by Toni Mari
I never imagined he would be against this move. But he had a fanatical respect for my dad, probably because he didn’t know or see his own father. He also overrated my parents’ success because we had a nice house and new cars. He didn’t seem to understand that I wasn’t being defiant—my father had tried to sell Windsong. I was doing what I could to protect my horse.
Besides, even if my father made any effort to hear me and relented, I couldn’t go back. I had signed a contract with EMA, had started my new courses, and had to get Windsong to Kate’s to continue lessons. If Cory wasn’t going to help, Brandon was the only way.
I sent a text to Cory, letting him know I was coming to the farm. I wanted to see him so we could talk in person. I looked at the message list and Cory’s name filled the whole screen.
He would come around. I knew his silence meant that he didn’t agree with me, not that he didn’t care. I would just keep texting. Whatever it took.
After Windsong walked straight on the small trailer, I gave him a handful of his favorite treats. “I’m proud of you, big guy, for braving a new and different ride.”
I ran back in to check on Santos, but he was eating quietly in the stall where I put him to wait safely for Windsong’s return. “See you in a little bit,” I promised, scratching his scars.
I climbed into the truck next to Brandon. “I really appreciate you helping me like this, Brandon.”
“Is it working? Do you want to go on a date with me yet?”
I paused as I snapped my seat belt, words stuck in my throat.
“I’m joking. Lighten up. You are paying me, you know. So, it’s like a job.” He chuckled.
After my lesson, I pulled the saddle off, fingering the sticky, wet hair. It would be best to sponge the sweat off with hot water so I wouldn’t have to load a damp horse on a trailer in this cool weather. I threw a wool cooler over Windsong’s back while I got the water.
As the bucket was filling, Brandon pulled up with the trailer. I nodded to him as he got out of the truck and lifted the bucket.
“Whoa there. Let me get that for you,” he said, jogging over.
“I’m fine. I know it’s not in your contract.” I carried buckets all the time. I didn’t need male protectiveness.
He took the handle from me anyhow and flashed those dimples. “Happy to help.”
He lifted the full, heavy bucket and carried it as easily as I carried my coffee cup. I squeezed his biceps and pretended to marvel at his brawn. “My hero,” I crooned, fluttering my lashes like Olive Oyl always did to Brutus in front of Popeye.
I turned back toward Windsong and stopped dead. Cory was standing next to the black horse, staring at us. He lifted his hat, ran a hand through his hair, and slammed the hat back over his curls. He shook his head, turned on his heel, and strode down the aisle.
“Cory!” I shouted.
“Really, dude?” Brandon rolled his eyes, jerking his chin in Cory’s direction.
I took off down the aisle, slowing as I passed Windsong, then zooming ahead. I caught him halfway to the western barn on the top of the hill, his long legs covering ground at a walk almost as fast as I could run.
“Wait!” I clutched his sleeve so he would stop.
He shrugged my hand off but turned around.
My heart pounded from much more than my short run, and I didn’t know what to say. Throwing a thumb over my shoulder, I began, “I’m paying Brandon to trailer me.”
From the look on Cory’s face that clearly didn’t explain anything.
“You won’t answer my calls,” I accused.
Cory did the hat thing. “Seems you have it all figured out and I wish you luck. You don’t need me anymore.” Without giving me a chance to say anything else, he turned back up the hill.
My feet were rooted to the spot as I stared after him. But I needed him more than ever. I thought about him a million times per day. I missed his solid, sensible presence and his warm, supportive hugs. Nothing came out of my mouth, though. I stood mute, watching his form get smaller and smaller as he strode away.
Chapter 24
Days later, I could smell the snow in the air as I cantered a warm-up figure eight. Glancing at the sky, I hoped to finish my ride before those heavy clouds dumped something wet on me and Windsong.
He felt the storm coming, too, jerking into the turns and scooting forward as the wind blew his tail out to the side. This was a conditioning ride, keeping him moving with changes of direction and gait. The impending weather was too distracting for us to work on finely timed movements.
