2. PRESTON
Chapter two
PRESTON
WHEN MOVING FORWARD MEANS GOING BACK
“It’s so nice to see you keep this place going,” Castor says, handing over the clinic’s mail. “I’m hoping my boy will be taking over for me at the post shop before long; these old dogs are tired.”
He’s referring to his legs. At least I hope he is. He tells me the same thing every second morning when he brings the mail, and to be honest, I’m not sure he remembers, so it’s probably not a bad idea if he does retire soon.
“How is the family?” I ask.
“Good as gold,” he replies. “And your momma, she’s good, I hope?”
“Yep, doing great.”
“Good, good. Well, you have yourself a wonderful day.”
“You, too,” I reply and watch as he leaves the clinic, slowly climbs into the cart, and pulls away from the curb. The thing only goes a few miles an hour, and everyone in town knows to keep a close eye out for Castor in the mornings. He’s lived his whole life in Bellerelle and has been the postman for most of it, too. It would be weird to see someone else riding around town on his little mail cart, but judging by the increase in dents I can see through the clinic window, it’s time.
While Caster has never left, I couldn’t wait to get out of Bellerelle. When I ran away, I was running from a few things. Heartbreak, sure, but also from the expectations, a plan for my life that I wasn’t ready for. I knew I’d be back one day. After exploring the world and the animals that inhabit every corner of it. I loved growing up around animals and I saw no other future for me than following in my father’s footsteps. I just never thought one day would come around so fast.
Grandpa died at fifty from a massive heart attack, Dad made it to sixty-one, and part of the reason I had to get out of Bellerelle and see the world was the fear that my life would come to the same brutally sudden end and I’d never get to. I’ve been getting annual health checkups for a while now. Got a full bill of health at my last one, just two weeks ago, so I should be good for a while.
The clinic phone rings, and I pick it up to find Jed from the Peterson’s ranch on the line.
“Hey, Preston,” he starts. Most of the farmers call me by my name instead of Dr. Knight. My dad was Dr. Knight, so I don’t really mind. I grew up with these guys, so we keep it pretty casual. Except for Dean, he always calls me Doc.
“Hey, what can I help with today?” I ask.
“I picked up twelve horses from a foreclosure a couple of days ago. They were in the south paddock during last night’s storm, and a tree branch fell, clocking one of the colts on the head. Thing isn’t moving, but I can see it’s breathing. Can you come?”
“I’ll be there in five. Can you clear any other horses out of the area for me?”
“Sure, I will. See you soon.”
I hang up, grab some things, preparing for the worst, and drive straight over. If this colt isn’t moving, he could have all kinds of injuries. I wonder how big the branch was. I really don’t want to have to euthanize a horse today. While I am aware that not every animal can be saved, it is the absolute worst part of my job.
I pull into the Peterson’s farm, and Jed leads me over to where he left the colt lying in the mud. Only, when we near the paddock, there is the colt standing right as rain under the tree that nearly killed it.
“Well, that’s good, right?” Jed says as we climb the rail and walk over.
“It’s a good sign, yeah. We won’t know for sure that he’s all well until I get a good look at him, though.”
The colt is covered in mud, and blood is caked down his head from a gash that has already stopped bleeding just above his right ear. He’s got his back to us, and his stance looks good. Solid.
“Might need some stitches on that cut,” I say and reach out to sweep my hand along his flank, and just as my fingers brush against him, the fucking thing makes a gasping noise, goes stiff as a board, and falls towards me. Jed quickly pulls me out of the way just as the colt falls to the ground.
“What the fuck?” Jed says, climbing to his feet. My ass and half my arm is covered in mud now, too.
“It’s like someone shot him,” I say, moving to crouch beside the colt to check his vitals.
His heartbeat is a little fast, but then I check his reaction to sound.
“It can’t hear out of the left ear at all and has limited reactions on the right,” I say, and Jed takes off his hat and holds it over his chest.
“Poor fella’s deaf?”
