by Stasia Black
He grinned wide and held his arms out. “Then we traipse in to town. A bunch of handsome bastards with our shiny new cocks. It's like when the carnival comes through town. They all want to take a ride.”
“And yet you went home all alone.” Jeremiah tapped his chin, pretending to be puzzled. “Shocking with such foolproof logic like that.”
Liam waved his hand dismissively. “I wasn’t putting any energy into it last night. I was just out to get ossified.”
“Ossi-what?” Reece asked.
Liam looked around the table, and seeing everyone’s bland expression, he clarified. “Ossified. Ya know—pissed. Smashed. Shit-faced. Twisted. Banjo’d.”
“Banjo’d?” Isobel laughed. “Oh my God, that’s my new favorite word for getting drunk.”
Liam just grinned. “See, the accent gets ‘em every time. If I’d wanted to get me hole last night, it wouldn’t a been a problem.”
“Get your hole?” Isobel choked, doubling over.
“Some of us are trying to eat a nice meal here,” Nicholas said, glaring over at Liam.
“Hey, I’m just giving my public what they demand,” Liam said.
Nicholas finished his toast and stood up. “Well what you ought to be doing is eating. The Dodgers Yankees game starts at 4:00.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Whatever will I do if I miss the first quarter of a bunch of fat-arsed men standing around waiting for a ball to be thrown at them.”
Nicholas was not amused. “They’re innings. And I’d like to see you say that to Clayton Kershaw’s face while he pitches a ninety-five mile per hour fastball at you.”
“Why would I do that,” Liam pushed his chair back and stood, grinning a disingenuous smile, “when I could spend the day living the glamorous life style shoveling horse shit?”
“Oh right,” Reece said after he finished chugging the rest of his orange juice. “It’s compost day.”
“One thing I never thought about when I dreamed of working a horse ranch,” Liam shook his head, cringing, “was just how much actual shite was involved.”
Isobel’s nose scrunched too. She’d learned from the last ‘compost day’ that whoever was on compost duty ended smelling like, well, shit. How could they not, after hours spent in the compost shed raking the stuff that was in the early stages to aerate it? The second part was better—they got to use the four wheelers to take the finished compost and spread it over the fields as fertilizer.
“Just another reason I was so glad to get the manny job,” Reece grinned. “Ya’ll have fun with that today. I’m gonna have a quick drive down to Colorado to stock up on my… herbal remedies.”
Isobel shook her head at him. Xavier and Mel apparently didn’t mind him lighting up a blunt every now and then as long as he did it out of the house and after the kids were in bed.
“That’s not legal here yet, is it?” she asked.
“No. It’s not.” Jeremiah’s voice was flat as he stared at his brother. “You know if you get stopped with that shit on you, you could spend up to a year in jail.”
“Relax, man. You’re so freakin’ stressed out all the time. When I get back, I can bake you some cookies that will totally chill you the fuck out,” Reece’s voice got all soft. The little shop I go to that’s right over the border has the best hybrid called Blue Dream and it will change your life man, I’m telling you—”
“Yeah, it’ll change your life,” Jeremiah said, still glaring. “When you get picked up by a state trooper watching for dumbasses like you who are obviously crossing the border to stock up.” Jeremiah reached out and tugged on a couple of Reece’s bleach-blond dread locks. “Could you say I’m here to buy weed any louder? At least put a fucking cap on.”
Reece jerked back from his brother and Isobel could see him losing his usually calm demeanor fast—something only his brother seemed to be able to provoke in him. “Why don’t you butt out of what’s none of your damn business? I’m sick of you always trying to run my life. You’re only older than me by three minutes, jackass.”
“Hey there. Okay.” Isobel jumped in between them and turned to Reece. “Where are Dean and Brent anyway? Why don’t you have them today?”
Reece’s face immediately softened. “Mel and Mr. Kent took the kids to visit his folks back east. Another month and she won’t be able to fly anymore.”
“Oh, right,” Isobel said. “She told me about it. Everything’s just been so busy, I forgot it was this weekend.”
“Well have fun with the compost.” She raised her bagel like she was the other guys who were getting up from the table. “I’ll be out to the stables in a little bit.”
“I’d say see you out there,” Jeremiah said, “but I’m pretty sure you won’t want to come within ten feet of us without a hazmat suit.”
***
Several hours later, Isobel was feeling great. She’d taken one of the sweetest horses on the ranch—appropriately named Sugar—for a long ride out into the countryside. Wyoming wasn’t the kind of place she would have typically thought of as beautiful. It wasn’t overly green or lush.
Instead, it had more of a stark beauty going for it. Wide open spaces. Scrub brush and hills that slanted into one another. Mountains in the far distance.
Being out there with just her horse for company made life feel bigger. She couldn’t take in the scope of the big, wide world and not feel like all her problems were… well, small. God, why did she let herself get so neurotic about everything?
Food.
Sex.
Hunter.
Why? Why did she do that? Why did she obsess?
Then again, crazy might just be in your DNA.
She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed out. Breathe out all the toxic shit. Breathe in the beauty of the world around her.
