Chapter 10
The Mare
? Blue Hour - Anna Graves
Angelina
Turns out it’s really difficult to avoid your husband when you live in a small town, you’re the only certified veterinarian in the area, and he runs a sanctuary for injured horses. Damn near impossible, actually.
That’s how I ended up in his truck, barreling down the highway on the day we were supposed to be meeting at his parents’ place for dinner. I can’t say I’m disappointed that we’re missing it. It’s too soon to face his entire family.
I haven’t seen Griffin since our trail ride back from the creek—a promise fulfilled five years too late. It was quiet and serene as I rode Storm down the winding path, so unlike the heated kiss under the waterfall. Despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to get that kiss out of my mind.
“I don’t know what state she’ll be in when we get there,” Griffin says, keeping a tight grip on the steering wheel. “They found the owner’s body yesterday. Said it looked like he’d been there a while. Months. Maybe longer.”
This part of my job never gets easier. There’s some small consolation in knowing I can bring them comfort if they’re nearing the end, but each loss weighs on my heart. I can only hope this mare isn’t beyond saving.
My knee bounces in the seat as we near the location. I breathe in deep and blow it out slowly. Griffin places his hand palm up on the console between us, and I hesitate for the briefest moment, but I need the comfort he’s offering. The last thing I want is to fall apart before we get to the farm.
My hand slides into his, and his thumb strokes along the back. His touch instantly soothes me.
I’ve never mastered the ability to separate the job from my personal feelings, but I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m not above crying in my car on the way home from a house call, and I’m no stranger to grief. It doesn’t get easier; you just learn new ways to cope.
Griffin pulls into the half-circle drive, parking behind an unmarked black SUV. He’s at my door before I reach for the handle.
He offers me a hand as I step onto the gravel drive with my med kit.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod solemnly.
A man in a tan cowboy hat and worn boots greets us as we approach the barn. He holds out his hand toward Griffin. “I’m Troy. We spoke on the phone.”
“Griffin,” he replies. “This is Dr. Angelina Rossi.”
He gives me a firm handshake, but I don’t miss the subtle look of judgment on his face. It’s nothing new for me. I’ve learned to ignore it.
Somebody as young and pretty as me couldn’t possibly be skilled enough to provide medical care to livestock, or so I’ve been told. Young is relative. Pretty is just a fact. Neither of those things affects my competency as a doctor. I’m damn good at my job, and I won’t pretend otherwise.
I brace myself for what I might find in the barn.
We were warned that the mare is frightened and lethargic.
She didn’t fight back when they brought her inside, but she’s skittish.
Horses are inherently social animals, and she’s been on her own for an extended period of time. It makes sense that she’d be wary.
Best case scenario, she’s malnourished and traumatized, with no long-lasting damage to her nervous system. I don’t want to even think about the worst case until the time comes—if it comes.
“You’re the neighbor?” Griffin asks.
Troy nods. “Been keeping my eye on her for the past month or so on my way to work. I fed her a few times. Got horses of my own, but you know how it is out here. Closest neighbors are about a mile up the road. Hadn’t seen anyone tending to her in a while, so I called it in.”
Griffin nods. “You know the owner?”
He shakes his head. “Saw him a few times. Older man. Pretty sure he lived on his own.”
Troy shows us into the barn. “I put down fresh bedding, food, and water earlier. The sheriff didn’t want to deal with it, so I called you. My buddy Noah said you could help.”
Griffin clamps a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing.”
We stop outside of a stall with a beautiful brown leopard appaloosa mare standing in the back corner. You can see her ribs, hip bones, and spine, like a coat draped over a skeleton.
I pull open the door, and she skitters backward. “Shhhh,” I say, keeping my voice low and even. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m only here to help you.”
She lets out a quiet, muffled whinny. There’s something so pained in her eyes. Someone who isn’t familiar with horses wouldn’t notice it, but I’ve worked with them for so long, it’s hard to miss.
I hold out my hand for her to sniff, and I take a few slow steps in her direction. Her coat lacks the usual luster you expect to see in a healthy mare, confirming everything I already know—she’s been on her own for a long while. “I’m here to help you.”
I turn back to Troy and Griffin, who are watching me from outside the stall. I’m careful to keep her visible in my periphery in case she startles. “Do we know her name?”
Troy snickers. “No. Why does it matter?”
Griffin’s jaw ticks, and I give him a subtle look of warning, hoping to convey that I don’t need rescuing.
I blow out a steadying breath, so I don’t bite the man’s head off myself. “It helps if there’s some familiarity for her. To keep her calm.”
As a horse owner, he should know that. But I won't say that aloud.
I plaster on a fake smile and turn my attention back to the patient. When I take one more step, she lowers her muzzle and nudges at my hand. “That’s it, girl. Look at you. You’re doing so well.”
I run my palm along her neck in long, soothing strokes, swallowing the sudden tightness in my throat. There’s something so hollow in her eyes, as though she’d already resigned herself to the worst fate imaginable. I know a little something about resignation.
“How long were you on your own, huh? We’re gonna take care of you now.”
She rests her chin on my shoulder like she’s hugging me, and tears spring to my eyes. What is wrong with me? I never get emotional on scene. This isn’t like me at all.
When I’m finished with my initial assessment, I back out of the stall. She follows me to the door and drapes her head over the side.
“Think she likes you, Angel,” Griffin says. “How is she?”
“No significant signs of any illnesses. I’d like to do an ultrasound when we get her back to the ranch, and I’ll send off some blood for testing.”
“But?”
“No buts. I think she just needs a little TLC.”
I feel a tug on my hair. When I turn around, the mare has my ponytail trapped between her lips. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Somebody’s feeling needy,” I say in the baby voice I often use to talk to animals. “Let’s get you to your new home. You’ll be good as new in no time.”
