31. Candice
31
CANDICE
Maggie surges ahead of Ballantine immediately, the wind rushing by us as I urge her into a full gallop. She complies easily, happy to be given the chance to run as fast as she wants. Maggie loves being this free, and I often let her out in the biggest paddock we have, where she can run and play to her heart’s content.
Ballantine and Nathan start to gain on us, and I say, “Come on Mags, let’s show ‘em that a rescued Mustang can beat a pampered show pony any day.”
“What did you just say?” Nathan calls out, pulling level with us.
I spare him a glance and see that he has a wild look in his eyes that mirrors the freedom Maggie is feeling. He looks so at home, so happy like this—just him and his horse, not a worry in the world.
“I said your horse is a pampered show pony,” I say over the sound of the wind rushing in my ears.
“Come on, Bals,” Nathan says, giving Ballantine more rein.
Ballantine leaps ahead of us, his hooves pounding against the hard ground, his chestnut tail flying behind him. Nathan lets out a whoop of joy. His energy is infectious and even as Maggie falls further behind, I still feel happier than I have in months.
I no longer care about winning—I just care about having this small moment of joy with my horse and my—my whatever Nathan is to me.
Maggie, though, clearly still wants to win, and she picks up the pace just a bit, inching towards Ballantine. The line of trees is getting closer and closer, and I whisper words of encouragement to her as she gallops onwards.
“We’re coming for you!” I scream out at Nathan.
He whoops again, and then Ballantine races past the trees, cinching the race. My heart is still pounding in my ears as we both slow to a walk. The horses are breathing heavily, having worked up a sweat under their thick coats. We start walking the horses back in the direction of the rescue at a slow pace, letting them cool down after their run.
“That was amazing,” I say. “I haven’t ridden like that in a while.”
“Me neither,” Nathan says, matching my grin. “I never give Ballantine that much freedom to do whatever he wants. He must be confused as hell.” He pats Ballantine’s neck a couple of times and then scratches him in his favorite spot.
“He looks happy,” I say. “Content.”
“Yeah, he loves life at the moment. No trekking to rodeos and adjusting to new places.”
“And how are you liking it?” I venture.
“I’m liking it just fine,” Nathan says, smiling his twinkliest smile at me. “I’ll like it even better when I collect my reward later.”
“And when will that be happening?” I arch one brow at him, trying to seem calm and confident, but on the inside, I’m already burning up.
“At a time and place of my choosing,” he says, winking.
“Your big ego strikes again,” I mutter.
“Don’t lie and act like you aren’t going to love being ordered to get on your knees for me when you least expect it. I think you’re going to be soaked in anticipation, waiting for the moment I finally give you what you crave.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. He’s right. Completely, and totally right. Knowing that Nathan could demand this reward from me at any moment is going to be the best kind of torture.
“Candice,” Nathan says after a few moments, voice suddenly serious. “Look.”
I follow his gaze and the lust immediately drains out of me, and is replaced by panic that grips my heart. In the distance, I see a dappled grey horse making its way towards us. Even from here, I can tell that it’s skinny, and it keeps calling out in panicked whinnies, likely trying to get Ballantine’s and Maggie’s attention. Maggie’s ears prick forward and she whinnies in answer. I urge her towards it and Nathan follows behind me.
“What’s the plan?” he asks.
“I assume you brought a rope?” I ask.
“Honey, don’t insult me. I’m a cowboy, of course I’ve got rope.” He pats the back of his saddle where a long loop of rope sits.
“Well then that’s the plan. You’re going to lasso that horse, then we’re ponying it to Maggie and bringing it back to the barn. It needs help, and fast.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel, and my plan makes it sound like I’m not about to lose my shit.
Nathan nods, and starts walking Ballantine slowly towards the other horse. It keeps walking over to us, its gait halting and slow, clearly interested in the other horses and looking for some sort of help or companionship. As it gets closer to us, I can make out the stark lines of its ribs and haunches, and I see that it’s a mare. I tell myself to breathe, slow and steady, and to remain calm. It will be okay. Beau will know exactly what to do—this is not the first starving horse we’ve rescued at Star Mountain. Though from the look of it, she’s in far worse shape than any other we’ve rehabbed. I wish, for just a moment, that my grandpa was here with me. He was always calm in a crisis, and steady in a storm.
