by Toni Mari
“I can handle it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll catch you if you faint.”
A couple hours in the truck with Shawn turned out to be a lot of fun. We talked and talked about horses, about Erica and Santos.
“Those two are going to the Olympics next year if nothing crazy happens,” Shawn bragged.
“What do you mean ‘if nothing happens’?”
“We’re talking about a horse here, and anything could happen. Santos could get an injury, get sick, get hit by a bus. Anything.”
“God! Do you have to be so doomsday? They are amazing. I think she could win the gold on Santos. He’s the best mover I’ve ever seen.”
“Like you’ve seen a lot of Olympic horses,” Shawn teased.
“I watch TV. I see horses.” I moved to punch him in the arm, but he snagged my hand and held it tightly.
“It’s fun being with you, Jane.” He gave me a warm look. Tingling started up my arm. I tugged my hand away before the sensation could travel too far and looked away. “Aww, don’t be like that. Tell me you’re not having fun with me.”
I was. And he was adorable. And did I owe my loyalty to Cory when I wasn’t even sure if we were still together? “Maybe I am,” I said with a tentative smile but swiftly looked out the window away from his happy grin.
When we were supposed to get off the highway, Shawn had me program the GPS on my phone for the final directions.
“Your destination is on the right,” the mechanical lady’s voice said.
Shawn slowed down. Worn and broken board fencing ran along the road. The dirt drive was overgrown with brush and sticker bushes that scraped the side of the truck and trailer. The drive was pretty long, and the pasture beside it was huge. But there wasn’t a stitch of grass. It was all dust, dirt, and briar patches. The horses dotted the field, their noses plastered to the ground. Unlike happy horses whose curiosity usually had them running to meet an arriving horse trailer, not one lifted a head to look at us.
As Shawn negotiated the pitted drive, avoiding the worst of the overgrown branches, I studied the horses. They were all colors and sizes. Even from here, I could see hip bones and ribs. A squat chestnut stood close to the fence, watching us with dull eyes. He was only a pony, but he was quite thin, with bite marks and patches of missing hair marking his coat. Ponies don’t need much feed to stay plump. How long had they been without food for this sturdy little guy to be in such terrible condition?
The barn was big, with cinder-block walls and a huge hayloft. It stretched about a hundred and fifty feet long. The wooden walls of the loft were a faded and peeling red, and spots of darkness showed through the many holes. The cinder blocks were dirty gray with stall doors cut in. I counted fourteen doors on the side we could see.
Shawn found a place to park beside three other trailers, and we climbed out. Weeds grew hip high and smacked my bare legs as we pushed through to the barn. Despite the sun shining through the holes in the walls and ceiling, the aisle was dark and gloomy. For a moment, the smell of fresh hay overrode the dank, damp smell when a cheerful woman walked past and tossed a few green flakes into a stall.
Erica was speaking to a man with a full bucket of water in each hand, and she smiled at us, holding up one finger until she finished with him.
“Good morning. You made good time.” Erica gave each of us a hug and a kiss, bumping our backs with the clipboard in her hand. “Give us about ten more minutes, then I am going to gather everyone for instructions.”
“Be prepared. Some of these horses are going to rip your heart out,” Shawn said quietly. For once, there was no trace of amusement in his voice. I gave a slight nod.
He picked up my hand, rubbing the top with his fingertips. “You can cry on my shoulder if you need to.”
“I just might.” I squeezed his hand and pulled away. I didn’t know if I was trembling because I was nervous about the horses or because he was touching me.
“Okay, everyone. Gather around.” Erica waved her arms in the middle of the aisle. Seven people gathered around her.
“Where’s Mandy?” I whispered to Shawn.
“She doesn’t come to these things. It could be dangerous, and she always wants to be in the middle of everything.”
“We have put hay and water in most of the stalls. The stalls that have black tape on the door latches aren’t safe, so don’t use them. Work in pairs or groups. There is a box of halters and lead ropes here, generously donated by Dr. Karen.” She smiled at a plump woman in the group. “Catch all the easy ones first and bring them in. Hank and Millie, you stay at the gates and make sure we don’t have any escapees. We will regroup when we get down to the hard-to-catch animals. If anyone brings in a horse that needs the vet immediately, alert Dr. Karen, who will be waiting here in the barn to inspect each animal. Any questions?”
