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I snort. I can imagine. “I used to live in New York,” I offer.
He brightens. “Now you’ve got to meet her. She’s a Boston girl but she’s constantly complaining that no one around here has any sophistication.”
I offer him a smile even as I look worriedly in the distance at Xavier’s retreating back. “I’d like that,” I say. Not that I know if Xavier would be up for letting me go out for a social call. Which is bullshit. I frown. Some things need to change around here and some hard conversations need to be had. But not today with everything so screwed up.
I offer an awkward wave. “Look, there’s a lot to get done and I’m getting a late start.”
“Sure, sure,” Hunter says, shifting his medical bag from one hand to the other. He looks back at Hellfire’s body. Paddyshack is nosing at the still form and my throat gets tight.
Carcass.
How could Xavier speak so coldly of the horse he was cradling in his arms just moments before? Was it a defense mechanism or can he really just turn off his feelings like a flip of the switch?
“How soon will you be able to…”
Hunter follows my line of sight.
“I’ll have someone come remove him later today.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“I’ll let Janine know to expect your call.”
“Oh,” my eyes flash up to him in alarm. “I don’t know. We’re really busy here and I’m not sure when…” My voice drops off. “I’ll talk to Xavier about it. But now’s just not the time.” I look back in the direction Xavier left but he’s gone now. “I’d really like to meet her someday, though,” I finish lamely.
Hunter looks at me a little curiously but nods. “Okay, then. It’s nice to have met you.”
“Mel,” I say quickly. “My name is Mel.”
He gives me a genuine smile at this, then tempers it slightly when he looks behind me, no doubt at Hellfire’s prone body. “I’m sorry about the circumstances, but it’s a pleasure to have met you, Mel.”
The day is hellishly hot and all the horses are uneasy. I’m trying to be as calm around them as possible but it’s like they can all sense that’s something’s off.
And my back aches like a son of a bitch and it’s only midday. It turns out doing all the work of a horse farm on your own is incredibly difficult. Ever tried hauling a fifty-pound bag of feed when you yourself weigh less than three times that? I reminded myself to lift with my legs too late and hence, my back is killing me.
The horses are restless and not keen to have me being the one releasing them to pasture for the day instead of their beloved Xavier.
I finally go armed with carrots to the last three stalls of the horses that I don’t normally groom. Bob gets feisty and kicks the back of his stall, which naturally scares the crap out of me. Makes me appreciate Xavier’s number one rule—never approach a horse from behind or when they’re pissed off. Pretty sure I’ll respect that one for all time after seeing Bob’s powerful hind legs give the wood at the back of his stall a pounding so hard the whole stall rattles.
Finally, finally, all the horses are fed, watered, and out for the day, which means I can at last go in for lunch and to check on Xavier.
I jog in eagerly toward the house.
Only to find it empty. At least the first floor. I don’t know what I expected.
Okay, that’s not true. I expected him to be waiting with lunch, ordering me to the floor like a good little pet.
He must be upstairs in his room. I can’t exactly imagine Xavier taking the day off. The horses are out so there are stalls to be mucked out now.
Besides, what would he do with a day off? Lie in bed all day? That just doesn’t seem to compute. Surf the internet for porn? Ugh, that’s plainly a little offensive when I’m right here. Why go to all the trouble of acquiring me if that’s what he’s into?
Or maybe he left.
He does drive off once every couple weeks on Sundays for several hours to get groceries. But would he really just leave without saying anything?
I jog up the stairs to the third floor. One thing I have to say for all this grueling farm work, it’s getting me in insane shape. I’ve never been so muscular or felt so physically strong in my life.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I see that the door to Xavier’s room is shut. These days, he usually only shuts it when we’re inside. I try the knob. It’s locked.
I knock tentatively.
“Xavier?” I call. “It’s me.”
Duh. Because there are so many other people out here who would be in his house knocking at his bedroom door.
