or forced as it had been just a few minutes ago.

  “I need to call my daughter, Josie. Tell her I’ll be late in picking her up. Can I borrow your phone while you’re fixin’ his bowl up?” Carrie asked, her hand already out to take the phone. “I left mine in the car and don’t want to leave him.”

  Josie hesitated only a minute. What if Cam or the vet called and she wasn’t there to pick up immediately?

  No. You’re just down the aisle. You’ll hear it. Carrie will get you. Go fix his plate.

  “Of course. Of course you can,” Josie toggled the tiny switch on the side to make sure the ringer was still on and placed it in Carrie’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  And she was. She found the pain relief powder right away, thank goodness, and the dosage scoop was inside the container. She got a fresh bowl, added some new grain pellets, and the quarter scoop. Just like Pammy said.

  Enzo hadn’t liked eating very much. It was strange, Josie thought, remembering back to when he’d first come in. Remembering those first days when she and Pammy were pretty much hand-feeding him bites of grain and small pinches of hay, cooing and coaxing him every three hours.

  He’d picked up the pace of his eating on his third or fourth day at the stable. There’d been a definite upswing to his intake and enthusiasm.

  Josie replayed the days back in her head. There’d been a little less hand-feeding, a little less human time together since he’d started eating more.

  He’d been gaining a little weight and it wasn’t so hard to keep him warm because of that. That was a good thing.

  But what about now? What made him stop halfway through his grain?

  Could it be the pain from the hoof split? The truth was, she’d never really know for sure. She could only guess based on what she’d seen and what she knew right now.

  The only real thing she had to work on right now was getting him to eat.

  He’s come from a hoarder, Josie reminded herself. He hadn’t had quality, tasty food or good medicine. She recalled the details Pammy had shared about picking him up; that even though the woman had an abundance of animals, she didn’t have the money, space, or wherewithal to give them good or regular feed, keep their stalls clean, or even provide fresh water.

  Josie inhaled deeply and tried to think of something calming. She caught the scent in her memory of the first dinner date she and Cam shared. That heavenly chicken and dumplings, the scent that gave a little piece of her soul back.

  That was a shared thing. That was a creation. There was tenderness, newness, and there was also some courage to trust him, in his space. It had been beautiful, and it had fed her, body and soul.

  What can we do to feed your body and soul, little Enzo? She mused as she made her way back to his stall with the bowl of fresh grain.

  His head was up, which was great, but he didn’t seem to have the slightest bit of interest when Josie shook the bowl so he could hear the small handful of pellets swishing around.

  It was a technique that worked for a
ll of the other animals onsite, from the full-size horses on down to the dog, Rollo.

  But not Enzo.

  Josie squatted down in front of him and held the bowl near his face so he could see and smell it. He could reach it if he wanted to, but he just turned away. Both women coo-cooed him to eat. Gently, gently. But no. Nothing. No interest.

  Josie and Carrie looked at each other, concern and worry came out in silent lines and furrows on their faces.

  “What works, Carrie? What can’t they resist?” Josie asked, fear creeping in.

  “Apples and carrots are always safe treats,” Carrie suggested helplessly, knowing full well that Josie already knew this.

  Plus, apple slices didn’t really work for Enzo. They’d tried many times since he’d been here. They just didn’t interest him. Not in the slightest.

  Change it up, a tiny voice piped upin Josie’s head. How can you change it up for him?

  Suddenly, she a vision sprang to mind and Josie pounced. “Carrie, I need five more minutes for you to stay here with him. Please? I have an idea.”

  “Oh, I know that look,” hope and curiosity began to brighten Carrie’s eyes. “I’m stayin. I gotta see this.”

  Josie ran up to Pammy’s house and came back with one small and one medium glass jar.

  A fresh jar of room-temperature organic applesauce. No sugar added. And the jar of ground organic cinnamon.

  As she started opening up the jars, Carrie sat, still petting Enzo, her excitement beginning to rise as she realized what Josie had in mind.

  “Enzo, good boy, I have something you might want to taste!” She squatted down again and placed the opened jar of applesauce under his nose. He inhaled a few times and his eyes opened a bit, but still no motion toward the jar to try a taste.

  “I’ve been reading about cinnamon supplementation for horses with laminitis, so I was wondering if a cinnamon smell might make it more appetizing for him,” Josie shared. “I don’t want to give him any to eat, per se, since I don’t have enough information about it, but…”

  Josie trailed off as she poured a good thick blop of applesauce into Enzo’s bowl on the floor. She then shook a few extra shakes of cinnamon into her hands and began rubbing them together like the cinnamon were soap.

  That little bit of cinnamon, the friction, and the heat amplified the cozy, earthy-sweet scent so it infused the whole stall.

  Almost immediately, Enzo’s eyes flew all the way open and his ears came to complete attention. He inhaled a few times, really deeply, and kept his eyes on Josie.

  She picked up the bowl with her cinnamon-hands and held it for him. “I need you to try, Enzo. What if you love it, honeyboy?”

  “We’ve got some drool on this side!” Carrie laughed in relief.

  Enzo bent his head inside the bowl to pull it, and Josie, closer with his chin. Then he closed his eyes, bent his head inside the bowl, and began to eat. He went after every apple-y pellet, snuffling every last little taste of sauce with a lusty enjoyment that he’d probably never experienced before in his life.

  Carrie and Josie looked on in amazement, joyful laughs escaping their throats.

  And Josie just continued to hold that little green bowl for him, tears streaming down her face, with utter tenderness and gratitude filling her heart.

  15

  Josie

  Hours later, Josie still had no word from Cam, neither phone nor text. Of course, she kept watch on her screen like a hawk while it charged and then for a long time after.