“How many horses are there?”
“Nineteen.”
“How long have they been abandoned?”
“The creep who owned all of these horses left town about a month ago, as far as we can tell. Previous to that, no one knows whether he was feeding them. Luckily, they had some grass, though it is all gone now. Anything else?”
No one said anything more. Erica nodded and said, “Let’s get started.” She passed the clipboard to Dr. Karen and started handing out halters and lead ropes.
“Guess we’re partners,” Shawn said, banging a halter on his leg. “Let’s see what we can catch.”
We walked into the pasture, if you could call it that. Some of the horses moved away, but that little chestnut pony stood still and allowed me to walk up and slide the halter on his head.
“Poor little guy.” I ran my hand down his side, wincing at the feel of every bone in his little body. I dug in my pocket and pulled out a treat. I held it to his lips and had to poke them before he even realized I was holding something for him. He gobbled it down, and then his delicate little ears perked up. I laughed. “I think I might have another one.” I gave it to him and led him to the gate. Shawn followed with a rangy-looking paint horse.
The next horse I approached was a tall bay thoroughbred. He tried to run away but was limping so badly I winced. I looked at Shawn, and he nodded. We used our bodies to block his escape and he gave up pretty quickly. Once Shawn had the halter securely buckled, I inspected him. A bent-up shoe was sticking out from under one hoof. The rest of his feet were raggedy, with bent nails sticking out, but the shoes had fallen off long ago. I could count every rib, and his hip bones stuck out, making his butt look like a triangle. He had bite marks all over his body, some bleeding, presumably because he couldn’t get away when other horses bullied. I touched his neck with shaky hands, and he lifted it, trying to hop away. “Easy, boy,” I soothed. “I’m going to try to lift that foot and see if I could pull the shoe,” I said over my shoulder to Shawn.
“Maybe you should leave that for the vet.”
“I’m just going to look. I can’t bear to see him limp one more step if I can just yank it off.” I gently ran my hand over his shoulder and slowly down his leg. He shifted his weight and whipped his leg up, nearly kicking himself in the belly. “Good boy.” I smiled. He was trying to help in a spastic, nervy way. Who did that remind me of?
The shoe was crooked and bent but barely hanging on. If I wrenched it, a chunk of hoof would come off with the nail. The foot was so cracked up, that chunk would be coming off soon no matter what. I would give it a try. I wiggled the shoe to loosen it and then gave it a hard twist, and it came off. I turned to Shawn, holding the shoe up in triumph.
He grinned. “Good job.” He tugged the lead and the horse took a few experimental steps forward. He was still limping slightly, but at least he could walk. Shawn took him right to Dr. Karen in the barn. I stood in the middle of the field looking for our next victim and waiting for Shawn to bring out a halter.
A small blood bay was watching me. At least, he would be a blood bay someday; right now his coat was caked with mud and speckled with bi
te marks. His bushy black tail barely reached down to his hocks. A baby? He had that look, but it was hard to tell because he was so thin. His alert brown eyes stared right at me. I put a treat in my hand and held it out toward him, talking softly and walking slowly. He stepped back, so I stopped. I tossed the treat at his feet, but he flinched and took another step away. I waited and we watched each other until Shawn came back. The little guy turned tail and ran when Shawn stepped up.
“Guess he didn’t like you,” I teased.
Shawn slipped his arm around my waist. “Good thing you do.”
I blushed and pushed him off. “Let’s try to get those two.”
I walked toward two dark bays standing close together. The taller, skinnier one walked around behind the lighter-colored one. The second stood obediently for me while I put the halter on. But when I started to lead him to the gate, the other horse pinned his ears and tried to run me off. I dropped the lead rope and jumped to the side. The quiet one just lifted his head and stepped back, the lead rope dangling to the ground from his chin. His friend tried to herd him away, but he stood like he was tied.
