Page 16 of Home Hearts Hooves

They seem happy enough to be getting those over Hoppy number six. I duck out the back to check on the three puppies, two bunnies, andparrotout the back waiting to be rehomed.

“Sorry, guys, but trust me, I’m doing you a favor. We’ll get you all good homes, promise.”

Speaking of good homes, I have to pop into the Beaker Brothers ranch after work and check on Loki and one of the dairy cows that’s due to give birth pretty soon. Just the idea that I’ll see Dean brings a smile to my lips. I really had no idea what I was going to do with Loki if he had said no. A skittish horse is hard enough to deal with, but one that’s also deaf and pretends to die whenever you get nearit,that’sa whole other barrel of monkeys.

My phone chimes, and I grab it from the shelf behind the counter and open up the message. I see Loki right away. He’s standing in a field of grass. I press the play button. He trots and seems happy enough with the other horses. I wonder how Atlas managed to get close enough to film this.

Atlas’s voice comes over softly. “See, with the other horses he’s fine, and I managed to stay in his line of sight as I walked back here, so he knew I was here the whole time, and look, he’s fine.”

He zooms in on Loki, and I smileseeinghim so free, so happy. Then I spot the red and white polka dot dress through the trees behind him, and when the woman comes into sight, Loki stiffens and falls to the side just like he did when I first touched him.

“Shit,” Atlas says as the woman screams and the other horses spook and run away. The camera jostles, trees and ground and fence posts fly by as he jogs over to check on Loki.

“He’s fine,” he calls to the woman as the camera settles on Atlas’s boots on the grass, then he brings it up to look into the camera.

“Okay, so we aren’t there yet, but it’s a start. Isn’t it, boy?” he asks, panning the screen to Loki’s head resting still in the grass, eyes wide and unblinking. Atlas runs his hand over the side of her head. “She’s gone. It’s okay, boy.It’s just me,” he says,and thenLoki shakes his head, and Atlas steps back as he stands and then trots off to the other horses like it never happened.The sky is dark off on the horizon, astorm’scoming in.The camera pans back to Atlas.

“See, totally fine,” Atlas says with a smile, and the screen goes black.

Ishoota message to him.

PRESTON: Looks like progress. I’ll be there in about twenty.

I receive athumbs upemoji back a few secondslateand am about to close up the clinic and head over to Beaker Brothers when a young girl comes strolling through the door.

“I’m sorryIwas just closing up,” I say, shutting the door to the back room. “Is it urgent?”

“Are you Preston Knight?”

“Yep, Dr. Knight, Preston, the vet. I’ll answertoany, take your pick.”

“You’re Preston Knight?” she asks again, like I didn’t just confirm exactly that a second before.

“Sure am. What can I help you with?”

“I need your hair,” she says.

“I’m sorry, why?”

“So I can collect your DNA,” she replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Can you make it quick?” she asks, canting her head over her shoulder to check for someone.

“Why?”

“To check it against mine. This is youright?” she asks, pulling an old Polaroid photo from her backpack and holding it up. It’s a photo of Isabel and me fromseniorprom. “The name on the back says Preston Knight, and it looks like you, sort of.”hernose scrunches up, and she tilts her head a little. “I mean, you’re older now. Your hair is shorter, but it’s you, right?”

My heart is pounding as the gears slowly begin to turn in my mind. I contemplate the reasons this girl, thischildcould be in here asking for DNA, holding a picture of Isabel and me as she stares at me with Isabel’s eyes and my chestnut brown hair.

“There’s no way that I’m… that you’re…”

“My dad?”

I nod because no words will come.

“That’s what the test is for,” she says, checking behind her again. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Mom doesn’t know I’m in here,” she says, rushing forward, pulling a chunk of my hair with a pinch. “I’ll let you know,” she says, running out of the clinic.

What the fuck was that?

I’m too shocked to move, to go after her, to do anything. My mind is still racing. No way could she be mine. Isabel and I had sex, sure, but we ended things in high school. Far too long ago to be her father, surely. She’s what, ten, eleven? I try to replay my last conversation with Isabel, our break-up conversation, again in my mind, but it was so long ago that the details are a little blurry.

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