Shy Kinda Love (5 page)

Chapter 5

It’s 5:45 a.m. and I’m walking down the front steps, coffee in hand, when I look up and see Kade sitting on the tailgate of my truck. He’s eating what looks to be cereal, but still manages to lift one side of his mouth in a smile.

I stop a few feet from where he’s sitting. “What are you doing?” I ask, not trying to hide my frustration.

He looks around at the truck, up at the dark sky, and then down to the bowl in his hand. “Sitting on your tailgate eating my breakfast.”

I narrow my eyes. “Okay, so that was the wrong question.
Why
are you sitting on my truck eating your breakfast before sunrise?”

“Don’t you remember last night? You told me to meet you here,” he says. He sets his bowl next to him on the truck.

He’s trying to be funny, make me laugh I guess, but I’m not in the mood. Plus, I have no intentions of being alone in a barn with a guy I just met. The idea makes me shiver.

I close my eyes and draw in a long, slow breath. “Listen, Kade, I’m honored that you got up at 5:30 in the morning to spend time with me, but I don’t do this,” I say, as I wave my hand back and forth between us.

“I’ve been up since 4:30 thinking about spending time with you,” he says, with a playful smile.

I roll my eyes. “Your room is right next to mine, and our walls are paper-thin. I heard your alarm, asshat.”

He shrugs, as if saying
I tried.
“Anyway, what do you mean by
this
?” he asks, now waving his hands between us.

“Talking, hanging out, friendships, relationships. All of it; I don’t do any of it.”

He narrows his eyes. “You have two friends in there that I’ve seen you talk to and hang out with.”

I can’t help the frustrated grunt that escapes. “I didn’t want friends, but they showed up looking all comfy with their marathon biker shows, and stayed at my house all day… Keegan’s all straightforward and Gemma’s so damn cute… I tried to say no.”

I’m rambling and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m looking everywhere but at Kade, and one of my legs is bouncing nervously.

“Then they keep making me go out… where I meet new people… and I have to talk to those people too… and they say funny stuff and make me smile… so I feel bad telling them I don’t want friends… then the next thing I know I’m living here and I have two best friends.” I let out one final huff, then make eye contact and plead, “I just want to be by myself, with my horses, alone in my own head. I don’t want to laugh and have fun. I want to go back to being cranky and alone, at least for a few hours.”

Kade looks concerned. “You know that social isolation can alter functioning of the brain? Can lead to depression, health issues, and even impulsive behavior.”

I raise my eyebrows, unclear what he is saying. I don’t speak nerd.

Kade attempts to explain. “It’s like your horses. They’re social animals, so if you separate one from the herd, what happens to it?”

It becomes depressed and/or highly agitated. I don’t answer out loud, because it’s clear he already knows.

“They become extremely agitated,” he says, proving me right. “After an extended period of time of separation, the stress will begin to affect their health and they will even injure themselves in an attempt to get back to the herd.”

This is true. I’ve seen a horse go through fences to get back to its herd.

I gesture for him to get off my truck. “Okay, thanks for the lesson on isolation, but I have hungry horses waiting for me.”

Kade’s expression changes to hurt. “I just want to get to know you.”

Now I stomp my foot, getting frustrated at my failure to chase him away. “Well, I don’t want to get to know you,” I spit. It’s harsh, but I’m desperate to get away from him. Away from all the things he makes me feel.

Kade lifts both hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ll let you go play with your horses and be grumpy in peace.”

He jumps down off the tailgate and dusts off his pants. He takes a few steps, then stops when he’s next to me. He places his hand on the small of my back and leans in, so that his mouth is only an inch from my ear. “If you feel like trying the friendship-slash-hanging out thing later, I’ll be home all day.”

Surprisingly, I don’t feel the all-consuming anxiety take over my body at his touch. I clear my throat and step away. When I turn to lift my tailgate, I realize Kade left his bowl of cereal so I pick it up with one hand, then instantly cover my mouth with my other hand. “What
is
this?”

He reaches out, retrieving the offending object from my hand. “I call it Captain’s Surprise. When I can’t decide what kind of cereal to eat I just dump them all in.” He looks down into the bowl and wrinkles his nose. “Now it’s just Soggy Surprise.”

