Page 19 of Distress Signal
I shot him a pleading look. “Please don’t make me repeat it,” I whispered.
Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Start from the beginning.”
I told him everything. The client in Idaho. How I’d been supposed to go but had been too sick, so Lainey had gone in my place. How I hadn’t heard from her since Tuesday—two days ago—which was entirely unlike her. How I’d made the call to report her missing this morning, hoping like hell my gut instinct had been wrong.
“And now,” I said through my tears. “I have to go out there and fucking identify her body.”
Troy gathered me to his chest and rocked me as I once again lost myself to gasping sobs.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
I was already shaking my head before he’d fully asked the question. “No. I need to do this on my own.”
There was, of course, more to it than that. Troy and I weren’t together, and this relapse into my old habits didn’t change that.
Still, when the day neared its end, and I was so emotionally and physically exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open…I didn’t ask him to leave.
I let him carry me to bed, let him crawl in behind me, the big spoon to my little. Fell into a fitful, nightmare-laden sleep wrapped in his arms.
six
. . .
FINN
I gatheredmy horse’s reins and swung us back in the direction of the barn. West and Aria were at my sides on their own horses.
A few months ago, the ranch was asked to take in a badly abused Appaloosa mare. She was skittish as hell around everyone and everything: me; Aria and Mama, who were the gentlest souls on the planet; the highland cows and goats we sometimes penned her with to get her to socialize; the ranch hands and all of my brothers; the other horses.
But with a lot of patience and one-on-one work, she’d come around.
Today, we’d taken her running with the three of us, seeing how she’d react to the wilderness and being surrounded by other horses—especially West’s, who, like his rider, was full of piss and vinegar and preferred to lead the pack. Rogue was bossy as hell, and other horses either fell in line or pushed back.
Thankfully, the Appaloosa, whose name was Zigzag, handled the new environment beautifully. My brother, sister, and I took turns trotting along holding her reins, keeping her close lest shedecided she had enough human interaction for one lifetime and took off into the wilds.
Sometimes, when a horse like her came into my care, Iwantedto let them go, allow them to heal themselves and find peace in their freedom.
But she wasn’t mine to decide for, and her owner—the woman who’d saved her from her previous life of neglect—was paying Lawless Rescue good money to help her heal.
“A few more rides like this, and she’ll be ready to go,” Aria said, grinning ear to ear beneath the brim of her caramel-colored Lucchese hat, stealing the words right from my mind.
West and Rogue sidled up to Zigzag, and my twin placed a palm on her broad, brown-and-cream-spotted back, brushing it gently over her coat. Like she would have when she first arrived here, she didn’t startle. Merely turned her head, eyes fluttering closed, like she was relishing that soft, loving contact.
How anyone could ever hurt a horse—or any animal—I’d never understand. When Zigzag showed up here and we led her out of the trailer, I damn near collapsed. She’d been all skin and bones, her long ribs pressing harshly against her sides. Her mane, forelock, and tail had been so badly matted we’d had to cut it all off and let it regrow. She’d been filthy, too, like her abusers had left her to fend for herself in the elements for weeks and weeks.
I wanted to kill people who did that to animals.
And believe me—I could do it.
The important thing was, we’d rehabilitated her. The next step was getting her new owner out here for some socialization and, in a few weeks, a ride.
Then she’d be ready to send on her way, another happy customer.
“Thanks for coming out with me today,” I told my siblings as we loped back toward the ranch.
Though the days were lengthening the closer to summer we got, the sun hung lower in the sky, dusting the tops of the trees.Almost time for dinner then, which was a good thing, because my stomach chose that moment to emit a loud, demanding grumble.
Days on the ranch were long, especially when I had a full barn like I did currently. As the only rescue in the entire state of Idaho, we took in all kinds of animals, most often lamed horses, and dogs and cats that were about to be euthanized. There weren’t currently any dogs roaming around, but we had eight cats that had been dropped off a few months ago and made their home in the storage shed. Plus the eight horses that belonged to me, my siblings, and Mama, the ten in the remuda, the two highland cows Aria insisted we get because they were “cute”, the mini horse, and four small fainting goats.
