“You menace. You’re an evil son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”
I giggle, watching Oklahoma cough from the dust clouds they stirred up from the ruckus.
Kevin crows as if it is early morning, clearly the rooster’s way of cursing at someone.
He places Kevin down and locks the coop, pointing a finger at him. “You’re in time out.” Oklahoma brushes the dirt off his jeans, then heads over to where his hat fell off. “And you!” He points to Marvin next. “You just sat there and did nothing.”
Marvin lies down in the sun, snorting in an uncaring, sleepy way.
“I rescued the two of you, and now you’re spoiled rotten,” Oklahoma grumbles.
“Kevin is nothing but trouble.” I pick up the picnic basket and blanket, hoping the plan for the tour is still on the table after the small rooster fiasco. “You…aren’t really going to cook him, are you?” I might not like Kevin, but I don’t want him to die either.
Oklahoma takes the basket and blanket from me. “No, Sugar. I’d never do anything like that. I don’t kill my animals. I rescue them. Even when I sell my cattle, it’s for breeding. I have a strict no-kill policy in my contracts. I also have dairy cows who provide milk, and they have top-of-the-line facilities.”
I let out a relieved breath and loop my arm through his. “What made you rescue animals? Who was your first rescue? I know you said your brother liked animals, but there has to be more to the story, right?”
He opens the state-of-the-art barn; the tall doors seem as high as the sky, and when we step inside, it isn’t sticky or humid. He must have it temperature-controlled.
There’s a familiar scent that slams into my face that can only belong on a ranch or farm. The earthy scent of hay hangs in the air, paired with horse manure. Barn kittens meow when they see Oklahoma and run to him. They come out from the dark corners, their little legs unable to keep up with their speed.
“Oh my god! Kittens!” I squeal, kneeling on the floor to pet them. “I didn’t know you had cats.”
“Any good rancher would. Cats are great for keeping pests under control. I thought all the cats I rescued were fixed, but Maybelle here”—he leans down and scratches the back of a white and grey cat that must be the mom—“surprised me with kittens last month. I’ll need to make an appointment when the kittens wean off the milk to get her spayed.”
“Oh, my goodness. They are so cute.” I pick one up that has one blue eye and one a deep amber. She’s black and white, with orange specs all over her that remind me of freckles. “Oh, who are you? You are adorable.” She purrs when I scratch under her chin.
“You want to keep her? She’s yours, Sugar. Just say the word.”
I gasp with excitement. “Really? I can keep her? I can bring her inside the house?”
“You can have whatever you want, Nariko. I’ll always make sure of that.” He swings open a stall door and leads Van Gogh outside, tying him to a wooden post.
I can’t help but watch Oklahoma in his element. My gaze locks onto his biceps as he picks up what looks like a pad of some sort and places it on Van Gogh’s back. Oakley pets him with long strokes to the neck before swinging the saddle on and positioning it in place. He makes it seem so effortless.
He walks around his horse, checking both sides and making sure the saddle is secure.
“Van Gogh was my first rescue.” Oklahoma pats his horse’s thick neck. “He was brought to a slaughterhouse and was in horrible condition. He was skin and bone, clearly tired from being put to work so much. I rescued him and every horse there. One by one, I found them all homes and even kept a few. They roam with the wild mustangs I have about a hundred acres back. Van Gogh didn’t want to go with them. He stayed near me and doesn’t really like to be around other horses. Then, when I saw I could make a difference, I started rescuing more. I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else. My brother is the main reason I started this, but I found I loved it so much, I wanted to do it for me too.”
I had forgotten I asked him that question. The kittens distracted me. He’s such a kind soul. A good man. One that isn’t afraid to show his sensitivities.
“Maybe part of why I started rescuing so much was because I can feel their pain,” his tone holds a solemnness to it. “When I was human, I felt emotions deeper than most. I was always the more sensitive guy, but then I was turned and those emotions heightened. At first, feeling all the emotions was debilitating. I’ve learned over the years to manage them, but some emotions are so strong, they can literally knock me off my feet.”
“What’s the emotion that negatively affects you most?”
“Fear,” he answers without hesitation. “There’s a taste to it, too.” He stares off into the distance, a memory stirring up in his mind. “A bitterness. That’s the only way I know how to explain it. And it feels like two hundred tons sitting on my chest.” His hand hovers above his heart. “It’s like walking through quicksand, hoping you don’t get swallowed alive.”
“That’s terrible, Oakley. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not. I’ve saved a lot of people and many animals when I felt their fear.”
“Still, it isn’t easy carrying your own emotions, let alone someone else’s. Emotions are heavy.” I stand and walk over to him, leaving the kittens behind so I can take his hand in mine. “You don’t have to carry them alone anymore. Maybe I can take some of the weight.”
His arm slithers around my waist. “You do. Ever since I met you, my world isn’t as heavy as it used to be.” Oklahoma’s nostrils flare. “You like that, don’t you?”
I slap his chest. “Stop sniffing me. It’s cheating,” I tsk at him.
“Stop smelling so damn good then,” he winks, almost causing my knees to buckle from the gesture. “Are you ready for your tour?” He holds out his hand for me to take. “I’m going to show you some of my favorite spots.”
