His Country

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Aiden eased the truck through the gate. It hung off it’s hinges, lopsided. The corner was half buried in the dirt, weeds clinging to the metal like a trellis. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been here, but he knew the gate had been working then.

The drive was just tire tracks through the grass, and he followed them along fences held together with old nails and bailing twine. Not that their integrity mattered anymore—they’d sold the animals. Who knew the fences would last longer than they did?

There was a house and a barn, but driving through the property felt a lot more like visiting a graveyard than someone’s home. The garden along the porch had been left to grow wild and the front door was held open by a box. Out back a swing set sat rusted, the breeze kicking the lone swing back and forth.

Frank said the Hollis’ hadn’t even had time to put the place for sale before developers swooped in. They gave them a deal they couldn’t refuse. Soon these fields would house condos. Perfect rows of identical homes would stand where fields once grew wild.

Aiden didn’t see anyone, which was fine. He was just picking up a stock trailer Frank had bought off the family when they were liquidating their assets. Said they’d probably move closer to Mrs. Hollis’ family near Topeka. Into a suburb.

As he backed the truck up to the trailer, he wondered if the change would kill Mr. Hollis like it did his dad.

Once the gooseneck was centered over the ball in the bed of the truck, he lowered a window for Sugar and moved to the back. Pulling out the crank he began lowering the trailer onto the ball. Once it was on, he climbed into the bed and locked it in place.

He looked up as he fastened the chains to see a boy sitting on the back porch, a ratchet clutched in his fist. As the kid stared off into the distance, he played with it, twisting it so he could hear the ratcheting sound.

There was something uncomfortably familiar about the look on his face. That defeated gaze of a kid who knew he was about to lose everything he’d ever known. Aiden had seen that look in his reflection more times than he could count. He’d been older when they lost their farm, but the look was the same.

Hopeless and lost.

And maybe this kid would be ok. He’d find friends and realize that moving away from the farm wasn’t so bad. His dad might be stronger than Aiden’s. Accept that they lost the farm but adapt for his family. His mom will find happiness doing whatever it is she couldn’t do when she lived out in the middle of nowhere.

But he shouldn’t have to. And if he did, it shouldn’t be because the county raised taxes so high people couldn’t pay them. Or insurance agencies dropped coverage people needed for their loans.

Fight for the kids who were just like you.

Ethan’s words whispered at the back of his mind clear as he’d heard them the first time all those months ago. When he’d sucked the splinter from his palm and made him think beyond his own two feet.

He’d told him no and he’d meant it, but if he climbed down from this truck and walked over there, would he be able to look this kid in the eye? Or any of the kids like him? The families who were losing their way of life, helpless to the whims of people whose faces they’d never seen. Just their names typed on the bottom of a form letter.

But if Aiden stood up at that town hall meeting, looked those bastards in the eye and told his story, could he make a difference? He didn’t think so. Ethan did, though. He believed that Aiden had something to say, and after years of silence, of feeling beaten down by a system that was too big to comprehend, he was being given a chance to fight.

Win, lose, draw at least he could say he tried. That he squared up and took the hits on the chin.

At least he could look that kid in the eye.

He jumped down from the truck and drove out of the graveyard that was once a home. He didn’t look back, but he did look at himself in the rearview mirror.

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t look away.

And later that night, when he told Ethan he’d speak at the meeting, his smile was blinding. Aiden didn’t look away from that, either.

Hay rained down his jacket as Aiden dropped the round bale into the paddock. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the horses vying for the fresh hay, watching him with their ears pricked. They shuffled around, the more dominant horses pushing the others out of the way. Aiden couldn’t say much, Eagle was usually one of them. The little gelding never turned down an opportunity to pin his ears and crinkle his nostrils.

Thinking of his cranky gelding gave him a reprieve. Since he’d agreed to speak at the town hall meeting, it was all he could think about. One moment he was convinced it was a terrible idea and the next he was planning what he’d say. Aiden had never been big on speaking to anyone, let alone in front of people. And save trying to tell his mom cookies were a suitable substitute for broccoli, he’d never tried to convince anyone of anything.

Ethan assured him the words would come, but that was easy for him to say. The man oozed confidence. One look at his big brown doe eyes and people would be back flipping to do what he said. Aiden didn’t have that. He was short, broad shouldered, with an impassive face a girl at school had once called ‘serial killery’. He wasn’t built for public speaking.

