Chapter Eleven #2
“He wanted to help you. He thought he was.” Serena leaned against the stall door.
“I can’t imagine what it felt like for you because I’m so close to my own mother.
And Ethan feels the same way about his family.
He’s never had to protect himself from someone who was supposed to love him, so he couldn’t understand why you had those walls up.
He pushed because he loves you, Naomi. He wanted you to have what he has. He wanted you to be happy.”
Naomi looked at her.
“That doesn’t make it right,” she said quietly.
“No,” Serena agreed. “But it makes it forgivable.”
“I sent him away,” she said.
“Then go find him.” Serena said it simply. “Don’t let your mother take this from you too. She’s already taken enough.”
That landed somewhere deep and quiet.
Naomi looked at Vader, who was still watching them both with his ears forward like he was following the conversation.
“When did you get so wise?” Naomi said.
“I’ve made my own mistakes with people I cared about.” Serena pushed off the stall door. “I learned the hard way that being right isn’t always worth what it costs you.”
Naomi looked at her. She wondered if she was talking about Johnny but didn’t ask.
“Go talk to him,” Serena said. “After you work this boy.” She nodded at Vader. “He looks like he’s about to come through that door on his own.”
Naomi laughed despite herself and reached for the stall latch.
****
Ethan found her in the arena, working Vader through the pattern at a steady lope. He waited at the rail until she brought the horse around and spotted him.
She rode over slowly and pulled up.
They looked at each other for a moment.
“I have to go out of town,” he said. “Leaving in the morning. I’ll be back day after tomorrow.”
She held his gaze. “Where are you going?”
“Billings. I sold a mare to a man out there eight months ago. Got a call yesterday that she’s not being treated right.” He kept his voice even. “I’m going to get her back.”
Something moved across Naomi’s face. “You’re taking her back.”
“That’s what the contract states.”
She looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, and he could see her turning something over behind those blue eyes.
“Okay,” she said finally.
He nodded and touched the brim of his hat.
He was three steps from the door when he heard her.
“Ethan.”
He turned.
She was still sitting Vader at the rail, looking at him across the arena.
“Be careful,” she said quietly.
He held her gaze for a second.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
He walked out into the morning sun and thought that those two words from her were just about the best thing he’d heard in two days.
Ethan left before six, the trailer hitched and empty behind him, the road quiet in the early morning dark. He had a thermos of coffee and eight hours ahead of him and nothing but his own thoughts for company.
That last part was the problem.
He drove south as the sky lightened around him, the mountains shifting and changing on either side, the land opening up gradually as he put miles between himself and the ranch. The radio played low and he let it, not really listening.
His mind kept going where it wanted to go. Which was to her.
He thought about the look on her face when he’d told her about the mare. The way something had shifted when she understood what he was doing. He wasn’t sure what it meant but it had felt like something.
Seth had said, ‘she’s not going anywhere’ and Ethan prayed that was true, then he thought about the two words she’d called after him.
Be careful.
He was three hours out when his phone buzzed on the seat beside him, and he glanced at the screen on his truck.
Naomi.
He pressed the button on the steering wheel to answer. “Hey.”
“Hey.” A pause. “How’s the drive?”
“Long.” He shifted in the seat. “Boring.”
“I’ve never been to Billings.”
“You’re not missing much between here and there. How’s it going with Vader?”
“Good. We had a strong session this morning.” Another pause, shorter this time. “I’m glad you told me you were going.”
He looked at the road ahead. “I wasn’t going to just disappear.”
“I know.” Her voice was quiet. “I just wanted you to know I appreciated it.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I’ll call you when I get there,” he said.
“Okay.” A beat. “Ethan.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m still working through some things.”
“I know.”
“But I miss you.” It came out soft, like she hadn’t entirely meant to say it out loud.
He felt something loosen in his chest that had been tight for two days.
“I miss you too,” he said. She hung up.
When he pulled into Billings late afternoon, he was stiff from the drive and ready to be out of the truck.
He found the address without trouble, a property on the outskirts of town that looked decent enough from the road but told a different story up close.
Fences that needed work, a barn that needed paint, and a general air of neglect that made his jaw tighten before he’d even cut the engine.
