When the Sun Rises

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

TUCKER

Nighttime was my abusive lover and only friend.

She rocked me to the lullabies of crickets, reminding me of stolen moments from long ago, only to shake me with the ringing silence.

My broken and battered mind would be soothed by the promise of sweet memories despite knowing they’d inevitably be twisted by the woulda-coulda-shouldas Nighttime liked to conjure.

And when I’d wake to a black, sunless sky, screaming a name my tongue had never forgotten, Nighttime would laugh in my face.

She was my savior and tormentor. The guardian of all my favorite memorials and the cause of too many fallen tears.

We were unwelcome companions, but the chill she’d settle over me when I walked the footpaths of my property was the only embrace I’d ever know again.

Sleep was not always the reprieve I wanted or needed, and every blade of grass in my pastures held a story.

Sometimes I’d stare at them, hoping they’d say something that would bring back the sound of his laugh in my head.

Three years didn’t feel long enough for something so vital as the gruff rumble my husband called a laugh to start slipping from me.

They had been long, torturous years, but they shouldn’t have been long enough for the memories of his crooked smile to blur and fuzz around the edges.

I kept walking these same dirt trails, beaten down by years and years of boots treading over them.

Hoping they’d revive and cement every precious second I spent with him in my mind.

Praying Nighttime wouldn’t take them from me, too.

Maybe it was my tax for the services she provided. Delusional dreams of chestnut curls and the general recognition of the other half of my heart being near. The solitude she provided kept me away from meddling folks who swore good intentions when they’d ask why I still wore my wedding band.

In the beginning, the way she’d beat me black and blue had felt like a fair price to pay for another glimpse of his face—another second to smell his citrusy, woodsy scent.

Now, I was getting knocked around without any reward or sense of reason because most nights I’d wake begging for even a brief hint of my husband.

It was lonely and suffocating in the bed I used to share with him, so when Nighttime failed me, I wandered.

My boots crunching over the gravel of the dirt path leading to the barn sounded deafening in the near silence surrounding the property.

Moonlight illuminated the way, though it wouldn’t have mattered if it was pitch black out.

I could make this trek blindfolded because I’d made it nearly every day, rain or shine, for nearly thirty-six years.

Ahead of me, the stillness of the main barn where we housed our broodmares seemed so unassuming.

Being an insomniac worked in my favor while working for a lucrative Thoroughbred breeding program.

My grandfather had started a boarding facility for old racehorses that had quickly spiraled into an exclusive operation siring the next Secretariat hopeful.

When I stepped foot through the open barn doors, a few curious heads popped out through the windows of their stalls.

Some nickered their soft hellos while the others turned back into the warmth of their comfortable bedding.

I flicked on the fluorescent overhead lights and made my way toward a lone stall in the back corner.

Clicking my tongue repeatedly, I waited at the wide window in the door as the old man inside grumbled his way awake.

Once he was standing, I slid the door open and stepped inside before shutting it behind me.

“How you doing, Poe?” I whispered to the black gelding as he nuzzled his prickly whiskered muzzle against my hand, looking for something sweet. “We need to give your whiskers a trim, you old fart.”

Poe gave a hard snort to that, shaking his head like he vehemently detested the idea of getting clean-shaven.

I ran a hand up his face, rubbing over the white blaze before moving up to ruffle at his forelock.

“Don’t give me any lip. Raleigh would have killed me if he saw you looking like some hobo. You still have a job here, mister.”

Just saying his name out loud felt like a knife to the gut, even after all this time, but it was a reminder I wasn’t ready to lose.

It was proof that my love for him still burned.

Bigots and homophobic assholes swore with every breath in their lungs that two men couldn’t love each other the same as a man and woman could, but they hadn’t met Raleigh and me.

We’d been made for each other. Two peas in a pod. Whatever mushy bullshit you wanted to call it. He’d been my person. And I’d lost him.

Poe knocked his hoof against the wooden door of his stall, pawing for recompense after getting up from his shavings.