“That’s disgusting,” I say, with my hand still covering my mouth. I’m trying to hide my smile, but when Kade smiles back, before turning to back into the apartment, I know I failed.

Chapter 6

I decide to spend a little extra time with Walker today before I start my work training. I run through the chores, feeding and turning out all the horses but Walker and Tanner. I’ve been working with Tanner for about two weeks, and I leave him in because he needs to learn to be separated from his herd. I grab Walker’s halter and lead rope and walk down to his stall. When I slide the door open Walker lifts his head from his breakfast and looks at me with those big brown eyes. He still has some hay in his mouth so he keeps chewing as he takes a few steps towards me. I lift my hand to scratch him behind his ears, just where he loves it. Walker leans his head down to give me better access.

After a minute of ear scratching I put his halter on and lead him out to the yard. Since Walker has a bad leg I don’t push him to do any type of work. The time I spend with him is either grooming him or just sitting in the yard with him on a lead rope while he eats grass. Angie has several pastures for the horses so there is always plenty of grass for them. But the grass really does seem to be, as the old saying goes, greener on the other side. All of the horses love to have free time in the yard with the really green grass.

Sometimes I bring a chair but today I just want to lie down in the grass while Walker grazes around me. Walker doesn’t hesitate; his mouth is full before my butt even hits the ground. I lie back and tilt my head to the side so I can watch my horse.

As I watch him tear at the grass with his teeth, I can’t help but remember the day I brought Walker home. I went to an auction, having no idea that it was a notorious slaughter auction. After talking to a couple who ran a rescue organization, I learned that ninety percent of the horses that day would be bought by what are referred to as “killer buyers”. They would be transported to Canada and sold to a slaughterhouse. Devastated by this latest proof of how heartless humans can be, I knew I had to save one of those horses.

I saw an Amish boy trying to get a horse off a trailer. He was beating the horse with a prod, but the horse was obviously struggling. I got closer and realized the horse had a severely injured leg, in addition to being so thin I could count his ribs. I stepped in and helped the horse down properly, then went straight to the driver of the truck. I asked what he wanted for the horse, telling him I was not going to let it go through the auction ring. He laughed and told me I was stupid for wanting a horse that was obviously useless, but he still charged me $800 for that “useless” horse.

Because he was injured, and obviously severely malnourished, I called the vet and begged her to meet us at the barn. I was terrified he wouldn’t even make the trip back. When we got to the farm and I rushed to the back of the trailer, his whinny warmed my heart.

The vet was already at the barn and examined him immediately. She said he was extremely dehydrated in addition to being malnourished, and explained that I needed to feed him four times a day for at least the next two weeks, and make sure he had plenty of water at all times. However, before she left, the vet warned me that he might not make it through the night.

That night I slept right outside his stall with my phone’s alarm waking me every few hours. Every time I went into his stall Walker would lift his head and try to approach me, but he was too weak. Here was this horse that had been severely neglected by humans, and most likely abused, yet he trusted me implicitly. After giving him more grain and checking his water I would always wrap one arm up under his neck and pull his head towards me with my other hand. I would lay my cheek against his and tell him to keep fighting. Knowing he might not survive the next two hours, it gave me a sense of peace to show him affection before I left his stall each time. I wanted to think that if he died before the next feeding, the last thing he would know from a human was love.

Over the next couple weeks Walker got a little stronger and his personality began to show. I soon saw that he was a very affectionate horse and very loyal. Every time he would see me he would whinny at me, and every time I entered his stall he would lower his head so that I could give him our usual hug. Even now, if he’s in the pasture and he sees me pull up in my truck, he’ll walk to the fence and call for me. When I think about that now, I feel tears prick my eyes.

Before Walker, I had nothing to look forward each day. I had no family who loved me, Ryder was my only friend, and every morning I woke to the realization that my waking life was the real nightmare.

I put Walker in the pasture and go back to the barn to fetch Tanner. He is an all-black quarter horse mix. Tanner is also a rescue, which is how I came to work with him. The family who rescued him is friends with Angie. They’d gotten Tanner as a trail horse for their fourteen-year-old daughter. They’ve owned horses for many years, but Tanner is their first rescue, and he became too much for Sarah to handle. He refuses to leave his herd; he can be caught and haltered with the other horses, but he becomes terrified, even dangerous, if he is separated from the other horses. Angie told the family about Walker and my success with his rehabilitation, and they asked if I would be willing to work with Tanner. Although I did rescue Walker, and I train other horses with Angie, this is the first time I’ve been paid to rehabilitate someone else’s rescue.

