“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.
32
NATHAN
The next day is hectic,as I try to stave off Amber scheduling the photoshoot with the magazine, while simultaneously getting my normal work at the barn done. Beau and Candice are monitoring Storm, and in between everything that’s been going on, I haven’t had the time to ask them if they’re okay with the shoot in the first place. Amber is like a dog with a bone, though, and I need an answer for her soon. She wants the magazine to come here next week.
To get her to calm down, I post a selfie on my social media of me and Ballantine. It’s the type of content I’ve avoided for weeks, but I know it will make my legions of followers happy. And I add a long caption detailing my work at Star Mountain over the last week, hoping to show people that I honestly care about this place and its mission. Sure, being here is helping to rehab my image, but everything I post is the truth, and from the heart.
I don’t manage to catch Beau and Candice alone until dinner time, when they’re both finally taking a break from worrying over the starving mare.
“Did either of you sit down all day?” I ask.
“I did,” Candice volunteers. “But only while I was eating a snack in the barn office.”
“And you?” I ask my best friend.
“I’ve been busy,” he says defensively. “Storm isn’t my only patient at the moment. Buckles is having a problem with his teeth, and he really doesn’t like me looking at them, and Holden’s got a calf with a nasty infection. I don’t have time to sit down.”
“Easy, Beau,” Candice says. “Nathan is just making sure we take time to eat and rest and don’t drop dead on our feet.”
“He’s acting like a mother hen,” Beau grumbles.
“That’s because he is one. He has two younger siblings and he clearly splits mother hen duties with his older sister. You know, I even saw him cook when I was at the ranch with him.”
I stare at Candice, mouth slightly ajar. My brothers accuse Cassandra and I of being mother hens all of the time. And they’re not wrong—Cass and I can be a bit overbearing in our protectiveness. I didn’t explain any of this to Candice though. She just saw it. She noticed it, without me saying a word.
She saw me.
“How are your siblings?” Beau asks. “I haven’t seen any of them in a year at least.”
