Beau nods, just once, but it lets me know that I’ve said the right thing.
Candiceand I sit near Storm’s stall on folding chairs, with a blanket across our laps. Tabitha comes over and crawls onto Candice’s chest, purring loudly in the frigid, silent night.
“She still looks so tired,” Candice says, eyeing Storm.
The white and grey mare is lying down in her stall, her head listless. She spends most of her time like this, conserving her energy as she’s too weak from malnourishment to stand or walk for long.
“She does,” I say. “But she’ll pull through.”
“Beau said she probably has colitis, which can be rough.”
“I heard him say that earlier. But you never know, she could be a fighter.”
Candice sniffs and closes her eyes briefly. “I’m trying not to get too attached to her.”
“And how’s that working out?” I ask, taking her gloved hand in mine.
“I’ve already decided that when she gets better, I’m going to keep her here forever, and let her live out her wildest, chubbiest dreams on our land.”
“Is it worth trying to find her owners?” I ask.
“I’ll call around. I know enough people who might know someone who’s missing a horse. But I don’t want her going back to her owners if they’re the ones who did this to her. And besides, she might have escaped from a holding facility or an auction site, in which case, she doesn’t have anyone looking out for her.”
“She has you,” I say. “She has Beau. She has everyone else here—Jenny and Lila and Tomás.”
“And you.” Candice smiles at me, and it’s a real one, one that lights up her whiskey-colored eyes. “You helped me a lot yesterday and I never thanked you for it.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I say gruffly.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I owe you something.” She looks down at my crotch and wiggles her eyebrows in a way that makes me burst out laughing.
“Oh don’t you worry, Viper, I’ll be calling in my reward. I’m just waiting for the right moment.” What I don’t say is that I won’t call in the reward until Candice feels less stressed out about Storm—right now is not the time for sex.
“Can’t wait,” she says.
“Tell me about how your grandparents would have handled a horse in this shape,” I say. “If you want to, that is.”
“Well, when we got Maggie, she was skinny. Not like Storm, but still in pretty rough shape. Gramps and I watched her day and night, in shifts, and Grammy made sure we had a supply of hot tea and cornbread to keep us going.”
She talks me through how they saved Maggie, and how she learned to train her by working with her grandpa. Then she starts telling me stories of all the other horses who have passed through these doors—horses her grandparents saved from abuse and hunger, horses whose owners couldn’t afford to look after them any longer, horses who were injured and had nowhere else to go. It strikes me that this place is more than just a family business to her and Beau—it’s their legacy.
At some point, we both fall asleep, hands interlocked, legs pressed together for warmth.
33
CANDICE
“Nathan,”I say, shaking him in a blind panic. “Wake up.”
“What? What’s happening?” he asks, blinking a few times.
“It’s Storm,” I say, my heart in my throat. “I woke up and checked on her, and she doesn’t look good.”
“I’ll go get Beau,” he says, leaping out of his seat. “Stay with her. I’ll run to the house.” He takes off out of the barn and across the yarn, making a beeline for the front door.
Tabi winds her way around my legs and lets out a sad meow, like she knows things are about to get difficult. I reach down and scoop her up, holding her close to my chest. I try not to panic, and I tell myself to take deep breaths. But all I can see is Storm’s listless form, her head lowered to the stall floor, her eyes dull.
I hear the front door bang shut and Beau and Nathan come running out, a flashlight beam bouncing across the ground in front of them. Beau goes to check on Storm in the stall immediately, and I follow, hoping that I can help keep her calm while he looks at her.
