Chapter 1 #2
Something about my curt responses to Grayson or my expression must have warned the others off asking me too many questions.
Their conversation swirled around me, familiar yet foreign, like taking a seat at a new chow hall as I started to piece together who was who.
Adler sat next to Grayson. Maverick had mentioned last night that Grayson had a guy.
Judging from how Adler ribbed Grayson, it had to be him, although his sunny demeanor was a stark contrast to Grayson’s stoicism.
After we ate, Grayson showed me to the bunk where Adler had tossed my duffel.
Lower bunk, of course, and closest to the bathroom.
More accommodations. My back was going to be a permanent stack of lumber by the end of the day, and I was more than a little relieved when we moved onto a tour of the barn with Grayson and Kat.
I’d hoped to let the two of them talk while I trailed along and got my bearings, but as we entered the large state-of-the-art horse barn with its rows of stalls and large, attached riding ring, Kat turned toward me.
“What sort of experience do you have with horses?” she asked, stopping near a tack room. “Can you ride?”
“Ride decent enough.” I measured out each word. Kat nodded, expression intent like she was expecting more info. I swallowed hard. “Worked…in school…for Colt’s…”
“He worked with Betsey’s folks’ horses during high school,” Grayson finished easily for me as I faltered. Fuck. I hated when others had to fill in the blanks for me, and I hated my relief at not having to explain further even more.
“Ah. I should have remembered that.” Kat gave a warm smile.
Like Grayson, she was a longtime ranch employee, and she’d likely known Colt’s late wife Betsey, who’d come from a family of barrel racers.
Colt had gotten me the job at her parents’ small stable and training facility when I’d been in high school.
The area was small enough that everyone knew everyone else.
“You were such a young’un back then. Guess I saw you around their barn a time or two. ”
“Yep.” I didn’t have specific memories of her or Grayson, but our paths had likely crossed at some point.
“Better question is, are you cleared to ride?” Kat continued with the questions. “Any restrictions?”
“I’m good.” I offered an expression I hoped passed for friendly and competent. Hard to know what my face might actually be doing, especially as my temples throbbed and a muscle in my jaw twitched.
“Colt said the doctors recommended a riding helmet and caution around overexertion.” Grayson was too damn helpful.
“Helmet. Fine.” I’d served under enough commanding officers to know which battles to fight and which to let go. I’d let the helmet requirement go in favor of the war to be taken seriously as a hand. “I can work.”
Grayson looked ready to argue this point, but then he took a deep breath and gestured at a nearby muck cart. “Let’s get you started with some stalls then.”
I was at risk of strangling the next person who attempted to coddle me, so I threw myself into the task with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, enough so that Grayson and Kat let me be with a row of empty stalls needing my attention.
It might have been fifteen years or so since I’d mucked a stall, but muscle memory took over.
Funny that. My brain had had to relearn walking, talking, and making basic facial expressions like smiling, but mucking came back with no effort at all.
If only everything were as easy as shoveling shit.
I moved from one stall to the next, lost in the rhythm of the task, muscles pleasantly warm from work.
I welcomed the burn. In addition to my TBI, I’d banged up both arms, several ribs, and my right leg, and it had been months since I’d had a workout beyond the grueling PT regimen.
At least my hair had finally regrown from the multiple surgeries required to keep me alive.
If I stayed on at the ranch, I was going to need a hat of some kind or possibly a bandanna to keep the sweat off my face.
As I paused to swipe at my forehead with the hem of my T-shirt, a tall, broad-shouldered guy came strolling up the aisle of stalls. Another cowboy. Black hat. Crisp, short-sleeve plaid shirt. Big belt buckle. Dark hair and beard.
“Hey there,” he greeted me as he approached. “You seen Kat?”
“Been an hour.” I probably wasn’t going to be more help than that, but the guy kept coming, shifting what looked like a large medic’s bag from one shoulder to the other so he could stick out a hand. I pulled my work glove off in order to give him a clean handshake.
