Storm Called

by Susan Copperfield

  “What was it before?”

  “Closer to fifty,” she admitted. “I guess we all needed a little motivation with her. It’s tough. It’s hard to tell when we should gamble on a filly with a defect. But, the labs came back in, and we don’t think it’s a genetic defect.”

  “Then what happened if it’s not a genetic defect?”

  “We think someone exposed her dam to too much magic during early pregnancy. It happens sometimes. We try to regulate what sorts of talents are used near the mares, but sometimes there are accidents. I had your filly’s DNA tested once we decided to move forward with the operations. There’s no evidence of the genetic version of the defect. We figure magic damaged her leg early in her development. In good news, that means once the damage is repaired, she shouldn’t relapse. She might become something special with work.”

  “She’s already something special.”

  Elana laughed and handed me the stack of papers. “Spoken like a true horse owner, and you’ve barely even gotten started. I think you two will be just fine. Just look forward to when she’s over the surgery. The vet told me to tell you that. She’ll figure it out, and the more you work for her as your goal, the more she’ll know she’s wanted. That’ll make her fight harder, and it’ll work better for everyone. Honestly, and the vet didn’t want me to tell you this, but I’m doing it anyway. A month getting back here will be optimistic at best. I’m expecting it to take closer to three. Setbacks will happen. There’s going to be a team of empaths working with her to keep her happy while she recovers. It all depends on how long it takes to heal and how much work they have to do to strengthen her leg.”

  “What should I know about the procedures?”

  “Good question. Because the damage is so extensive, the vet will be breaking her leg in several places, using magic to encourage the bone and muscle to regenerate, and then they’ll strengthen her so she can walk again. When Mr. Hemmington told me you were a stunted horse empath, I figured you were her one and only chance. Treating her will be expensive, but we save a good horse, you get a chance to develop your talent, and you’ll become a major asset to the company.”

  Yep. I’d been hired by lunatics. “I think you’re vastly overestimating my talent, but I’ll do what I can.”

  She grinned. “Your talent? Oh, no. We’re estimating your cooking skills, and everything we’ve heard leads us to think your real talent is how you work with food. It’s a shame no one has proven there’s magic in cooking. You’d have a talent worthy of notice.”

  “But I haven’t even started cooking for you. The kitchen’s still not finished.”

  “The king praised your cooking, Pat. He was rather annoyed when he found out you’d changed jobs. We’ve had inquiries.”

  “Inquiries? From the king?” Having a princess problem, not that I considered Princess Jessica a problem, was one thing. Having a king problem was an entirely different matter. “What kind of inquiries?”

  “The usual.”

  “But what’s that?”

  “Oh! Right. You wouldn’t know. I’m sorry. We all work the rodeo and show circuits around here, and when there’s a company-sponsored event, it’s the company’s job to feed everyone. He wanted to know if you’d been employed as a chef. We told him you were working nights, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were requested to cook. He mentioned something about barbecue?”

  “I make barbecue.”

  “Of course you do. You’re a Texan. Anyway. If you’re requested, you’ll get full rein over the kitchens at the show center, assuming you like cooking for big groups.”

  My eyes widened. “Me? Cooking for the king?”

  “You cooked for the king once already, and all the rumors say you did a great job. Honestly, we’re all curious what you made!”

  “Yams and chicken.”

  “Yams?”

  “Yeah. Yams. They help kick the burn some. We’re going to need a lot of milk if I’m going to make it for the full floor.”

  “At this point, I think some on this floor would buy an entire dairy farm for a chance to find out what the king was talking about,” she admitted, winking at me. “If you just need milk, I think we can handle that. Oh! That reminds me. The kitchen should be done tomorrow. Once you’re settled with figuring out how to feed those working late, we need to get you booked in for riding lessons. I’ll confer with the vets on that; they might want to keep you away from horses until we bring your filly back to Dallas. You flaring would be really useful once she’s at the recovery stage.”

  “Really? How?”

  “You’ll both get excited, and she’ll need to exercise. If she’s bouncing around because she’s excited to see you, she’ll be exercising without us having to work her on a lunge. She’ll be sore for a while after the operations and she’s back on all four hooves. It’s hard for a horse to be inactive for as long as she will be during the healing process.”

  “Whatever you think is best. If waiting on the lessons is for the best, then we wait.”

  “It’ll work out,” Elana promised. “How is your schedule working out? Have you gotten used to the night shift? It’s been pretty hectic, and you’ve been working hard. Have things calmed down for you?”

  “I’m all right. The first few days were rough, but I’ve gotten used to it.” I missed hoping there’d be a princess on my couch, but I’d watched enough of the news to understand she hadn’t been kidding about being kept busy; the king kept dragging her across the kingdom for public appearance.

  Like me, she looked tired and a little worse for wear. It disturbed me I’d learned when her smile didn’t reach her eyes, which was most of the time.

  “That’s good. How much time do you need to get the kitchen operational tomorrow?”

  “If everything’s installed correctly, I just need to go grocery shopping. I can take care of stocking on my way in to work.”

