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Active… like the military? I look up in surprise but don’t know how to get more answers without revealing my ignorance about all things Xavier. Even as I’m dying to pump Hunter for info.
But then I remember Holy Hellfire lying out in the pasture in pain. And Xavier, clutching his head. His face knotted in devastation.
God, my brain is such a fucking jumble. I can’t make heads or tails of things. Of what I want.
We pass the stable and I point on ahead. “You can get there faster than me if you hurry. Xavier was really upset. He thought the horse was in a lot of pain.”
Hunter nods but doesn’t move. He stares at me hard. “You got a name?”
When I smile this time, it’s genuine but measured because I can’t get my mind off Xavier. “Sure do.” I nod out toward the pasture. “Hurry up.”
Hunter tips a non-existent hat toward me. “Ma’am.”
By the time I catch up, Hunter is examining the bottom of Holy Hellfire’s back leg. Xavier’s still at his head, all but hugging the horse as he whispers to him and strokes his mane.
“How is he?” My hands knot into fists in fear of the answer.
Seeing Xavier like this, on his knees and so obviously in pain for his horse is almost impossible to stomach. I want to drop to the ground and hold him in my arms, but I don’t know if he would welcome the gesture or brush me off.
Neither of them answers me.
Hunter’s evaluation takes about another five minutes. Apparently it’s a fairly open and shut case. When he looks over Xavier’s way, there’s an apologetic sorrow in his face.
No. Oh no.
I glare at the vet, willing him to have another answer for us.
Hunter’s eyes flick briefly toward me, then focus back on Xavier. “I’m sorry. You did everything right. He’s just been fighting this too long. With his age, it was bound to—”
“Don’t give me your bullshit spiel.” Xavier interrupts. “Just do it.” His jaw is rigid, and he stares at the ground as he says it.
“Do you want some time to—?”
“Do it,” Xavier says sharply. “I don’t want him suffering any longer than he has to.”
Hunter nods solemnly and opens his black bag.
I turn my face away. I can’t watch.
A few minutes later, I hear Hunter say, “All right, it should be less than a minute now.”
I force myself to turn back around. Hunter’s putting a large syringe back in his bag.
Xavier has laid down beside Hellfire, his long arms wrapped completely around the horse’s neck. Hellfire takes one last breath… and then… he’s still.
Xavier freezes as well.
Then he presses his forehead to Hellfire’s. For a moment, everything’s quiet. Is Xavier praying? Communing with Hellfire’s spirit as it leaves his body? Or just quietly mourning? Xavier’s face is blank, giving nothing away.
And then he lets go of the horse and gets calmly to his feet. He ignores the wet grass stains all over his light-colored work shirt and blue jeans.
“Arrange for the disposal of the carcass, Hunter. Charge my account. Call Kimball and cancel him coming out this morning. I’d appreciate it.” Next he looks my direction but not directly at me. Somewhere over the top of my left shoulder. “See to the chores today. No riding, though. That’s an order.”
Any other day, I might have balked at being ordered around like an errant puppy in front of a stranger, but today all I can do is worry about how weird and detached he’s being.
“Xavier,” I try, taking a step toward him with my hand out, but he’s turned on his heel before I can even get close, striding in the direction of the house.
“Don’t take it personally,” Hunter says, coming to stand beside me as Xavier stalks off across the field. “Like I said, I’ve known him for five years. I’ve tried inviting him out for beers more times than I can count, but he always turns me down. At first I thought it was because he might not like to go out in public because of, ya know.” He gestures vaguely toward his face. “So I invited him over for a barbeque at my house, just me and him. We sort of bonded when he took in a stray dog a little while ago. He tried keeping him on the property, but the dog just kept going nuts around the horses. Eventually I adopted the little guy. Thought Xavier might want to come over and visit him. But still nothing. I guess he’s just not a people person.”
Why the hell is this guy telling me all this? Is he really just trying to make me feel better or is this some sad attempt at flirting?
As if he can read my thoughts, he continues quickly. “My wife would love to have you over. She’s always dying for female friends. We met in the city and I dragged her out here to the middle of nowhere because this is where I grew up and always envisioned myself living.” He smiles sheepishly. “Turns out the life of a small-town vet in Wyoming isn’t quite the sensational adventure I might have made it out to be.”
