by Joey Light
Locking him in, she went to the feed room to look.
The lid from the rubber trash can Wes had installed to hold the high-protein feed was slid aside. The can held fifty pounds. Nearly half of it was gone. There was no way a horse’s system could take a deluge of feed that way. Whoever had coined the phrase “eats like a horse” didn’t own one. A horse’s food was measured and the fields it grazed in were monitored. She groaned and kicked the can. Slamming the feed room door shut, she locked it securely. Too late.
Watching the time carefully, she brought Tonka out again and they started their trek She stalled him once more and got him out again. Wes came in, his hands laden with bologna sandwiches, cans of cola under his arm.
“Eat something,” he coaxed. “I’ll walk him.”
When she just stared daggers at him, he set the stuff on the top of a bale of hay. “It’s going to be a long damn day. You’re going to need energy. That horse is going to need you.” Frustrated and angry, he scowled, “It’s up to you.”
He was right and that grated her even more. She handed over the lead and sat down, mindlessly forcing the food into her system. Wes talked to the horse and kept him moving. When the time was up, he stalled him and joined her on the other bale of hay. Biting into a sandwich, he waited while she popped the top on the cola and took a swig. He hated her silence. And the pain in her eyes.
Hours. Long, tiring hours passed. Buck and the boys appeared in the barn now and again offering to take a turn walking. She shrugged them off. “He’s my horse. I’ll walk him.” J. Weston Cooper miraculously showed up at regular intervals to inject the muscle relaxant, only to disappear quietly again.
Wes had given up offering to spell her and busied himself elsewhere for a while. But now he was back. It was four o’clock and Victoria was exhausted. He watched from the doorway.
The two of them were dusty and he could see traces of tears swiped away by the streaks on her cheeks. It pained him to see her this way. They both knew how it would probably turn out, but they also both knew they had to try.
Victoria was counting. In her mind, she ticked off the numbers. Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three. Anything to keep from thinking about all this. And the rhythm she set in her mind kept both of them paced. She tripped and went down on both knees. She pounded a fist against her leg and felt the animal at her side go down on his knees. She looked at him, his head near hers, his eyes pleading with her to do something. “We can’t give up, Tonka. We can’t. Get up.” She pushed herself to a standing position and yanked the lead to get him up.
The horse coughed and grunted but came up and walked when she did. It tore Wes’s heart. He stormed over to her and took the lead. “Rest. I don’t give a damn if you go back to your room or collapse in one of the stalls. But rest.” He shoved an open can of ice cold cola in her hand.
She blinked her eyes and stared at him. A weak laugh escaped her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever prayed so hard in my whole life.”
She dragged herself over to the hay and slumped against it. In two seconds, her eyes were closed and she was asleep.
She awoke with a start, her heart pounding against her rib cage. When her eyes cleared, she looked first at her watch—6:20—and then at the two men working on her horse. The vet came around from the rear of the horse and stripped off his rubber glove. When Wes looked at him hopefully, the vet just shook his head and began to put things away.
Victoria ran over to him. “Well?”
The vet breathed a heavy sigh. “I can put him down now or you can give him another couple of hours. I couldn’t find anything with the palp and nothing is moving through the intestines yet.
I can give you some strong pain medicine to give him. Once again, it’s up to you. He seems to be a fighter.”
She rubbed her damp palms against her thighs and looked at Wes. He nodded. Directing her words to the vet, she answered, “We’ll give it a little longer. We may just luck out.”
In a daze she walked and prayed, listening for the sound that would mean things had worked their way through his system and he would be fine. But the heavy cache of fear that laid in the pit of her stomach and squeezed her heart was always there. The clock ticked on. She put one booted foot in front of the other. Talking, always talking to Tonka, she walked with him.
The horse nickered very little now. His stomach was bloated and tender. The minute she stopped walking, the horse made one turn and fell down, exhausted.
