enjoy the years they have left.”
She walked toward the corral hoping he’d follow. He did. When they reached the smooth fence the dark horse glared at them but made no move to approach. “They’re just the start. Like I said, we have harvest in a few weeks and come fall I can use the help.” She’d purposely left the fall open-ended. One moment, one hour, one day at a time.
He held out his hand to the horses. The black one snorted and turned her head away while the brown one ambled forward to nudge his fingers with her snout. He scratched the brown one under the chin, not smiling but not frowning so hard either. “Do they have names?”
“They didn’t come with names but they need ’em.”
Silent, he waited for her to handle the official naming.
Before she thought too hard, she said, “Beauty is the black one and Buttercup is the brown one.”
The black horse snorted and not to be ignored moved toward them. “Beauty has an attitude.”
“She’s had a rough go of it, I suspect. I imagine she’s loved and lost one too many people. Losing leaves a scar.”
Mitch didn’t respond, but his hand stilled for a moment on Buttercup’s snout. “You have feed for them?”
“Over by the utility shed.” She’d not thought about what she’d have done with the old horses if Mitch hadn’t shown. Last thing she needed was the added work let alone the expense of a couple of horses. But when she’d committed to take them she’d known one way or the other she’d have made it work.
“So what are they supposed to do?” he said.
“Not much they can do. When folks come out to tour, they can enjoy the picnic area and visit the horses. Maybe we’ll have carrots or feed for them to give the animals. Most folks like animals.”
“I had a dog growing up. Sergeant. Other than my mother he’s about the one thing I miss about my life before the Marines.”
She rubbed Buttercup on the nose, letting silence persuade Mitch to speak more.
“Spent my summers on a ranch. My mom sent me there to get away from the city. I liked the work but haven’t been to that place since I enlisted. Three years.”
As tempted as she was to ask about what had happened to him while he was serving, she didn’t. Her aunt had never asked her a single question about her accident. She’d left Greer be until one day she’d been ready to talk.
She was doing this her aunt’s way. Might not be the best way and she was pretty sure this method wasn’t written up in any textbook. But it had worked for her and would have to do. “I pay minimum wage, and I cut paychecks on the first and the fifteenth. If I send you into town on errands, mark your miles, and I’ll reimburse you for the gas. Does that suit?”
For a moment he rubbed Buttercup’s nose while Beauty watched. “Can’t promise how long I’ll stay.”
She’d never figured she’d stay at Bonneville, either. She’d seen it as a life raft, not a destination. “I’d appreciate three days’ notice if you decide it doesn’t work for you. I’ll need to rearrange my schedule to care for the horses.”
He nodded. “You know much about horses?”
“Not a darn thing other than they’re tall and more animal than I know what to do with. The farrier said the feed load he dropped was about a week’s worth.”
Mitch glanced at the hay bales. “Barely a week. Explains why they’re too thin.”
“You can tell me what kind of feed to buy?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’ve got them? You can do whatever it is they need.”
Beauty moved closer but remained out of Mitch’s reach. “Have they been watered?”
“I put water in the trough.”
“Where can I find a water hose and a bucket? Don’t want to overdo the water, but I imagine they’d appreciate a splash on a hot day.”
She showed him around the storage shed, which she said he could rearrange to suit himself. She gave him a rough idea of where she wanted to expand the field for the horses and showed him the pile of
She walked toward the corral hoping he’d follow. He did. When they reached the smooth fence the dark horse glared at them but made no move to approach. “They’re just the start. Like I said, we have harvest in a few weeks and come fall I can use the help.” She’d purposely left the fall open-ended. One moment, one hour, one day at a time.
He held out his hand to the horses. The black one snorted and turned her head away while the brown one ambled forward to nudge his fingers with her snout. He scratched the brown one under the chin, not smiling but not frowning so hard either. “Do they have names?”
“They didn’t come with names but they need ’em.”
Silent, he waited for her to handle the official naming.
Before she thought too hard, she said, “Beauty is the black one and Buttercup is the brown one.”
The black horse snorted and not to be ignored moved toward them. “Beauty has an attitude.”
“She’s had a rough go of it, I suspect. I imagine she’s loved and lost one too many people. Losing leaves a scar.”
Mitch didn’t respond, but his hand stilled for a moment on Buttercup’s snout. “You have feed for them?”
“Over by the utility shed.” She’d not thought about what she’d have done with the old horses if Mitch hadn’t shown. Last thing she needed was the added work let alone the expense of a couple of horses. But when she’d committed to take them she’d known one way or the other she’d have made it work.
“So what are they supposed to do?” he said.
“Not much they can do. When folks come out to tour, they can enjoy the picnic area and visit the horses. Maybe we’ll have carrots or feed for them to give the animals. Most folks like animals.”
“I had a dog growing up. Sergeant. Other than my mother he’s about the one thing I miss about my life before the Marines.”
She rubbed Buttercup on the nose, letting silence persuade Mitch to speak more.
“Spent my summers on a ranch. My mom sent me there to get away from the city. I liked the work but haven’t been to that place since I enlisted. Three years.”
As tempted as she was to ask about what had happened to him while he was serving, she didn’t. Her aunt had never asked her a single question about her accident. She’d left Greer be until one day she’d been ready to talk.
She was doing this her aunt’s way. Might not be the best way and she was pretty sure this method wasn’t written up in any textbook. But it had worked for her and would have to do. “I pay minimum wage, and I cut paychecks on the first and the fifteenth. If I send you into town on errands, mark your miles, and I’ll reimburse you for the gas. Does that suit?”
For a moment he rubbed Buttercup’s nose while Beauty watched. “Can’t promise how long I’ll stay.”
She’d never figured she’d stay at Bonneville, either. She’d seen it as a life raft, not a destination. “I’d appreciate three days’ notice if you decide it doesn’t work for you. I’ll need to rearrange my schedule to care for the horses.”
He nodded. “You know much about horses?”
“Not a darn thing other than they’re tall and more animal than I know what to do with. The farrier said the feed load he dropped was about a week’s worth.”
Mitch glanced at the hay bales. “Barely a week. Explains why they’re too thin.”
“You can tell me what kind of feed to buy?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’ve got them? You can do whatever it is they need.”
Beauty moved closer but remained out of Mitch’s reach. “Have they been watered?”
“I put water in the trough.”
“Where can I find a water hose and a bucket? Don’t want to overdo the water, but I imagine they’d appreciate a splash on a hot day.”
She showed him around the storage shed, which she said he could rearrange to suit himself. She gave him a rough idea of where she wanted to expand the field for the horses and showed him the pile of
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