Chapter 13 #2
Rowan exhaled through his nose. His thumb hovered over the decline button, pressing just enough to feel the resistance, but before he had it fully pressed, the buzzing stopped, and the screen dimmed. He placed it on the table in relief. Then the damn thing started up again.
Marla didn’t even look at him this time. “People don’t call more than once in a row unless it’s life or death, and you know it.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened, but he snatched the phone up on the third ring, swiping across the screen before the call could roll to voicemail again. He pressed the phone hard to his ear, as if he could block out the noise of the diner. “Salieri.”
“Rowan.” Camden’s voice was rough, and there was a rawness to it that put Rowan on edge. “Got a minute?”
Something’s wrong.
“Depends. You need another bill settled?” He kept his tone light, but the words were forced. “Give me a couple of minutes to pay my bill and get to my truck. I’ll call you back in five.” He didn’t need Marla telling everyone in a hundred-mile radius what she managed to overhear.
“Sure thing, another few minutes won’t matter much.”
Rowan got to his feet and walked to the counter to pay Nora-Mae. “Can you give me a couple of pies for the bunkhouse?”
“You got it, Sugar.” Nora-Mae put the pies in a box and handed them over, then rang up his total.
Rowan handed over the cash and waved at the room, “See ya, folks. Thanks, Nora-Mae.” He carefully carried the pies to his truck and slid them onto the passenger seat where he could grab them if needed. He blew out a long, slow breath and reached for his phone.
The call barely had time to connect before Camden answered. “Rowan, thank you for calling me back.”
“What can I do for you, Camden? Is everything okay?”
There was a beat of silence, heavy enough to raise Rowan’s eyebrows.
“It’s Enya.” Camden said, “And Rain.”
Rowan’s free hand curled around the steering wheel, “go on.”
Camden’s breath hitched, the sound raw and uneven.
“They’re not…” His voice cracked, but he cleared his throat and started again.
“They’re not doing well. Enya’s barely functioning, never mind riding or even paying any attention to Rain.
And Rain—” Camden took a sharp inhale of breath as if he’d been gut-punched.
“He’s almost as bad as she is. He won’t let anyone near him.
He’s dropping weight, refuses feed, kicks the stall walls like he’s trying to tear the whole barn down. ”
Sounds like the horse is traumatized, too.
Rowan’s fingers drummed against the wheel. He still had no idea where Moore was going with this. “What’re you asking, Moore?”
The sigh that came through the line was long and exhausted.
“Because he was bred on your ranch, I’m asking if you’d take Rain for a little while.
” Camden’s voice roughened into something that sounded suspiciously like desperation.
“Maybe giving them both some space from the pain the other is in will help. Maybe if he’s not here, not seeing her like this every damn day, he’ll settle.
And she’ll—” His voice broke, “She’ll figure out how to stand on her own two feet again without the guilt of knowing she’s hurting him every day she doesn’t talk to or even look at him. ”
A horse that had lost its rider. A rider who had lost herself. He’d seen how grief could twist a creature, human or otherwise, into something unrecognizable. The way it could hollow them out from the inside. Rowan exhaled, giving himself a second to think. “You sure that’s what she wants?”
“She doesn’t know what she wants.” Camden’s voice sounded drained of everything but exhaustion. “But I have to try something. Please, Rowan. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t—”
He didn’t need Camden to finish that sentence.
Rain was bred on Stronghold Ranch. He was horse family, period.
Stronghold looked after their own. “I’ll send Gael with a trailer tomorrow.
” He knew he didn’t owe Camden Moore a damn thing.
But as Rain’s breeder, or at least the son of his breeder, he owed that horse a shot.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed Camden to understand there were no magic fixes…
for horses or for people. “I’m not making promises that we can help him, just as you shouldn’t hold out hope that he can help Enya. ”
“I know.” Camden replied, “But as it is, it’s like they are draining each other. I have to try something.”
“I understand.” If he were in the other man’s shoes, he’d try anything too. “Gael will be there by noon tomorrow.”
“Appreciate it. We’ll have him ready. Thank you, once again.”
“You’re welcome.” Rowan lowered the phone. Gael was not going to be thrilled about this. But what could they do? An SHR-bred horse needed help, so help they would give.
He twisted the key, firing the engine to life, and turned the nose of the truck toward home.
Might as well get this over with.
The truck ate up the miles between town and the ranch. He punched the code into the box on the gate and rolled on through when it opened. He paused and watched the gate close behind him before continuing up to the house. He killed the engine, grabbed the pies, and climbed out.
The screen door slapped shut behind him as he strode inside, “Gael?”
“Yeah?”
“We got a problem.”
