1. Jacinthe #2
“Uh, good luck?” she says.
I lift my hand to my forehead to salute her before I start marching across the yard.
Really? A fucking salute?
I can feel heat creeping up my neck, but I blame it on the sun still beating down from the cloudless sky. I swing my arms like a drill sergeant as I stalk along the length of the barn, ordering myself to focus.
He can smell weakness from a mile away.
I round the edge of the barn, praying there’s a chance I can catch him by surprise, but of course, he’s staring straight at me.
And standing knee-deep in shit.
He tips his graying nose up in the air and brays, the wheezy hee-haw echoing over from where he’s perched on the top of the overflowing muck heap like a kid playing king of the hill.
“JOAQUIN!” I bellow.
It’s a pretty dramatic name for a donkey, but in my defense, I didn’t give it to him. Whoever dropped him off at the animal shelter put it down on his paperwork, and it just stuck.
“ Calice de crisse , Joaquin,” I call. “How the fuck did you get out again?”
I’ve never met an animal so good at escaping—from his stall, from his paddock, and even once from a fully sealed trailer.
I swear he sprouts demon wings in the dead of night.
Just last week, I woke up to that hee-haw right under my bedroom window, after I’d triple-checked he was shut up in his double-locked stall the evening before.
“Don’t make me come up there,” I warn.
The wasteland where we’ve dumped the dirty shavings from the horses’ stalls for decades stretches out like The Place Where the Light Does Not Touch, or whatever they call the evil part of the savannah in The Lion King .
It’s criss-crossed with wheelbarrow trails to avoid disturbing the highest pile, which Joaquin is now standing on top of.
“How did you even get up there?” I demand, risking a few steps closer.
Joaquin’s tail flicks in warning.
“Look, you’ve got to come down eventually, Mister Drama Queen,” I tell him, “so how about we just skip all the shenanigans, and I’ll get you a nice carrot instead?”
I make it all the way to the bottom of the heap before he tries anything.
As I stand there wondering how the hell I’m supposed to climb the pile without starting a poop avalanche, Joaquin rocks onto his haunches and then slams his front hooves down in a bratty little stamp.
A smattering of turds rolls down the soggy shavings.
“ ?a suffit !” I shout as I side-step out of the way. “Come the hell down, bête , or you’ll never see another carrot in your life.”
He sniffs, his long ears twitching, and then he starts kicking up his front legs and back legs in turn, bobbing like a rocking horse and braying like a banshee as the whole pile begins to tremble underneath him.
“Cut it out!” I bark.
That just makes him rock even faster.
My pulse kicks up as I realize just how bad this could get. He could seriously hurt himself if the pile collapses, and cleaning up the mess would take hours, if not days.
I don’t have days. Every spare minute of my time either goes to the inn, or the farm, or Maman . There isn’t room for any screw-ups.
“That’s it, bête . I’m coming to get you.”
I step up to the bottom of the pile, and Joaquin freezes, like he wasn’t expecting me to make good on my threat. My first step into the shavings sinks deep enough to cover the tops of my boots, but I grit my teeth and take another. Then another.
The higher I go, the less stable my footing becomes, but if I can just get close enough to snag the strap of his halter, we might make it out of this mess in one piece.
I wobble, flailing my arms out for balance. I manage to catch myself before I land flat on my ass, but my windmilling arms send Joaquin into red alert. He snorts and prances backwards, tossing his head out of reach.
Unfortunately for Joaquin, there’s no room left to go backwards.
Unfortunately for both of us, Joaquin’s hind legs slipping off the edge of the pile makes the whole thing quake underneath him, like Mount Fecesuvius about to erupt.
He digs his front legs in extra hard to try to pull himself up, his eyes flaring wide enough to show their stark white edges. The pile trembles even more.
I lunge forward, my legs sinking in all the way up to my knees, and strain my arm to snatch at his halter. My fingertips brush the faded green nylon once, then twice, and then finally, I grab hold.
“AHA!” I shriek.
We stand face to face, both of us breathing hard, and there’s a split second of stillness before the pile collapses.
It really is like a volcano erupting.
Shavings slough down in heavy, damp clumps, poo balls rolling alongside them like loose boulders. There’s no option but for me and Joaquin to slide down with them.
My feet are swept out from under me. I barely have time to throw an arm up over my face to keep from getting a mouthful of E. coli before I’m rolling like a kid playing on a grassy hill.
Only the hill smells like horse piss instead of clover and daisies.
I can’t see anything except the crook of my elbow still braced over my face, but I can hear Joaquin bellowing from somewhere below me, and I let out my own shriek in response.
He might be an asshole, but he’s my asshole. I’m supposed to take care of him. I’m supposed to make sure his demonic possession doesn’t lead to him snapping his legs in half or breaking his back.
Not only that, but Maman and I can’t afford a broken anything.
