And how was that possible? I thought you loved Bentley? she asked herself. She used to, and probably would have again after they’d gotten married. What a plan you had going there, Carter, she thought to herself. Not nearly a good enough reason to bust up a wedding. Two weeks ago she’d felt so desperate. No way was she going back to that, but where to now?
She moved her mind back to a safer topic, like tree trimming. It was next in line on her list after she finished off the grass. She was supposed to be out here counting trees.
She’d gotten maybe a few miles out and saw something standing next to a large tree off in the distance. She slowed her pace, checked for her umbrella—her new weapon—and drove closer.
Was that a horse? She sped up, and she could make out the distinct silhouette of a horse, tied to a tree. She was horrified. She could tell by looking at his body that the poor animal had been abandoned. As she drew closer she could see his ribs, poking through his skin. His head lifted as he stopped eating long enough to give her an eye, before going back to grazing.
Who would do such a thing? Leave a horse tied to a tree! She stopped her cart, got out and slowly walked over to him. This was new. She’d heard of people abandoning their dogs, dropping them out in the country, just walking away from their care. But a horse?
“You poor guy,” she said, walking slowing and quietly toward him. She looked at the package that was on the ground next to him. There was a note attached to it which read:
We can no longer afford to take care of him. His name is Augustus, and he is a good boy. We felt it was kinder to leave him here, with you. We’ve seen from a distance the care you’ve given Grey, and the work you’ve done to your family’s property, just like your great-grandfather. He would be so proud of you. We know Augustus will be in good hands. She put the note in her pants pocket, not knowing whether to feel angry or flattered.
“Augustus, huh?” she said to him. He was reddish brown in color, a little dusty though. “Hello Augustus. Welcome, I guess. Let’s get you into the barn. I’ll introduce you to Grey,” she said, talking to him as they moved slowly to the barn. She’d come back for the golf cart later.
She walked him slowly back to the ranch, put him in the stall next to Grey, added hay, and then water. Should she give him the same feed she’d given Grey?
She needed to call the vet. This was beyond her level of knowledge. She walked backed to the house, found Rafael’s cell number. He answered on the first ring.
“I need a vet,” she said, by way of hello. “I found this horse on my property, tied to a tree, and he’s not in good shape.”
“Hold on a second,” he said, pulling away from his phone to find a number.
“Her name is Bailey, Dr. Bailey Brisborne. She does visits, but usually at the end of the day. Call her. She might be able to swing by after she closes,” he said.
“Okay, thanks,” she said, hanging up. She called the vet who agreed to stop by later on that evening.
“Help is on the way. Hang in there,” she said to Augustus, as she added water and hay to his stall.
“Augustus, this is Grey,” she said, turning to look at Grey. “Grey, this is Augustus. Let’s try and make him feel welcome, shall we?”
#
Carter stood in the kitchen making herself a sandwich later on that evening, not wanting to take the time to cook. She purchased more substantial food choices from the store in town, but she had too much other stuff to do, plus, cooking generally wasn’t something she did for pleasure. So, it was cold cuts and bread—quick and easy.
Augustus, huh? Her mind was unable to comprehend his abandonment. What if she hadn’t found him in time? Her heart hurt just thinking about it.
She heard the front doorbell. Maybe it was Rafael, or could the vet have arrived earlier than expected? She glanced over herself, swiping the bandanna tied around her head before heading to the front door.
She didn’t remove her scarf on account of Rafael. He’d seen her look worse. It was that looking-her-best part that had been drilled into her by her stepmother and sisters. She peeped through the side window.
And speaking of sisters, here they were, all five of them, each in their own cars, all designer-clad and with Gloria in her cute sports Mercedes—all in town for the big intervention. She sighed and rolled her eyes, wondering if she had time to change out of her horse-working clothes and make herself look more presentable. Nope. She opened the front door.
“Girl, is it that bad?” Savannah said, eyeing Carter’s dust-covered jeans and shirt. She and Carter were the same age. Savannah had inherited much of her mother’s good looks and style. Being the eldest, she’d had ample alone time with her mother in which to absorb the grace that was Gloria.
Savannah and Carter had reached to a truce a long time ago. It had been either that or death. Both were strong-willed, neither had given an inch as Carter had tried to find a place for herself amongst the fab five. Their scuffles had left their mark—she didn’t trust them.
“No. I was working in the pasture,” Carter said, leaning her cheek up to receive her sister’s perfunctory air kiss.
“Why would anyone voluntarily work in a pasture?” June, third to the oldest, giving her cheek for Carter to air kiss before she swished her way into the house.
“Hey, girl. Got no weddings to break up?” August, the youngest sister said, following her sister inside.
“Might have known it was the barn, although I thought you’d outgrown it,” Cari said, coming up next. Madison, the last of the five sisters, stood outside with Gloria examining the house’s exterior.
“Good thing we are selling this place,” Madison said to her mother, before both headed over to Carter, for some more air kissing of cheeks.
Carter closed the door, took a deep breath, and followed them in. They were seating themselves around the kitchen table.