When he gets in range, Nathan swings the rope over his head a few times in a graceful, precise arc, and then lets it free. It sails over the horse’s head in a perfect circle and he cinches it loosely around her neck. Immediately, she starts to tug at the rope in frantic, weak motions, but Nathan holds her steady. My heart breaks at seeing her panic. I dismount and take the rope from him, hoping that I can get her to calm down a bit.
I speak to her slowly and softly, but refrain from touching her. She seems anxious enough as it is, and I have no idea what kind of interaction she’s had with humans recently. Maybe she was set free by someone who couldn’t afford to look after her any longer. Either way, she hasn’t had enough to eat in a while.
“Nathan, will you call Beau and let him know we’re coming in? Tell him we have a severely starved horse on our hands. He’ll know what to do.” A sense of calm has settled over me and all I can see now is what I have to do to save this life—anything and everything within my power.
Nathan gets his phone out and calls Beau, while I work on ponying the starving mare to Maggie. My horse knows that we’re in work mode, because she’s calm and steady, not moving an inch as I tie the mare to her with the length of rope. I do my best to keep them as separate as possible, because the new mare could have all manner of parasites or diseases.
“Let’s get going,” I tell Nathan.
With Maggie taking the lead, and the mare and Ballantine bringing up the rear, we make our way back to Star Mountain. Nathan and I didn’t go far, but it still takes a while to get back at a walk, and the mare is tired. I’m surprised she’s still on her feet, and we stop a few times to let her rest. When the barn buildings and paddocks finally come back into view, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Everything is going to be okay.
Beau is waiting for us by the set of stalls we use to quarantine sick horses. They’re attached to one end of the main stable, and separated from the other horses by a few hundred meters. Maggie and Ballantine will get taken to paddocks that are separate from the others, too, just to be sure.
I pass Maggie off to Nathan, who promises to give both her and Ballantine a good rub down and keep them away from the others, and then I focus all of my attention on the new mare. Beau is examining her closely, looking for signs of infections and viruses, and assessing her weight. He rattles off her feeding program to me carefully and I note it down. It’s essential to feed a starved horse carefully. Giving them too much too soon can lead to death.
“What do you think her chances are?” I ask quietly.
“Her body condition score is at a two or so. The next few days will be crucial,” he says. He sighs and rubs his face, clearly worried. “Nothing’s certain. She could make it through. But from the look of it, she has colitis, so I’m not sure.”
“I’ll sit with her for a while,” I say.
Beau holds my gaze for a long time and then nods. I know what he’s trying to convey to me—he’s trying to tell me not to get too attached. He’s trying to tell me to protect myself. But I can’t. I love every horse that passes through our barn doors fiercely, and it always hurts when they leave. My chest still aches from missing Jazz Apple.
My brother heads off to get the mare some food and I sit with her, telling her over and over again that it will be alright.
“You’re safe now. My brother is the best vet I know.”
The mare just lays there listlessly, tired and anxious, unsure of what is going to happen to her.
“I wonder what your story is. Who let you suffer like this?” I whisper. I reach my hand out for her to smell and she looks at it, unsure of what it means. “I’m going to call you Storm, okay? Because your gorgeous coat looks like grey clouds.” She dips her head towards my hand, giving me a good sniff and then looking up at me with wary, nervous eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” I repeat.
Beau comes over with the food, which he places in the stall, along with things to set up an IV drip for the mare, so she can rehydrate and start getting back essential nutrients. He also needs to run a few tests, to check for parasites and other infections she might have.
“I’m going to go shower and warm up,” I tell him. “Long day.”
“It’s only one o’clock.”
“Feels like it’s already midnight though. Being stressed out really takes a toll. I’m not like Gramps—I may look calm on the outside but inside I’m freaking the fuck out.” I give my brother a weak smile.
“You want to know a secret?” he asks. “Gramps freaked the fuck out sometimes too. You just couldn’t tell by looking at him. Go try and get some rest. I’ll look after her for a while. And then you can stay up and watch her most of the night like I know you’re going to.”
“Storm,” I say. “I named her Storm.”
“It’s a good name. It suits her,” Beau says. I like that he doesn’t tell me not to name her. He knows me too well for that. And chances are if I didn’t name her, he would have.
Gramps named them all, too.