“Carson, right?” He had an easy smile and eyes somewhere between hazel and brown. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m—”
“Jude.” I blinked, eyes going as wide as Jude’s at how my brain had supplied the right answer.
“That’s right. I was a couple of years ahead of you in school, so I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”
“I remember.” The older guy had graduated before I’d started high school, but Jude had visited my middle school with the 4-H and FFA clubs.
He’d been big even back then, tall and broad-shouldered, one of those kids who looked twenty before he was sixteen.
The easy way he’d handled the horses and smaller animals had made an impression on me.
Despite living in town with zero pets, I’d joined up.
My mama undoubtedly had yet to recover from the backyard chickens, but Jude’s pitch had indirectly led me to my first job and given me a reason to stay out of trouble in high school.
“Good.” Jude’s smile widened. “Colt said you’d been hired on as a hand. You’re gonna work mainly with the horses?”
“Yep.” If Jude was looking for a lot of small talk, he wasn’t going to get it here, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to seek out Kat.
“I’m the area large animal vet these days.
” He gestured at his bag. Colt had also shared that bit of news at some point, and my brain had actually cooperated and stored the fact away.
Made sense given how good Jude had been with animals when younger and how his dad had been a vet back then as well.
“Would you wanna give me a hand with a mare while I wait for Kat to turn up?”
“Sure thing.” Mucking wasn’t exactly a time-sensitive task, and I was eager to be of service. I followed him away from the row of empty stalls toward a different row that had a few occupied stalls, including the one Jude stopped in front of.
“Cinder here is a rescue.” He pointed at the tall chestnut mare, who stamped her feet and shook her head from side to side as if she recognized Jude and was none too happy about his approach.
“She’s skittish about shots and such. We’ve learned not to try for anything like a shot in her stall and to have a second pair of hands.
Today, I need to check her over because she’s been eating less and seems moody.
Not off her feed enough for a colic concern, but I’ll likely do a blood draw so I can run a few tests. ”
“Okay.” Making a soothing noise, I patted Cinder on the head.
“You wanna bring her out to the ring?” Jude asked. “We might need more room than the aisle.”
“Can do.” I was pleased he’d given me the task of readying the horse. Jude was the first one all morning who seemed ready to assume I was competent. I grabbed a halter and a lead and slipped into the stall to get Cinder ready to walk to the ring.
Jude hung back, but he kept up a pleasant chatter about how Kat rescued Cinder as a potential horse for the ranch guests and how the horse was Adler’s favorite. He didn’t seem to expect much in the way of replies, which made his storytelling that much more enjoyable.
I led Cinder out, but as soon as she caught sight of Jude again, she balked, prancing from side to side.
“She’s not my biggest fan.” Jude chuckled as I coaxed the horse forward toward the open arena. “But she seems to like you.”
“Giddyup.” I gave a gentle tug to guide her toward the ring. In keeping with Jude’s plan to give her room, I stopped about a quarter of the way in, plenty of space on all sides.
Jude set his medical pack down and bent to retrieve a stethoscope. After approaching the horse slowly, he started by running his hands gently down Cinder’s flanks while I kept a hold of the lead.
“I’m doing a basic check for any injuries or abnormalities,” he explained.
I did enjoy Jude’s tendency to narrate his actions rather than pepper me with small-talk questions.
Besides, vet work was far more interesting than anything I might have to say.
Cinder predictably took exception to his continued examination, especially when Jude moved onto her legs.
“Easy.” Making a soothing noise, I patted her neck. “Easy now.”
“Good. Keep distracting her like that.” Jude glanced up at me with approving eyes. “I know full well the army didn’t give you much time for horses, but all that prior horse sense comes back, doesn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“I served in the army too,” he shared as he checked each hoof carefully.
