by Joanna Sims
“She’s the owner,” Gabe told Janice, and Bonita got the impression that he wanted to quickly clear up any confusion regarding her status.
“Perfect. Nice to meet you,” Janice said before she lurched away, her attention now on the horse in the rig. “Let’s see what you’ve brought me!”
Gabe grabbed the health certificate that had allowed them to travel across state lines with Val and handed it to Janice. Their hostess scanned the document, nodded quickly and handed it back.
“Doc is one of the few large animal veterinarians who specialize in acupuncture,” Gabe told Bonita as they walked to the back of the rig. “My brother Liam worked with her right out of vet school.”
Hands on her hips, Janice had moved on from small talk and her focus was on Val. “Let’s get him out of there and into the pasture.”
Gabe lowered the hydraulic ramp and hooked a lead rope to Val’s halter. Wide-eyed, ears forward, head bobbing up and down, Val was anxiously pawing at the ground, wanting to be free from his mobile stall.
Janice whistled her appreciation. “I do love an Oldenburg. You’ve got a nice horse here.”
Val came down the ramp, his nostrils flared, snorting loudly at the nearby horses. It was strange—Val was Bonita’s dream horse, and yet there was something that made her feel cautious around him. The horse was giant, muscular and in peak fitness. When his head was raised and he was wild-eyed and anxious, he was a handful.
Gabe, calm in the face of the horse’s natural fear and anxiety, handed the lead rope to Janice. He bent down and started to remove Val’s padded shipping boots from each leg, staying with the horse no matter how rambunctious he got.
“I know,” Janice said in a soothing voice to the nervous horse, rubbing his neck. “It’s all so strange.”
Glad to have the excuse of holding Tater, Bonita stood back, letting the other two handle Val. She had always felt a connection to every horse she had ever owned. But this time, she only felt nervous around Val. No connection. And it worried her. Her father and mother, who wanted her to continue showing, had picked out Val for her, and who would say no to a dream horse as a graduation present? It was the first time she hadn’t picked out her own show horse. Standing in Ohio, not wanting to engage with her new horse, made Bonita think that she should have said no.
“Where do you want him?” Gabe asked, taking the lead rope again.
“Take him to this pasture right here.” Janice pointed to an unoccupied pasture to her left. To Bonita, she added, “He’ll have the whole place to himself, so you won’t have to worry about him getting injured.”
Horses were herd animals, and as prey animals, they were highly alert to any possible danger. They were always curious about any new horse that appeared on the scene and the Oldenburg’s arrival was no exception. As Val pranced alongside Gabe, tossing his head and letting his tail fly like an unfurled flag behind him, all of the horses on the property had come to the edge of their fences and were watching attentively. Some of them started to run in their pastures, snorting and bucking and kicking at their pasture-mates. Others followed Val on their side of the fence, trying to catch his scent.
The moment Val was let off his lead, the Oldenburg exploded, bucking several times, farting and kicking out his hind legs, before he galloped to the far end of the pasture.
“He’s got a run-in shed, water, plenty of grass to eat. We can feed him with the others in about an hour or so, but that’s up to you,” Janice said.
“That’s fine.” Bonita gave a little shrug.
Val was touching noses across the fence with one of Janice’s horses. After a moment, both horses squealed and kicked at each other. Janice’s horse moved, which meant that Val won the higher spot in the hierarchy.
“He’s fine,” their hostess announced. “Let me show you the barn.”
“I’m going to clean out the rig real quick.” Gabe split off and walked away.
“You can dump your manure on the compost pile out back.”
“I think I’d better let Tater down for a moment,” Bonita said. “Do you think she’ll be okay with all of your four-legged friends?”
“Tater can handle her own.” Janice laughed. “She’ll be running this pack in five seconds flat, just you watch. Besides—they know each other. A couple of sniffs here, a couple of sniffs there, and they’ll be all reacquainted.”
Bonita was still reticent about putting Tater down but just as Janice had predicted, the three-legged Chihuahua wasn’t a pushover. Even so, after Tater finished her business, Bonita scooped her back up and tucked the dog into the crook of her arm.
“I appreciate you letting us rest here for the night.” Bonita had to work to keep stride with Janice, who walked as fast as she talked.
“Oh. No problem,” her hostess said in a breezy manner. “Gabe’s been stopping here for years. We’re always tickled to see him.”
Bonita followed Janice to the backside of the two-story Victorian, only to realize that the barn was actually attached to the house.
“This is amazing!” Bonita exclaimed, her eyes wide. “I have always wanted to have my house attached to my barn.”
Janice opened a small white picket gate that led into the stable. “I love it. But it’s an albatross. I’ll be hard-pressed to ever sell it, that’s a fact. Not many people want to live with their horses.”
“I would.”
“I like you already,” Janice said before she stopped in front of an empty stall. “Val will bed down in here tonight.”
“Okay.” Bonita was looking everywhere, trying to take it all in at once. “This place is too cool.”
