The Cowboy's Bride

“That’s why she wasn’t eating them.” Allister exchanged an exasperated look with Joe, and Joe felt immediately guilty.

Talia threw her head and snorted, and Joe pulled his attention to his horse, holding his rising anger at himself and his renter. Kevin had worked with Joe’s horses for the past six months. And in the past two, Joe could see with each trip home that the horses weren’t as well taken care of as they should be. He knew Allister could see it, too.

He had let it go too long, but what alternative did he have? Finding renters willing to take care of his horses was difficult. He thought he had neatly solved his problems with Kevin. From the looks of Talia’s leg, his solution had created more problems than it had solved.

“I’m gong to give you some more pills,” Dr. McLure said to Kevin. “This time make sure you crush them really fine and mix them thoroughly through her grain ration. Make sure you don’t give her too much grain, as well,” he warned as he stepped back from Talia. He looked at Joe. “I’ll have to give her a shot for now. It’ll get into her system quicker than the pills.”

Joe nodded. He hated giving his horses needles. They were so jumpy afterward. He spoke softly to Talia as Allister drew up the needle, pulling her head down when he saw Allister ready to inject.

“Hold her easy, she’ll jump at this.”

Talia barely moved, and that made Joe feel even worse. He laid his head against her neck in sympathy, rubbing her shoulder.

“You can take her back to her stall,” Allister said to Joe when he was done.

Joe stroked Talia’s nose once more, as if in sympathy. Then, with the gentlest of tugs on her halter rope, he led her slowly out of the pen to the single stall he had made up in the lean-to of his small shed.

He led her in, took off the halter and slid the door shut behind him. Talia whickered, and Joe stopped, looking at her.

“Sorry, girl.” He walked back, reaching through the bars of the door, stroking her neck, avoiding her soft brown eyes. “I let you down, didn’t I?” he said softly, scratching her behind the ears when she lowered her head for him. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” As he spoke, Joe shook his head. How many times hadn’t he heard his father use the same words when a promised trip had been canceled, when his father arbitrarily changed his mind about letting Joe participate in after-school sports and worst of all, when Joe’s favorite horses had to be sold to pay bills? Except his father had never been able to make it up to Joe.

Joe patted Talia once more, then left.

Kevin and Dr. McLure were still in the pen, talking. Kevin had his head down and was nodding. Allister was frowning, taking a few moments from stripping off his coveralls to gesture as he spoke. Joe knew from past experience that Allister wasn’t bothering to spare Kevin’s feelings. When it came to horses, Allister had absolutely no patience for neglect and mistakes.

“An animal can’t do a whole lot for himself once he’s in a human’s care,” he heard Allister say, his voice rising as he folded up the coveralls. “They depend totally on us. It’s trust, and you just broke it with that filly.”

Dr. McLure looked up as Joe came near. “I was just talking to your hired hand.” His voice held a note of censure for Joe, as well, and Joe winced. He knew Allister was right, as usual. Talia’s injury was as much Joe’s responsibility as it was Kevin’s. “I’ve got enough pills in the truck for a couple of days. You’ll have to come into the office to get the rest.”

“I’ll…I’ll be in t-town in a couple of d-days,” Kevin said, glancing sidelong at Joe.

Kevin was beginning to stutter, a sure sign that he was flustered. Joe didn’t feel sorry for him.

“That’s okay. I’ll go in and get them tomorrow.” Joe slipped his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and chewed on his lip as he thought of all he had to get done in the few days he had off from work.

“I’ll have them ready for you.” Allister nodded and left.

“Just sit tight,” Joe said to Kevin. “I want to talk to Dr. McLure. I’ll be right back.”

Kevin nodded, his head hanging. He reminded Joe of his horses when they had been reprimanded, but he still didn’t feel sorry for him.

Joe clambered over the fence, easily catching up to the vet. Allister had one of the boxes of the truck open and was counting pills into an envelope. He licked the envelope shut and handed it to Joe.

“So, what are you going to do about these horses of yours, my boy?” Allister said, leaning against the truck, his arms crossed. Joe recognized his tone. It was one often heard from Allister when Joe had been impatient with a horse he was working with, or too harsh.

Joe poked a hole in the sand with the toe of his old cowboy boots, his thumbs strung in the belt loops of his jeans. “I don’t know, Allister. It sure doesn’t look like I can keep going like this, does it?”