But he was someone who kept his word. So even if he didn’t want to do it, and was certain it would be a total disaster, he was going to do it.

Pulling his knife from his back pocket, he began cutting through the netting holding the hay together. The horses began circling, debating on whether they could snag a bite before he was finished.

“Vultures,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Once he’d freed the net, he was able to drop the hay ring. It was an old, rusted thing but it kept the horses from crawling into the center of the bale and absolutely destroying it.

The moment it clanged into place they swarmed, leaning over the railing to eat at the first bits their lips could reach. As if they hadn’t been stuffing their faces just a few minutes ago on the remnants of the last bale.

He tossed the netting into the back of the truck and watched the horses eat. Sugar was circling them, her head low. A single hoof out of line and she’d be at their heels. It was so cold their coats were all fluffed up, looking more like stuffed toys than real animals. Frank’s mare stood out, towering over most of the herd. She had a bored look on her face as she chewed. Aiden usually went through the horses every morning, getting a good look at each one to make sure they were doing ok, but he took a moment to do it again now.

Pushing his way through the crowd, he ran his hand down a pretty palomino’s leg that looked a little swollen. Feeling no heat or tenderness, he moved on. Eyes narrowed against the bright grey winter day, he looked at each horse. They were all there eating.

Except Eagle.

Worry began to gnaw at him as he stood on his tiptoes to look around, sure he must have missed him. The gelding hadn’t missed a meal in his life, especially on a cold day like this. He was usually first in line, finding Aiden to demand a peppermint before he chased off one of the more fainthearted horses.

Whistling for Sugar, he jumped up onto the truck bed to get a better view of the big paddock. It was twenty acres in total, cross fenced so they could rotate the horses should they need to. Now all the gates were open. It was relatively flat but there were some undulations, small hills, and tree groupings.

Sugar joined him, leaning against his leg. He shaded his eyes and scanned across the paddock until he saw him. A small dark blur laying down at the base of a small hill.

Despite common misconceptions, horses did lay down. But not for long, usually only twenty to thirty minutes at a time. The rest of the time they napped standing up. For Eagle to be laying down, alone, when the rest of the herd was eating was a bad sign.

Swearing, he hopped down off the bed and got into the truck. He drove across the field carefully, never taking his eye off Eagle. He was lying flat out, his blaze like a beacon against the dead grass. Pressing the accelerator, Aiden held his breath until he saw the rise and fall of his barrel against the grey skyline.

Throwing the truck into park, he was out the door before it rocked back. Sugar was close behind. He gave her a quick command to stay back as he approached Eagle’s head. The gelding’s legs were straight out, and his breathing labored. The ground around him was chewed up, like he’d been thrashing, and Aiden’s heart broke.

“Hey big guy,” he called softly, relieved when he saw an ear flick his way. “What’d you do to yourself?” he knelt beside his head, stroking against his furry jaw. He didn’t need to check to know his pulse would be racing.

Eagle pushed himself up, looking at Aiden with the whites of his eyes showing. Aiden swore. This had to be colic. The last couple days had been pleasant and then today the temperature dropped. Eagle hadn’t had a problem before, but clearly this time it got to him.

Aiden had handled his fair share of colics. It was a broad term—it could be anything from gas to impaction, but nothing made horse owners break out in a sweat more than those two syllables. Unpredictable, and often unpreventable, it was a crapshoot. He’d had horses pull out of it without even needing to call the vet and others die in less than an hour.

He’d only come out to drop the hay, and the idea of leaving Eagle to go get a halter was abhorrent. Brushing his forelock from his face, he took a handful of mane.

“C’mon buddy, I know it hurts but I need you to get up.”

A few tugs had Eagle folding his legs underneath him and standing. He didn’t seem too weak yet. Hopefully he’d caught it quickly. With a cluck, he used the hand in Eagle’s mane to guide him toward the gate.

Aiden usually had no problem with his lack of a cellphone, but times like these made him want to kick himself. He would have liked to call ahead, get Isaac to come help. As it was, he struggled to keep Eagle walking. The gelding kept wanting to swing his head to bite at his sides, grunting in pain. Once, Aiden paused to let him rest so he could put an ear to his sides. He didn’t hear any gut sounds on either side. Another bad sign.

It took them a while to get up to the barn, by the time they did, evening was already falling. He got a halter for Eagle, sliding it over his head just as Isaac walked into the barn. He took one look at Eagle and the look on Aiden’s face, and he was pulling his phone out to call Frank.

