Page 17 of For Fillies and Monsters

It’s unbearably hot out, the sun an open flame lapping at my skin. Dale is already naturally tan, but I know she has to be burning her exposed shoulders in the cut-off button-down she wore. I will no doubt be sporting a permanent farmer’s tan for the rest of the year from today alone. I’ll be lucky if I don’t blister.

“A lot of work to do,” I finally admit, and Dale whistles.

“Girl, there’stoomuch work to do. You need help in a big way, and not just your charming, and extremely talented, friend helping out on the weekends. You need a hand. Maybe a man’s hand, even.” Dale’s observation is obvious, and I can’t stop my eyes from rolling dramatically. I know I need help, but I can’t afford it. So instead of acknowledging it, I focus on things I can hopefully fix—on my own.

Always on my own.

“The fencing aside, what about the pastures? Why are some of them sporting a decent amount of grass already, and some of them completely dried and sandy?”

“Well, it’s because you aren’t rotating them properly.” Dale’s matter-of-factual statement feels like a punch to the gut. I don’t mean to bristle—I know Dale isn’t calling me dumb or lacking—but the voices in my head are, and I never have a good comeback for them.

I lean back against the saddle, sighing. I watch my horse’s blonde head and mane sway back and forth from heat and exhaustion—Winston, my trusty steed, is getting tired, and I can’t blame the old guy. These moments together are the most precious in the world to me; the only bright spot in an otherwise gloomy existence.

I love the view—between a horse’s ears—it’s the most beautiful, if I have to pick one. The idea of getting to see and experience the world through their lens always does something to calm me—center me.They do not have to worry about wheretheir next meal will come from, or how to pay for the roof over their head. They simply get to exist and explore and appreciate the beauty of the world one open pasture at a time. It’s a good reminder of the simplistic beauty of life, and how lucky we are to be who and where we are.

I had been lucky that the horse I was working with at the rescue at the end had taken a liking to me. And even luckier when my boss gifted him to me for my years of service.

I, of course, knew better.

Winston, an overly short, squatty, palomino gelding, had been the most tiresome pain in the ass at the rescue. No one wanted to give him the time of day, much less ride him. So, by taking him, it was one less mouth to feed, four fewer hooves to worry about flying at others’ heads, and my boss felt like he could pat himself on the back for the gesture.

I don’t care, though.I won.

Everyone saw something that was too broken to fix when they looked at Winston. I looked in the mirror and saw the same thing. We were kindred spirits, me and him.

I exhale loudly, the sound getting the attention of both Dale and my horse.

“What should I do, Dale?” I hate asking for help, but I need to accept that is one of the reasons Dale is here. I want to trust her.

“You just need to create a good rotation program, and pray for rain.” Dale says it, clapping her hands on the neck of her tall red gelding, Chuck.

“A rotation program?” Sounds familiar, but I also don’t want to act like I know everything. Because I don’t—I’m closer to knowing nothing.

“Yeah, you just need to put up more fences,”

She can’t be fucking serious. More fences?I know I’m pinning her with a death glare, but I can’t help it.

Dale smiles sheepishly at me. “I know, I know. But you need to. Right now, you have two massive fields, which is okay. But when the cows are out there for months at a time, they pick it dry. And with no moisture, the grasses, roots, and all pull out of this damn sandy soil. No roots, no regrowth.” Dale tips her head back and forth as if contemplating.

“If you put in a couple more fence lines, and break up your bigger sections, you’d have to move them more often, but it would allow the other areas to grow while the cows are off them. Again, it isn’t perfect, and you still will need to pray like hell for rain, but it might help.”

I groan, the sound pathetic to my sunburned ears. “Dale, I—oh, fuck it. I have no money to hire someone to help me. I have no money to buy supplies to fix the fucking fence, much less build more.”

“I know.” Dale looks at me, sadness shining in her eyes.

I don’t want her pity, but this doesn’t feel like pity; it feels like understanding.I don’t know which is worse.

“Your parents—” I flinch at the words, causing Dale to pause, and rephrase. “Your mom and Gibson, they left you with a mess. A big fucking mess. And I don’t know how to help you, but I will do whatever I can. And maybe we can find someone in town who needs a place to stay and is willing to work for room and board plus a sum once the calves are sold in the fall.” She pauses. “What are your feelings about selling some cows to get by? Or land even?”

I shake my head, the thought of both options making my stomach churn—it feels too much like giving up.

Dale smiles, small but reassuring. “There’s gotta be something. We will figure it out.”

The words hit me so hard in the chest; I grip the saddle horn to keep from falling off my horse. No one has ever been so kind to me, andI don’t deserve it.

I’m dirty,trash—a nobody. And I do and like things nobody has the right to. Dale, she’s so happy and sunny. How can I dirty her up like this, involving her in the mess that is my life?It’s okay for me, but for her?Can I truly subject her to my darkness?

“Stet, I can see you overthinking. I want to help. I want to be here.” Dale reaches over, squeezing my hand firmly gripped around the horn.

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