Page 47 of Home Hearts Hooves

“Buckie, it’s okay, boy. It’s okay,” I say, through gritted teeth as I drag myself to the side and out of his path. Just as I swing my definitely broken right leg across, Buckie spins and bolts the way we came, leaving me alone in Brutus’s line of sight.

“Fuck.”

Brutus snorts and turns a little on his side.

“I know you’re a big boy; we’re all friends here,” I say, hoping my voice is soothing instead of aggravating. Nial would say my voice is always aggravating. My chest aches with each breath, and my heart is beating so fast, but thankfully the pain in my leg is being hidden beneath layers of fear and adrenaline. Why didn’t I wait for my phone? Fuck. Okay, Atlas knows I was taking Buckie out, and the trail loops back around, but there are the gates, Buckie can’t get past them. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe when I’m not back they’ll come looking? But how long might that take? Dark red seeps through the fabric of my pants and there’s a significant lump. Fuck, I think that’s my bone. I really can’t be out here long.

Brutus shakes his head.

“Look, I don’t want to be out here anymore than you want me here, but to be fair, old fella, you’re on my side of that fence. So how about you hop back over to your side, and I’ll just slide on through?” I say, unclasping my belt and pulling it free. I loop it around my leg, grab a short thick bit of wood to bite down on, and then pull the belt tight around my thigh to help slow the bleeding. White hot pain shoots through my shin and up my body. The wood does nothing, and I scream louder than ever before, sure I’ll pass out any second, but I don’t. Brutus makes a sort of huff noise and then moves a step to the side; only then do I see that the wire from the fence is around his ankle. He couldn’t charge me if he wanted to, but he also can’t get himself free either.

I must be fucking barking mad to even be thinking of getting closer to him, but I won’t get past him if he isn’t back in his pen, and he can’t get back in his paddock trapped in the fence.

“Oh you poor boy. Just take it easy. I’m going to try to get you out of that mess, then hopefully, I can get myself out of this, too,” I say, pushing up on my palms and dragging myself slowly closer to him. I keep as close to the fence as I can as I go.

“I’m just going to help you, old boy. You can trust me, you know me, we’re old friends. Remember, Brutus, old boy,” I say, trying not to make eye contact and inching closer and closer. I keep sight of him in my peripheral and listen for any snorts or grunts, but he doesn’t even stomp his foot. The closer I get, the calmer he seems to be, and when I pull out my pliers, thanking god they were in my boot and not on the saddle bag with the rest of the tools, he lowers his head slowly and flattens his ears.

“That’s a good boy. We’ll get you out of there,” I say, sliding the pliers under the first wire. I clip it and quickly move on to the second, careful to reach around to clip where it’s off his skin. He’s been stuck for a little while at least, given the depth the wire has dug into his skin. We’ll need Preston up here for sure to check on him, maybe even give him a few stitches.

“Just one more.”

I clip the last wire and quickly pull it away from his ankle. He snorts at the pain, but then he must realize he’s lifted his foot and turns and heads back inside his pen. He’s not putting much weight on that leg, but at least he’s free. Now it’s time to get me home and probably to the hospital. Except it will take me forever to keep making my way around, dragging my leg along the trail. I could try to fashion some sort of crutches with sticks, but there’s not a great deal around, and the ones on this branch would need a saw to cut through. I drag myself past the broken fence over the branch that took it out and then heave myself up on my good leg. It takes all my resolve not to scream as the blinding pain spreads through me. I can see the top of the barns from here. It would be quicker to go through the pasture. But then my gaze lands on one of the signs I have strung along the fence lines that say, “If you climb the fence, you better make it across to the other side in eight seconds because the bull can do it in ten.”

“I hope you weren’t thinking of dragging your ass across the field,” Nial asks, and I spin my head to find my younger brother on top of my favorite horse.

“I reckon I could have made it,” I lie, and he jumps down and rushes to me. “Brutus is running a bit slower today.”

“You look like shit, brother,” he says, looping my arm over his shoulder and helping me over to Buckie. My favorite horse dips his head in an apology, and I give him a rub.

“I know you were just scared. I’m okay,” I tell him, and Nial scoffs.

“How are we going to get you up on Buckie?”

“Down, boy,” I say, and Buckie takes a second, then lowers himself to kneel.

“When did you teach him that?”

“Years ago. I don’t get him to do it though because it’s not great for their joints, but if you help take my weight on your shoulder he should be fine to get back up just this once.”

“Cool, okay, take it easy. On you get. Right, now how do we get him back up?” Nial asks, crouching beside me, my arm slung over his shoulder.

“Up up, boy,” I say, and after a little wobble, and Nial making a pained “oomf” noise. We’re up.

My leg swings, and I cringe against the pain.

“Good boy Buckie. Thank you, I promise, I won’t ask you to do that again,” I tell him stroking his mane.

Nial climbs on properly behind me and I grab the reins.

“Hey, Atlas,” Nial says from behind me, and I faintly hear Atlas’s voice on the other end of the phone.

“Call Doc Green. Dean’s fucked up his leg. We’re on our way back.”

I twist my head to the side.

“Tell him Brutus needs the vet, too, had some wire wrapped around his leg that cut pretty deep. Oh, and tell Perry the fence is down on the back of his paddock and there are two loose posts by the big oak on the back trail.”

“Did you get all that?” Nial asks, and I hear Atlas say “Yep, on it,” before Nial hangs up the phone, grabs the reins, and kicks Buckie into a trot.

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