“I remember.” In addition to inspiring my involvement in the farm-themed clubs at school, Jude and others from the area who joined up had planted the seed that the military might be a path for me too.
“Heck, it was probably the same recruiter in Durango.” Jude chuckled drily. “Lured me in.”
“Yep.” I knew for a fact it had been the same recruiter because he’d bragged on Jude’s medals when Tommy and I had stopped by the recruitment office to discuss options. The pitch had worked as I’d left with the paperwork all in order. “Went with…a buddy.”
Wow, I’d managed a complete, almost normal-sounding sentence. Rarity. Probably made easier by how little conversational effort Jude demanded.
“Ah, a two-for-one special. Ol’ Sergeant Longmore must have loved that.
” Jude gave another of those dry chuckles that suggested he wasn’t a fan of the recruiter or the army.
He shifted his focus back to the horse as he listened to her heart and lungs while I worked to keep Cinder as calm as possible.
That task became more difficult when Jude checked her temperature.
The horse snorted indignantly as Jude cleaned and put away the thermometer.
“Okay, I am gonna want a blood draw. Keep right up close to her, keep talking, and keep a tight hold, then we’ll let her walk it off. ”
Jude kept up the same sort of narration he’d used during the exam as he readied his equipment for the blood draw.
I’d seen other horse blood draws before, so I wasn’t surprised when Jude stepped close, readying her neck for the pinch and stick.
However, unlike those other draws, I was a mite distracted by Jude’s nearness.
I’d stood shoulder to shoulder with countless men under circumstances ranging from celebratory to heartrending to life-threatening, and this sort of awareness of Jude’s larger size, woodsy scent, and capable hands was uncommon.
Not unheard of, but not something I cultivated or allowed myself to dwell on.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and the horse alike as Jude let me know when he was about to insert the needle.
“There. There.” I tried to keep Cinder’s focus on me, making low, calming noises.
The horse’s rising panic was a palpable thing, thrumming through her as she snorted and tensed.
My own senses went on red alert for her to balk or attempt to flee, but I kept right on soothing her as Jude attached the vial to collect the blood.
I didn’t bother looking away. I’d been blessed with a cast-iron stomach and could handle all manner of smells or mess that sent others into a worse panic than Cinder.
“Done.” Jude stepped back with obvious relief. He capped the vial and wiped away the small amount of residual blood. “Let her walk it off now.”
“Good horse,” I praised as I let out the lead and trotted alongside as she strutted and stamped before settling into a walk, tension melting away with each step.
I knew the feeling. Few things settled me like a good workout, and not having that option the last several months had been its own form of torture. Nothing like movement to quiet anxiety.
“She is.” Jude looked up from packing away his gear. “A bit on the stubborn and anxious side, but she’s been decent with the ranch visitors.” He nodded at me before hefting his bag to his shoulder. “Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime.”
“Hey, while I’ve got you, I go to a veterans’ support group over in Durango sometimes. Thought you might want a ride?”
Well fuck. Here, I’d thought Jude had genuinely needed my help, and instead, his way-too-casual offer had ambush written all over it. I gave him a hard stare, measuring out each word so I didn’t stutter. “Colt send you?”
“Nope. I volunteered to mention the group to you.” Jude’s smile didn’t so much as waver. “And the timing was a happy coincidence. I did need the extra pair of hands.”
My answer was a snort as loud as any Cinder had made.
“Think about it?” Jude was undeterred. He leaned against the gate to the riding arena, casual as if he had all day to press his case. “Consider it an open offer.”
“I’ll think,” I lied.
No matter what Jude said, the invite had big-brother meddling all over it.
I’d sat in on enough group and solo counseling sessions over the course of my rehabilitation to last me a good long while.
Not only was I reluctant to agree to any sort of group, especially one Colt thought would do me good, but there was also the matter of that frisson of awareness I’d had while Jude had worked on the horse.
I neither wanted nor needed more of that, no matter how good a guy Jude had grown into.