“Afraid so, but the cut looks okay. Not too deep. I’m not sure the branch did this. What history do you have on him?”
“Not much, you know how foreclosures go. The banks just want to sell everything off as quickly as they can. We corralled them into the paddock just fine, but he was with the rest of the herd, then. If you think whatever it is might be permanent, maybe we should put him out of his misery?” Jed asks, and my heart sinks. Sure, a deaf horse isn’t easy to manage, one that apparently plays dead when spooked would be even harder, but judging from everything else I see, he’s pretty healthy.
“I can take him, find him a good home,” I say, and Jed raises a brow.
“You want him, he’s yours.”
“Thanks, umm, can I borrow a trailer and maybe a few guys to help me get him inside? I have a feeling he’s not going to stand up and just walk on.”
“I’ll call the boys,” he says, and twenty minutes and a lot of muscle later, the colt is inside an extra-wide trailer, still on his side, and we’re headed away.
I don’t blame Jed for not wanting to keep him. He runs a stud farm and if the issues with the colt’s hearing is due to some genetic defect, he can’t use him. The whole playing dead thing would probably make breeding hard, too.
The dirt kicks up behind the tires, and I drive about as fast as a field tractor up the dirt road. There is only one person I know who might take in this guy. Dean Beaker.
My dad always said the Beakers were akin to looking after anyone or anything that needed looking after. I never understood it though until this past year. With a number of properties selling up, there’s been more than one not so normal animal that’s needed saving from the chopping block, and every one of them has ended up at Beaker Brothers Ranch. To be fair, the first weird animal was already there and is kind of to blame for them becoming my go-to for rescuing the weird and wonderful.
Every time I ask him to take in one more, I expect him to say no, but he just smiles and nods.
He’s been that way with all the animals I’ve brought him. The lamas, the goats, the ugly as fuck chickens. You know what a chicken looks like without feathers because you pluck them to cook them, but you don’t expect to see a handful of them running around completely fucking naked except for a tuft of soft feathers on top of their head. Scary as hell.
Dean doesn’t care if they are ugly, a little odd, or downright delusional. He’ll take them in and give them a good home. His heart is the biggest of any person I’ve ever known.
I pull the van up and position the trailer as close to the paddock gate as I can before climbing out. The wide trailer has covers for the side and back windows that we closed before loading the fella in to help him feel safer, but there’s a grate facing the rear of the van where I can see out of the corner of my eye that the horse is upright facing the back.
Dean is already walking over with Nial, the younger of the two brothers, and Dean’s clenching his hands in and out in fists. Did I interrupt something? Maybe I shouldn’t have come. But I’m sure no one else would even consider taking a deaf horse. He’s this colt’s only hope.
“Hey, sorry to just show up, it was kind of an emergency,” I say, and Dean nods. My gaze moves from his well-worn, faded cowboy hat to his hands, and he quickly shoves them into the pockets of his faded denim jeans.
Nial shakes his head. “I told him you’d be bringing a horse.” Nial laughs, scooping up a ball and tossing it for Houdini, their Australian sheepdog, to chase. The dog takes off at a run, misses the ball, and slides past it, tumbling over twice before standing upright and shaking the dirt off.
Atlas jogs past the dog with Sky, the young, colorful farmhand.
“What have you got there?” Atlas asks, and I turn my attention back to Dean.
“Hopefully, your newest resident.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Atlas asks with a smirk.
“Nothing,” I say.
“I call bullshit.” Nial laughs again, climbing up onto the fence surrounding the front pasture.
“Okay, he’s just a little hard of hearing,” I say as we all move around to the back of the trailer. Covering the side and back openings sounded like a good idea at the time. I figured the less going on around the colt, the calmer he would be, and when he stood up as I waited at the end of the driveway to turn into Beaker Brother’s, I figured it was the right decision. But now, as Atlas swings the gate open so that when the trailer door is released, the horse will be free to just walk or run on out, I second-guess not asking for a more open trailer. This horse can’t hear that we’re out here. He could bolt the second he sees us. Shit, too late now, I guess.
