clean from recent rain, and birds warbled from the two rustling maples that stood sentinel at the end of their drive. It was the kind of weather that usually woke her feeling elated, glad to be alive, wishing she could belt out some musical number like “Oklahoma” or the “Sound of Music.”
Not that she could sing a lick, but on days like this she’d always felt anything was possible. Even singing on key. Like maybe she could ride to the end of the earth and back before it’d even had a chance to circle the sun.
“It’s about Harley!”
Harley? She tossed off her covers and stumbled down the narrow hall to the kitchen, hands brushing the walls to keep her bearings. Her wrinkled sleep shirt swung around her knees.
She mouthed “Thanks” to her mother and brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you, Amberley, what with, ah, all you’re going through and all.”
Harley’s stable owner, Benny Jordan, an asthmatic former champion roper turned rodeo clown who’d retired to this area fifteen years ago, breathed noisily into the phone.
“Is Harley okay?” Her fingers gripped the handle hard, and she dropped into the seat her mother pulled out. Inside her chest, her heart skittered every which way. Although it’d been weeks since she’d seen Harley, not a day passed where she didn’t wonder how he was doing and if the stable was taking good care of him. Prior to her accident, they’d spent most of every day together. Now, the thought of seeing him again only reopened the wound of all that she’d lost.
When her mother pointed at the phone, then her ear, Amberley nodded, fumbled around for the speaker button, then pressed it.
“Well, now. That’s the thing. See. He’s not eating like he should.” More wheezing, then, “Been skittish when folks come near. This morning, I sent in Joan to muck out his stall.”
Joan? A former rodeo pro herself, she’d become the local horse whisperer and founded the equine therapy program they ran out of Harley’s stables. She had much more important things to do than clean stalls.
“Did something happen?”
A kettle whistled, and her mother’s chair scraped back as she rose to grab it.
“Well. Now she’s going to be fine.”
“Benny. What happened to Joan?” Her pulse picked up tempo and her fingers drummed along with it on the wooden tabletop. Across the way, she glimpsed her mother’s form twist to face her. Something hung from each hand. Mugs, Amberley guessed.
“The doctor says it’ll heal in about six weeks.”
Alarm bells shrilled in her ears. “What happened?”
“Harley busted out her kneecap. Kicked her full on.”
Every bit of air in her lungs rushed right out of her. “I’m so sorry.”
The sound of poured liquid reached her ears followed by the rip of paper as she imagined her mother opening tea bags.
“Not your fault.”
But it was. She saw that suddenly. “I should have been down to care for Harley.”
“Understandable that you haven’t.” She heard a couple of quick inhaler puffs from his end. Then, “Sorry to bring you the bad news, but I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to house Harley anymore.”
She hung her pounding head. “Is that final?” Jordan Stables provided the only home Harley had ever known. If he couldn’t manage there, who knew where he’d end up?
The painful thought of being separated from him branded itself on her heart, burning straight through.
And it’s not like you’ve done anything to help, whispered that angel on her right shoulder.
What’s the point? whispered the devil. Not like you can ride him again. Care for him.
But she and Harley had a bond that went deep. Besides handling him morning and evening, she’d talked to him a lot. While grooming him, or letting him eat “better” grass on the stable’s front yard, she’d filled him in on rodeo winners, cried over barrel racing icon Scamper’s passing, sympathized with his “picked last in gym” herd status, and generally kept up a running conversation. She believed she could rattle on about the rising price of corn feed and Harley would think all was right with the world.
And after her father’s cancer diagnosis, Harley had been there. She’d cried lots of tears into that silver mane of his. Had hung on to him when it’d felt as though her whole world was falling apart. He kept her from crumbling, too. She never could have gotten through that terrible time without him...or Jared...
Abandoning Harley was inexcusable.
A spoon clanged against ceramic. Her unflustered, steely-souled mother stirring the tea.
Daddy’s last words came back to her. “I know you’re going to be okay. You are strong.”
And she’d believed it, until now.
“When do you need Harley gone by?”
“Joan’s in quite a state, as you can imagine. She’s got students booked for her program, and now she’s laid up. Plus, we won’t be able to get anyone to care for Harley. So—”
“I’ll come down,” she cut him off.
A hand appeared in her line of vision, and the mug her mother set down banged against the table. Puffs of pungent steam swept off the surface and curled beneath her nose.
“Not sure if that’d make a difference.”
“If I keep up his stall, can he stay? Least until I figure out next steps?”
She could see general shapes when she was close-up and in small spaces, like a stall. Heck, she’d cleaned the stable’s stalls so many times, she could do it blind. It’d hurt to be nothing better than a stall mucker, but she’d do anything to help the horse that’d done so much for her.
Benny made a noise like a shrug. “Well. That’d solve some of the issues.”
“Some?”
“He’s not socializing well with the other horses in pasture. Acting out.”
“Needs exercise,” her mother murmured beside her.
“That Charlotte?” Benny hollered.
“Howdy, Ben!” her mother called. “Just thinking there isn’t anything wrong with Harley some regular riding wouldn’t sort out.”
“That a fact.”
Amberley’s body tightened, her muscles clenched. She’d been resisting her mother’s plea to sell Harley. Now it seemed she faced a rock-and-a-hard-place decision. Sell Harley, or find a way to interact with him that wouldn’t leave her feeling worse than ever.
She’d avoided anything that reminded her of the old