The boys and Buck were back again, offering to take turns walking the horse. She shrieked at them as she snapped Tonka on the rear with the riding crop to make him get up again. Fear and heartache made her unreasonable. “Get out of here. He’s mine. Get up, Tonka. Get up.”
Buck watched her and muttered to himself, “Looks just like her father.”
“What?” Wes sided Buck.
“Nothing,” Buck dodged and moved away.
Wes shook his head and went out with the boys. He couldn’t stand to watch her, tears streaming down her face as she had to hit the horse to make him rise again. But he knew if it was his horse he would be doing the same thing. No one who loves a horse gives up very easily. He walked to the phone and dialed the vet. It was time.
Just as Wes entered the barn, the horse staggered and staggered again. With a snort and a sigh he fell, heavily. Victoria jumped to hold his head down to make rolling harder, but the animal, in his pain, kicked his legs high and rolled halfway.
Wes ran and slammed his body over the horse, glad he had the syringe of pain medicine ready. He punched the needle in the horse’s hide and injected some relief.
Her voice filled with more agony than the horse was experiencing, she looked back at him. “It’s time, Wes. Call the vet.”
“I did. He’s on his way.”
She soothed the animal, as she lay half against him. “You’ll feel better soon now, old boy.” The pain medicine kicked in and the animal lay quieter, his breathing ragged and quick.
They lay there. The three of them. The animal in total distress; Wes and Victoria sad and resigned. She ran her hand across the horse’s cheek and laid her face beneath his ear. “It’ll be okay real soon. Go to sleep, Tonka.” Her voice shook and Wes reached to touch her shoulder. She shrugged him off.
The vet arrived armed with a huge syringe. Handing the tube to Wes, he fitted the needle in the artery at the horse’s neck.
Victoria had no tears now. She sat with the horse’s head in her lap, petting him, crooning to him. The horse looked at her, eyes filled with pain…and love. Wes felt his breath snag.
“He’ll go right away,” the vet explained as he injected the life-taking medication, “but it will take a full fifteen minutes before his heart stops beating.”
The horse never made another sound, merely drifted away in the time it took for Victoria to draw a deep breath. Though the animal no longer lived, his eyes remained open and vacant. When Wes offered her his hand, she ignored it and continued to sit with the animal’s head in her lap and stroked and rocked while death took over. The relief that flooded through Victoria came out as silent tears that rolled slowly down her face.
Wes and the doctor left them there, knowing it was time they needed alone.
She walked from the barn half an hour later. Wes waited, leaning against the fence, his foot propped on the bottom rail. He chucked the cigarette he had just lit and smashed it out. He walked toward her.
She stopped him with a hand she held out. “I need a bath and some sleep.”
He matched his steps with her own. “You need to eat. I’ll bring something up to your room.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She stopped in the street, tourists milling all around. She didn’t care. Dammit, she didn’t care. “Leave me alone. It’s your fault he’s dead. Yours. Get away from me.” Even as she said the hurting words, she hated herself. She hated everything right now. She hurt so bad. She ached. She felt sick. Let him feel the same way! That horse died
because someone was careless and she knew it wasn’t her.
Grief made for erratic actions, Wes knew. But her words cut him with the swiftness of a razor. The unfairness of her assumptions riled him. They both needed space right now, and instead of the closeness they could share, he gave her that space and felt a wedge driven between them with more pain than he had felt watching the horse die.
She sensed eyes on her as she dragged herself through the hotel doors and up the long stairway. Her feet seemed leaden and her heart ached. Once in her room, she leaned against the door and simply slid down to sit on the floor. The big tears came then. When she was alone. Sobs racking her body, she let her grief loose.
She pulled her boots off where she sat. Then, forcing cramped legs to work, she rose and stripped the rest of her clothes off, leaving them in a trail across the floor.
When the bath had filled, she slid into the warmth and let the cleansing water work kinks and pains from her body. Victoria wished it were so easy to do the same for the heart.