“Have any water?” Savannah asked.
“Tap.”
“Girl, you know we don’t do tap,” Madison said. Her eyes were appraising the interior now, her nose puckered in distaste. “It is as bad as Mom said.”
“You’ve been here before. It was never this bad,” Carter said.
“That’s true,” Madison said.
“The property manager was basically living here, but that’s another story,” Carter said, taking the empty seat next to Gloria.
“What are you all doing here?” Carter asked.
“We came down for the big intervention,” Cari said.
“I told you we would,” Gloria said, glancing around the table at all of her daughters with pride. Carter was used to seeing those looks of pride in her stepmother’s eyes. She had a lot to be proud of. All her stepsisters were accomplished—in work, in looks, in school, in their home lives. Pick an area and they were all in top form.
“I didn’t realize how out of control you’d become. You should have called me,” Savannah said. “I’ve tried setting you up before. You don’t cooperate,” she added, meeting Carter’s eyes. “You know Sherman has lots of friends. We’ve invited you over for dinner. You don’t show, but that’s neither here nor there; all in the past now. There are ways we could have made your search for a man less obvious,” she said. Sherman was Savannah’s surgeon husband.
She would date one of his friends over her dead body, Carter thought.
“Well, no more of that. No more of taking your no’s and excuses. We are going to pool our efforts and help find you a man,” Cari said.
“Between the five of us and our spouses, we will find you a husband. But you can’t be looking like you do today. Where are your clothes anyway? When are you coming home?” June asked.
“And what about a job?” Savannah asked.
“Stuart says he can use you at his office if you want a job. Of course, he doesn’t need another accountant. He could use a receptionist, if you wouldn’t mind answering the phone,” Madison said.
“I’m just going to stick around here for a while,” Carter said.
“And do what?” Madison asked.
“Be the property manager. The one we paid disappeared. I thought I’d fill in for him for a while,” Carter said.
Madison studied Carter. “Stuart gave me the stats on this place. This property may be worth up to six million, maybe more. Six million, split six ways will help each of us. So maybe it’s a good thing you’ll be around. You can speed this whole sale along. Dad says if we push, we can have it up and ready for sale by September. Do you think we can?” she asked, looking at Carter.
Carter did the calculations in her head. “Two months. That soon?” she asked. Madison gaze still upon her. Why did she feel like she’d just been punched in her gut? Two months, two months, two months, played over and over in her head. She’d just gotten here.
“Don’t play dumb. We all decided. You were there, and well before you needed a place to hide out. No one uses this place anymore, and we could all use the money,” Madison said, bringing Carter back to the present.
“You could use the money,” Carter said.
“Whatever,” Madison added, turning to her sisters. “Don’t pretend you all don’t need money, too,” she said.
“I could use the money,” August said.
“I’m not too ashamed to admit it,” June said.
“I didn’t realize it would be that soon,” Carter said.
“Well, now you do,” Madison said.
“I can’t believe you interrupted Bentley’s wedding,” Cari said, shaking her head at Carter, changing the subject. “You do know that it makes you look desperate, right? And it is hard to sell desperation.”
“You should have hung on to Bentley the first time you had him. I mean, how many men are going after cowgirls these days. I believe I told you that then, but did yah listen? You know your life would be easier if you would listen sometimes,” June said.
“I didn’t want to hold on to Bentley, not then anyway,” she said.
“But you do now,” June said.
“In front of everybody, too. What were you thinking?” August asked, the questions on everyone’s mind.
“Okay, that’s enough. We are here to help Carter move forward,” Gloria said.
“Moving on then,” Savannah said, pulling out her smart phone. “I’m having a dinner party the last weekend in July. Carter, jot that down. I’ll make Sherman drum up every single man he knows and you will attend,” she said.
“I’ll take the second Saturday in August then,” Cari said, and Carter watched quietly as they divvied up her future weekends, picking dates. The determination of the Woodson Women was no match for any man. It was the reason they all had one.
The doorbell rang. Carter hopped up. Talk about perfect timing for an intervention.
A tall, older white woman stood on the front steps, dressed in jeans, plain chambray shirt, and worn boots.
“Are you Carter?” she asked, when the door opened.
“I am.”
“You called for a vet?”
“Yes.”
“I’m it then. Bailey Brisborne, the local vet, at your service. Most folks just call me Doc,” she said.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. Augustus, that’s the name of the abandoned horse I found, is out in the stable. I’ve got company. Give me a minute to tell them I’m leaving and then I’ll meet you out there,” she said.
“Sure. Where is it? ” She asked.
“Back off to the side of the house. You can’t miss it,” Carter said.
“Okay. I’ll go and get started.” She said.
“Thanks,” Carter said, watching Dr. Bailey until she disappeared from sight, thankful that she had arrived and interrupted her family’s impromptu visit. She could escape. No more talk about men and getting her life together.
She walked back in, glanced quickly at her sisters and Gloria. “That’s the vet I called earlier. She’s here to take a look at a horse I found.”
“You have a horse now?” Madison said.
