Trooper wouldn’t let me touch him. Now he seems comforted by me being around. Guess I should count my small blessings.
I pet him for a while, talking low and quiet to him. His head eventually rests on the straw beneath him, but he looks at me, as focused as he’s capable of in this state.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” I say, talking absentmindedly to him. “And I’m really sorry Jesse couldn’t sew you up. I’m going to do my best to keep everything clean and to keep the flies out of here. We’ll have you back to normal in no time.”
I haven’t called his owners yet. I’m dreading the conversation, and I want to watch how he does overnight and see what Jesse says in the morning. He didn’t seem concerned when he came back just before dinner.
As Trooper’s eyes slide closed, I stand and walk back out of his stall. Grabbing the cot that I’m pretty sure came from the Corps before Dad retired, I fold it out in front of his stall. The sleeping bag looks warm and cozy when I unroll it, but I’m too stressed out to sleep yet. I set my pillow against the wall and sit with my back propped up against it, watching the injured horse.
Chico and Bear trot into the barn and rush up to me. I barely get a hand out and say the command of “down” before Chico tries to launch himself and his muddy paws onto my bed. He stands at the edge, wagging his butt as fast as he can. Bear’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and he pants loudly. He looks like he’s smiling.
My eyes jump up when someone walks into the barn. Lake stops just inside the entrance. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, his usual work boots, a green military jacket, and a Seahawks baseball cap.
“Looks like you’re settling in for the night,” he observes. He leans a shoulder against the wall and crosses his ankles.
“Looks like,” I respond. I feel stiff and awkward. I’m not necessarily a proud person, but I’m having a hard time forming an apology for being so rude earlier.
“I hope it’s not because of me being in the house. I can sleep on the couch upstairs. Raelynn just insisted I come into the house.”
“No,” I say, closing my eyes slowly and shaking my head. “It’s not you. I just thought I’d better keep an eye on him. You know, in case we need Jesse or anything.”
“Right,” he says.
He stands there. There’s something that always seems unsettled about Lake, like he can’t relax, or he isn’t comfortable in his own skin, and I can’t help but pity him for a minute. Was he always like this, or was this the doing of war?
“Why don’t you sit down for a minute?” I offer.
He stands straight and walks over, relaxed and stiff at the same time. Like he’s calculating each and every move he makes, every breath. He sits on the cot, his back leaning against the wall, his right foot stretched out in front of him.
“I’m pretty sure I owe you an apology, about earlier,” I say, my throat thick with pride. “I was being a bitch, and I’m sorry about that.”
Lake shakes his head just a little. “No you don’t. I know what stress does to people. They say things.”
I look at him for a moment. His eyes are somewhere in Trooper’s stall, but they’re glazed over, like he’s thinking about something far away.
“Still,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’ve been pretty frosty to you ever since you got here.”
“I understand why,” he says. He reaches up and scratches at his jaw. He looks like he hasn’t shaved since he got in. A week’s worth of beard growth looks good on him.
I’m quiet for a while. I’ve got a tangled pit of snakes inside of me, tight and twisted. But I can’t let them stay there forever. The venom will destroy me.
“I thought about joining the Corps, you know,” I say. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but it’s a peace offering, I
I pet him for a while, talking low and quiet to him. His head eventually rests on the straw beneath him, but he looks at me, as focused as he’s capable of in this state.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” I say, talking absentmindedly to him. “And I’m really sorry Jesse couldn’t sew you up. I’m going to do my best to keep everything clean and to keep the flies out of here. We’ll have you back to normal in no time.”
I haven’t called his owners yet. I’m dreading the conversation, and I want to watch how he does overnight and see what Jesse says in the morning. He didn’t seem concerned when he came back just before dinner.
As Trooper’s eyes slide closed, I stand and walk back out of his stall. Grabbing the cot that I’m pretty sure came from the Corps before Dad retired, I fold it out in front of his stall. The sleeping bag looks warm and cozy when I unroll it, but I’m too stressed out to sleep yet. I set my pillow against the wall and sit with my back propped up against it, watching the injured horse.
Chico and Bear trot into the barn and rush up to me. I barely get a hand out and say the command of “down” before Chico tries to launch himself and his muddy paws onto my bed. He stands at the edge, wagging his butt as fast as he can. Bear’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and he pants loudly. He looks like he’s smiling.
My eyes jump up when someone walks into the barn. Lake stops just inside the entrance. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, his usual work boots, a green military jacket, and a Seahawks baseball cap.
“Looks like you’re settling in for the night,” he observes. He leans a shoulder against the wall and crosses his ankles.
“Looks like,” I respond. I feel stiff and awkward. I’m not necessarily a proud person, but I’m having a hard time forming an apology for being so rude earlier.
“I hope it’s not because of me being in the house. I can sleep on the couch upstairs. Raelynn just insisted I come into the house.”
“No,” I say, closing my eyes slowly and shaking my head. “It’s not you. I just thought I’d better keep an eye on him. You know, in case we need Jesse or anything.”
“Right,” he says.
He stands there. There’s something that always seems unsettled about Lake, like he can’t relax, or he isn’t comfortable in his own skin, and I can’t help but pity him for a minute. Was he always like this, or was this the doing of war?
“Why don’t you sit down for a minute?” I offer.
He stands straight and walks over, relaxed and stiff at the same time. Like he’s calculating each and every move he makes, every breath. He sits on the cot, his back leaning against the wall, his right foot stretched out in front of him.
“I’m pretty sure I owe you an apology, about earlier,” I say, my throat thick with pride. “I was being a bitch, and I’m sorry about that.”
Lake shakes his head just a little. “No you don’t. I know what stress does to people. They say things.”
I look at him for a moment. His eyes are somewhere in Trooper’s stall, but they’re glazed over, like he’s thinking about something far away.
“Still,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’ve been pretty frosty to you ever since you got here.”
“I understand why,” he says. He reaches up and scratches at his jaw. He looks like he hasn’t shaved since he got in. A week’s worth of beard growth looks good on him.
I’m quiet for a while. I’ve got a tangled pit of snakes inside of me, tight and twisted. But I can’t let them stay there forever. The venom will destroy me.
“I thought about joining the Corps, you know,” I say. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but it’s a peace offering, I
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