He got out and a man came across the yard toward him. Mid-forties, heavyset, with the look of someone who’d been expecting this visit and wasn’t happy about it.
“Harrison,” the man said.
“Mr. Dillard.” Ethan shook his hand once. “Where is she?”
Dillard led him to a stall at the back of the barn and Ethan stopped in the doorway, looked at the mare, and felt the anger move through him slow and cold.
She was thin. Not dangerously so, but enough. Her coat was dull and her eyes were flat. The way horses’ eyes got when they’d stopped expecting much from the people around them.
He stood there for a moment without speaking.
“She’s fine,” Dillard said behind him. “She’s just a picky eater.”
Ethan didn’t respond. He stepped into the stall slowly and let the mare get a look at him, moving easy, no sudden gestures. He knew she remembered him. Horses never forgot who treated them well.
“Hey, girl,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”
Her ears came forward.
He clipped a lead to her halter, opened the stall door, and walked her out.
“Now hold on.” Dillard stepped in front of him. “We had a deal.”
“We did.” Ethan stopped and looked at him. “The contract you signed states that if this horse is found to be mistreated or neglected I have the right to reclaim her. No refund.” He held the man’s gaze. “Look at her, Dillard. Not only is she in bad shape, but she appears lame.”
Dillard’s jaw tightened. “I want my money back.”
“You’re not getting it.” Ethan moved around him. “Step aside.”
“You can’t just walk in here and—”
“I just did.” Ethan kept walking toward the trailer, the mare quiet at his shoulder. “If you’d like to take it further you’re welcome to call my lawyer. His number is on the contract. Or we can call the sheriff's office.”
Dillard said something behind him that Ethan didn’t dignify with a response.
He loaded the mare, latched the gate, and climbed into the truck.
Later, at the motel, Ethan dropped his bag on the bed and looked at his phone.
He wanted to call her. But the horse came first.
He picked up his keys, left the room, and crossed the parking lot to the trailer. He unlatched it quietly, not wanting to disturb the other guests, and stepped inside.
The mare shifted at his approach, and he ran his hand along her flank, up to her neck, feeling for anything he might have missed earlier. She was calmer than she’d been at Dillard’s place. That was something.
He checked the water. Full. Good. A horse could go a long time without food but not without water, and he wasn’t taking any chances on an eight-hour drive.
“Hey, girl.” He kept his voice low. “I know it’s not ideal. But you’re out of there and that’s what matters. I’ll get you home tomorrow and we’ll start putting some weight back on you and get that lameness taken care of.”
The mare turned her head and blew warm air into his hand.
He grinned.
“You’re going to be just fine,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
He stepped out, latched the trailer gate, and stood in the quiet parking lot for a moment looking up at the sky. Different stars down here. Not as many.
The next morning, at six, he pulled out of the motel parking lot and drove straight to Sawyer’s place after calling him. He knew Sawyer would take care of the mare. He was one of the best veterinarians in the area who used hydrotherapy for equine. He gave him another call when he reached Clifton.
Sawyer met him at the gate when he pulled in, a little older than the last time Ethan had seen him but looking well, the kind of settled that came from a man who’d found the right life.
They shook hands and Sawyer looked the mare over before she’d even come off the trailer, walking around her slowly, running his hand along her flank, checking her eyes.
“She’s thin,” he said.
“I know. She’s been eating since I got her back yesterday. Appetite’s good.”
“That’s something.” Sawyer lifted one of her legs and set it down gently. “Let’s get her inside and I’ll do a proper assessment.”
The facility was bigger than most people expected when they came for the first time.
Three large barns housed six pools and three water treadmills, all of them clean and well maintained, the smell of chlorine faint but present.
Ethan had been here enough times to know his way around, but he never stopped being impressed by what Sawyer and his brother, Colson had built.
“Treadmill first,” Sawyer said, leading the mare slowly down the aisle. “Swimming puts more demand on them. We’ll see how she moves in the water before we decide anything else.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Compensation. Whether she’s favoring anything she shouldn’t be.” He glanced at Ethan. “Neglect has a way of showing up in the joints before it shows up anywhere else.”