“Is he old?” Nial asks, and I shake my head.
“No, only about three. He was hit in the head last night by a tree branch. Not sure that’s what did it, though. He’s from a foreclosure, so not a lot of info on him. Who knows, the damage may not be permanent, but…”
“But what?”
“He’s a little…skittish.”
“You know, people ride our horses on this ranch,” Nial adds.
“I don’t think he’d be good for riding, not yet, but maybe with some…rehab. I can come every other day to work with him.”
“The gate’s open, may as well let him out then,” Nial says, and Skye unlatches the trailer door and swings it wide. The second the horse sees us, he doesn’t bolt. He fucking plays possum again, goes stiff as a board, and falls to the side, leaning against the side of the wide trailer and sliding down the wall to the floor.
“Oh great, what I always wanted. A dead horse,” Nial jokes, and Dean moves forward slowly.
“Looks pretty dead, Doc,” Dean says, taking off his hat and scrubbing his hand through his thick, dark hair.
“He’s not. He’s just playing like it,” I say, unable to tear my gaze away from Dean. If the men in Bellerelle were horses, Dean would be best in show.
He’s about six feet tall, with big, broad shoulders, honey, sun-kissed skin, thick dark hair, and even darker eyes. He was almost the first guy I ever kissed. After Isabel and I split, I got way too drunk at the graduation bonfire, and being the good guy he’s always seemed to be, Dean sat me down and grabbed me an apple and a bottle of water to help sober me up.
He sat so close that our thighs touched, and when he looked over at me, wet lips slightly parted, and those big, dark eyes sparkling with the million stars above, I felt myself being drawn to him in a way I’d never been to anyone before. It was strange, like there was a gravity around him pulling me in. Not thinking, I leaned into the feeling, toward him. But then I chickened out and played it off like I was just losing my balance, grabbing his shoulder, and swaying sideways.
Atlas climbs into the trailer with the horse, running his hand gently over its side. I spot the fellas’ ears twitch a little.
“You boys head inside. Leave me with him,” Atlas says.
“It took four guys to get him into the trailer,” I tell him, but he waves me away.
“I’ll be just fine. Off ya go. I’m pretty sure Sally-May will have dinner ready in not too long. Just be sure to save me a plate.”
“I’m starving,” Skye says, and Dean tips his chin, and the kid takes off. Then he turns to me.
“So, Doc, umm, do you eat?” he asks, and Nial laughs.
“He’s human, so I’m guessing he does,” Nial replies, and Dean flips him off.
“I mean, do you want to eat? Do you want to stay to eat? For dinner. Do you want dinner?” He rubs his forehead, pushing up his cowboy hat a little as he massages the deep lines that have formed over the years. Did I contribute to those deep lines by bringing all these odd animals to his doorstep? I hope not, though judging by the daggers he’s throwing Nial, I’d say they are more the result of trying to run a ranch with family. I worked at the clinic with Dad through high school, and it was never a picnic being told what to do by him. I can’t imagine it would be any easier if the orders were coming from a brother. I’m an only child, though, so I guess I can’t really compare.
“That would be great,” I reply, my stomach growing at even the thought of a home-cooked meal. “Do you think Sally-May will mind?”
Dean shakes his head, turns on his heel, and makes his way toward the house. Nial slaps a hand down on my shoulder.
“Come on, Preston. It’s steak night in the Beaker house.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
Dean laughs as he opens the door up ahead.
“Doc hasn’t eaten meat since third grade,” he says with a smile. I can’t believe he remembers that. He’s looking at me and I swear I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile like this, big, happy, and real. He’s always been the serious one. Even back in high school. While Nial and even Alan, their youngest brother, were out having fun, Dean was with his gramps running the ranch, wrangling his brothers, and keeping guys away from his sister. Me included. He was good, too, because I’m fairly sure she didn’t date at all through high school. I only dated one girl in high school, actually, ever. Isabel Mores.