My hand rolled the peppermints in my jacket pocket before presenting the horse one.

A small smile spread over my face as his lips smacked happily over his treat, which bloomed into a grin only this animal could pull from me as he lifted his upper lip in triumph.

I’d been against buying Poe when Raleigh and I had first met him.

Despite his rare coloring, his original owners had gelded him because he hadn’t possessed a lick of the racing prowess his sire had.

The likelihood he’d produce any children with his exact coloring was low, and without any accolades to his name, it had been an understandable decision.

Stallions were hot-headed, unpredictable, and dangerous when mares were in heat, so it didn’t make sense from a financial perspective to have a loose cannon running around without any potential gain.

Like most male animals, once horses were gelded, they tended to calm drastically which made them far more manageable.

With horses, however, most geldings were still kept away from mares because those baser instincts could rear their heads.

Even if they were shooting blanks, geldings would still sometimes mount and get aggressive over mares during their heat, so it was common practice to keep them separated in breeding operations.

But in some cases, a gelding would calm enough that their sweet, nurturing side would appear.

They’d protect and provide companionship for their pregnant counterparts and the foals within their herds.

They’d reduce stress by providing security and safety, and they played a role in raising the foals by teaching them social skills.

Raleigh and I had traveled to a facility to look at a completely different gelding as a companion for a newly pregnant mare, Halley.

She’d been getting increasingly stressed, and we were worried it would jeopardize the foal if it went on any longer.

Poe had been in the pasture with the gelding we’d been considering, and his attitude had been terrible.

Ears back, nipping, squealing in anger, and a few cheap kicks.

I’d made some comment about how the farm needed to find him a new home because he clearly didn’t fit in this group.

I’d meant they should move him to another pasture with a different set of horses whose social hierarchy wasn’t so unstable, but my husband had leaned against the fence and simply said he had because we’d be taking him with us.

I had scoffed and reminded him that we hadn’t been there to see Poe, but rather one of the horses getting his ass handed to him by Poe’s cheap shots.

“He’d be a terrible companion—he’s too aggressive,” I’d quipped, lifting a foot to rest against the lowest rung of the fence.

Raleigh had just shaken his head without taking his eye off the black beauty. “He just hasn’t found his place in this world yet. When he finds his person, he’ll settle.”

I hadn’t believed him, but I’d never been able to deny my husband anything.

If he wanted this hot-blooded gelding, at least he was pretty to look at.

I’d had my “told ya so” ready to toss out the moment Poe had been unloaded from the trailer.

But fuck if Raleigh hadn’t been right. It was like Poe left all the demons he’d been fighting back at his old facility because he’d been the perfect companion horse.

He and Halley had hit it off immediately, and her pregnancy had progressed smoothly from there on.

But it wasn’t just her. He had his own little herd of ladies he stayed with through their pregnancies, and he cared for and fathered every foal born in their group as if they were his own.

But aside from that, he had the silliest personality of any horse I’d ever met.

More than once in the past three years, I’d wondered if the universe or God or whatever higher being out there had known I’d need something to tether me after losing Raleigh.

If they’d sent him to keep me from following my husband.

In the darkest of moments, where Nighttime whispered the cruelest things, I would come to Poe.

And he’d remind me. Remind me that there were still things on this plane that needed me.

Prickly whiskers jabbed against the skin of my hand, pulling me back to the cold January early morning.

“You ready to meet your new babies soon? They’ll be here in just a few months,” I asked Poe, offering another soft chew peppermint as my other hand ran over his cheek.

“We have a new guy coming on today to help us through foaling season. Be sure to give him hell for me, okay? I can’t be the only hard-ass around here; it just looks bad. ”

Poe snorted as though he wouldn’t be taking on that role, and I couldn’t help softly smiling as I buried my face against his neck. I needed to get ready to meet the new farmhand who’d be arriving in a few hours, but what I needed more was just a few more minutes with the gift Raleigh had left me.