Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“I see you’ve taken a fancy to Mercy,” George said after a hearty sip of lemonade.
“I guess I have,” I replied, embarrassed he’d noticed. “I’ve never been around horses before, but there’s something sort of interesting about him.”
Not just sort of, honestly. I was drawn to that horse for no reason that made sense.
I dug into my sandwich, remembering my call with Mom last night.
“Why didn’t you ever take to horses?” I’d asked. “Was it because of that story you told me when I was a kid, about being kicked by one?”
“That was more a warning than anything, since you’d never been around them,” she’d replied, but it felt like it went deeper than that. She’d never spoken fondly of any animals that I could remember, which was probably the reason why we never had any growing up. That, and Dad being allergic, which was just as well. “I never had the urge to ride them, even though I was around them a lot. I’d always been desperate to leave that town, and now I know why. City life suits me better, which is probably the best answer I can give.”
“Makes sense.” My mind wandered again to my childhood. Caitlin and I always enjoyed visiting Dad’s relatives in Long Island because it felt like we could breathe better, which in reality was because they had a yard to play in, and it felt more spacious, whereas Mom and Dad were always perfectly fine in our brownstone in the city.
Mom cleared her throat. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I dunno. There’s this horse—a rescue—and I just find myself fascinated by him. It’s sort of dumb.”
“It’s not dumb. Your grandmother was that way about horses. You probably don’t remember, you were so little when she passed. But she’d always wanted to run a sanctuary.”
“Really?” I marveled at that. “Huh. I didn’t know.”
Then I told her about the equine therapist, careful not to reveal any sensitive details that Kerry shared about his daughter, nor how much I liked Dr. Barnes. Mom was liable to encourage me to sign up for my own sessions with her. Though I’d admit, since meeting her last week, her words about treating soldiers continued to resonate with me.
“Well,” George said, breaking me out of my thoughts, “anytime you want to get a closer look, you let me know.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Since last week, when Kerry had mentioned being around the horses so they get to know your scent, I found myself searching for Mercy when George would take him out to exercise, or just stopping by the stables to watch him being groomed while I helped muck out a stall. It was like I saw something reflected in the damned horse’s eyes that mirrored my own. Okay, that sounded ridiculous.
“Horses can be intimidatin’ if you haven’t been around them,” George continued, “but they have a gentle nature once you understand them better.”
On cue, Hamlet snorted like he was objecting to the notion, and we all laughed. He was lying under my feet, hoping I’d drop some food his way, so I stealthily rewarded him with a bit of crust.
“Yes, of course. Pigs are loveable too,” Marta said, throwing a pointed look at me for giving in to him, then at Hamlet, likely for begging in the first place. But how could you deny that adorable face? “He’s taken quite a liking to you.”
“I’m not sure why,” I said with a smirk. It wasn’t like I went out of my way with Hamlet, but I enjoyed having him around. Especially when he followed me to the silo and kept me company—and sometimes got in the way by lying in front of the entrance. If Phoebe showed up, they generally waddled off to get in trouble together. One time on the way back for lunch, I saw them digging around the corn and bean crops and had to shoo them away.
“Animals can usually sense those with kind hearts,” Marta replied with a wink, then stood up and began gathering our empty plates to carry to the sink.
“Kerry told me that Mercy was in an accident?” I asked George in a hesitant tone. I was curious, but I wasn’t sure if the details would bum me out.
“That’s what we were told.” He cringed. “They collided with another jockey and went down, almost got trampled by the other horses in the race.”
“Damn, sounds terrible,” I replied, picturing the mayhem it must’ve caused on the track. And then the recovery time for Mercy—and of course for the jockey, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t put completely out of commission like the horse. Thankfully, Mercy was nursed back to health and taken in instead of euthanized. “What’s his nature like?”
“He’s very sweet once you get him to trust you. But it doesn’t take long. For me it was just a couple of days of treats and extra groomin’ in spots he liked,” he said with a smile. “Who doesn’t enjoy getting rubbed a little longer under the chin or behind the ears?”