He’d barely hung up the phone before Aiden was snatching it from him. He scrolled the contacts until he found Ethan’s number.

It rang twice before he answered. “Dr. Landry.”

“Ethan,” Aiden breathed, the line staticky with the force of it. “I need you.”

Something clinked on the other end, and he heard Ethan swallow. “What happened?”

“Eagle is colicking.” he tried to keep his voice even, leading Eagle out of the barn to keep him walking at a sedate pace. “I don’t know what happened. He was fine this morning but when I dropped hay this afternoon he was down. I don’t know how long. I can’t hear any gut sounds and he’s uncomfortable.”

“Okay, Aiden, take a deep breath. I can be there in twenty. How are his gums?”

Aiden paused to lift Eagle’s lips to check the color of his gums. He pressed a thumb into the skin. “A little pale, but perfusions not bad.”

“All right, good. Keep him walking. Do you have any meds?”

He nodded before realizing Ethan couldn’t see him. “Yeah, I’ll give it to him.”

Ethan promised to hurry, and he let Isaac walk him while he drew up the pain medication. Sometimes just relaxing them could help them through it without any other interventions. Using Isaac’s phone flashlight, he gave him the medication intravenously and then took over walking him.

Isaac went to finish the evening chores and keep Frank updated. He was at a cattle auction and would be gone until late tomorrow. Aiden kept one hand on Eagle’s neck, scratching him just under his mane as they walked big circles around the barn. He wasn’t sure if the walking really helped, or if it was one of those things they said just to keep the owners from losing their minds, but he did it anyway hoping it would keep him from twisting a gut.

Aiden remembered the time his mom lost a horse to colic. They’d done all they could at the barn, so she’d left Aiden with a neighbor while she and his dad trailered the mare to the big clinic attached to the university. They tried surgery but the mare died on the table. His mother had cried for two weeks, refusing to fill the stall for even longer.

Every time they came around the barn he glanced over at the driveway, desperately searching for Ethan’s headlights. He kept running the lead rope through his hands, letting his callouses catch on the nylon like little bites to keep his attention. When he was beginning to lose himself in the memory of watching his parents come home with an empty trailer, the little snags would catch and drag him back to the present.

By what felt like the hundredth circle he looked up to see Ethan’s truck. Tension bled from him as he watched the truck pull up to the barn and park. He could finally get a big breath, relax in the knowledge that Ethan was here. Ethan was the best at what he did. He would make everything better. Just like he always did.

With a stethoscope around his neck, he nodded to Aiden but didn’t say a word as he began checking Eagle.

Aiden’s heart was beating so fast he wondered if Ethan could hear it through his stethoscope.

“When did you give him the pain meds?” he asked, eyes flickering between his watch and Eagle as he counted respirations.

“Twenty minutes ago. Seemed to help a little.”

“Good,” Ethan muttered, probably more to himself than anyone else. There was a little frown on his face, but he didn’t say anything as he removed the stethoscope and went back to his truck to get supplies.

While he was gone Aiden stroked Eagle’s forelock. His hands were shaking, and he cursed himself. He was better than this. Aiden was farm born and raised. This was certainly not his first sick animal, and it wouldn’t be his last.

But it was Eagle. Any other horse and he’d be worried, but he’d keep his head. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about them, but they weren’t Eagle.

He was there when Eagle came into the world, nostrils crinkled and ears back. Aiden had watched him make up for his size by being the biggest pain in the ass in the paddock. He’d taught him everything—from grooming, to trailering, to riding. He’d even taught him to bow one winter when he’d been bored. They spent many nights in the hills under a blanket of stars with nothing but Sugar’s snores to keep them company. Corny as it was, if Aiden had a best friend, it would probably be this cantankerous little asshole of a horse.

Ethan returned with a silver bucket and tubing. Aiden had seen it before, but it never ceased to amaze him how a vet could sedate a horse and pass a thick rubber tube through their nose into their stomach. With the tube, Ethan could release painful trapped gas and give him fluids directly into his stomach. It was a common treatment, but watching Ethan do it was something else. His movements were fluid, confident. Ethan was born to be a veterinarian. If it wasn’t apparent in his test scores or his number of clients, it was in this. The pinch of his lips as he analyzed stomach contents or the way he instinctively grabbed the tube before Eagle shifted, keeping it from damaging the sensitive tissues along his nose.