“It was built back in the days when people wanted the heat from the animals to help heat the house,” Janice said. “It burned down once and got rebuilt sometime in the early 1900s. I can’t tell you how convenient it is during the winter or if one of mine is sick. I just come out here in my slippers and my nightgown. Done and done.”
Bonita thought they were still walking forward when Janice circled back, into her personal space again, and stopped. “So you and Gabe aren’t together?”
“No.” It struck Bonita as strange that anyone would put Gabe and her together as a couple; they were so different. “I kind of crashed the trip.”
“I knew it had to be something. Gabe doesn’t let clients travel with him. Some have followed behind him but never with him. Well.” Janice gave a disappointed cluck of her tongue. “That’s too bad. It’d be nice to see him settled down after all this time. I’m afraid he’s getting cemented in his ways and becoming an incorrigible bachelor. Not that I have room to talk, mind you. I’m divorced, my kids are grown, and other than fixing the fences, what do I need a man for?”
Janice opened a door that led into the farmhouse. “I just opened a bottle of red.”
A glass of wine, or two, was exactly what Bonita needed after seven straight hours of country music. She followed Janice from one part of her world, the barn, into the other part of her world, the farmhouse, which was infused with the scent of beef stew and greens simmering on the stove. The decor was eclectic and a bit eccentric and it was a total reflection of Janice’s free-spirited personality. Everything in the house seemed to be collected from various yard sales, thrift stores and side-of-the-road antique marts. Nothing matched—the chairs around the kitchen table were mismatched, the fabrics on the couch and chairs in the living room where mismatched, and the dishes were all mismatched. And yet everything blended together, much like a tapestry, into one wonderfully homey picture.
“I didn’t know to expect you.” Janice handed her a glass of wine.
“I’m so sorry,” Bonita apologized. “I just assumed Gabe let you know.”
“He might’ve thought he did and then it slipped his mind. He’s like that. Don’t worry. I’m just thinking out loud... I have a spare room. You’d be more comfortable in here than
out there in the rig, don’t you think?”
Actually...
“You wouldn’t mind?”
Janice waved her hand and frowned at her as if she thought the question was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. She went to the front door, pulled it open, stood on the front porch and hollered to Gabe.
“Gabe! Bring Bonny’s suitcase in here when you’re done! She’s bunking with me tonight!”
“I can go get it.” Bonita put her glass down on the butcher-block island in the kitchen. Asking Gabe to wait on her like a bellboy was only adding insult to his injury. He hadn’t wanted her on the trip in the first place.
“He can get it.” Janice shooed her back into the kitchen. “You hang out here with me and keep me company. I’m surrounded by horses, cows, manure and men. I don’t get nearly enough estrogen in my life, that I can tell you!”
Chapter Three
After dinner, Gabe found Bonita in the barn, sitting on a tack box across from Val’s stall, holding another glass of wine in her hand. When she saw him, she scooted over and made room for him to sit down beside her.
“They’re a loud bunch,” Gabe said as he sat down next to his client, careful to make sure that there was plenty of space between Bonita’s body and his.
She had been staring at her horse, swirling her wine around and around in the glass. She seemed lost in her own thoughts and from the look on her face—a sincerely pretty and compelling face—they weren’t the happiest thoughts in the world.
“They are wonderful.” Bonita’s full mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Truly. Stopping here was a real blessing.”
“Good.” Gabe was glad to hear it. Even though he hadn’t wanted her along for the trip, he had an instinct to make sure she was safe and cared for while she was with him. Not that he had anything in particular against Bonita—he just preferred to travel alone. It was his policy and that way he could say no to anyone and everyone who asked. And clients did ask. Bonita was the only client who wouldn’t take no for an answer. And he’d adapted. That was his way. He hadn’t liked it, but he dealt with it.
His mother died when he was just a kid and his father, Jock, told him straight up that he’d better learn to deal with life’s curveballs quick, because they came fast and furious sometimes. It was one of his father’s better pieces of advice and Gabe had been adapting to change quickly ever since.
Bonita took a small sip of her wine. She seemed a little more relaxed and if he had counted correctly, she was on her third glass. She said, “Janice is crazy. I love that about her.”
Looking straight ahead, Gabe nodded with a little smile. “She’s a nut, that’s the truth.”
“You’ve known her a long time.”
It was more of a statement than a question.
“A long time.”
His companion took another sip of the wine before she said, “The way she is with her ex, you’d think they were still a couple.”
Janice had invited her ex-husband, Gary, for dinner, along with a group of friends, all from the same horse community that Gabe hadn’t seen in a long time. Gary was a solid horse trainer in his own right and Janice still regularly referred her clients to him if they had a horse with training concerns.
“They’re much better friends than spouses.”
“That’s rare.”
He nodded. He’d never managed to stay friends with his exes. For him, once it was over, it was time to move on. It had been quite a while since he’d had to move on from a woman, though. He’d managed to fill his life with his horses. The last time he had to move on had broken his heart good and proper.
“I love the barn at night,” Bonita mused quietly. “Don’t you?”