She reached down and patted Sugar’s neck, squeezing her thighs together to nudge the horse forward. It wasn’t true. She wouldn’t let it be true.
Perspective. That was what she needed. She needed to ride out here as often as she could so she could put her shit in perspective.
The world was big and beautiful.
She needed to stop taking all her own drama so seriously and step back and smell the wildflowers.
Maybe the way to change was to stop trying so damn hard. Just let change happen naturally without analyzing it all to death. Trust that everything would be okay.
Stop being so damn afraid all the time.
She laughed. “Easier said than done, huh, Sugar?” Still, she felt carefree as she patted Sugar’s neck again, then she gently tugged on the left rein to turn Sugar back around to head back.
Rain clouds had started to gather across the big sky and she didn’t want to get caught in the downpour.
The ride back was just as calming. When the Kent’s ranch came back into view, she felt centered. Sure she could take whatever came her way in stride.
Even going back to work on Monday.
Okay, so she might need to take another long ride tomorrow to really make sure she was centered but she’d never felt more confident in her ability to take on the future.
A light rain started to fall right as she reached the stable.
She grabbed the shoehorn and swung her right leg off Sugar, dropping to the floor. “That’s a good girl.” She rubbed along Sugar’s wither and gave her a pat. She was such a sweet horse. Which made her want to check in on her other favorite.
She needed to brush Sugar down and get her some water but as they passed by Bright Beauty’s stall, Isobel went up on tiptoe. “Hello beautiful gir— Beauty!” she shouted in alarm.
Beauty was on the ground, rolling back and forth, a sheen of sweat covering her glossy coat and a pinkish foam at her nostrils.
Quick as she could, Isobel wrapped Sugar’s lead around the stall peg and then opened the door.
“Beauty!” she went down on her knees.
Oh God. Beauty had seemed fine only hours before—though granted Isobel had barely peeked in to call out hi befo
re her ride. Dammit. She’d been so involved in her own worries she hadn’t been paying attention.
Beauty tried to roll but couldn’t get very far in the confines of the stall. These were all the classic signs of colic. Which could kill a horse within hours if not treated correctly.
Isobel swiped at her eyes and tried to think. First, she needed to get Beauty back up on her feet. Then take her vitals. Okay. She could do this.
Isobel jumped up and grabbed Beauty’s halter from a hook right outside the stall. She slipped it over Beauty’s head, buckled it, then attached a lead to the halter.
“Come on, girl. Up.” She tugged on the lead rope with all her might. “Up you go.”
Beauty pulled against her. Isobel dug in and tugged hard. And finally, after a few more tense moments, Beauty climbed to her feet. She immediately yanked against Isobel’s hold though, twisting her head toward her flank and dancing back and forth.
Then she reared back, kicking at her own stomach with her forelegs.
“Whoa, girl!” Isobel cried, letting out more slack on the lead and flattening her back against the stall door as Beauty came back down again.
Crap. Having a twelve-hundred-pound horse rear right in front of you was never a comfortable feeling but Isobel knew showing how freaked she was would only make Beauty more tense.
“Shhh, shhhh,” Isobel tried to quiet the horse down. She drew the lead rope back in and stepped close to Beauty’s nose. “Shhh, that’s right, girl. I’m going to figure out what’s wrong and make you feel better, okay sweetheart?”
Maybe it was just her imagination but she thought Beauty calmed a little at her voice.
“That’s right, that’s right,” Isobel soothed.
She ran to grab some equipment and then hurried back so she could take the rest of Beauty’s vitals. Her temperature was okay but her heart rate was almost double what was normal.
Not good. Not good at all.
Then Isobel did an internal examination. Was it just gas? That was the best-case scenario. Or was there a twisted intestine causing the blockage? That was the worst-case scenario because it required surgery.
What she discovered instead was the middle possibility. There was an impaction—a thick section of intestine that was hard with what was most likely undigested feed that had gotten all clumped up in a six-inch section.
“Okay,” Isobel whispered. “Okay, okay, okay.”
She withdrew her hand and peeled off the glove, taking both it and the thermometer out of the stall. She rushed back over to the sink, throwing out the plastic glove and scrubbing both the thermometer and her hands.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “You can do this. This is going to be your job.” But somehow it felt like there was less at stake with other people’s animals. And Hunter was always there if she screwed up.
She paused mid-scrub. She could go call him. Get a second opinion.
But no. She’d felt the impaction. She knew what to do next. And she’d just helped him with that other colic case the other day.
Yes, that one had been a little different. They’d suspected it was a twisted intestine but the owner hadn’t wanted to pay for surgery—understandable since it could cost more than the horse was worth.
When Hunter had called later to follow up on the case, the owner told him the horse hadn’t lasted the night.
Isobel squeezed her eyes shut against the possibility. No. That wouldn’t happen to Beauty. Beauty had already survived so much—a cruel owner who had held her to an impossible standard, pushing her past her limits even when she was injured.
Now Beauty was finally getting the life she deserved. She was getting her happily ever after here on this horse farm with owners who cared about her and were happy to just let her be herself.