By the time I stop rolling and get a glimpse of clear blue sky, my whole body is jacked up on panicked adrenaline. I ignore the way everything is still spinning and stagger to my feet.
I expect to find Joaquin laying on his side in a heap, or maybe poking his head out above the debris like an avalanche survivor, but he’s nowhere to be found.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I chant, racing around what’s left of the pile.
That’s when I hear it.
The sound that haunts my dreams.
“HEE-HAW!”
I ball my hands into fists before slowly turning on my heels.
He’s made it all the way over to the back of the barn. He’s covered in filthy shavings, but he’s prancing around like he’s never felt spryer in his life.
This time, I don’t bother trying to sneak up on him.
I just run.
It’s completely the wrong way to catch an animal, but I don’t care anymore. I bolt at him like I’m possessed by a demon of my own, my vision shrinking down to just that smug little donkey face.
The smugness fades when he realizes I’m not bluffing.
Then he starts running too.
“That’s right, bête !” I shout as he disappears around the edge of the barn. “You better run!”
It’s only once I’ve made it back up to the front of the barn that I remember I’m not the only human out here.
Joaquin is trotting in circles while Maman and Tess stare at me like I just crawled out of a swamp.
Honestly, I’d probably look better if I had fallen in a swamp. At least there would have been water to explain why the back of my shirt feels wet.
Maman is holding onto Nana’s halter like she might bolt, but the mare has seen enough in her day to not even bother batting an eye at the shenanigans going down.
Tess is standing up straight, a pair of hoof clippers in her hand and a farrier’s apron belted on over her jeans. The thick brown leather is shiny over the tops of her thighs, worn down from pinching horses’ legs between them.
Seems like she really has been doing this for years.
“Jacinthe!” Maman says, her eyes wide as she looks me up and down a few times. “ Qu’est ce qui se passe ?”
I’m not sure how to answer her question of what’s happened. I’m not totally sure what’s happened myself. All I know is that I need to catch that damn donkey if it’s the last thing I ever do.
I puff myself up like a predator and stalk towards him. Again, it’s the complete opposite of how you’re supposed to handle an escaped animal, but nothing you’re supposed to do has ever worked on Joaquin.
“ Assez ,” I bark. “We’re done. Pack it in, bro. I’m not joking.”
He feints to the right, but I’m smart enough to go left, and I end up close enough to catch his halter again.
He lets out a furious bray, and then the asshole literally rears, rising up above me and pawing the air with his front legs like the freaking Black Stallion.
I’m thrown backwards so hard I’m forced to let go to keep my shoulder from dislocating. I land hard on my tailbone, pain ricocheting up my spine.
I grit my teeth to keep from screaming.
Maman and Tess both gasp. There’s a flurry of movement, but the pain is bad enough to have my eyes watering. By the time I blink the moisture away, Maman has tied Nana up to a hitching post and rushed over to me while Tess tries creeping up on Joaquin.
I try to tell her I’m fine, but pain snatches my breath away when I go to push up to my feet.
“ Ma fille !” Maman tuts. “Don’t move.”
I ignore her and take a deep breath before trying again. This time, I manage to stand. The sharp pain is settling into an ache now. I rub my tailbone and groan again. It’s probably just going to be a nasty bruise.
It can’t be anything worse.
“It’s fine,” I say in French. “I just landed hard. It’s just bruised.”
Maman glares like she’d rather be piling me onto a stretcher, but she doesn’t argue. Not yet, at least. Instead, she plucks a bit of shavings out of my hair and wrinkles her nose.
“What happened?” She circles around me to do a full inspection and gags when she gets a look at my back. “Why are you covered in…caca?”
I was really hoping that somehow wasn’t what’s seeping through my shirt.
“Ask him.” I swing my arm out towards Joaquin and then do a double-take.
I’d rub my eyes if my hands weren’t covered in shit. There’s no way I’m seeing this right.
Tess is clutching Joaquin’s halter and stroking the side of his face, and he’s not even trying to bite her.
She coos at him, soft enough that I can’t hear whatever witchcraft she must be chanting, before she notices we’re watching.
“You okay?” she asks, looking at me. “That looked painful.”
I stop rubbing my back.
“I’m fine,” I say. My skin feels hot under my shirt collar. “It’s no big deal.”
Tess nods and then chuckles. “He seems like quite the little troublemaker.”
She gives his halter a tug as she starts walking over to us. I open my mouth to try and warn her about his tendency for sneak attacks, but he just drops his head low in surrender and plods along at her side. Tess makes it all the way to where we’re standing without incident.
“Here,” she says, nodding her head at Joaquin.
I reach out on instinct and clutch the other side of his halter.
He doesn’t even blink.
I know I should say thank you, but my throat has gone dry. Tess grins anyway and drops her hand to her side before stuffing her fists in her pockets.
The heat surges up my neck and into my cheeks.
I just got my ass handed to me.