“I think he was taught to ground tie,” I said in wonder to Shawn. It was easy to forget that these horses had to come from somewhere, hadn’t always been neglected like this. Sometime along the way, this horse had some good training. Maybe he had been someone’s pride and joy.
Shawn nodded. “Neat. I’ll go grab another halter.”
I stayed to keep an eye on them. The one never moved, and his buddy stood quietly next to him, eyeing me and touching his friend with his muzzle for reassurance. When Shawn came back, he put his arms around my waist and nuzzled my hair. “They remind me of me and you.”
I sighed. Shawn gently slipped the halter over the trembling horse’s head. I didn’t resist when Shawn kissed my cheek. “Breaks your heart, huh?” We lead them in side by side and put them in stalls next to each other.
Only six horses were left outside, and they weren’t letting us get near them. The little blood bay was still there, eyeing our group warily. Hank called us to the gate, and we made a plan for the six of us to work together. We would cut one horse out and, using our bodies, would herd it into the corner. Then one person would ease up and get a halter on. This plan worked flawlessly on a gray quarter horse and a feisty paint pony. The next one we cornered was a dark brown thoroughbred. With much trouble, we got him into the corner. He kept his hind end toward us and his head over the fence. His nostrils flared and his eyes were so big they were mostly white. He weaved back and forth, shifting from one front foot to the other, with sweat starting to darken his neck. I inched along the fence toward his face. He swung back legs toward me, flicking his tail in warning. I didn’t move any closer to those dangerous weapons.
“Wait a sec,” Shawn said. He inched along the fence on the other side. “He can’t keep his butt facing both of us.”
“I don’t know. Watch out!” A black leg flashed out and I leaped backward, bumping against the fence.
“Easy there. Try again, just move in slow, Shawn,” Hank instructed. “Jane, move your arms a little to get his attention. When he’s looking at you, Shawn, get a lead rope around his neck.”
I waved my arms slowly, and everyone but Shawn stood perfectly still. It worked! Shawn put the lead rope around the horse’s neck, and after a few half-hearted attempts to pull away, the horse stood quaking, and Shawn was able to put the halter on.
“Good work, folks,” Hank praised, and he went ahead to open the gate.
Shawn was leading the edgy gelding. The horse held his head high, nostrils wide, and tiptoed hesitantly at each tug on his halter. He was an ex-racehorse all right. I couldn’t tell how old he was, but his fine bone structure looked youthful. A truck and trailer bumped down the driveway, clattering and crunching across the gravel, spewing a large cloud of dust. The tense horse balked at the sound, ripping the lead out of Shawn’s hands, and lunged backward. I bounded after it and snatched the flying rope out of the air. But the horse didn’t stop and yanked me off my feet. Shawn wrapped an arm around my middle, yelling, “Let go! Let go!”
I did. He pulled me against him. “I thought you were going to land flat on your face.”
I looked at my hands, rubbing them together where the rope had burned through. “Ouch.”
“Poor baby. Let me kiss your boo-boo.” Shawn kissed my palm.
I turned to look at his face. His breath feathered over my cheeks, and his chest pressed firmly against my back. As I gazed at him, he flicked his eyebrows and lowered his lips toward mine.
Erica called, “Cory, thank goodness you made it. As you can see, we are in dire need of your roping skills.”
I froze. The shiny new truck, of course. I had ridden in it. I turned my lips away from Shawn, but he tightened his arms, turning me toward Cory as he buried his nose in my hair. Cory’s eyes locked on Shawn’s. Shawn dropped a kiss on the back of my head. Cory’s jaw hardened and, keys and lariats flying, he leaped the fence and pushed Shawn off me. They fell to the dirt, scrabbling in the dust. Cory had his arm across Shawn’s throat, and their faces were inches apart. Cory bared his teeth and lifted a fist, aiming at Shawn’s smug face.
My heart dropped like a stone, and I caught Cory’s arm. “Stop it. Get off him!”
