Moonlit

by Jadie Jones

  Steel groans as his body tumbles sideways. The wood posts splinter as the hinges are stripped from their mounts. My heart stills in my chest as his body goes limp. The silence that follows is the worst sound by far. Half of me wills him to stand up, the other half steels myself for the chance that he never will.

  I hold Molly tighter. She can’t see this. She’s too young to see something like this. Her heart thumps against my hip like a hummingbird. I focus on the racing beat to keep myself from falling apart on the spot.

  Kate’s hand is light as a feather on my shoulder. I hadn’t heard her approach. We stand together in silence, forcing ourselves to wait because we both know that interfering too soon might do more harm than good. The two or three seconds it takes before Winchester begins to thrash his legs feel like hours.

  He’s alive!

  “I need to get closer. I might be able to help him,” I say quickly to Kate, who nods. “Molly, look at me,” I whisper. Her eyes seek refuge in mine. Her cheeks shine where they are wet. “I need to go check on Winchester. Will you give Kate a hug for me? She’s scared, too.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” Molly cries.

  “I hope so,” Kate says as she crouches down and reaches out for her. “Tanzy is going to go help him.” Molly steps quickly into her open arms.

  As I race back up the hill to Winchester, I have to fight the urge to glance over my shoulder and see if the shapeless creature still lingers in the trees.

  I don’t know what you are and I don’t care. Just leave me alone!

  I shove everything else from my mind as Winchester begins an unsteady climb to his feet. I move quietly to his side. He stands still as I strip the battered saddle from his trembling body. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kate and Molly carefully approach.

  “I don’t think he did any real damage.” I can’t help but worry that if I say it too loud it won’t be true. The sound of racing footsteps makes Winchester spook, which is a good sign. Dana and Mrs. Beck rush through the open doorway.

  “Is everyone okay? What happened?” Dana asks, not slowing until she puts a hand on her favorite horse.

  Molly catches sight of her mother and runs for her open arms. Mrs. Beck drops to her knees. Her cream-colored pants meet the dirt without hesitation as she cradles Molly’s head to her chest. For the first time in years, I wish my own mother was here. I wish she still hugged me like that. I can’t remember the last time we touched each other at all.

  I busy my shaking hands, running them along Winchester’s sweaty shoulder. “Molly’s fine, Mrs. Beck. Really scared, but she did great,” I say. “She was a good listener and did exactly the right thing.”

  “What in the world happened?” Dana asks again, failing to keep the panic out of her voice.

  “There was something moving in the woods.” I risk a glance back into the field, but it’s not there anymore. A sudden surge of anger collides with the cool sensation of relief and leaves me feeling ragged. “I couldn’t really see what it was, but it was dark and moving toward us, kind of stalking us. Winchester saw it first.”

  “Coyotes?”

  “No. I’m not sure. Maybe? I mean I guess it’s the only explanation.”

  The only explanation you’ll believe, anyway.

  Dana and Mrs. Beck respond in agreement. I say, “Mrs. Beck, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you, but he really did try to take care of her in his own way. Horses have a flight-or-fight instinct that’s almost impossible to control when they feel threatened.”

  “I know, Tanzy.” She smiles weakly as she takes Molly’s hand and climbs to her feet. The knees of her pants are soiled but she doesn’t move to wipe them. She’d have to let go of Molly to do that. “Will he be okay?”

  I can tell she doesn’t really care, but I don’t blame her. I still don’t know where they buried my father’s horse. “I think so. He’ll probably need a little vacation.” Winchester props one of his back legs and I make a mental note to run cold water on it.

  “I’m going to call the vet just to be sure,” Dana says, her cell phone already beside her ashen face.

  As Dana talks to the veterinarian, my eyes move from Winchester’s battered body to the twisted gate. Something had been out there, but it wasn’t a coyote. That much I know for sure.

  “What was Winchester scared of?” Molly’s little voice braves from the sanctuary of her mother’s arms.

  “We’re not sure. But he feels really bad about scaring us. I hope you can forgive him,” I say earnestly as I crouch down to her level. She nods solemnly. “You handled a scary situation like a real pro.”

