Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Okay,” Josie says, moving from the chair to the floor, kneeling down next to Riley. He rests his head against her, and she strokes his golden fur.
“I’ve been your aunt’s vet for as long as I’ve been practicing,” I start, thinking that I know these animals better than Josie does, but I won’t say it—not yet at least. “And I know Riley went anywhere she did. Everyone loves him at the feed store and he’s a bit of a local celebrity at the library.”
“Oh, I had no idea.” Josie bites her lip and I can see the stress on her face.
“Yeah. Your aunt used to take him the first Saturday of every month during Storytime.”
“She did? W-where is the library?” She looks up at me and lets out a nervous laugh. “I can Google it, never mind.”
“It’s downtown, right on Main Street.” I stand, going to the cabinets and grabbing a jar of peanut butter. “Where are you from?”
“Um, Indianapolis.”
“You had a very different pace of life there?”
“Yeah.” She smiles again. “But my daughter and I really like it here.”
“Your daughter,” I start, trying to choose my words carefully. “I believe I met her.”
Josie nods. “Yeah, she came in with Kim a few times, I think. Everly is her name.”
So, the teenager is hers. I look at Josie again as I smear peanut butter on a tongue depressor for Riley to lick. She either looks really young for her age or she had her daughter when she was young. Not that I’m judging, I just like to figure people out, so I know more or less what to expect.
Though, using my past track-record, I’m not all that good at it.
“Right. She’s the one who named the horse.”
Josie smiles. “She’s a good kid.”
“You’re both staying?” I go on, knowing this is going to be an awkward as fuck segue into bringing up how I don’t think she’s quite the right person to suddenly take over caring for abused and neglected horses. It’s not the same as taking care of healthy horses, which is no easy feat on its own.
“Yeah. Like I said, we like it here. I’ve always wanted to have horses on my own property, and my daughter is just so happy.”
I do my best not to cringe at her words. “You’ve never owned a horse before?”
The slight smile disappears from her lips, letting me know she can see the abhorrence on my face. “It’s been a few years, but I had an OTTB a few years ago.”
I nod, knowing she means an off-track thoroughbred. They’re typically not horses for beginners, but that still doesn’t mean anyone who owned one is suitable to run a full-scale rescue.
“Well, more than a few,” she goes on, smiling once again. “I was in high school and I showed in the hunter/jumper ring.”
All I can do is nod again, trying not to come to any judgement, though in my experience, thoroughbred owners who do show-jumping aren’t exactly interested in grade-breed rescue horses that have emotional trauma and lingering health issues due to the severity of their neglect.
Crouching back down, I offer the peanut butter to Riley. He sniffs it, wags his tail, and eagerly licks it.
“Awww, good boy,” Josie tells him, stroking his fur. “I think he likes you.”
“I’m familiar,” I say, not meaning for it to come off as I’m familiar and you’re not, but the look on Josie’s face makes me think that’s how she took it. “Anyway, I know how much work goes into taking care of the horses, and the most recent ones your aunt had rescued are rather high-maintenance. Medically speaking, that is.” I wait a beat and then go on. “I can give you a list of nearby rescues who would be able to take them in.”
Her head jerks up and she eyes me for a beat before her lips part, but she stops herself from whatever she was going to say.
“And, in the meantime, I’m sure we can get a few local horse owners to come over and help you.”
“We’re doing fine,” she says slowly. “I’m aware of the work it’s going to take.”
“There’s no shame in asking for help,” I go on. “No one expects you to uproot yourself from the city and take over the rescue.”
She stands, taking ahold of Riley’s leash. “I’m aware, but we’re up for the challenge.”
I let Riley lick the rest of the peanut butter off the tongue depressor and get to my feet as well, throwing the stick away and grabbing a few business cards from a holder on the counter. “This is the closest equine emergency center,” I tell her. “It’s all the way up in Grand Rapids, though. We do have four stalls in our barn here at the clinic but, currently, they aren’t set up for surgery, like removing Lucy’s cataracts.”