Wrapping a towel around her tired body, she walked toward the bed, only slightly feeling the bum of two big blisters she had worked on her feet. Without pulling the quilt down, she fell across the bed. No tears now. She was dry. She was wrung out completely. Exhausted, she gave way to the sleep that she had pushed away for so long. As the sun set, Victoria closed her eyes and fell into the dark pit of a dreamless sleep.
Her door creaked slowly open. Nick walked quietly to the bed and sat down next to her, easily so as not to wake her. His hand moved to stroke her hair, lightly. Don’t wake her. The smooth glow of moist skin above the towel beckoned his hand but he didn’t dare. Not now. The time would come when they would be together. He could wait. The towel covered her bottom but her long legs rested against the bed. His poor Victoria. But she would get over it and now she would know that Wes wasn’t the man for her. Surely, now she would know.
He picked up the hairbrush that lay on the table next to the bed and held it in his hands. Toying with a necklace carelessly thrown on the dresser, the rubies she wore so often at her ears, Nick enjoyed. In the light of day, he wouldn’t dare do these things. But at night…
Opening the door to her closet, he ran his hands over her clothes, caught the scent of her from the traces of perfume lingering there.
A man had to win his woman’s love. In the time frame that Nick lived in, his mind talked to him. Told him what to do. And if winning didn’t work, then he should take. The sound of the breeze picking up outside her window caused him to walk to it. He looked up and down the street of Glory Town and smiled. In the daylight, horses and cowboys, bandits and the law would fill that street.
In his head, as always, he heard the strains of an old song. The strum of a guitar and the restless stirring of a cattle herd bedding down for the night.
Looking down, he could see himself. Strutting down the middle of the town, guns strapped against his thighs. Coming from the other end was Cooper. They would face it off. Twenty paces and draw. He grinned as he saw Wes face down in the dirt.
Victoria moaned in her sleep and shifted a little. Dropping the curtain back in place, he turned his gaze to her. It eased the dull pain in his heart to watch her. It allowed him to keep his eyes open without hurting. He loved her.
He sat a long while with her, and as the room deepened with night, he got up. He lightly touched the third finger of her left hand where he could picture his wedding ring. A smile curled his lips beneath his droopy mustache. And then the terrible sadness of the day shot through his heart. The horse had died. The horse had suffered. His heart ached and a sick feeling filled his stomach. Then a pain shot through his head and he reached up to press his fists to it. It was worse this time. He reeled with the sharpness of the attack and almost fell to the floor. A single tear slipped down his cheek. The slicing effect of pain eased and he turned to creep from her room.
Chapter Nine
J. Weston Cooper stared out the window. The last of the tourists had gone. Night had taken over Glory Town. And it was damn-well welcome. Resting a hip on the windowsill, he wondered. Who was responsible for leaving the stall door open and the feed room door?
He had racked his brain and come to the final conclusion that he hadn’t been careless. He had gone over every step in his mind and he remembered, clearly, latching Tonka’s stall and locking the feed room door.
So now what? Find out. And then what? Whoever did it didn’t mean to. Suppose it was just one of the kids around who wanted to ride Tonka or was just curious as to what was behind the locked door? It was just something they would have to put behind them. But could she? There had been hate in her eyes when she had looked at him. But then there had also been times when she looked at him with gratitude, with hope. And with something much, much more.
She needed time to recover. He remembered the first time he had lost a horse. He had been twelve. The scars were still there. Every time something like this happened he asked himself why he was in the horse business. And then he remembered.
The good times outweighed the bad. She should know that, too. Maybe she did and he just had to give her time to work it out.
A lone figure darted across the road and disappeared into the shadows toward the back lot and the trailers. Alert, Wes watched but then chalked it up to his overactive nerves at the moment. It was probably just one of the men, late and trying to get home before the little woman got behind the door with a rolling pin raised over her head.