  “Molly, can you go pick out a wash stall for Winchester? I need to talk to Miss Tanzy and Miss Kate for a minute,” Dana asks.

  “Sure!” she exclaims and skips through the barn door. Mrs. Beck finally makes a couple of quick swipes at her pants and then hurries after her daughter.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” Dana starts once we’re alone. She pulls her weathered hand out of her glove and presses too hard against her eyes. “Dr. Barrow is coming first thing in the morning to check Winchester over. We got really lucky here, girls. Let me know if you see anything else out of the ordinary.”

  She heads into the barn without waiting for us to respond. I stall to give Kate time to follow after her, but she doesn’t. She absently chews on her lip as she toes at the dirt with boots that are too clean for my taste, no doubt searching her mental Rolodex for one of her quotes. I brace myself, willing my pulse to stay the same no matter what comes out of her mouth next. But nothing does.

  “You okay?” I venture.

  “Yeah,” she says, but the shine in her eyes says otherwise. “You?”

  “I’m glad he’s okay.” I avoid the real question altogether. I’ve finally started breathing normally again, and being honest with her or myself isn’t going to help that.

  We watch him nibble at the sparse grass for a minute longer and then make our way to the barn door. Winchester’s hooves shuffle unevenly on the pavement.

  “That was horrible,” Kate whispers.

  “Dana’s right. We got lucky. That could’ve been a lot worse.”

  “I know. I think that’s what scares me the most. I’m glad you were there. I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

  “I’m glad you were there too. That was a first for all of us.”

  “No kidding. Your life can—” she starts.

  “Kate, I know. For goodness sake, don’t you think that I know exactly how fast my life can change?” I freeze, my hands clenched into fists at my side. The pounding in my head returns, and a painful pinch in my throat locks my jaw.

  “Oh my God, Tanzy. I say that to you all the time. I’m so sorry. Of course you of all people would know that.”

  “Exactly.”

  Kate bites her lip as she glances at my face from the corners of her eyes. Her genuine distress makes my fingers uncoil. I’m still not happy about it, but I don’t like seeing anyone upset at my expense. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean any harm.”

  “I really didn’t.” She slides her hands in her back pockets.

  “We’re good. Just forget about it, okay?”

  “Okay.” Kate gives me a timid smile and we round the corner to the wash racks.

  “I picked a stall out for him,” Molly says as she hops from one foot to the other, lightening the weight in my chest. Winchester’s slow trip must have been torture for her. “I cleaned it out.”

  “Thank you so much, Molly. It’s very important to keep cuts clean, so that was good thinking. Do you want to learn how to take care of a hurt horse?”

  Molly breaks into a smile and steps dutifully to my side. I crouch down to examine the leg he props. She mimics me. Her face is so close to mine that I can feel her breath on my cheek. I talk to her about wrapping techniques as we cold hose and bandage his injured leg. Her eyes grow wide as I hand her a pair of latex gloves and ask her to help me inspect his open wounds. She is quickly able
to recite the difference between punctures and lacerations. Kate watches, leaning against the wash stall. She offers praise as Molly helps wash out the cuts and pack a deeper wound with antibiotic ointment.

  “All right, I think he’s good as new,” I say as we finish.

  “That’s so cool,” Molly squeals. “Mom, look what I did!” She raises her hand triumphantly so Mrs. Beck can admire the neon yellow goop still clinging to the latex.

  “Do you want to go get some hay for Winchester while I put him in his stall?” I ask as I stiffly climb to my feet. The surge of adrenaline has long since left me, and my muscles are tired and achy in its absence.

  “Yeah! Mom, can I?”

  “Of course, honey.” Molly takes off for the hay shed. “Thank you so much, Tanzy,” Mrs. Beck says. Her eyes linger on Molly’s back as she clomps down the aisle.

  “I thought it was important that she didn’t go home scared. And I apologize in advance if she tries to doctor any of your pets.”

