Cowboy Seeks a Horse Whisperer by Marley Michaels
1
Kendra
After a restless night’s sleep filled with animated dreams I can’t quite remember, I’m a walking zombie as I go through my morning routine to get ready for work. Even that first glorious cup of coffee hasn’t managed to speed me up, and I’m dragging my feet to my living room where I log in to check my schedule and see I’ve got office time this morning with no animals booked in until the afternoon.
“Maybe I could risk going back to bed,” I say to my gorgeous ginger cat, Spencer, as I rub at the knot in my stiff neck.
“Meow,” he replies from his pedestal on top of the kitchen table, where he likes to judge me while licking the inside of his leg.
“You’re right,” I moan, closing up my laptop and leaning back in my chair. “I’m the new guy in town. Gotta prove myself, huh?” Being the start of a new working week, and since I’m still finding my feet at the Kinleyville District Veterinary Clinic, not to mention figuring out how to get along with all of my new staff and the locals, it’s better if I get in early and make sure everything and everyone is organized from the get-go, show them that just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.
“Meow,” Spencer tells me what I already know as I cross the room and give him a scratch on the head and listen to his animated meows and purrs telling me his complaints and demands as ruler of the universe. I diligently nod and make appropriate murmurs until he’s satisfied his point has been made and wanders off, tail waving in the air as he goes to survey his kingdom, aka my bedroom, where I’ll undoubtedly find a hairball offering later. He’s lucky I love him.
Topping up my travel mug, I grab my laptop bag from my desk and walk out the door, stopping on the front porch to marvel at the beautiful view of the mountain range in the distance. Eagle Mountain, sitting large and majestic as it shadows the town.
Even though I've been living here for almost a month now, the scenery still takes my breath away. I may be Alaskan born and bred, but these mountains seem to call to me in a way I’ve never felt before. I stayed in Sitka until my parents retired and moved down south for warmer pastures, and although I had considered following them for a brief moment, Mom and Dad wouldn’t hear of it. They told me it was my time to shine and to follow my heart.
That’s why I decided to follow my dreams—literally and figuratively—and save toward buying a small parcel of land near those same peaks so I can put those dreams into action. Eventually, my plan is to create a horse rescue and treatment farm where injured, neglected, and traumatized horses can be nurtured and rehabilitated, until such time as they’re able to be adopted or sold.
I’ve had the idea since I was a teenager. I’d gone to summer camp on a ranch in Canada and fell in love with the horses there. Some of them were retired racehorses, and some had been rescued from neglectful owners. It was like they were given another chance at life, and that year and every year after that until I graduated high school, I went to the ranch eager to learn anything and everything there was to know about taking care of horses, and the different ways the staff there rehabilitated them. It’s why I went to Veterinary school in the first place. After finishing my degree, I worked hard at various clinics during the year so I could take the summer off to volunteer at that same camp. I would have loved to have worked there full time, but there’s never been an available position, and the waitlist is about as long as my arm. So I’ve long since given up on that part of my dream.
But I’m about a third of the way to saving up enough to start my own horse haven where I can continue that same good work stateside. It’s a passion I’ve had for so many years, and it’s surreal to be so close to making it a reality that it feels like I can reach out and touch it. I’ve even been keeping an eye out for available land in preparation for that first big step.
And while there’s no doubt in my mind that I'm still firmly entrenched in the ‘settling in’ stage of my major life upheaval, I feel more settled and at peace than I ever have before. I just need someone to see one of the advertisements I’ve put up all over town and in local newspapers and give me a chance to show them what I can do. Then again, the concept of horse whispering and holistic training practices is a new approach in these parts. It’s all old school thinking and generations of beliefs when it comes to animal husbandry and ranching.
I get it, I really do. But I also think I have a lot to offer when it comes to alternative ways of doing things, less stringent and strict ways to make the animals do what their owners want them to do.
Walking to my truck, I get in. No sooner have I settled my coffee in the drink holder and shut the door when my phone rings from my bag. Pulling it out, I don’t recognize the phone number, but that’s not entirely unusual being in a new town and all.
“Hello. You’ve reached Dr. Archer.”
