“Thank you for coming over to say hello,” I say to her. “I’m safe, I promise.”
I say the words firmly and at a good volume. If you go into a situation with a horse scared and anxious, they’ll also be scared and anxious. But if you’re confident and ready to lead them, they’ll be confident right back. They are herd animals to their core, and they need reassurance that someone is there for them—that they aren’t alone.
It’s part of why I’ve always liked working with them. They give you back what you put into them, which isn’t the case with most things, or with most people. I’ve learned that the hard way.
“I’m going to clean your paddock out now,” I say, getting up to stand.
Brown Sugar doesn’t move away, and just stands there looking at me with her huge dark eyes. I stare back and reach ahand out towards her. She leans in closer and nudges me with her muzzle, the velvet softness of it pressing into my fingers. I stroke her once, and then twice, and she miraculously lets me. A feeling for which I have no words unfurls in my chest as this anxious, wary horse continues to let me pet her.
Damn Beau Wilson too, I guess, because he was also right. Working with rescues is definitely going to be the best thing I’ve ever done. I feel like I just added another champion belt buckle to my collection.
When I walkinto the Wilson’s kitchen later, the smell of spices, vegetables, and braising meat fills my nostrils. It’s cozy and small, with linoleum floors and counters, and lace curtains on the window. It reminds me of my grandparents’ house. I’d bet anything that Beau and Candice haven’t changed a thing about this place since their grandparents passed, and I’d also bet that it hasn’t been updated since the eighties.
“Damn, Beau, it smells amazing,” I say. “What is it?”
“Did I know you were coming over?” he asks, without turning away from the pot he’s tending.
“Candice didn’t tell you?” She made it sounds like it was basically Beau’s idea to have me here in the first place.
“Nope.” He reaches into the fridge and grabs some fresh herbs.
“Because she asked me to come over, and said you wanted me here,” I explain. “I can leave if there isn’t enough.”
“There’s plenty. But I didn’t think you and Candice were really on speaking terms, let alone friendly terms. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here?” Beau finally turns to look atme and hits me with a laser beam stare, like he knows something is up.
Instinctually, I know Beau won’t like the idea of a bargain between me and Candice. It would go against his personal sense of honor. He’d say I ought to help her with social media out of the kindness of my heart, and maybe he’s right. But the Viper hasn’t earned that kindness from me yet, especially not when she’s hated me from the moment we met, for no apparent reason. She also wouldn’t trust it.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Candice walks into the kitchen, her face fresh and her hair wet from the shower. Her cheeks are still pink from the steam, and in the stark light of the kitchen, I can make out the tiny freckles that dot her nose and temples.
“Why don’t you explain for him, Candice,” Beau says.
“Explain what?” she asks, rummaging around in the fridge.
“Why is Nathan here? He made it sound like you invited him.”
“I did,” she says, closing the fridge with her hip. In her hands is a pack of string cheese, which she proceeds to open and attack like a wild animal.
“He’s going to help me with social media, for the barn,” Candice says around a mouth of cheese. “So that we can fundraise better. I thought we could work on it after dinner, and I also thought you might appreciate seeing your best friend. I’m being nice.”
“Alright, well that sounds fine,” Beau says, though he still sounds a tad suspicious. “Good idea to get the barn’s socials going again. We could use the income.”
Maybe I should just be writing a check to Star Mountain, rather than teaching Candice how to use her phone. I make a mental note to see if there’s any way I can anonymously donate through their website. I don’t want either of the Wilson siblingsto think I’m taking pity on them—they’re both proud as all get out. But I know what it’s like to watch your family business fail, to worry that you’ll have to choose between feeding the animals and feeding yourselves. I won’t let my best friend go through that.
Candice busies herself setting the table with painted floral plates that definitely used to belong to an elderly woman, and Beau tends the dish he’s been standing over. I go to take a peek and see that it’s a vat of beef chili. Beside it is a smaller pot filled with beans and veggies.
“What kind of meal is this?” I ask. “Why the side of veggies and beans?”
“Don’t worry Nathan, the vegetables are just for me,” Candice says. “I’ve been a vegetarian for the last ten years, and Beau is nice enough to make meat free versions of everything for me. Though it’d probably be easier if he just went veggie too.”
“And kill myself a week later? No thanks,” he says, though he’s smiling.
It makes sense that the Viper is a vegetarian—it goes perfectly with her savior complex. And it’s yet another thing we’ll never see eye to eye on. The freezer at home was always stocked with thick steaks and roasting joints as far as the eye could see when I was growing up. Even when things were tight, we could rely on having beef in the house. Sometimes that was just about it, though.
“Why are you a vegetarian?” I ask, because I’m genuinely curious. Beef is such a big industry in these parts that it’s tough to get away from.
“Because I love animals,” she says simply. “I know that plenty of people who eat meat also love animals, and I know how important the ranch industry is around here but I just don’t see how I can spend all my time helping animals in need and then turn around and eat them later. I’d feel like a hypocrite.”
I nod, and turn her words over in my head. I’m starting to realize that what you see with Candice is what you get. She wears her heart and her morals entirely on her sleeve. And if sometimes that means you catch her in a bad moment or with her forked tongue out, well, she’d probably say that her way is better than faking a smile and pretending to be something she isn’t.
