Sliding the key in the lock, I went to grab the handle but stopped when I saw something covered it. It looked like peanut butter, but I hadn’t been home in so long, whatever it had been was now hard and crusty. Not wanting to touch it, I pulled a tissue out of my handbag to cover it before I turned the knob.
Holding my breath, I shoved open the door and relief washed over me when the interior looked as it should. Royce had thankfully kept his games to the exterior.
Making my way through to my room, I set my bag on my bed and opened it up. Taking out my dirty clothes, I put them in the washing machine before I moved to the kitchen. I’d stopped at the grocery store on my way and picked up a few things, so I set about putting them away. Thankfully, when I’d come back three weeks ago, I’d thought to empty out my fridge so there weren’t any nasty surprises waiting for me.
Speaking of nasty surprises, it was time to deal with the exterior. Taking a garbage bag, I headed out and gathered up all the toilet paper. The newspaper had dried against the glass and wasn’t coming off easily, so I grabbed the hose and wet it all down to let it soak. I then moved onto scrubbing the doorhandle.
By the time I had it all cleaned up, and the paper scraped off the windows, I was more than ready for a shower and a nap. Before I did either, I put the kettle on to boil some water for a cup of tea. While I waited, I looked out the now clean window above the sink and let my mind wander. Since I refused to give Royce another moment of my time, my brain went with thoughts of Boone.
Christopher had no idea what had happened at the hotel. He couldn’t. There was no way he could know that it had been my guilt over not being there when Dad had taken that turn that had me sending Boone away. And now it was my cowardice that had me working my ass off so I didn’t have time to think about him, about how much I missed him, about how much I wished I could pick up my phone and call him. If I ignored my broken heart for long enough, it’d stop hurting eventually. Right?
Gabs
“What the fuck?”
With her head hanging over the top of the fence, Whiskey stared in through the window at me. I’d never seen her look so miserable and unkept. Instantly, I was furious that Royce had been so busy messing with my house, he’d not bothered to look after the horses he’d banned me from caring for.
I grabbed an apple and chopped it up before I raced outside and climbed over the fence. Whiskey plodded toward me as I rushed to her.
“Hey, girl.”
I held out the first chunk of fruit and she scarfed it down like she’d never seen an apple before. I ran my gaze over her body as I continued to feed her the remaining pieces. She’d lost a lot of weight since I’d last seen her, enough that I could see her ribs through her coat. Speaking of her coat, it was a mess, and her tail and mane were a mass of tangles too. She’d clearly not been groomed in a long time. There was also a shallow gash to the side of her chest.
As she ate the final chunk, I stroked down her face, from between her eyes down to her nose. “What’s been going on, Whiskey? You’re looking damn skinny, girl. How about you show me what’s going on back at the barn, yeah? Just let me change my shoes.”
Climbing back over the fence, I jogged inside the house and after chopping up another apple, I switched out my shoes for boots, grabbed my hat, and returned to Whiskey. It broke my heart to see her in the condition she was in. If only Royce hadn’t been such a dick about things, I would have happily kept looking after all the horses. It would have been a struggle while looking after my parents too, but I would have somehow worked out a way to fit it all in.
Hopping over the fence again, I gave her another chunk before I walked across the field toward where the barn was. Whiskey plodded along beside me, munching on the apple pieces I was slowly feeding her as we walked. I had no clue what I was going to find once inside. Whiskey looked like she’d been completely neglected for months. The fact it had been two months since I’d last seen any of John’s horses had me worried that had been the last time they’d been groomed or fed properly.
As I got closer to the barn, Whiskey slowed down, clearly not wanting to go back inside. I turned toward her and gave her some love, murmuring words of assurance until she seemed calm enough to continue.
“C’mon, girl. I need to check on the others, get you all fed and brushed.”
She huffed at me like she didn’t fully agree with my plan but tough luck for her because that was what was going to happen. I approached the barn, looking around for any sign of Royce or John. The structure was out of sight from the main house, so when I didn’t see anyone, I went up to the door. It had been busted open from the inside. Tears pricked my eyes when I spotted the blood on a splinter, where, no doubt, Whiskey had hurt herself.
“Oh, you poor sweetheart. You broke yourself out, didn’t you?”
She nosed my shoulder with a huff. Tears stung my eyes as I forced the broken door to open all the way. The smell of manure was thick in the air, and I coughed as my eyes watered for a different reason other than my emotions.
“Dammit.”
The other horses began making noise and stomping their feet, like they were worried I didn’t know they were there.
“I’m coming, girls.”
I headed into the feed room. There was still plenty of grain and hay. Shaking my head at Royce’s stupidity, I turned and went to each of the stalls and collected all their buckets. After washing them out as fast as I could, I hung them and tossed a few flakes of hay into each stall. The urge to feed them grain was strong, but I knew it could harm their digestive system if fed too soon after a bout of starvation.
Whiskey refused to go back in her stall, and since she’d busted the latch on the door, I didn’t bother trying to force her in there. Instead, I put her hay and a water bucket out in the main area so she could eat something more filling than a couple of apples.
Once they were all munching on their hay, I set about cleaning their automatic waterers and making sure they were working. Then I picked up a brush and headed back to Whiskey. I was about to start when it occurred to me that I should take some photos for proof. If John was sick or had simply handed over the horses’ care to Royce, not realizing how incapable he was, I needed to show him the truth. And if he wouldn’t do anything about fixing the situation, I’d call in the SPCA.
Pulling out my phone, I snapped photos of the broken door and gate, then of each of the horses, including a close-up of Whiskey’s scratch. Then I grabbed the brush again and started grooming her. Once I had her brushed and her mane and tail detangled, I went back to the feed room and searched for what I needed to deal with her injury.
With a bucket full of water with antiseptic solution in it, along with a packet full of cotton pads, I headed back to her and set about getting the injury cleaned up.
By the time I had all the horses brushed down and released out into the pasture so I could muck out the stalls, I was beyond furious. How dare Royce neglect these animals like he had? Weaved into my fury was worry for John. No way would he ever knowingly allow his animals to be neglected like this.
I needed some advice right now. Simply marching up to the house and raging at Royce wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, but if I called in the SPCA, would they just come and seize the animals? John didn’t deserve to lose them because he’d trusted his son.
Boone worked for the SPCA. I could call him to get his advice on what to do before making an official complaint. Assuming he’d even answer my call. My pride hadn’t allowed for me to try to contact him since that day in the hotel. Guilt over that weighed on me. He deserved better after all he had done. And now I was only calling with something work-related.
I could use this as an excuse to reconnect with him. Not that my relationship with Boone was the priority here, the horses were.