Griffin
When I try to approach the mare with a bridle so we can get her ready for transport, she retreats to the back corner of the stall. Angie surmises that she might be afraid of men, so she takes over, and we get her secured inside the trailer.
I shake Troy’s hand and thank him for contacting us, squeezing a little more forcibly than necessary this time.
Angie rests her head against the window as I drive us back to the ranch.
She looks weary after the events of the day, and I can’t say I blame her.
This job can take a toll on you. It takes a special kind of person to dedicate their life to healing animals, and it’s no surprise that special person would be Angie.
There’s just something about her. She has a fierce side, that’s for damn sure, but beneath the surface, there’s a softness there.
“Think she needs a name,” I tell her.
“You want me to do it?”
“She seems very attached to you.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“I can ask Emmy Lou, but she recently named one of the barn cats Sprinkle Butter. Do you really want something like that on your conscience?”
She laughs, and the sound sets my soul on fire. It’s been days since I last heard it. I kept my distance after the trail ride, sensing that she might need space to process whatever’s happening between us, but every minute we were apart was like torture.
“Sprinkle Butter does have a certain whimsy to it,” she says.
“Whimsy’s a cute name.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Yeah, if you’re an elf at the North Pole.”
“What about Roxy?”
“Sounds like a stripper. You’re really bad at this.”
“I haven’t heard any better ideas.”
She purses her lips and rolls her head from side to side. “What about… Sadie?”
My stubborn pride compels me to think up a reason to reject the suggestion, but it’s arguably a good name. “Sadie. I like it.”
I like her. She probably could’ve suggested something just as ludicrous as Sprinkle Butter, and I would’ve engraved a name plate for the stall right then and there.
She smiles. “Sadie, it is. As long as she approves.”
I rest my hand between us on the console, secretly hoping she’ll take it. She doesn’t disappoint.
A few minutes later, Angie’s hand goes slack, and I glance over to see her fast asleep in the passenger seat with her head resting against the window again.
I stop at a red light and reach over, shifting her position until her head is resting on my shoulder instead.
Maybe someday she’ll lean into me on instinct.
It’s well past dinner time when we make it to the sanctuary just east of the main ranch gate.
The new stables have been up and running for the better part of three months.
Phoenix recently moved in, along with our oldest resident, Misty.
She’s a calming presence, and I think Sadie will do well in her company.
Phoenix is still a bit wild at times, but he’s settling in.
When I put the truck in park, I turn my head and inhale one more hit of Angie’s scent.
She blinks her brown eyes open and lifts her head. “Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
I chuckle. “You can fall asleep on me anytime, Angel.”
Every day for the rest of forever, if I have it my way.
Sadie’s surprisingly subdued when Angelina opens the door and lowers the ramp. Angie guides her inside the stable with ease, and I follow on their heels, stopping short of the stall next door to Misty’s. I prepped the space earlier today, so it’s ready for its new resident.
Angie leads her inside and closes the door behind them. She spends the next thirty minutes talking to Sadie and easing her into her new home. I drape my arms over the side of the door and watch their interactions closely. Angie has an ease about her—she was born for this.
“You’re not alone anymore,” she says, gently brushing her. “I wish I knew your name. We need something to call you. What do you think of Sadie?”
Sadie nickers in response; it’s probably as close to an approval as we’re gonna get.
“I like it, too,” Angie murmurs, running her palm along Sadie’s forelock.
Sadie’s really taken with Angie, and I can’t fault her for that. She had that same effect on me five years ago. It’s the kind of magnetism you just can’t shake, no matter how hard you try. Once she pulls you in, there’s no coming back from it.
I cut through the stables, headed straight for the pasture to check on Misty and Phoenix. The former is grazing contentedly in the field while Phoenix runs circles around her, goading her into playing with him. She’s completely unbothered by the entire spectacle.
It reminds me of simpler times when my siblings and I were younger.
We’d run circles around the ranch, hiding from our parents and wreaking havoc on the ranch hands.
They were just as much a part of the family as the rest of us.
That was then, before we knew what it felt like to lose the people you love.
Before we learned about the harsh realities life could dole out.
Nobody warns you what it’ll be like to grow out of your childhood.
It happens when you’re not looking. One minute you’re racing bareback through the trails with your siblings, oblivious to the world around you, and the next you’re thirty-seven years old, rescuing horses from the worst situations humanity has to offer, facing hardships you were once ignorant of, and falling head over boots for a woman who wasn’t supposed to belong to you.
Sometime later, Angie materializes at my side. She props her foot on the fence and sighs.
“She settling in okay?” I ask.
“She’s good. Better than I expected.”
I nod. “Thanks for coming today. I don’t think I could’ve gotten her here without your help.”
“Anytime.” She separates her hair into three strands and braids them together. “Shit. I don’t have a hair tie.”
I pull one off my wrist and hand it to her. “Here. I always keep a spare just in case.”
“Thanks.” She smiles, tying off the end of her braid.
A laugh bubbles out of her as she gazes out at the pasture. I follow her line of sight to where Phoenix is rolling around in the grass near Misty. Misty’s ears pull back, and she snorts at him, clearly displeased with his persistent attempts to get her to play.
He stands and gallops farther down the field, wind whipping through his dark mane.
I steal a glance at Angie's side profile. She hasn’t changed a bit in the last five years.
She’s still as beautiful as ever. I can’t help but wonder where we’d be today if things were different.
What if I hadn’t assumed the worst? What if I had reached out to Jess for Angie’s phone number instead?
Would we be together now? What would a life with Angelina Rossi even look like?
“Ange—”
“I should—”
She laughs. “You go first.”
“Are you hungry by any chance?”
“Starving.”