  “Excellent. I’ll make sure everyone knows you’ll be shopping for the start of your shift and not to expect you until later. What are our odds of trying barbecue?”

  I’d have to play with my recipe to shorten the time to marinade the chicken, but I’d figure something out—or find a way to lengthen the time. Either would work. “Unlikely for tomorrow, as there’s a lot of setup and planning to do, but the next night I can.”

  “I’ll let everyone know.”

  The day after tomorrow would be pure chaos, but at least I’d be able to focus my attention on something I enjoyed for a change. “That works.”

  “Anyway, put those papers in a safe place. You’ll need them every time you board her at a new stable. The vet will also give you an updated copy of her vaccination every year. In addition to that, we keep feeding records in case of illness. The stable keeps that information in spreadsheets for every boarder, so it’s always available if you need it.”

  “Okay. Anything else I should know?”

  Elana patted the papers. “Don’t worry about the vet bills. It’s been paid in full, and we’re taking care of any additional fees. I did include a copy of the yearly average vetting bills for a healthy horse, a breakdown of how much it costs to care for a horse with common ailments, and other expenses so you’re aware—or if you decide you want to get a second horse.”

  Did she really think I could afford two horses? That she warned me of the costs worried me a lot. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “No, thank you for seeing the value of that little filly, else she’d be on the way to the meat market right now instead of in pre-op so she has a good chance at a happy life. It’s a pity, really. If things had been a little different, she could’ve been great.”

  Elana left, and I returned to work, shaking my head over how the talk met my expectations. I understood Morning Glory better than her ex-owner ever would.

  Everyone in my caste walked the little filly’s path. We could’ve been great, too, if only things had been a little different.

  If only.

  I’d accepted reality long
ago, which made it easier to put the hurt and anger behind me. I’d already defied my caste. I’d already beaten the odds.

  What did I have to be angry about? I had a lot to look forward to, didn’t I?

  No matter how hard I tried to convince myself I’d gotten higher than I’d ever dreamed possible, something was missing. What I wasn’t certain, but the unsettling feeling it would all come crashing down and leave me with nothing remained.

  Hope was a dangerous thing, complicating my already hectic life. For a rare change, I wasn’t the one waiting hopefully. Had I known the elites I worked for were essentially helpless, I would’ve held out for a lot more than a horse, a huge bonus, and flexible hours. Like starved vultures, they’d eat anything I made for them. Worse, they were embarrassingly grateful their late-night foraging no longer involved grabbing the first edible thing to cross their path. Per Elana’s request, I tested the waters with my yams and chicken to discover the entire office had a serious issue with barbecue.

  In what I could only think of as an exercise in gluttony, the Darmill brothers cleaned out every scrap I made each night and looked for more. Within a week of cooking for them, I’d figured out how to control them. On the days Elana thought everyone would need to work overtime, I planned to make yams and chicken. On the days Mr. Hemmington wanted people to go home on time, I made what my school believed the elites wanted to eat.

  It worked like a charm, and my ability to control a bunch of elites through meal planning amused me.

  There was only one problem: my amusement never lasted long. It died every time I returned home to an empty apartment. The last book Princess Jessica had read remained on my coffee table undisturbed. I cleaned around it, unable to force myself to return it to its rightful place.

  The book, a mystery involving a rogue royal, hadn’t been my usual fare, but I’d indulged for a change of pace. If either of my parents saw it, they’d wonder what was wrong with me. Hell, I wondered what was wrong with me.

  I had my dream job. Once my filly made it through her operations and began recovering, I’d truly have a horse of my own. I’d learn how to ride within a few months. After I learned how to ride, I’d be able to spend time around more horses. There was a chance my talent might develop into something useful.

  Yet, despite everything that had gone right, something was missing, something that made it difficult for me to sleep and plagued me with tension in my chest and back.

  I suspected that my little filly had something to do with it; Elana’s concerns about setbacks became reality, and nobody knew how long it would take for her to come back to Dallas. What’s the Story, Morning Glory, according to Elana, was doing well, but healing would take time.

  The tight spot in my chest worsened each day, but as long as I kept trying to convince myself it was nothing but worry for my filly, I’d be all right. I was supposed to be worried for my filly.

  Everything would work out. It would just take time.

  Six weeks after What’s the Story, Morning Glory went in for surgery, she returned to Dallas, which turned my life upside down and created a scheduling nightmare. I’d understood I would have responsibilities to her, but I hadn’t anticipated the amount of work involved with caring for a horse with special needs. Every morning, roughly half an hour after I got off work, I was expected to show up at the stable a few blocks away. On a good day, I could finish my work within an hour.

  Most days weren’t good days. To keep her from damaging her healing leg and preserve her other hooves, she spent most of her time in a special sling in her stall. I hadn’t understood the situation until I saw her for the first time since the operation.

  She hated the sling, she didn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to run around like the other horses in the stable, and she wanted her leg freed from the heavy cast. Every time I came in, I spent a long time trying to comfort her without knowing what I could do to make the healing process go faster.