  Most importantly, I wanted to make sure November 1st doesn’t mean for her what it does to me: the end. The unbidden thought gnaws on the surface of my heart. It takes everything I’ve got not to wince.

  “I really appreciate it. Riding has been so good for her. I’m glad that she doesn’t seem the least bit rattled,” Mrs. Beck says with a shiver. “I’m doing my best to follow her example.”

  “She’s a great kid. I’d hate for something like this to ruin horses for her.”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about that. She seems to be just fine. I’m sure we’ll see you next week,” she says pointedly, which comes as a relief. Wildwood can’t afford to lose a paying student right now.

  “Ms. Dana says that she wants you to meet her in the office when you’re done,” Molly calls in a sing-song voice as she skips past us, clutching flakes of hay to her chest in a bear-hug.

  “Thank you, Molly. We’ll follow you to his stall,” I laugh as I pluck a couple of stems from her hair.

  Winchester moves stiffly down the aisle. The short trip takes twice as long as usual. He perks up as he spies the fresh pile of hay in the corner. Molly and her mother watch him eat a few bites before waving goodbye. Kate and I hang by his door a little longer to make sure he settles in okay before turning for Dana’s office.

  “Hey girls,” Dana glances up from her computer screen. “I just got this community-watch email about several pets missing from the neighborhood that backs up to our pasture.”

  “So what does that mean?” Kate asks.

  “It means we obviously have a coyote problem on our hands. I’ve cancelled all lessons for today, and we’re bringing the horses in from the paddocks. Animal Control should be here soon to set traps. Until then we’ll take care of ourselves,” she says and points at the shotgun mounted on the wall behind her desk. “Kate, will you go post these signs on the information boards? I don’t want anyone riding outside.”

  Kate nods and takes the sheets of paper from Dana before slipping from her office.

  “You’re doing a great job, you know,” Dana says once her door clicks shut. The sound of her voice makes me jump. “I know it’s hard. Being here. Especially today.”

  My cheeks flush with a cocktail of pride and grief. “It helps and it hurts. This is all I know how to do.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here. You’ve got good instincts. And you’re good in a crisis.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot.” If only you knew what I thought I saw out there. You’d have me committed. The thought of the face in the shadow makes my stomach turn.

  “And Tanzy, you’re only eighteen. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” I shrug again. “You feel okay? You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m pretty wiped.”

  “That was quite a morning.”

  “You aren’t kidding.”

  “Feel free to take a nap in here,” Dana says and gestures to the low-slung green futon in the corner. “I think it’s your turn for night check, so a little shut-eye might not be such a bad idea.”

  “I’m fine. But maybe I’ll do that.” My answer sounds as weak as I feel, and she’s obviously not buying it. She opens her mouth to say something but her phone rings in her hand. Relieved, I give her a wave and duck out of her office before she asks me a question I can’t answer.

  Although every cell in my brain begs me not to, I march past the broken gate, down the hill, and toward the tree line. I am not crazy. The fact that I can’t convince myself is almost more than I can take, and a sudden swell of agitation tingles beneath my skin. A cold wind whips across the dry grass. The wild air has its own voice, wailing a sharp note that lingers in the darkest corners of my mind.

  I draw in a deep breath and take a few steps closer to the trees. I could reach out and touch one if I wanted to. But my hands firmly stay in the warm cover of my pockets. Sunlight filters through the canopy of branches overhead and speckles the ground beneath, giving an ethereal dimension to the flat brown surface.

  “See, Tanzy, nothing here,” I whisper to myself.

  I can’t help but think of that prank call. “Please be careful. It’s an important day.” His words echo in my head, sending a wave of goose bumps down my arms. Part of me wishes he’d call back so I could give him a piece of my mind. But a bigger part of me just wants to hear his voice again. He didn’t sound like anyone I know, but there was something so familiar about it, something about the way I felt with his voice in my ear.

  It reminds me of something Dad used to say: “Don’t get that mad unless it matters, Tanzy.” The thought of my father makes me crash back to the present, staring into the same woods that took his life. I am so close to running back to the farm that my boots are the only part of me still facing the trees.

