Chapter 6
JULIAN
Ranger and Benny are on my mind the rest of the night.
I can’t believe I was so careless. I’ve been doing this work for vets with PTSD for years now, and early on, I messed up more than once before I finally decided I needed to do better.
I did all the research I could on PTSD—reading articles, speaking with therapists who specialize in PTSD treatment, talking with veterans.
I learned about being careful to respect a veteran’s space, pay attention to triggers, and never move too quickly when they’re not expecting it.
In many ways, I realized I need to treat them like I do my horses because that same part of their brain, the part that warns them danger could be around any corner, is always active. But even after all that effort, I still triggered him.
I was proud to see how quickly Benny responded, doing exactly what he’d been trained to do to comfort his new person and grounding him when he needed it. But I can’t stop feeling terrible for causing him so much distress in the first place.
I’ve spent half the day trying to work up my courage to give him a call so I can set up a time to go back over there and finish with his Benny orientation. Not courage because I’m afraid of him but courage because I feel like an ass.
Speaking of asses, Doc tugs my shirt between his teeth, then bumps me with his muzzle.
“Sorry, you’re right. You deserve my full attention,” I say and sign the apology, then continue to brush his soft coat. He’s been rolling in the dirt, so a good brush was long overdue.
I have no doubt that Ranger can manage to take care of Benny, at least for a few days.
But I do need to finish showing him the hand signals I’ve trained Benny with and check if he has any questions once he’s had a chance to read through all the paperwork.
I just haven’t managed to decide if it’s better I call now so he knows everything is okay, or if I should give him another couple of days.
The sound of tires crunching against my gravel driveway has me furrowing my eyebrows. I set down the brush and head out of the barn to see who might be here. Apparently, Doc is interested too, even if he’s too deaf to have heard the car drive up, because he follows me out.
I recognize the truck from Ranger’s driveway, and sure enough, the truck stops, and that’s exactly who gets out. He lets Benny out while I hurry over.
“Is everything okay? Is there a problem with Benny?” The dog bounces over to me, looking perfectly fine and happy. Did he change his mind about keeping Benny? I can’t imagine another reason he would’ve taken the time to search for my address and drive out here like this unannounced.
“Benny’s great,” he assures me, reaching down to pet the dog’s head. “I wanted to stop by to apologize.”
“Apologize?” Doc starts to chew on my clothes again. “Stop,” I say and sign to him. “Go back to the barn.” The donkey does as I tell him, making a noise of protest before trotting back to the open barn.
I turn back to Ranger, who looks more confused than dejected, which is an improvement at least. “Does that donkey know sign language?”
I shrug. “He’s deaf.”
For some reason that doesn’t seem to clear things up for him, but I don’t know how else to explain it, so I focus back on the other issue. “If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me.”
He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair and staring off into the distance. Whether he’s watching my horses in the field or just avoiding my gaze, I can’t tell. “I wasn’t going to hurt you or anything. At least I don’t think I was.” He grimaces.
I have the urge to reach out and touch him, comfort him.
But there’s no fracking way I’m going to mess up with him again, so I keep my hands firmly to myself, even if it’s physical torture for a hugger like me to resist squeezing every ounce of darkness out of him.
I know it doesn’t work that way, but it would be nice if it did.
“You really don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry for triggering you. Since you’re here, do you want to finish your orientation?”
By this point, the rest of the dogs have realized that things are happening, and all five of them descend on us. PP keeps her distance, eyeing Benny warily like she’s concerned he’s coming back after all. I pet her head reassuringly and shoo the other dogs away.
“That would be great,” he agrees. “I managed to get out of bed last night to feed him dinner before crashing again. And I was up bright and early to make sure I could get him on a good feeding schedule and let him outside.”
I smile at the hint of pride in his voice. He didn’t think he could manage a dog, but it’s already starting to set better habits for him, helping him build a daily routine.
“It sounds like you’re doing a fantastic job so far. Let me show you some of the signals he knows. I have him trained for verbal commands as well as hand gestures, so you can use either or both.”
“Do I need to learn sign language for him?” He glances toward the barn, where Doc is watching us like some creeptastic donkey stalker.
I scrunch my eyebrows and cock my head to one side. “Of course not. Benny can hear just fine.”
A rusty-sounding laugh bursts from Ranger’s lips, which seems to surprise him as much as it does me.
I spend the next half hour going over the signals and telling him all the little quirks of Benny’s personality, like how he’s happiest if he can have a clean sock to carry around at night and that sometimes he likes to put his dry kibble into his water bowl and then go bobbing for the pellets.
“Do you have any questions?” I ask once I’m sure I’ve covered everything.
He’s looking a little worried and uncertain again.
And since I still can’t hug him, I do the next best thing to ease his concerns.
“The number you already have for me is my cell phone. You can text me anytime. I’d love to hear how…
Benny is doing.” I almost said how he’s doing, but I hardly know the man, and he’ll probably think I’m beyond weird for worrying about a perfect stranger.
That seems to soothe him some. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” Silence falls between us, and Ranger turns his attention to the horses again.
“Do you want to see my farm? I can introduce you to everyone.”
“Um…” He glances down at Benny, like he’s hoping the dog will give him an excuse to beg off.
“There’s a goat that hates me,” I tempt with a grin, and he does that gravely laugh again.
“Sure, why not?”
I start with the barn, giving him a proper introduction to Doc this time. He pats the donkey’s head cautiously, and Doc nuzzles his hand, then dips his head and butts it against Benny, who huffs indignantly.
I lead him out the back door and wave at the goat in the field with the horses. “This is Butler.”
“Why does he have pink pool noodles on his horns?”
“Because he hates me,” I explain again.
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” he deadpans, and I bark out a laugh.
“Fair question. I’ll have a chat with him about it.
Maybe he’d prefer purple or blue,” I concede, and I get another look from Ranger like he’s sure I’ve lost my mind.
I point out each of the horses, giving their names and telling him a little about each of them.
“See that brown one with the white nose? That’s Talon.
He’s in an Avengers movie that’s coming out next year.
He’s had Chris Hemsworth’s legs wrapped around him, which is more than I can say for myself, unfortunately. ”
As soon as the joke is out of my mouth, my face heats. Flapjacks, that was inappropriate. Ranger may be here on my farm, but this is still a business relationship. I glance over and find Ranger with a sad expression on his face that morphs into an attempt at a smile when he sees me looking.
“That’s really cool about the movie.” The words sound interested enough, but his tone is a little flat.
“Yeah…” Talk about awkward. “You like chickens?” I ask enthusiastically in hopes of changing the subject.
“I don’t know any personally,” he answers dryly, and when I realize it’s a joke, I grin.
“Well, you’re going to love these ladies,” I assure him, showing him the chicken coop. “These lovely hens are Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia, and Rose.”
“You named your chickens after the Golden Girls?” He quirks an eyebrow.
“Sure. Why? Do you think I should’ve gone with The A-Team?” I tap my chin. “They’re female, but I doubt they’d mind much either way.”
This time his laugh is slightly less tight, and a sense of accomplishment fills me. I look over at him and find a smile just barely emerging. It looks nice on him. I bet it would look even nicer if it was a full smile.