  If she bounced around like she wanted, the healing bones and muscle might be damaged beyond repair.

  To keep her happy, I spent a mind-boggling amount of time learning how to plait her mane and tail. The skill, used for showing horses, would help me down the road, apparently. I had no idea why. I wasn’t even sure how horses were shown. My filly drank up the attention, so I did it without complaint.

  It took me two weeks to adjust to my new schedule, and I supposed it was a good thing I didn’t have anything on my plate beyond attending classes. I barely had enough time to sleep.

  The stable master, a horse empath who should’ve been put out to pasture years ago, leaned against Morning Glory’s stall. “When the Darmills told me we’d be trying to salvage that little palomino, I thought the entire lot of them had lost their damned minds, but here we are. You know what happens to most horses we try this stunt with, boy?”

  I’d somehow gotten used to everyone in the stable calling me boy, and it had only taken me a week to figure out they did it to anyone who hadn’t been around long. When I earned enough respect in the stable, I’d be upgraded to lad. One day, they’d use my name. Maybe.

  I expected I’d be stuck as a nameless boy for a while.

  “Wouldn’t have a clue, sir,” I admitted.

  “They die. We put ‘em out of their misery, because it’s a long shot with little hope unless the owner is willing to bankrupt themselves paying for the care. Breaks are often a death sentence, and even with the best care, there are no guarantees. They just don’t do well, and the weight of their bodies on three hooves is too much. The sling can help, but horses don’t handle it well. We’ve been accelerating her recovery time, but even the best of horse empaths have a hard time keeping them sound through the whole process.”

  “But the right talent helps, right? Even if expensive.”

  “No one told you how much this horse cost to care for?”

  I grimaced. “The last set of forms I got put the bill at three-fifty.”

  “Three-fifty?” The stable master’s brows shot up.

  “Three hundred and fifty thousand,” I clarified.

  “Sounds right. Them Darmills are insane.”

  In that, we were in agreement. Chuckling, I scratched behind Morning Glory’s ears. “Elana doesn’t like quitting on a horse.”

  “She’s the worst offender, yes. All right. You’ve been coming here for two weeks now, so it’s time for you to get a better idea of what you’re up against with her. Today’s the day, and it’s do or die for your little filly. If that bone breaks when she puts her weight on it, she’s done, and it won’t be from a lack of anyone’s effort, yours included. I’d bet my hat no one’s wanted to have this talk with you, but it’s a lesson every horseman has to learn one day. You’ve done your best, so you be keeping that in mind when we get her out of that sling. Time isn’t going to do anything else for her at this point.” The stable master nodded in the direction of the stable’s small ring. “Our goal is to walk her to the arena and back. If she gets through that without breakin’ a leg, she should make it through the rest of rehab.”

  “With the cast on still?” I asked, struggling to hide my dismay.

  “That comes off before we lower her out of the sling. Your job is to stand there and hold onto her halter. As long as you stay calm, she’ll follow your cue. With some work, you’ll one day be able to influence your horse, but you’re nowhere near that point, yet. Do me a favor, boy?”

  “What?”

  “Never tell me who let your talent rot. I’d have words and a swift kick in the ass for them. If I’d been your evaluator, I would’ve had you in a stable mucking stalls three times a week to see what happened. I expect good things would have happened. Meeting you once was enough to ignite that filly’s fighting spirit. Your talent was wasted for no good reason.”

  I could think of one reason to be grateful for how my childhood had worked out, and she begged for attention and release from the bothersome sling. “It’s okay. If my talent hadn’t been wasted, we wo
uldn’t be here now. I’m all right with that. I don’t buy into fate, mind you, but if I had the choice, I’d be happy to wait again. She has a chance now because I was wasted.”

  “You keep that attitude, boy, and you’ll go far. Accept what you can’t change, fight for what you can, and you’ll be set. Now, there’s the matter of your filly’s leg.”

  I lifted my chin. I had two realistic choices: I could shy away from the discussion, or I could face it. Facing it would be the best for both of us. “What are the odds her leg will break?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been working with horses all my life, and I’ve never seen anything like this. Everything about this situation is unique. Your filly is a pretty palomino, but neither her dam or sire are exceptional horses. Her strongest asset is her color. Her mane and tail are as white as I’ve ever seen, and she’s a strong gold. But beyond that? She doesn’t have any markers of being a good rodeo horse, a good jumper—or a good anything, really. From her first day, I was certain she’d be headed to the market. But here we are.”

  I wanted to take offense to his blunt opinion on Morning Glory, but I had no idea what made a good horse. “Elana said she might be a good school horse down the road.”

  “A pet used to teach children how to ride,” he translated.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  “Not at all, boy. A good school horse has perfect form and can teach even the greenest rider how to ride. She just won’t show, and I doubt she’d ever be bred. Well, that depends, I suppose.”

  “On what?’

  “On what you do with her. I’m seventy-six. I’ve seen a lot in my life. And one thing I’ve learned is that horses will always find a way to surprise me. Your filly has already accomplished that.’