As I led Windsong through the gate, a gust of wind ripped it out of my hands and slammed it all the way open. He balked when I tried to lead him back into the ring to get to it. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in any more work today. Finally, I got the gate closed and latched behind us.
Inside the barn, the wind sounded even louder as it swirled around the eaves, making thumping and whistling noises.
I curried Windsong, hoping the massage would relax him. I put his cozy winter blanket on and put him in his stall. It was early yet, and I didn’t like to bring him or Santos in until later in the afternoon, but the snow was supposed to begin soon.
He whinnied loudly for Santos, and I went out to get the big red horse. I brought in Marty and Chipper just as the first flakes fluttered down.
Leaning into it, I dragged the barn doors closed and tied them with baling twine to keep them from swinging on their rails. I looked at my watch and decided to feed the outside horses early before the real snow started. I would give them extra hay in their run-in sheds so they could eat out of the weather.
Once everyone was taken care of, I dragged myself up the steep steps to my room. My muscles still weren’t used to doing all the chores, and pushing against the wind was especially exhausting.
I heated a mug of water in the small microwave Donna got for me and made hot chocolate. We had also set up a folding table and chair for me to use as a desk. I opened my laptop and scrolled to my current reading assignment.
There were no windows in the room and the howling of the wind was really distracting. I turned up the music on my computer but lasted only thirty minutes before the storm noise compelled me to run down and check on the horses.
Cringing as another gust of wind screamed around the barn, I peeked in at Windsong. He was standing next to the wall by Santos, ears perked, body tense. Santos quietly munched hay, unconcerned about the noise. Maybe he would be a calming influence on nervous Windsong.
I trudged back upstairs, put on my headphones, and continued to do schoolwork until Donna texted me that dinner was ready.
I pulled my coat on, securing the hood over my head. When I slid out the barn door I was surprised that the snow was deep enough already to cover the tops of my boots. I jogged over to the main house, stomping the white stuff off.
The house was snuggly warm, and I left my boots on the rug by the back door. Hot chili steamed in bowls on the table, and Donna was reaching in a cabinet for glasses.
“Get the juice out of the fridge, please.”
I did as she asked and poured some for both of us. She set a crusty loaf of bread on the table.
“I’m glad you’re here so I don’t have to go out and feed the beasts in this weather!” She laughed.
I explained that I fed earlier and dug my spoon into the heavenly food. Refusing ice cream for dessert—too cold to eat frozen treats on a night like this—I stood to clear the dishes.
Donna left cleanup to me and went upstairs for her shower, telling me to be careful in the morning when I went out to feed.
I plodded back to the barn with a hand fastened on my hood to keep it from blowing off. The icy wind pressed me, and I leaned forward and ducked my head like a linebacker blitzing the quarterback. Even though the barn was only a hundred feet from the house, I had to keep looking up to get my bearings in the swirling whiteout.
Finally, I reached up to pull the door handle. My hood blew back and snow
dumped on my bare head as I opened the door.
I slammed it shut behind me and tied it with twine, too, although the wind was blowing the doors against the building on that side. Stomping and brushing snow from my head and coat, I spoke to the horses. “Everyone okay in here?”
Windsong answered with a nicker, his head and neck stretched over the low stall door. I handed out treats and checked their hay. “Be thankful you’re in here and not out there. Now go to bed and I’ll see you all in the morning when this thing is all over.”
I left one small fixture on, giving the horses some light to see through the night.
In my room, I made another cup of hot chocolate, turned my little heater up a notch, and climbed under my thick, warm comforter.
I sent Cory a text. “Some storm, huh? I hate snow.” Not really expecting an answer, I plugged the phone into my charger and set it on the bed next to me. As I had promised myself, I continued to text and leave voicemails about my day. Back when I was at school, we had communicated by messaging many times a day. Here, I continued to text him as if we weren’t fighting, hoping at some point he would cave and send a message back.