  A pulsing worry was competing with the itch of anger... and a root of disappointment and hurt. Where was he?

  They hadn’t once gone this long without some connection, and it was made that much worse since Enzo was in trouble. She’d sent her last text and voicemail two hours ago, and now she was emotionally exhausted, irritable, a little worried, and definitely hungry.

  Dr. Grier made it up to the farm shortly before Pammy did. Both were eager to see him and load him up with love and attention. He was back on his feet, though still favoring that front leg. The vet checked him for fever and anything else that might have contributed to Enzo’s discomfort.

  Josie told them the story. Their eyes went wide when they heard he wouldn’t eat the applesauce, and they were shocked and surprised at the idea of cinnamon-scented hands to help make his food more appetizing.

  Dr Grier and Pammy also reworked Enzo’s feeding schedule… refining the frequency, the quality, and the treats. There would be heat checks, weighings to make sure he was gaining, and then, when Cam signed off, some mild exercise.

  But where was Cam?

  This wasn’t like him.

  Was it? She hadn’t known him long. Sure, they’d had a few dinners, shared some belly laughs and some out-of-this-world kissing, but did she know him?

  And look what happened with her dad years ago. He had just disappeared without a word, or a note. Nothing.

  Well, what Josie did know was that what she experienced with good food, and what she shared with Enzo around eating, was real. And dangit, she was hungry now.

  She let Pammy know that she was going out to get some dinner and that she’d be back at 11 p.m. for Enzo’s next feeding and heat check.

  With her car down the hill and headed for her place, a heavy coldness grew in her heart until she felt herself shiver. Maybe I need some heat too, she thought as she flipped the heater up to high. But the car heater wasn’t going to reach her heart even if it might warm her bones.

  Josie unlocked her door and stepped into her apartment. Her body was signalling for food and sleep, in that order.

  She brought the lights up to a gentle glow with the dimmer switch. A soft glow spilled into the kitchen. There were two containers in the fridge holding leftovers from her last dinner with Cam.

  No.

  She slammed the door. No. I’m gonna eat something different. Something simple, and yummy, and mine. It wasn’t going to be something that reminded her of Cam, or her father. It was going to be... something just for herself.

  First thought that came to her? Pickles. Dill spears.

  She opened the fridge back up and got out the jar. What else? Josie asked herself. She peered back in. Cheese.

  What else? Cherry tomatoes, cucumber slices, green apple.

  She closed the refrigerator, unscrewed the jar of pickles, and fished out 2 spears with a fork. Eating one, she dropped another onto a plate and sliced up the fruit, veggies, and a little of the cheese.

  What else?

  Peanut butter for the apples.

  Crackers with cheese.

  She prepared everything and arranged it on a plate. She looked at what she’d created. All of these were her favorites in kindergarten. And, she supposed, they were her favorites tonight, too.

  Josie ate slowly in the soft light, seated on a floor cushion in her living room with a blanket around her shoulders and the plate on her lap. A cup of coffee, steaming hot, creamy and a little bit sweet, filled her favorite hand-thrown ceramic mug.

  No matter what anyone else was doing, she had these few moments that were hers alone. And it felt good to her.

  She woke from a dreamless sleep a few hours later on her couch, having set her alarm and put her dish and mug in the sink when she was finished eating. She checked her phone.

  No messages. Well, she thought resignedly, I don’t know anything about anything. But I do have a little boy to check on.

  Josie felt rested. Ready. And she drove with a clear head back up to Serenity Stables to feed and check on Enzo.

  16

  Cam

  It was late into the evening by the time Cam opened the Serenity Stables gate, worn to the bone.

  He’d received Josie’s text and the picture of Enzo’s hoof. A vertical Quarter crack on the inner side of his hoof. Ow, thought Cam, poor little man. Lemme just finish this last hoof on this big guy here and I’ll check in...

  That was the thinking, anyway.

  But that was before Cam had placed
his phone in his front shirt pocket. He’d been in the middle of trimming an incredibly beautiful, if somewhat twitchy, Percheron draft horse named Kingston.

  When he dropped his rasp and had to bend over to pick it up, his phone up and fell right out of his pocket and onto the ground. Just before Kingston decided to shift.

  Oh yes. That 1600-pound equine stepped right on it, putting that phone—most effectively—out of commission.

  The owners hadn’t been home to use their phone or borrow a cell. No land-line in their barn, either.

  Cam fretted over the phone for just a minute or two. He’d had a few more geldings to trim and file before he could go. This was a newish client, his second time out, and a referral he got from Ewan Grier.

  The owners were new to the area and a little too far south for Knox to service regularly. It was a good opportunity, so he had to make a good impression. They could be a really good, and hopefully regular, client for his practice.

  And now he had to replace his phone. Ugh. I’d best just get to it and take care of them... Who was next? Marshall, the roan? Yep. Let’s get after ‘im and move on.

  He sent out a message to Josie in his mind and heart, Please understand. Hang in there and please understand.

  Cam knew very well that there was no way she’d be able to understand until she knew what was going on, but he still asked.

  Then who was next? Toby. That’s right, the fleabitten-colored grey. “Poor Toby,” said Cam aloud to the 8-hands high horse, taking a close inspection of his hind leg. “You’ve got a little bit of thrush coming on, big boy. We need to tell your owners about that, mister. We’re gonna make sure to fix you up right.”

  It was hours later, several more than Cam thought he’d be spending in Black Diamond, before he’d finished up, washed his hands, and gotten back into his truck.

  He was ravenous, having spent all of his energy in lifting and managing those legs and hooves.

  Cam opened the glove box and shuffled through a variety of snack options. Not the ideal lunch, but it was something.