Two of the male volunteers ran up and pulled Cory off. Cory snatched his hat off the ground and stalked to the gate.
Shawn sat up, breathing harshly. He climbed to his feet and brushed dust from his jeans. Amusement lit his eyes, but the smile dropped off his face at my glare.
“Lunatics.” I stomped over to where Cory was picking up his lariats and apologizing to Erica. “Give me a minute with him, we’ll be right back.” I dragged him out the other end of the barn.
“Seriously?” I paced in front of him, willing my pulse to slow down, trying to organize my thoughts. I wanted to take his rope and wrap it around his neck.
Cory took a deep breath, tugging his hat brim down. He shifted position. “He’s lucky they pulled me off.”
I stepped forward and knocked his hat off. “How dare you embarrass me? I haven’t heard from you in two weeks and you come blazing in here, bashing people into the dirt. You’re such an idiot.”
Cory stared at me, speechless for a moment. “He kissed you. You’re my girlfriend.”
“Am I? It’s hard to tell.”
“Of course you are. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Not much of a relationship.”
Intense, electrifying blue eyes met mine, and that smooth, chiseled jaw bulged as he ground his teeth. “What am I supposed to do, stand aside while he steps in?” He whirled around and disappeared into the barn before I was able to move.
#
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Taking a few minutes to compose myself, I finally followed Cory back to the corral. He moved as close as the thoroughbred would let him, and then tossed his lasso. The loop settled around the tall bay’s sweaty neck. When the gelding tossed his head and backed away from the pressure, Cory followed, letting the rope gain some slack. The horse stopped moving.
“Go ahead and get a hold of that lead rope,” Cory directed Hank. “Go slow.”
Erica leaned on the fence next to me. “Are you okay?”
I hid my face, rubbing my forehead on my crossed arms. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make things difficult.”
She shrugged. “Not your fault. They’re boys. You seemed surprised to see Cory. Didn’t he tell you I had called him?”
Without lifting my head, I mumbled, “He wasn’t speaking to me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Men. What terrible thing could you possibly have done that he wasn’t speaking to you?”
I groaned. “It was the picture in Dressage Times. The one where Shawn was kissing my cheek. We’re just friends, he’s a flirt. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Did you tell Cory that?”
I straightene
d up. “Yes. But then . . .” I waved my arm toward the pasture.
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “You’ll figure it out. Meanwhile, I gave Shawn some things to do inside the barn while Cory catches the last few horses.”
After Hank lead the gelding into the barn, three horses were left. One wide-eyed gray mare, perhaps an Arabian or Morgan, held her delicately chiseled head high and her tail straight up over her back. She danced and dodged, always just out of reach. Cory tossed his rope and she leapt like a cat right out from under it. With good humor, he coiled it and lined up for another pitch. When the rope settled around her neck, she allowed him to approach. The instant he lifted the halter in his hand, she hopped to the side, keeping her face out of his reach. She was playing with him. She was skin and bones, mane and tail a tangled mess, hooves overgrown and broken, but she capered at the end of the rope like a woodland fairy.
Cory patiently let her play for a few minutes. He held the rope around her neck, but he didn’t need it. She wasn’t running away, never getting to the end of the line. She was like a kid, teasing him and having fun. Cory chuckled and encouraged her, the halter forgotten for the moment. Finally, he pulled treats from his pocket and held them out. The mare didn’t hesitate. She stepped up and gobbled them down. He let her have them but held another handful in his closed palm. He offered the halter and she pushed her head in and let him buckle it. He gave her the treats, slid the lasso off her neck, and lead her inside with no problem.
Besides the little blood bay, there was the buckskin left. He was sturdy and coarse looking, and his legs were thick and straight, making his stride short and choppy. He didn’t run when Hank approached him, but he pinned his ears to his thick skull and bared his teeth. With each step closer that Hank took, the buckskin became more threatening, twitching his tail fiercely and lifting a hind leg in warning. Hank shook his head and backed off. “This one looks mean,” he said as he stood next to Cory. The little bay stood as far from the buckskin as he could get. Once in a while he would whinny, looking toward the barn.