I thought Isabel had the same dream as me, but then, just before graduation, she started talking about marriage and working for her daddy on his horticultural farm. She said she was sure I’d love it and could take over one day, seeing as she had no brothers, and the walls just started closing in.
I told her I needed to live more than this small-town life first, and that we could come back later. After I finished vet school, and we’d travelled the world. But she said it was now or never, and when I couldn’t say yes to that life right in that moment, she ended it. After that, I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t give her the small-town future she wanted, not at eighteen. It was too soon. I’d never been out of Georgia, and I thought she was as keen to step away from our small-town life and embark on a new adventure before all of that as I was. I was wrong.
Isabel will always be my first love, and when she broke my heart, I thought I would never find another girl like her. Turns out I would never want another girl, period. College was a big awakening for me.
I came out to Mom and Dad a few years later. For two people raised as straight as you can get, they took their only son liking guys better than I expected. Dad shrugged like he’d already known, and Mom asked me to bring home a nice boy when I met one. The boys I met in college were nice, but not nice enough to bring home to meet my mom. On the same trip, I saw Isabel briefly walking through town with a guy on her arm and a stroller in front of her. She looked like she was floating on cloud nine, cuddled in at his side, peering down into the stroller with pure joy in her eyes, and while I still believe what we had was real, I didn’t mind seeing her like that, living the life she wanted with me with someone else. It made me happy.
Nial shoves me with his shoulder. “Fuck off, no way it’s been that long since he’s had a good bit of meat in his mouth.”
I try not to laugh because I’ve had meat in my mouth plenty, just not the meat he’s talking about.
“Yep, third-grade trip to the Keller pig farm. Last time I even thought about eating an animal. I’m sort of surprised Dean remembers that, though,” I say, and Dean’s cheeks flush a little pink before he turns away.
“Umm, yeah. I don’t know. I guess it just stuck.”
Nial jogs through the house, past Dean, who’s still holding the door for us to pass. Houdini, their dog, runs after him but trips up the stairs and rolls to the bottom before shaking off the red dirt and going again. I thought maybe the thing had an inner ear issue, what with how it’s always falling over, but the thing is just a bit special. Like all the animals in this place.
I remember my first week back in town, I was called out to the ranch to check on Gordon, the donkey, after it put its leg through a wood panel on the milking barn wall, trying to force his way inside. The new farmhand thought the guys were joking when they told him to let Gordon in last and hook him up in the end stall.
I’d just come from another farm. One of their sows had a litter of piglets a few days earlier, and the runt was getting shoved around by the others. The mama wasn’t helping much, so I took him with me, figured I’d bottle feed for a bit and drop him back if he picked up. The thing squealed the whole time it was in the van, so I carried it out with me when I was looking over Gordon, and when it caught sight of Dean’s dog Houdini, the thing wiggled and squirmed until I let it go, and sure as shit it shut up the second it was snuggled into the dog’s side. Houdini didn’t mind much. He lay there, letting the thing cuddle up to him nice and tight.
A few stitches and a round of antibiotics, and Gordon was right as rain, but there was no way to get that piglet away from Houdini without a headache, so I asked Dean if he minded keeping it on the ranch for a while. After that, Dean was my go-to for the weird and wonderful of the animal kingdom.
Houdini makes it up the stairs, and a second later, I see Gunther, the pig, fully grown now and fucking huge, stroll past the doorway.
“Well, there’s always vegetables, and dessert is apple pie. You eat apples, don’t you?” Nial asks.
“I’ve been known to eat an apple or two,” I reply, walking past Dean and into the house. As I pass, I take a whole breath of him, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t incredible. Some kind of sweet woody scent mixed with salt, dirt, and perfection. Tonight, that’s also mixed with a warm apple cinnamon-dusted scent that smells like home.
I noticed how incredible Dean smells the first time I came to the ranch after moving home, and I can’t help but try to breathe him in every time I’ve visited since. It doesn’t make sense for a guy who’s outside working his ass off all day to smell this good, but he fucking does, and I will breathe him in every chance I get. Not creepy at all, right?