  Tanzy Hightower, there is nothing out here to be scared of. You know plenty well the woods had nothing to do with it.

  I clamp my arms protectively around myself and sit down in the tall grass. The cover instantly makes me feel safer and works at the knot in my middle. I pluck a few brittle stems from the cold ground and absently weave them together.

  My mother showed me how to make bracelets out of this grass when I was a kid. We must have made a hundred. My father was happy to wear them each time I took one up to his office. I found them in a desk drawer after he died. He had saved every one of them. I swipe at a lone tear burning a trail down my face and drop the bracelet I braided on auto-pilot to the ground, wrestling against a sudden urge to bury it.

  The skin on the back of my neck prickles. My eyes lift from the dirt to the knotted tangle of roots at the base of the trees. But my gaze won’t venture higher, won’t search the shadows. I do my best to mask a shudder and quickly head back to the barn, leaving the bracelet in the tall grass.

  Hopewell whinnies as he hears footsteps approaching his stall. I pause by his door and let him nose at my fingers. “You and I are still on for a night ride, okay? There will be some normalcy to this day,” I insist to us both.

  He snorts and returns his focus to a pile of hay. I lean against the wall and stare across the indoor arena. The barn is completely still. It reminds me of a morgue, expectant and chilly. It reminds me that they never found his body, that we buried an empty coffin with a photograph and his dog tags inside. They said it would help us heal. They lied.

  A weary defeat settles on my shoulders. I’m usually better at fighting it off. But I’m tired and it’s so heavy this time.

  I stifle a bitter sob, thankful that Hopewell is the only witness. A quick nap isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe it’ll help me pull myself together. After another look around confirms that I’m alone, I head to Dana’s office, slip inside, and close the door.

  3 Lucas

  “Pardon me.” A deep voice breaks through the crushing black.

  My eyes burst open, and I draw in a sharp breath as the wail of agony echoing in my head fades away an octave at a time. A towering figure leans halfway into Dana’s office.

  I jolt upright and
my hands fly to my tangled mess of hair. “I’m sorry. Are you with animal control?” I ask, making every attempt to regain a shred of professionalism as I pull my hair back in a ponytail.

  “I’m Lucas,” he answers.

  I stare back without responding. He has to duck to fit inside the door. His eyes are wide set and almost completely black. I search for a delineation between his iris and his pupil but find none. The muscles of his well-toned arms are visible through his fitted black shirt. His square jaw is set and strong. Two parallel white lines run several inches across his left cheekbone, marring his tan face. I have to resist a startling urge to touch them.

  My eyes move from the scars to his dark gaze. We lock stares for only a moment, but it’s enough to make the air freeze in my lungs. He drops his eyes to the hollow between my collar bones. Even though my heavy jacket nearly covers up to my chin, I reflexively move my hands to the hole his stare is making.

  “Can I help you, Lucas?” I finally manage, a chilly fear working its way down my spine.

  “Actually, I was just checking on you.”

  “Why?” My reply comes quickly. I bite down on my lip to keep any other runaway thoughts from spilling out.

  The slight smile that plays across his face makes my stomach tingle. Butterflies. I’ve never understood that expression until just now.

  “I understand you’ve had a rather interesting day.” His eyes narrow as he says it.

  He knows. Instant panic makes my heart hammer beneath my ribs.

  “Well, the manager is in the pasture with the other Animal Control officers and she’s probably who you’ll need to see,” I say as casually as I can. “You’re welcome to wait in the lobby by the wash racks. It’s right down the hall. Can’t miss it.” His silence hangs in the air between us as he stares down at me. “And I’m fine, thanks. Never better.”

  His eyes linger on my face for another couple of seconds and then he turns to stare at something in the barn aisle. I use the opportunity to scan the full length of his towering stature. His black shirt is tucked into a pair of jeans and his boots are caked with mud. I like you better already. And whatever it is that I’m feeling for him, I can’t help but admit that I like that, too. Lucas’s eyes burn holes in the top of my head. I hesitate a second longer before meeting his gaze, afraid I’ll get locked inside of it again.