He glanced at Bonita’s profile. It was his favorite time in the barn. In that moment, Gabe realized that he was enjoying sitting in the barn with Bonita a little too much. Instead of answering, he stood up.
“I’m going to turn in. We’ve got a long stretch tomorrow. I want to leave by four.”
His client’s sleepy eyes opened wide as she looked up at him. “In the morning?”
He nodded.
“That means I have to get up at three?”
“If it takes you an hour to get ready, then I suppose so.”
Bonita frowned.
“I want to get to our next stop by late afternoon. That’ll give Val plenty of time to stretch out his legs.”
Still frowning, Bonita asked, “Where’s our next destination?”
“I have Val booked for a stall in a facility in Grimes, Iowa.”
“Iowa,” she repeated so morosely that it made him smile. “How many hours to Grimes?”
“Ten,” he told her. “Today was a short day.”
“It didn’t feel short.”
“It was.”
They stared at each other for a second or two before Gabe broke the eye contact and waved his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Hey...”
He turned back to her.
“Do you mind if I keep Tater with me tonight?”
He couldn’t believe how long it took him to process that question. He was just used to having Tater with him.
“Sure,” he finally said. “If it’ll make the night better for you.”
“Gracias.” Bonita said, the word of thanks rolling off her tongue in a way that sounded mighty pleasant to his ears.
“De nada.” His you’re welcome came out stilted and heavily accented, but it made her smile, and he liked to see that smile.
With one final nod to his client, he left the barn and headed out to the rig. He planned on taking a quick shower, climbing into the sleeping bunk above the front cab and getting at least eight hours of shut-eye. He was lucky that he could fall asleep on a dime, and now that he didn’t have to worry about walking around the rig in his boxers, he could get comfortable and get down to the business of sleeping.
* * *
Morning came too early for Bonita. Soon after Gabe gave her the bad news about her three o’clock wake-up time, she finished her wine, made sure Tater had one last visit to a grassy spot on the lawn, said good-night to her new friends and then retreated to the guest room. After a long, hot shower and going through her nightly routine of brushing her teeth and putting on her face creams and brushing all the tangles out of her waist-length hair, as she always did, she called her parents to say good-night.
“I have to get up at three o’clock in the morning,” Bonita complained to her father. No matter how far into adulthood she got, she still went to her dad for comfort when life seemed unfair.
“And I’ll be subjected to another ten hours of country music, which feels like a form of torture.”
“I don’t even know why you insisted on going,” her father said. “I told you I trusted the man.”
“I know,” she acknowledged. “I didn’t.”
“How about now? You’ve spent the day with him. What’s the verdict?”
Bonita knew exactly what her father was driving at. He wanted her to admit that she was wrong.
“He seems competent,” she admitted, not saying the words you were right, I was wrong.
“Then come home now,” George suggested. “You’re right there near Columbus. I’ll send my pilot to come pick you up. There’s an executive airport there—I’ve used it before. If you’re not happy, come home.”
Yes, she didn’t want to get up at three o’clock in the morning. Who did? And, yes, she dreaded the hours of monotonous highway and basting in the music of every country artist known to mankind, but it hadn’t occurred to her—not once—to throw in the towel.
“I’m not unhappy.”
“You could have fooled me, mi corazón.”
Did she want to take her father’s offer and bail on the trip? Gabe was more than competent. He knew how
to handle horses, that was easy to assess after a day. The way he handled a flighty, excitable horse like Val had been impressive.
“I’m just talking.” She backpedaled a bit. “Val is my horse. I’m responsible for him now. I’m going to stick it out. This is far from the worst experience I’ve ever had to go through.”
After those words, they both were silent and Bonita knew exactly what her father was thinking: her mother’s illness was the worst thing either one of them had ever gone through and the worst was yet to come.
“Is Mom awake?” Bonita was the first to break the silence. “I’d like to say good-night.”
“She asked the nurse to put her to bed early tonight.”
Bonita had been lying back on a stack of pillows, but she sat up instinctively. “Is she okay? Do I need to come home now for her?”
“She’s fine,” George said and for the first time Bonita heard weariness in her father’s voice. “It’s been a bad day... She has those. Tomorrow will be better. If you want to stay with Val, your mom will be fine until you return.”
After she hung up the phone with her dad, Bonita spent some time catching up with friends on social media. She sent a friend request to Janice—they had struck up a friendship in a short time and they both wanted to keep in touch—and then she shut off the light.
Bonita had been an insomniac for years. Even with the three glasses of wine, she was wide-awake listening to the sounds drifting up the hallway from the kitchen, staring at the ceiling.
It felt as if her life had taken some odd turns of late. She was in a farmhouse in Ohio, getting ready to head off to Iowa with a cowboy she didn’t know all that well, instead of starting her first year of medical school. Her mother’s illness was a major driving force for her eventual return to the pursuit of a medical degree. She wanted to be able to help other families whose lives had been turned upside down, much as hers had, by a single diagnosis. Bonita didn’t regret putting her dream on hold to spend time with her mother in her final years. Her only regret was that she hadn’t come home sooner.