“You the horse lady?” a deep gravelly voice rumbles.
I can’t help but smile at his brashness. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes. I work with horses.”
“Good. Sorry to call your cell and not the clinic, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here.”
“OK. What kind of situation are we talking about?” I’m trying to sound level-headed and professional when inside I'm squealing with nervousness. Is this finally the chance to prove myself that I’ve been waiting for? “I’m Kendra, by the way.”
“Jesse. My brothers and I own Eagle Mountain Ranch. You heard of it?”
“Yeah. Huge plot of land around the base of the mountain, am I right?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s us. My brothers and I rescued two mistreated geldings from a derelict ranch last night. Unfortunately, one passed in the wee hours and we’re worried the survivin’ one might be headed the same way. He’s a fighter though, that’s for sure. But I think we might be in over our heads here. He’s skinny, maybe a little lame or on his way to being that way, and skittish as all hell. It was a battle getting him onto the float and inside our stables—he’s been kickin’ the walls all night, so I’m not raring to move him again in a hurry. But he needs lookin’ at, and I need someone capable of doin’ it without sedatin’ him. I don’t think he could take it.”
My brow knits in concern, my heart going out to the gelding he’s describing, along with the one who lost his fight. Some people just have no right owning animals, but I’m grateful to this Jesse and his brothers for rescuing them. “OK. I can be there in twenty minutes. Is that soon enough?”
“Sounds good to me. Don’t wanna cause him any more distress so it would just be good to know if he can be saved sooner rather than later. You know?”
“Sure do.”
“You need directions?”
“No, sir. I may be new to town, but there’s no missing a ranch the size of yours. By location or by reputation.”
He chuckles. “No need to call me sir. Call me Jesse. And I’m not sure if it's good to be known by our reputation”
I smile, biting my lip to hold off a giggle. God, first the voice, then the deep warm laugh. Bet he wears a Stetson like he was born to do it too. “Then you’ll need to call me Kendra and not ma’am.”
“Sure thing, Kendra. You need me to get him into the corral for you?”
“Let's leave the horse in the stable for now. It’ll be easier to check him over, then I can see what we’re dealing with and we can go from there.”
“Sure thing, doc.” Disconnecting, I immediately hit the road, setting off in the direction of Eagle Mountain Ranch. My mind is half on the road and half going through all the options I might have to help Jesse's gelding. Until I can see him, all I can do is hope that he’s not too far gone to be helped. Having to make that decision is always the hardest.
Twenty mins later, having let my receptionist and self-appointed new bestie, Molly, know I’m making a house call, I turn into a long winding driveway and direct my truck under a big wooden arch with a rustic ‘Eagle Mountain Ranch’ sign hanging underneath. The arch looks hand-carved with lots of meaning and thought put into it, and if I ever get the chance, I’d definitely like to know more about it.
By the time I reach the turning bay outside the main ranch house, I’m itching to get to work. But first thing’s first, I have to put my vet cap on and make sure I cover everything health-wise before I move onto behavior and trauma issues.
As soon as I’ve grabbed my go-bag from the back of the truck, the front door to the ranch house opens, and a tall, broad man with dark hair and a thick but well-kept beard covering a strong square jaw steps out. My chest does a bit of a running leap because the tan Stetson on his head is in fact worn like he was born that way, just as I imagined. He’s wearing a blue flannel shirt stretched tight over wide working man’s shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows giving a peek of an arm tattoo that would make any red-blooded woman want to see more. And of course he’s wearing a pair of jeans held up with a brown leather belt, complete with a big silver belt buckle. If this was an adult movie, he’d be the starring cowboy coming to ravage the blushing virgin. Kinda wish I was one… Jeez, where did my mind just go?
I quickly shake my head and fidget with the strap of my bag, my nerves threatening to get the best of me.
The man’s lips curve into a smile as he strides toward me, stopping with his arm outstretched as he reaches the truck. “Kendra, is it? I’m Jesse. We spoke on the phone.”
“That’s me.” I shake his hand quickly but pull back just as fast because I’m pretty sure I gasped at the tingle I got from his touch. The last thing I want him to feel is my clammy palms and quivering body. He is H-O-T, and if I look at him a moment longer, I’m likely to combust.
