Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
She’s a gentle soul. One of my professors at school said blue-eyed horses were long thought to be wilder than their brown-eyed counterparts. As I work on Ivory, I can’t help but wonder how that myth arose. Her temperament is more composed than any other horse I’ve known. I’m a stranger to her, yet she’s giving me no trouble at all as I run my hand down her left foreleg.
“Up,” I say softly.
Her ear twitches and she lifts her foot. Excellent. No rocks. A little dirt, which I brush away with the pick. Her hoof looks healthy. She’s been well cared for.
But of course she has. Her life is on the Bridger Ranch, where a veterinarian is on staff.
I’m merely an assistant. I didn’t get to finish my first year of vet school…but I can’t go there in my mind. Not on my first day at the ranch.
I have a job. A job working with animals I love. I smile to myself.
My first job since my return to Bayfield, Montana.
I gently place Ivory’s hoof back on the stable floor and move to the next one, reliving the conversation with my parents this morning.
“I got a job. I start today.”
My mother’s eyes go wide, and she continues pouring orange juice into my glass until—
“Mom, stop!”
She jerks the pitcher upright just before the glass overflows. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “A job?”
“Yeah. At Bridger Ranch working in the stables.”
“Bridger Ranch?” she repeats.
Dad’s head whips up from the paper. He narrows his eyes
“With their livestock?” Mom asks.
I nod, feeling nervous and excited. “I’ll help wherever they need me. Cattle, horses, dogs and cats. Chickens. I don’t know. It’s the first step to getting back to vet school.”
“Why the hell would you get a job there of all places?” Dad’s voice doesn’t have his usual warmth. In fact, the way a vein throbs in his temple, he looks downright pissed.
“Because they have animals.” The long list I just shared. Duh.
“Are you qualified?”
Classic Dad. He knows I’m qualified. This is about something else. Again, his words hurt.
“I’ve had almost a year of veterinary school and all the time I worked at the animal hospital in town during high school,” I remind him.
“That was a long time ago, sweetheart,” Mom says cautiously. She’s worried for me, but all her sentiment does is remind me of what I missed out on. How far behind I am. What I lost.
Five years to be exact, but—
Dad slams his phone down on the table. “The answer is no. Fuck, no.”
Mom gasps. “Rick. Watch your language.”
“There are enough ranches in the area for you to work on. You don’t have to work for the Bridgers.”
I frown. “What’s wrong with them? The head vet over at Bridger ranch thinks I can do the job as well as any vet tech.”
I sigh, eyeing my father closely. I don’t know what his deal is. It’s one thing to worry about me and smother me by the day, but he’s acting as if he doesn’t like the Bridgers specifically. I thought they wanted me to return to my life. To be normal again.
“Besides, Dr. Lake thinks I’m ready. More importantly, I think I am.”
God, am I. I need to get out of this house. I love my parents, but I’m twenty-seven years old, and they treat me like…
Well, like I could disappear at any moment…which I did five years ago.
Through no fault of my own, of course. At least that’s what Dr. Lake has tried to convince me during the last year of therapy. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time—having lunch at Millie’s Diner while home from vet school on spring break. Something as simple as that, in a small town in Montana, and my life changed forever.
I’ve only eaten at Millie’s about a thousand times in my life, but why did I have to go that day?
That particular damned day…
No. Not going there. Not right now. I need to be whole today to begin this new venture.
Ernie, our golden retriever, swishes around my legs, yellow fur sticking to my jeans. I love this hound, but man, he can shed.
“Hey, Ernie.” I ruffle his soft ears.
He’s older now with a white muzzle. The years aged him, too. He smiles at me. Yeah, dogs can smile. I know they don’t possess the requisite musculature, but I’m not convinced.
Ernie smiles. He doesn’t care that I’ve got a job with the Bridgers.
And his panting smile always makes me grin—inside and out—even after the worst nightmares.
I’ve learned to live with them, and they’re much less frequent than they used to be. I’m down to therapy only once a month now, and Dr. Lake says I’m ready to take the next step—a job—in returning to real life.
No, I have been living real life. Too real. But I have to look forward, not back.