When I get to his stall, I find Tanner is whinnying and pacing nervously. Because of his past abuse, this horse is terrified of humans. Sarah had been unable to work with him—whenever she tried to remove him from his herd, he would rear up on the lead rope trying to get back to them. My job, as the trainer, is to help this horse trust people again. So far, though, it’s not going very well.

After getting the halter on the quivering, sweaty horse, I lead him out to a small pasture. I spend about thirty minutes doing exercises that are meant to help him relax, but after he rears up and breaks the board he was tied to, I let him loose and drop to the ground, feeling defeated. He bolts to the fence where he proceeds with his usual running and calling to the other horses.

“How’s it going?” I hear from my left. I look up to find Michelle approaching the now-broken fence. Michelle has boarded her horse at the barn for years. She’s tried to talk to me a couple of times, but I’ve kept her at a distance, even though I’ve thought it would be nice to hear some of her horse wisdom. She’s in her forties and has had horses since she was a kid.

“Slow,” I answer. “It’s been two weeks and he won’t even come to me.” I stand up and brush the dust off my butt. “Walker was so much easier. He wanted affection from people, so really I only had to help him heal physically. He didn’t have much emotional damage.” I nod to Tanner. “Him, on the other hand… he’s the definition of emotional damage.”

Michelle raises her arms and crosses them on the top rail of the fence. “Think about it from his perspective. Why does he need to trust people? He gets food and water, and he has his herd. He only sees risk in allowing humans near him, no benefit.”

“But he could be so much happier if he could let go of his fears.” I gesture to Tanner where he is running the fence line, whinnying and sweating profusely. “I mean, look at him, he’s a disaster. If he’d chill out and give me a chance, he could learn that not all humans are horrible.” I look back to Michelle and find her watching me with a smile.

She draws in a long dramatic breath and shakes her head. “That’s a big job you have, convincing a horse that no one will ever hurt him again.”

I narrow my eyes, feeling like this conversation is no longer about Tanner. “I
don’t
know that no person will ever hurt him again.”

Now Michelle removes her arms from the fence and steps back, preparing to leave. “That’s right, you don’t. So the question is: is that horse better off living alone in fear, or should he trust us and risk being hurt again?” With that profound question, Michelle turns and disappears behind the barn.

She’s right; I know that. This horse needs a reason to trust me. Why
should
he trust that I won’t hurt him? I turn and kick the fence, pissed. Now I don’t know if I’m talking about the horse or myself. I’m beginning to think I’ve taken on too much with Tanner. I drop to my knees and place my hands on my thighs, pulling in long, deep breaths. How can I possibly help this horse when I can’t even help myself?

As I sit in the field trying to push back all the emotions I never let show, I feel a big warm breath blow into my hair and a giant nose rub against my head. I freeze, unsure how to react. Tanner is standing over me, almost nuzzling me at the crook of my neck. I reach one hand to caress his nose and he pushes into my hand, almost as if encouraging my touch. I close my eyes and release a slow breath, careful not to scare him off. I’m not sure if it’s my position of submission or my emotional meltdown, but something I did made the horse feel safe with me, if only in this moment. I remain on my knees, my back to Tanner, completely vulnerable to this large, unpredictable animal. I allow myself to trust. He continues to sniff and nuzzle as I pet him on his nose and face. Allowing myself to be vulnerable and trust in the horse feels like removing a brick from the wall I have constructed for my protection. It is both terrifying and serene.

After several minutes, I slowly stand and turn to face him, attempting to maintain my non-threatening attitude. Tanner remains close, allowing me to rub his neck and down his back. He doesn’t try to flee, and he seems completely relaxed; his breathing is no longer heavy, his eyes are soft, and his head is low, not on alert. Not wanting push my luck, I decided to take Tanner to the pasture with the other horses. He stands still, allowing me to put his halter back on, and he walks quietly as I lead him to his herd.

I release him into the pasture and wonder what the hell I’d done to deserve compassion from that horse.