Tired, Wes kicked his boots off and laid across the bed. Sometime today he realized how desperately he loved the woman who slept in the bedroom next to his. When it had happened was elusive, but it was definite to him now. I love her. He rolled the words around in his mind and it scared him but not by much. He thought he had been in love before only to find out he had made a tragic mistake, one a little girl paid for. This time he would make sure everything went right. Positive. But he would have to be patient. Give her time. So much was uncertain in her life. He wanted to offer that certainty. Be a constant. And suppose she’s not interested after a while? his mind questioned him.
Dammit! She will be, he told that off-part of his brain. She’d have to be or I couldn’t feel the way I do now. The best move he had ever made was to put a sudden stop to the direction his life had taken. Otherwise, he would never have had the chance to meet Victoria. He’d slip away early in the morning and bring Katie back with him. She wouldn’t give Victoria time to mourn around all day. And that was what she needed. Not him right now, but his daughter.
He wanted to open his door and then hers. He wanted to go to her even if she were asleep and lie down on the quilt beside her, pull her to him, and cradle her head on his chest. She needed him, even if she didn’t realize it. He would hold her…just hold her. Let her cry it all out.
Or let her swear and curse and stomp and scream. He wanted to be with her now. He needed to be with her.
Turning on his stomach, he closed his eyes, forcing the scene from his brain. Her tormented eyes haunted him. Her teary face saddened him. He slept, tense and fitful.
Katie stood on tiptoes to reach the doorknob and then turned it, jerking the door open. Smiling back at her daddy, she marched right up to Victoria’s bed and shook her.
Who dared disturb her sleep? Opening her eyes, she took a moment to focus. A foot away from her stood a grinning little imp, long-legged gray rabbit under one arm. “Katie. Hi.”
“Daddy brought me.” She pointed to the doorway. Victoria followed that little finger and saw him, looming giant-like in the door frame. Becoming aware of her near-nakedness, she took hold of the end of the quilt and rolled, pulling it with her.
“What’d you wanna do today?” the child asked, her face all aglow.
“The question is, what do you want to do?” Victoria slid backwards and leaned against the headboard.
“Well, Daddy said I should take you to town and buy you a new dress.” Katie pulled herself up on the bed, legs dangling. “He said we
women liked to do things like that.”
“He did, did he?” She looked at Wes, not sure how she felt about him just now. Her stomach was still in a knot. He stood there so sure of himself. So tough. So confident.
He removed his hat. “Nothing like a day of shopping to chase away the blues, my mother always said.”
Moved by his gesture, but not ready to let go of her doubts and anxiety, Victoria turned a weak smile back to the child. “Well, Katie, I suppose I could use a day in town. But
what’s poor Daddy going to do all day without you?”
“Oh, he’s coming, too. He said he’s going to take us out to lunch.”
Lunch? Right. But it was sweet of him to think of getting her away for a day. Or was it his guilt rearing its ugly head? God, could she really blame him? He was sure it wasn’t carelessness and he ought to know. He’d worked with horses all his life. Fresh pain rolled over her and she shoved it away. Pulling Katie in her lap, she planted a kiss on her round cheek and then patted her on her ruffled butt.
“Then scoot and let me get dressed. We’ll make history in this town, partner.” After the two of them promised to wait downstairs for her, she got up and got dressed. Looking at herself in the mirror, she looked closer. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Her skin was pale. Dragging a hand through her hair, she turned and walked to the window. As she looked out, it seemed like any other morning. The world hadn’t stopped just because her heart was broken.
Outside, Victoria climbed in the back of the pickup and held out her hands for Katie. Wes laughed and scooped his daughter up and lifted her into the truck. As he drove away, he heard their laughter over the hum of the engine. Peace filled him. Something, some instinct told him it would be all right. It would all work itself out.
Redwood was a nice town with a sprawling mall on the outskirts. Victoria found more pleasure in buying Katie the new overalls and sneakers than in allowing Katie to pick out a dress for her. Katie’s tastes ran toward the bright. Victoria ended up leaving the store with a sundress done in daisies. Not understated little flowers, but great big yellow willowy ones with bright green leaves. Katie loved it. It meant a lot to Victoria.