He frowns and glances at his palm, but quickly schools his impression before clearing his throat and nods toward the barn. Good one, Kendra. “Gelding’s this way,” he says, his eyes sweeping over my face as if to study me. All that does is make me feel even more self-conscious. Are there crumbs on my face? I may have seventeen years of veterinary training, but experience doesn’t mean dick when you’re the new vet in town and trying to prove yourself. This is a big ranch which means they automatically have a big influence in the district’s farming community. So when you’re trying to build your reputation as a way to make your dreams come true, it’s important to make a good impression. I need to focus on the job I’m here to do, not handsome cowboys with a swagger so fine it’d turn grown women’s heads to mush. Job to do, horses to help, Kendra. Keep your knees together.
“Has he calmed down at all since we spoke?”
A small smile kicks up the side of his mouth. “Why don’t you follow me and find out for yourself?” He sweeps his arm out in the direction of a red and white barn with its doors open.
As we start to walk, I hang back a couple of steps, purely for research, of course. See, I have to find out if he’s wearing Levis because so far, he’s fitting the cowboy mold perfectly. And when I see that tiny red tag shifting with every delicious step he takes, I can’t help but smile to myself, then catch up, my heart thudding happily in my chest. “So, ah, what can you tell me about the horse?” I ask, getting back to business now that my survey is complete. Survey. Ugh. OK, fine! I’m a terrible liar, and I can’t even lie to myself, because we all know I’m just trying to cover up the fact I was just perving at his jean-clad ass.
He glances my way and seems to do a little curve check of his own—if his gaze roaming over my rather large breasts is anything to go by—before returning to my eyes with a hint of interest mixed with concern for the gelding in them. “Wish someone had stepped in sooner, to be honest. Old Man Farris is so stuck in his ways and stubborn as a mule. He shouldn’t even be ranchin’ anymore.”
I hold my breath, thinking the worst but still hoping for the best as he continues.
“One of his ranch hands—the only one who hadn’t up and quit—cornered me at the tavern on Saturday night and shared his concerns about these two horses. I came straight home and after a family meetin’ with my brothers, we decided we’d go see Farris and negotiate to take the horses off his hands.”
My head swivels his way, my eyes wide as a gasp escapes my lips. “And he actually sold them to you?”
“Nope. We got there, took one look in the paddock, and my brother, Randy, told him in no uncertain terms, that we were taking them and he should be lucky we weren’t calling in animal welfare.”
“What kind of conditions are we talking about here?” I ask as we reach the entry to the barn.
“They were in a paddock that was more mud and dirt than pasture. Food and water were scarce, and one look at ‘em told us they were malnourished, poorly groomed, and lackin’ in everythin’ a well-kept horse needs.” The anger and frustration in Jesse’s tone is evident. And it intrigues me even more than the man’s lickable jaw, soulful blue eyes, and a beguiling smile that I'm currently losing myself in. When his smile widens and his brow arches in a silent question, I automatically snap out of it—again. Cmon, Kendra. Get it together.
I jerk my eyes away and look into the barn. “You said the other gelding died. Do you need help disposing of the carcass, or…”
Jesse shakes his head. “We’ve got thousands of head of cattle on this farm. We’ve got a well-executed carcass disposal plan in place. My brothers, Sawyer, Beau, and our other owner, Miller, are taking care of that as we speak.”
“That’s great.” His lips twitch and he quirks a brow again. “I mean, not great great. But it’s good that you have a plan in place and it’s already underway. Disease control and all that.” I wince and turn away before I die from saying something even more embarrassing. “Let’s maybe get some blood and tissue samples from that horse before you bury it so we can make sure he didn’t die from anything contagious. It’ll buy us a little time, so I won’t have to take blood from Buster right away. See if we can keep the stress low and save the last horse standing… so to speak.”
“That’s an excellent plan, doc. He’s got a spark in his eyes that his brother didn’t have. We named him Buster since he’s a bit of a punk with an attitude.”
