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Rhett’s brow creases. “All this because of a few piles? Maybe four separate horses ate something yesterday that didn’t agree with them. They’re probably fine.”
“Yeah,” I try to believe what he’s saying, but after a few months of caring for them, it feels unlikely. “I don’t know, I just want to be sure. Do you have a stethoscope?”
Rhett shakes his head, looking like I’ve lost my mind. “We’re all starving. It was a hard day. Can you put everyone away and help us feed? Then you can do whatever you need to for your investigation.”
I nod, not liking the change in his demeanor. I figured out of everyone he would agree with me, but maybe I was wrong.
Rhett
I spent all day thinking about it. It’s not worth the risk. Everything I have with Sunny, giving it up for a fling, it’s not worth it. I never know how much time I have left with her anyway. I’m not willing to take a chance and waste a single day of it. But that decision has soured my mood all day. Add to it the fact that Wes left the pack with our lunches back at the barn, and I’m really not in the mood for much else but eating and going to bed. I’ve dealt with emotions and younger brothers and everything I don’t want to face for the past twenty-four hours. As much as I’ve tried to put Sunny out of my mind, it hasn’t happened. Sinking back into my old life of horses, food, sleep, and repeat sounds like a much better option.
We toss the final flakes of hay and I make my exit for the bunkhouse through the runway of the barn. From the office, drawers open and close, intermixed with mumbling and items shifting within the drawers. I poke my head in to find Sunny frantically searching for something.
“What are you doing?” I step fully into the office that used to be mine but feels more like hers at this point.
“I swore I saw a stethoscope when I was tidying up in here. I just want to get a good read on Chief’s vitals.”
My stomach growls like it’s threatening to start eating me from the inside out. A wave of nausea rushes over me. “Come eat something, and then I’ll figure all this out with you.”
Without looking up, she waves a hand at me. “You go, I’ll be fine. You’re probably right. It’s nothing.”
I sigh, but I swear, if I don’t eat something I’ll pass out. “I’ll be back, okay?”
She doesn’t answer, lost in her search. I can’t even remember if there’s a stethoscope to find. While I walk to the bunkhouse, I call the vet. Sunny’s instincts have been right so far, the least I can do is alert him that we might have a colicy horse on our hands.
Sunny
Chief isn’t interested in food, but that’s not unlike him either. In reality, Buck isn’t far off in his corpse horse theory. Buddy loves his horse though and keeps him riding at least three days a week. Looking at his teeth, I would wager he’s at least twenty-eight, but obviously well taken care of. I listen to his stomach again. Not much has changed. He’s not exhibiting the normal signs of colic. No pawing, rolling, or other signs of distress. He does feels sweaty, but Onyx chased him away from the feeder and around the corral before I caught wind of it and broke up the fight. The old guy might have an elevated heart rate from the chase.
“He doesn’t look like he’s going to colic.” I say it out loud, hoping someone will answer me back. To my surprise, the voice comes in the form of a memory.
“They don’t all get dramatic when they’re sick. Some just mope around in misery.”
Dad said that to me when I was twelve and angry that he said I couldn’t ride my horse because he looked like he would colic. Picasso wasn’t eating, no, but he wasn’t pawing or rolling or acting like anything was wrong either. That night my young horse did all those things and more. If Dad hadn’t been watching, we would have lost him.
I rub Chief’s neck. “I won’t leave you old man. No matter what. I’m here.”
If I’m expecting some heartfelt moment between me and the old paint, then I’m sorely disappointed. He barely blinks. It’s entirely possible the Rhett was right. Maybe four separate horses got into something questionable and passed it quickly. I could be totally wrong.
The halter slips over Chief’s nose, then I buckle the latch. Taking the lead rope in my hand, I start walking. Sometimes with mild colics, a little exercise can get things moving. If there’s a chance I’m right, I can’t stop now. Chief needs me.
“Come on, old man. Let’s get some steps in.”
Rhett
“Slow down a little, kid.” Cookie set a hand to my shoulder. “You’re gonna choke shoveling it in like that.”
I’m not alone. Those of us who missed lunch are starving, but hunger triggers other feelings, not to mention memories, in my mind. I do best to banish hunger as fast as possible. But this time, it’s more than that. I left Sunny out there on her own. I keep stealing glances at the door, thinking she’ll walk in, sheepishly admit that Chief is fine, and take the empty seat next to me, but the door doesn’t move.
“I’ve more to do tonight,” I tell Cookie. “I’ve got enough time to eat something and then get back out there.”
Weston groans. “Are you kidding me? Man, I was gonna get a shower and watch some TV. What else do we have to do?”
“Not you.” I take another scoop of Cookie’s stew. “Just me. You guys have a good night.”
Buck looks around the table, likely noticing one other member of the staff is missing. “You meetin’ Sunny?”
A chorus of chatter erupts between them but I’m quick to silence it. “It’s not like that. She thinks Chief might colic. I just want to be sure that he’s okay, that’s all.”