I stuck in my ear buds and watched videos on my computer for a while. I fell asleep with my headphones still in my ears.
I opened my eyes, disoriented in the silent dark. The night light was out and my phone wasn’t next to me on the bed. I pulled out my ear buds and pushed my computer to the side. I felt around for the charger cord and reeled the phone into my hands. Sitting up, I clicked it on just as I heard a whistling gust of wind and pounding coming from downstairs.
Four in the morning? I turned the switch for the lamp, but nothing happened. Using the light on my phone, I pulled on some clothes and my coat and carefully made my way down the stairs.
The unusual banging sounded again, and I couldn’t figure out what it could be. The barn aisle was pitch black; the storm must have taken out the electricity. Walking slowly, I went to Windsong’s stall just as the wind screamed, shaking the whole barn.
Windsong’s shadowy form whirled around the stall, smacking into buckets and spraying shavings everywhere. He slammed his chest into the rickety stall door, almost rattling the thing off its hinges. The faint light glowed off the whites of his eyes and he blew a fierce blast of air out his nostrils.
“Hey, Windsong. Easy, boy, it’s just a storm,” I soothed.
Santos and the other two horses stood alert with their backs to the wall. Their ears flicked back and forth as they listened to the rattles and creaks around them.
It sounded like a train was rushing toward the barn. And then it crashed. A loud boom shuddered the building. I ducked, throwing my arms over my head. All four horses bounced in their stalls. Windsong attempted to bolt through his door, smashing his chest against the splintery wood.
I stood up straight, my heart pounding, and stepped cautiously to the cabinet over the feed cans. I pointed my phone in and located the flashlight Donna kept there.
I directed the beam at each horse and into the corners of the barn. Nothing looked out of place. In other words, there were no horrific holes in the walls and the sliding doors were still wobbling on their rails.
I threw some hay to the horses, hoping that eating would distract them. Windsong paced right over his and bolted when loud, metallic thumps came from the front sliders. It took me a moment to realize they were rhythmic and were made from something other than the wind.
“Jane! Open the doors!” Donna’s voice was faint.
I ran over, picking at the knot in the string that had tightened from the swaying of the doors. “Hold on, I tied them shut,” I called, stamping my foot because my stiff, cold fingers weren’t making any progress. Finally, I ran for the scissors we used to open hay bales and cut the darn twine.
I pushed and pulled, inching the doors apart, fighting the piled up snow. Donna and an avalanche of snow spilled through the narrow opening I created.
She stamped her booted feet and shook the snow from her coat. She was in her night clothes.
“The electric is out in the barn,” I informed her.
“I know, the house too. Is everyone okay? When that tree came down, I got worried. It’s so dark and the snow is still coming down hard. I can’t tell where it fell—”
The wind howled, drowning out her last words, and Windsong body-slammed his buckets again, his hooves knocking at the wall. Donna’s eyebrows rose in alarm. She walked down the aisle, looking in each stall, and stopped in front of Windsong.
We watched him pace, sweat starting to shine on his dark neck. He paused only to stare suspiciously at the walls and roof before a wild eye would roll back to us. He flung his head over the door, chest bumping it and then whirling to charge around his stall again.
“We all jumped a mile high at that loud crash. I guess that must have been the tree? But the barn seems to be in good shape.”
“Thank goodness.” Donna ran an appraising eye over Windsong’s strained movements, her lips a flat line of concern. “We better go check on the horses outside to make sure it didn’t fall on them or their sheds.”
“Okay. Let me go get my gloves.”
After wrapping our scarves over our faces and tying our hoods tight, we tried to open the back door. After a few moments of tugging, Donna said, “I think the snow is blocking it. Let’s just go out the front.”
The flashlight didn’t penetrate the falling snow, so we were forced to slog out to each of the sheds, ducking through the frozen and ineffective electric fencing.