After pumping in fluids and oil they gave Eagle more pain meds and let him rest in his stall.

“He seems more comfortable,” Ethan commented as he joined Aiden at the stall.

Chewing on his cheek, Aiden nodded distractedly. “I should have checked his breakfast. He was acting normal and put his head in the bucket, but I didn’t check to see if he finished it.”

Ethan shook his head. “It was probably the temperature change.”

“He’s been spending a lot of time out in the field, and I haven’t been able to manage his water intake. Should have had him on salt.” He picked at his cuticles; eyes glued to Eagle. His brain was recycling the same thoughts over and over, but he couldn’t stop. Now that he wasn’t actively helping Ethan treat him, he felt like he was too focused. Everything was sharp and his skin felt taut, like someone had added corset strings to his shirt and just kept tightening them past his ability to breathe.

And the more he talked the less he could breathe but if he stopped, he felt like he might explode. He ripped a cuticle off his finger and felt the blood drip across his nail.

“Or maybe a blanket with these temperature?—”

“Aiden!” Ethan grabbed him by the shoulders, bodily turning him so that he had to look up at him. “Breathe. You’ve got to stop. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He glared up at him petulantly. “It’s my fault! I’m supposed to take care of him and?—”

“And he colicked,” Ethan finished for him, face stern. He grabbed Aiden’s hands and tugged him so close he could smell the disinfectant on his hands. “Horses colic. Sometimes for a reason but oftentimes because they just do. It’s unfortunate. But it’s not your fault.”

“I was too busy,” he argued. “I was trying to fix the sprinklers in the hoop house before this weekend and I wasn’t paying attention.” Guilt gnawed at him, familiar and heavy, and he tried desperately to fight the heat prickling at the back of his eyes. Aiden should know better than to trust himself. He’d grown too complacent. This is why he shouldn’t take on special interests because all he does is ruin them.

And now he was going to speak at the town meeting? Stupid. He can’t even take care of his favorite horse!

He tried to tug his hands away, but Ethan gripped them harder. “Stop, Aiden. Hey.” He tried to get his attention, but all Aiden could do was look down at his boots and shake his head, desperate to keep Ethan from seeing him cry. He wasn’t even sure why he was still here. People didn’t stay for Aiden. Not when they knew there was something wrong with him. Something cowardly and?—

Big hands gripped his face, tipping it so when he opened his eyes all he could see through the tears threatening to spill was deep, brown eyes looking down at him with such intensity it took his breath away.

“Aiden, baby, you’ve got to stop. Take a breath. You didn’t do anything wrong, ok? It wasn’t your fault.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the ferocity or the pet name, but he paused. Once he’d stopped, his breath caught up with him. After a couple of deep inhales and exhales he found he could think better. That clawing ugliness abated, its familiar figure skulking back to the hole it was banished to whenever Ethan was around.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Ethan said confidently, his face softening. “I know you. You are meticulous and you love these animals. There is nothing you could do that would ever hurt them.”

Aiden realized his hands had buried in Ethan’s jacket, tugging him closer even as his brain was screaming to let him go. Before he could say anything else he was dragged into a hug, Ethan tucking Aiden’s head into his shoulder.

Ethan called him baby. Casually too, like that was how he saw Aiden in his mind, and it just slipped out when he wasn’t paying attention.

But that couldn’t be right. Aiden wasn’t anything to Ethan. He was just a guy who wouldn’t deck him for kissing him. Someone to make the winters a little less cold. They didn’t have labels or endearments.

Sniffling, he pushed away from Ethan only to notice what he was wearing. Under his work coat he had on a nice button up and slacks.

Ethan noticed his confusion. “Oh, I was heading to dinner with my parents when you called. They’re driving through and we were going to meet up before they had to hit the road again.”

Aiden wasn’t sure where his parents lived now but Ethan mentioned he didn’t get to see his family much. “Y-you weren’t working?” Ethan worked with another vet. They covered for each other when they were off. “Why didn’t you tell me to call the other vet?”

A look Aiden didn’t understand crossed Ethan’s face. “You needed me.” He stepped closer, hand sliding to the back of Aiden’s neck. Gripping firmly, he felt himself sinking into the grounding hold. “I will always come when you need me.” A small smile flickered across his lips. “And when you don’t. I’ll just be here.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just let Ethan hold him. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be.