“A work problem?” Gael appeared in the bathroom, zipping up his jeans. He ducked back in, and the sound of running water muffled his voice, “Or a horse problem?”
“It was one, and now it’s the other.”
“Ro, that’s even more riddley than you normally are,” Gael muttered as he stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. “I’m gonna need a little more than that. Explain.”
“I need you to drive down to Camden Moore’s to pick up Rain.” He placed the box of pies on the table. “He needs a soft place to land and is coming here for a bit.”
Gael’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline, but he didn’t talk for a beat or two before he connected the dots in his head. “She’s that bad, huh?”
“They both are.” Just as he was a sucker for a horse in pain, when it came to animals, he knew that Gael wouldn’t be able to say no either.
“You should call her.” Gael opened the pie box and inhaled deeply before turning away to fetch himself a plate.
No. No. No. That’s a bad idea.
“Why?”
“Because you were the one who pulled her out of hell.” Gael put a huge slice of apple pie on his plate and put it in the microwave. “Maybe if you talk to her, she’ll believe she’s home.” He glanced over his shoulder at him. “Least that’s how it was for me when it came to Joel.”
I cannot and will not be who she needs.
He was way too battered to be someone anyone needed, least of all a traumatized woman. Traumatized horse… that he could do. People, not so much. “There was a reason Joel was that for you.” He said finally, “I’m just not good at the nurturing stuff.”
“Bullshit.” Gael spooned a heaping of Cool Whip over his pie. “Joel grounded me, because Joel is my safe harbor. Maybe it’s time you found one of those for yourself, Prince Charming.”
Rowan flinched. There it was. The guys had gotten a kick out of how Enya had latched onto him in Colombia. They’d called him Prince Charming for a damn week. He didn’t need to listen to this crap again.
“I have paperwork waiting on me in the barn.” He shrugged out of his go-to-town jacket and exchanged it for his barn one. “You’ll drive down there and pick up Rain in the morning?”
“Seein’ as you’re not going to do it, sure.”
Rowan escaped the kitchen while his twin had a mouthful of pie, and before he had the chance to really get on a roll about how there was someone for everyone, blah, blah, blah.
The barn office was a cave of worn-in comfort.
Rowan loved the scent of old leather that mingled with the sharp and earthy tang of linseed oil.
He reached for the bottle of Horse Soldier Bourbon, distilled by the Green Berets who went into Afghanistan on horseback and met up with warlords at the start of the war.
After the day I just had, I deserve a drink of something fucking epic.
The springs groaned beneath him as he sank into his chair and propped his legs up on the table.
He filled his glass and decided to ignore the battlefield of neglected paperwork waiting for him to look at.
He should be sorting the ledgers with dog-eared corners and those vet records held together by faded paper clips, but decided it could wait until tomorrow.
He drained half the glass of bourbon, topped it up, and savored the next sip.
The initial burn had done its job and smothered the noise of disquiet inside him. That would have to be enough.
He leaned back in his chair, cradling the glass in his hand, while he closed his eyes. Thinking was always something he did best when alone.
Am I being unreasonable?
Behind his eyelids, his memory fed him the image of Enya as she flinched away from Grif on the plane. How she’d clung to him as if he were her, what had Gael called it, safe harbor?
Is it a dick move to not see if a listening ear could help?
He knew better than to get involved in someone else’s problems. Even with the best intentions, the possibility of blowback was enormous.
If not me, then who?
Damn it.
He lowered his feet, placed his glass out of the way so he wouldn’t knock it over with his elbow, hit the on button on his computer, and pulled up a search engine.
This is stupid.
Maybe even reckless.
And probably a goddamn waste of time.
But the thought of Enya had burrowed under his skin like a splinter, and now he needed to pull the damn thing out before it drove him insane—or worse, festered.
Before he could talk himself out of it, his fingers moved, and he tapped her name into the search engine and waited for the results to load.
He scrolled quickly down the page until he found her number and reached for his phone.
What the hell am I doing?
The right thing.
He opened up a message box and tapped out a message.
Rowan: Enya, just checking in to see how you are doing. Call me sometime. Rowan.
Before he could second-guess himself, the message vanished with a quiet whoosh, and he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
Well, that was a stupid move.
If he were fast enough, he could probably have Theo cancel the message before she saw it. But he decided if she had seen it come and just not opened it yet, doing so would be a shit move, even for him.
He reached for the glass, and the whiskey inside sloshed lazily against the sides as he lifted it.
Rather than focus on the message he’d send, he figured those files he’d been determined to ignore a few minutes ago would be a good distraction while he waited to see if she’d reply.
Rowan reached for the first set of vet reports and got to work.
“If she’s smart, she’ll just ignore it.”