The five field horses huddled in their shed, heads down and furry backs covered with an inch of snow. A chestnut mare nuzzled my arm with her icicle-coated whiskers. I took off my glove and slipped her a treat from my pocket.
These animals didn’t seem to be as tense as the horses inside were. Maybe because they could see the snow and feel the wind, it wasn’t the scary unknown. They hunkered together under the roof to wait for the weather to calm.
Our original path was invisible and we pushed against the wind, shielding our eyes from the snow with our gloved hands. It took both of us to move the swinging door a foot so we could slip inside. Once we closed it, Windsong’s alarming snorting and banging was louder than the muffled, screaming wind.
I stamped my numb feet and brushed off the snow before I pulled my hood down. I walked to Windsong’s stall. The sweat was beginning to foam on his neck, and he flew right past Santos, who was reaching through the bars with his nose.
I asked Donna to hold him so that I could check his vitals. She made a face, but followed me into the stall. I pulled the heavy blanket off, and replaced it with an absorbing wool cooler. He was trembling, and the whites of his eyes flashed in the dim light as I counted heartbeats.
I shook my head. “He’s a mess and his heart rate is elevated.”
Donna held the lead gingerly, prepared to bolt if Windsong did. “The storm is not supposed to taper off until lunchtime. Maybe you should use that medicine on him? He clearly hates this storm and I don’t want him colicking when we couldn’t get a vet out here.”
Or having a heart attack. Windsong shuddered under my hand. Dr. Clark wouldn’t have prescribed the medication if he didn’t expect me to use it. Gritting my teeth, I nodded and headed for the supply cabinet.
Donna waited for me to draw the liquid into the syringe and plunge it into Windsong’s rock-hard neck. He flinched but didn’t waver in his paranoid watch of the walls.
Donna handed me the lead and pulled her hood tight again. “He should feel that in a few minutes. Call me on your cell if anything else happens. I’m going back in to call the electric company.” She patted my arm. “We’ll find out where that tree came down tomorrow.”
I stayed in the stall with Windsong until I saw his muscles start to relax. I thought about how many times he may have been terrified in a storm and I never knew about it because I wasn’t there, was only at the barn to ride. Could that explain the times I found his stall totally trashed
, with hay and manure and shavings ground together in a terrible mash? I thought I was such a great owner and caretaker, but I never knew how many times my horse and partner may have suffered through night terrors with no one there to help him.
His head lowered, and his ears flickered lazily at the howling wind. I didn’t walk out of the stall until his eyelids drooped and his bottom lip hung open slightly. With a gentle pat, I unbuckled the halter. “Go to sleep now, big guy. Don’t worry. I’ll keep the bogeyman away from you from now on.”
I latched his door and headed upstairs. The snowdrift against the barn held the doors in place, so I didn’t bother to tie them.
My little heater was electric, so my room was no warmer than the barn below. I pulled on another pair of socks and two dry sweatshirts and climbed under the covers. Just my eyes and hands poked out.
On my phone, I looked up the weather and was shocked to see that sunny skies and a high of fifty degrees were expected on the day after this blizzard. Seriously? I wished the weather gods could have skipped this storm and gone straight to the sunny skies.
But I refused to complain. I snuggled deeper, slipping my whole head under the comforter. I may never have been so cold before, but Windsong was safe.
Chapter 25
I woke up to my phone buzzing off my chest.
“Hello?”
Donna’s voice was bright and cheery. “Good morning! Breakfast is ready. Have you looked outside?”
“No,” I grunted, tactfully not reminding her that I had no windows.
“The tree fell on the arena, landing inches from the barn. If it was a few feet taller, the top would have crashed right in on Santos’s and Windsong’s stalls. We dodged a bullet there, I’ll tell you.”
I jumped into my boots and jacket, and ran downstairs. I rushed toward the doors when I hit the bottom but stopped when a chorus of nickers begged for food.
“Alright, alright. I’ll feed you before I get my own breakfast.” I threw hay to them in their stalls and dumped grain into their tubs.