Then to have that all threatened now, right when her legs were barely even healing up so she could actually enjoy her new home?
It was cruel. It was wrong.
Isobel wouldn’t let it happen. She set her jaw before getting to work.
First she gave Beauty some oral pain reliever. Then she started trying to flush her system with the mineral oil.
“Come on, girl. You can do it.”
An hour later, Isobel was still trying. She was damp with sweat and the mineral oil/water mix that had sloshed out all over her.
Beauty was slightly sluggish from the medication and not jerking around as violently. Isobel was glad Beauty wasn’t in as much pain, but she also wasn’t sure if that meant the mare’s gut would keep working the way it needed to in order to pass the gummed up food.
“Okay,” Isobel whispered to herself, looking around the stable. She wished one of the guys was around to ask them their opinion. She’d run out to check the compost shed, but all she saw were the missing four-wheelers.
She couldn’t help feeling like she was doing this all wrong. Yeah, she was going by the book, but still? Why wasn’t Beauty passing the food?
Isobel looked Beauty over. Maybe another walk?
After an hour and a half of trying to flush her system, Isobel had stopped and taken Beauty for a short walk up and down the barn. She’d hoped that might loosen things up. They couldn’t go outside since the rain had started in earnest. Not that it mattered much because even in the limited confines of the stable, Beauty had been stiff and not keen to move far. They’d barely made two lengths of the stable before returning to her stall.
Then Isobel had reinserted the tubing and started again with the mineral oil.
And now another half an hour and still nothing. No stools. Not even any passed gas.
“How about another break, sweetheart? You’ve been doing so good.” Isobel patted Beauty on the side of her neck, then withdrew the tubing from her nose. Beauty snorted and shook her head as it came free.
“I know,” Isobel sympathized. “That can’t be comfortable. You don’t deserve any of this. We’ll get you better. I promise.”
But even as she said it, Isobel was terrified it was a lie.
You’re such a failure at everything you try. Do you have any idea how disappointed your father is by you? Like mother, like daughter.
Isobel squeezed her eyes shut against the memories. Why was it always the horrible words that lodged in her head and never any of the nice ones? She was sure her dad had said nice things to her over the years.
Hadn’t he? She didn’t know. She was terrified that all he saw when he looked at her was her mother. History that was bound to repeat itself. He could barely even look her in the face.
“I’ll be right back.” Isobel’s throat was thick as she mumbled the words before stumbling out of the stall.
She wouldn’t do Beauty any good if she had a breakdown right in front of her.
Enough. She couldn’t do this. Not alone.
She lit out for the house, her boots sticking in the now soggy mud with every step. Farm calls took Hunter all over this county and the two surrounding it. It might take him hours to get here depending on what emergencies he already had on his docket. And that was without the rain. If he was close enough to the highway to have cell service.
Meanwhile, colic could turn on a coin and become deadly.
Oh God, she should have called him as soon as she realized what was happening with Beauty. Would Beauty die because she’d been too proud to call for help?
She yanked open the back door and then sprinted to the phone, ignoring the mud she was tracking all over the floor. She pulled the wall phone off its cradle and had Hunter’s number punched in seconds later. She bit her lip and paced back and forth in the kitchen as she waited for it to ring.
And ring.
And ring.
“Dammit.” She raked a hand through her hair.
“Hullo.” Hunter’s easy greeting came over the line.
“Hunter! Is that you? Like really you and not just your voicemail?”
Silence for a second. Then, “Isobel?”
“Oh thank God, Hunter. Bright Beauty, one of the
mares, is colicky. It’s bad. There’s an impaction in her small intestine. It’s bad, Hunter. I’ve been trying to flush it with mineral oil for an hour and it hasn’t moved an inch. I don’t know what to do. I tried to walk her too, but nothing—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there. When did she start presenting symptoms?”
“I don’t know. I just found her down in her stall when I got back from a ride on another horse at, I don’t know,” she searched out the wall clock. It was 3:15 now. “Maybe 2:00? I glanced in on her a few hours early and didn’t notice anything off. But I wasn’t really looking. If I would have just—”
“You give her a painkiller?”
“Banamine. 10cc orally. Heart rate sixty-five. Hunter, I’m really worried.” She took a quick breath. “Can you come out?”
There was no hesitation. “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
Isobel sank against the wall as she fought off tears. “Thank you, Hunter.” She swallowed hard, her fingers going white-knuckled around the phone.
“Yup.”
She thought he’d hung up but then his voice came back over the line. “We’ll take care of her. She’ll be okay.”
Isobel nodded fervently, then realized Hunter couldn’t see her. “Okay.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Okay,” he said.
Still she didn’t hear the click that meant he’d hung up.
“You want me to stay on the line till I get there?”
Sometimes when he wasn’t being a world class asshole, Isobel thought Hunter Dawkins was kinda perfect.
She swiped at a tear that crested before it could fall down her cheek. “I should go be with Beauty and I’m not sure the phone will go that far.” It was a landline. They were so far out there was no cell service here. “Thank you, Hunter.” She hoped he could hear how much she meant it.
