AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No. Fuck.” His voice cracked, revealing the strain he was under. “No.”
“Where’s Micah? Do you want me to get him?”
“He’s gone to town; he’s…” Daniel turned over a bucket and sat down. “I just needed to calm down before I speak to him.”
“And now you’re shouting at me instead?” I deadpanned.
“I didn’t mean to.; I just worry you’ll fall and…” he said and scrubbed his face.
Okay. I needed to be patient and not flare up. Daniel was stressed, and I could handle this.
“I can’t live in fear of what might happen if I can’t balance, or I fall,” I said. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I also need you to trust me. Trust that I’m being as safe as I can be.”
He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I do trust you, Chris. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? When I saw the brother crying, then you turn up here, and it’s going to snow… I can’t separate the doctor part of me from the big brother part.”
“Okay.”
Just like that, we were done with the confrontation, but a small, selfish part of me wished it had never happened. Life constantly reminded me of the things I shouldn't be doing, and I was desperate to prove I could do anything I wanted.
We stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the occasional snort or shuffle from the horses. “Levi is out in the paddock,” he said after a pause, then winced. “He’s avoiding me.”
I took my crutches from where they balanced on my chair, then went over to him, and bumped shoulders. “You did everything you could,” I reminded him, even though I didn’t know that. But I knew my brother.
“I’m gonna go find Micah,” he said, then sighed. “I think I need Micah.”
“Good call,” I said, then left him to his thoughts and made my way to the paddock where I found Levi. He greeted me with a nod, his gaze flicking towards the stables.
“Everything okay with Daniel?” he asked.
“Yeah, just a tough night at the hospital. He’s decompressing,” I explained. Levi understood. He had that way about him, a quiet empathy that didn’t need a lot of words. “Any chance of a ride?” I asked.
“Sure thing.”
As I approached the horse—Beans, my usual mount—my prosthetic leg made a distinct, rhythmic crunch against the snow, a sound that had become part of my life. Beans turned his head to look at me, calm and trusting, and I felt peace wash over me as I scratched him between his eyes, then bent my head to touch his. With Beans, I always felt a deep connection that went past the usual bond between a horse and rider. He wasn’t only any horse; he was patient and wise, seeming to understand me in a way beyond words. His calmness had been infectious, and any fears and doubts melted away. He was a companion, a friend who offered silent support and understanding. In fact, the first time I’d approached Beans after my accident, I was filled with a mix of fear and longing. I’d wondered back then if he could sense the change in me, the uncertainty that came with my prosthetic leg. But as I’d gotten closer, Beans had turned his head towards me, his eyes gentle and welcoming. It was as if he was saying, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
He wasmyhorse, and I washisperson.
We saddled up, and as soon as Levi assisted me up in the saddle, the scent of the leather and the sturdy feel of Beans beneath me meant, in that moment, I was Chris, the rider, not Chris with a prosthetic. As Beans started to move, a familiar surge of confidence washed over me—I’d always found a sense of control and freedom in riding, and it was way past empowering to experience this, whatever Daniel thought. Where he saw danger, I saw possibility, and with the rhythm of the horse’s gait, the gentle sway of our movement, it was liberating.
The ride became more of a lesson, and it went smoothly, Levi guiding me through familiar exercises designed to improve my control and confidence on horseback. I pulled my scarf up to cover my face, my woolen cap down, when fluttering snow and the icy January chill was sharp against my scars, and even though the snow held off, the sky remained a heavy gray, a blanket of clouds keeping the world muted and hushed.
As we rode, my mind occasionally drifted to Daniel. His concern, though sometimes overbearing, came from a place of love. Life had thrown a lot at him, at us, and his way of coping often involved projecting his fears onto me.
But here, on Beans, with Levi’s calm presence guiding me, I felt capable and at peace. Riding was more than a hobby; it was therapy, a way to connect with a part of myself that remained steady and unshaken by the world around me.
After the lesson, Levi and I took care of Beans, no sign of Daniel, but he’d left immaculate stalls in his wake. I brushed Beans down and made sure he was comfortable.
“I’ve been thinking of showing you a new trail next time,” Levi said.
I immediately felt intrigued. “Oh?”
“Only, it’s a bit off the beaten path, winds through the hills. The views are something else—maybe even some wildlife if we’re lucky, pronghorn antelope, coyotes maybe.”
“That sounds amazing. I’d love to check it out.”
“Great!” Levi’s enthusiasm matched mine, and I loved he wasn’t questioning my ability to do a new trail that might take us further from the ranch. “It’s longer than our usual routes, but I think you’ll really enjoy it.”
Daniel’s car wasn’t in the parking lot, and I assumed he’d headed back to the hospital, because that was who he was. I sent him a quick text.