I kinda love Jesse’s positivity. Especially since cases of neglect can have such a monumental effect on an animal, and it can take weeks, months, sometimes even years, to help them recover from it. “Buster. I like that name.”
Jesse comes to a stop in front of me and turns to lean on the stable door, lowering his voice so as not to spook the animal. “Kendra, meet my new friend, Buster.”
I move forward and peer inside the stable to see a beautiful, but definitely on the verge of broken down, brown and white horse leaning against the furthest wall of the enclosure. His head hung low, his body language anything but comfortable.
“He’s a beautiful boy,” I whisper almost absentmindedly, as I look him over, starting at his head and working my way along his body, carrying out a visual examination since I’m not sure I’ll be able to get an actual physical one done if Buster is so withdrawn and wary of humans. He’s shifting on his feet nervously, his ears moving because he knows where here, but he’s too exhausted to react. Still, I feel this tension radiating off him that tells me that if I dare get too close, he’ll thrash out a storm and probably hurt us both. But even that gives me hope. I can see what Jesse was talking about. Buster definitely has a spark.
There’s a fire burning inside him—the horse, and probably the man standing beside me as well—and he’s got spirit. I can tell by the way he’s moving his head up and down and scraping his hooves on the dirt. He’s not happy with his current predicament, but he’s also curious. Curious is good. Curious, and at least a little bit trusting despite being mistreated and neglected. That’s something I can definitely work with.
“Has he taken any food and water?”
Jesse nods. “We didn’t want to overwhelm his system, so we’ve been letting him graze on handfuls of feed every hour. Plenty of water, though. I figured that’s a good sign, seein’ him eatin’.”
“It is. Have you tried to get close and touch him?”
“Apart from putting the cover on him and getting him through the ordeal of being loaded onto the horse float, we decided it was best not to try to get too close to him. Randy suggested letting him run in the corral until he was too tired to fight us, but I didn’t want to risk him getting too tired when he’s barely got enough meat on him to spare. So I insisted we put him in the barn. Was that wrong?” he asks, his tone full of sincerity. This is a man who cares about his animals. Why is that so damn attractive?
“That’s really smart, actually. Animals are very intuitive. They can read people just like humans can. If they’re mistreated, it puts them off and they can lose trust in everybody.”
“Which means Buster here sees us as baddies too,” he surmises.
I scrunch my nose up. “He’s just in self-preservation mode. I guess we would be too if we hadn’t been treated well. Right, Buster?” The horse snorts loudly before he lifts his head and lets out a long, whining neigh that echoes off the barn walls. “Aww. And he’s waiting for his mate.”
“Aren’t we all,” Jesse mutters, confusing me for a moment before he turns his attention back to Buster. “So once we know he’s healthy, we’ve just gotta gain his trust again? Treat ’im right and he’ll know we’re good people?”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” I say softly. “I’ll need to get a closer look at him sooner rather than later, but I think since we can get bloods from the deceased horse he was quartered with, we can leave him be since he’s eating and drinking. But I’d still like to stay here and monitor him for a while. Get him to trust me and maybe he’ll let me look him over, run a couple of tests.” Just as I finish my sentence, I cover my mouth as a yawn escapes me, reminding me that my travel mug is still sitting unfinished in my truck. At this rate, I’m going to need to start walking around with an IV bag of the stuff to keep my eyes open. I need a better sleep schedule—or a cat that doesn’t demand to be let out at the crack of dawn. “Would that be OK with you?”
Jesse smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides like a man who’s spent most of his life having fun. “Sounds perfect, doc. But I reckon there’s one thing we’re gonna need if we’re gonna be horse watchin’ awhile.”
“And what’s that?” I ask curiously.
“Some of my sister’s cowboy coffee.”
“I would not say no to that,” I say with a laugh.
“Just you wait, you’ll be awake for hours after getting some of that in ya. And if we’re gonna be sitting out here waitin’ to make this big guy trust us, we’re gonna need all the help we can get. You wait right here, doc. I’ll be back quicker than you can say lickety-split.”
He tips his hat then spins on his boots, leaving my brain to catch up on this unexpected chain of events while I watch his mighty fine denim-clad ass walk away. Levis...yum.
Wait… did he just say we?