He pulled me into a quick hug. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Anytime. Can I see her?” Technically, I wasn’t looking to take on any new horses. I had about all I could handle without hiring some additional help, but Lee had called about an elderly mare who was fading. She’d lived the last five years in one of these pens, and she deserved to live her last days in peace, in as close to freedom as we could give her.
“Follow me.” He led the way through a maze of pens. “You have plans to head back out to Pine Meadow anytime soon?”
The mare I had found a few weeks ago flashed in my mind. I hadn’t been back since I’d discovered her fallen form. I needed to. I couldn’t let that experience color my favorite place in the world. “I’ll probably go next week.”
Lee nodded. “Let me know how the herd’s looking, will you? I haven’t been able to make it out there much lately.”
Guilt pricked at my skin over my earlier thoughts. Lee was doing the best he could with the resources he had, and he cared about these horses. “Of course.”
Lee gestured to his left, taking us in another direction. The longer we walked, the smaller the pens got until we reached those designed to hold only one horse. “She’s not doing well. I knew her chances of being adopted were slim given her age, but I just kept hoping…”
I sucked in a breath as we rounded the corner. A dark bay horse stood shivering in the corner of her pen. The corner farthest away from any people and the other horses. An invisible fist squeezed my heart. “I’ll take her.”
Lee’s steps faltered. “You’ve barely laid eyes on her. Haven’t even heard her story.”
“Doesn’t matter.” It didn’t. There was something about this horse. I knew she needed me. Maybe we needed each other. That was the thing about horses, they tended to teach you way more than you would ever teach them.
Lee eyed me carefully. “I don’t know how much time she has left. And she’s definitely not rideable.”
“You know that doesn’t matter to me.” Some of the mustangs were adopted and trained to be trail and competition horses. I took the approach that the horse would show me what he or she wanted to be.
I had a couple who seemed to be bored by what I more or less dubbed retirement. I’d trained them to be trail horses, and they loved it. Others didn’t seem to want a human on their backs, and I respected that, too. Still more were too injured to ever be able to carry the weight of a person. Some people would’ve put a horse down for that. To me, it did nothing to lessen the horse’s worth. Being able-bodied didn’t have anything to do with how much you were able to give.
Lee shook his head but did it while grinning. “Glad I can always count on you for the tough cases.”
I gave him a small smile. “Can you work on the paperwork? I’d like some time alone with her.”
“Of course. I’ll be in the office. Just come find me whenever you’re done.”
“Thanks.”
Lee headed off, and I approached the edge of the pen. The mare’s trembling intensified. I halted and slowly sank to the ground. Crossing my legs, I bowed my head, trying to show her in every way I could that I meant her no harm.
Nothing in this process could be hurried. It was a delicate dance. I needed to get her out of here as quickly as possible. The chaotic energy of the holding facility was only preventing her healing, but if I forced her too soon, I could do irreparable damage.
I tilted my head so I could see the mare out of the corner of my eye. She studied me, her head moving in jerky half starts and retreats.
It all came down to trust. A five-letter word that was so incredibly fragile. With others, but even more so with yourself.
This horse didn’t know if she could trust her perception of what was happening around her. And boy did I ever know how that felt. Everything around you became a potential threat when you couldn’t trust the way you interpreted the world around you.
“It’s okay, beautiful girl. You take all the time you need.” I crooned the words softly, willing her to hear hope in my words. The promise of a safe space to rest. To have a little bit of her freedom returned to her.
She sniffed the air, catching my scent on the breeze, but she didn’t venture any closer. Instead, she chose to stay on the other side of the pen. I remained still, my head lowered as I kept talking. I told the mare about Cole Ranch. About the other horses.
I promised her that when we got to the ranch, no one would ever hurt her again. That she could set the pace for our relationship, and I would always respect it.
I lost track of time as I continued speaking in a low, comforting tone. Sharing with this beautiful girl everything that filtered into my mind. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when something shifted. The mare’s energy calmed just a bit. She took a few tentative steps towards the fence.
I slowly extended my hand. The horse took another step, giving my fingers a sniff. Her whiskers tickled my fingertips, and I grinned. The first small step towards that fragile five-letter word. The greatest gift of all.
She was going to adjust beautifully. I had a feeling it was the noise and chaotic energy of the holding facility that had her so jumpy. She nuzzled my hand. This mare loved people. You could tell. I rubbed her cheek. “You’ll be getting all sorts of attention when I get you back to the ranch.”
My fingers eased up her face and then down her neck, so very slowly. “What do you say, beautiful girl? Want to come home with me tomorrow?” There was no discernable answer, but I liked to believe there was a flicker of hope in the horse’s eyes.
“I’ll be back soon.” I would never lie to this mare. The potential gift of her trust was too valuable. “It’s going to be scary. You’re going to have to ride in a trailer again. And there will be some loud noises and a few new faces, but you’re so brave. And I promise you, it will be worth it.”