“Two horses,” Carter said, pointing to a place over her shoulder. “It might take a while. You don’t have to wait for me to finish,” she said.
“We’ll wait,” Gloria said.
Carter turned and headed outside, inwardly groaning.
#
Gloria sat, followed Carter’s departure. She’d given up on making a dent in the self-imposed wall that surrounded her stepdaughter, the one that separated her from the rest of the family. It had always been that way. She was past trying to change it.
When she was 15, Carl had finally gone back for Carter. He’d had to pry her, kicking and screaming, from the hands of her great-grandfather, the original Carter Woodson’s. Too little too late in asking her to join them had been Gloria’s opinion. There had been too much water under the bridge. Carl hadn’t listened.
From the start, Carter and her girls had assumed the roles of opposing counsel, fighting over the life and love of the one man whose approval they’d continued, even as adult women, to seek. They’d had several minor and major battles over other things through the years, but none had separated them quite like their father.
Gloria had offered Carter space, particularly at the beginning. She’d thought that Carter, given time, would come around—grow into their family. No. That had been a totally ineffective strategy to remove the huge me-against-the-world chip on Carter’s shoulder. It was her shroud, worn with pride, covering her hurt, and no amount of hugs, kisses, patience, or love had removed it.
Her girls hadn’t been cooperative, either. They’d had Carl to themselves for five years before Carter had joined them. They’d settled in with their new daddy. He’d become their knight in shining armor, and given what they’d experienced at the hands of their birth daddy—or sperm donor—as Madison was quick to point out, she understood their needs, too.
Over the years, the girls had learned to be civil in public, and in their parent’s presence. Carl and Gloria had demanded that from them at least. But just below the surface, hidden whirlpools of anger swirled, as undercurrents. Always present, and ready to pull them under.
#
“Well, he’s savable,” the vet said, standing now in the stall with Augustus. Carter stood outside and watched as Doc Bailey, who looked to be in her late 70s with hair the color of snow, gently poked and prodded Augustus. She was now checking his hooves, which were overgrown and needed trimming.
“I need to call a farrier,” Carter said, watching as Doc gingerly placed Augustus’ hoof back on the stall floor.
“Call my office. My assistant will give you the number of several.”
“I still can’t get over seeing him tied to a tree. Just up and abandoned like that,” Carter said.
“Horses are expensive, and with the recession…” Dr. Bailey said, throwing up her hands. “Owners have been hit pretty hard. It’s cruel, I know, but we’ve seen a lot more mistreatment, abandonment since horse slaughtering has been outlawed. Can’t just send them off to be slaughtered like they used to. All of those plants in the U.S. have been closed. Of course there is always Mexico and Canada; they still have plants in operation,” she said, looking at Carter’s confused expression.
“Several years ago, there were several bills introduced in Congress to outlaw the large-scale slaughtering of horses in this country. And there were all kinds of political pressure to get rid of the one here in America.
“Horses used to be sold by the tens of thousands to plants where they were killed, similar to the cow slaughterhouses we have now. It was a big business; cleared close to $42 million a year in its heyday. But since all of the plants in the U.S. have closed, those horses are now being shipped to Mexico and Canada. Or, unfortunately, abandoned,” she said, standing up from where she’d been crouched listening to Augustus’ stomach.
“Anyway, horsemeat was sold to zoos as food for their carnivores. And horsemeat is also a delicacy, I’ve been told. I’ve never had the pleasure, thank the Lord. But in other parts of the world, like
Japan and Europe, horsemeat is sold for human consumption. I wouldn’t want to eat it, but it takes all kinds. There are a few rescue places here in Texas, but they are full to overflowing with their share of abandoned horses, “she said, putting her medical supplies away. “Luckily for Augustus, he’s basically sound. He’s just malnourished, needs some fattening up. Don’t you, boy,” she said, patting him on the side before walking out of his stall.
“Purina makes a feed. I have some in my truck—enough for you to start with—but you’ll need to pick up more. Charlie’s Feed Supply in town carries it. Give it to him for about 2-4 weeks, four pounds a day, divided into two feedings. You should see a big difference. The instructions are on the bag. Feed him hay, free choice, to supplement.”
“I’ll write you a check,’ Carter said, walking her out.
“Don’t worry. I’ll bill you. How long are you going to be living out here?” Dr. Bailey asked, putting away her tools.
“Two months at least, maybe longer. We lost our property manager and I may fill in for him for a while. My family wants to sell, too, is going to sell, sooner than later, I’ve been told, so I might be around to help with that,” she said.
“Well, if you don’t plan on staying, you’ll have to start looking for a place to put those two,” she said.
“I know.”
“Call my office,” she said again, reaching into her back pocket for a card, handing it over to Carter. “My assistant can give you a list of equine rescue shelters that might be able to take them in. You’ll have to call and see if they have any openings,” she said.
“Thanks, Doc,” Carter said, accepting the card. She followed the vet out of the barn and over to her truck. “Thank you again for coming.”
“It’s what I do,” she said, handing Carter a small bag of feed for Augustus before getting into her truck.
#
When You Fall... Page 10
