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She was gone a while. Long enough that the furry brute finished up his hay, even the scraggly bits that had dropped to the floor. He blew out a sigh and looked around the place, straining on his rope as he looked towards the farmhouse.
“Steady,” I said. “Don’t go breaking that twine.” As though the beast would understand me.
His eyes met mine and they were dark and curious, and hostile. Still hostile.
His ears flicked about, this way and that, his tail swishing idly at the flies.
I dared to take a step forward. “Hey, boy. Good boy.”
I reached out a hand, but he tossed his head away. It freaked me out enough to step back again, but the action pained me, frustrated me.
And then it hit me.
I wanted the animal to like me.
Ridiculous, but true.
I wanted him to like me, so that she’d like me. Because he was important.
“Hey,” I said again. “Who’s a good boy?”
His eyes bored into me. I took a breath and a step forward, and this time I kept my hand out, even when he moved his head away. “Who’s a good boy? A friendly boy?” I kept my tone light. “Hey, boy, please don’t savage me, hey? Don’t trample me.”
I placed a hand on his neck and he was hot and sweaty, but soft. My heart thumped.
“Good boy.”
I patted him, as though I knew what I was doing. He didn’t move, just stared.
Please, I willed.Please, just like me. Please.
I took deep breaths, gentle steps, until I was close to his side. His ears kept flicking, his weight shifting on his feet.
“Good boy, Samson, that’s a good boy.”
He tossed his head again as I placed a hand on his face, and I pulled away but only a fraction.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please just give me a chance, boy.”
When I put my hand out again he stayed still, and my heart leapt in my chest. I placed my hand on his nose, and he snorted, snuffled. He snuffled me, his nose in my pockets. And then he butted me, like he’d butted Katie.
And I wasn’t scared.
“Good boy!” I said, and wished I had fucking mints. I wished I had a whole truckload of fucking mints.
He butted me again, and I rubbed his ears, and he didn’t mind.
I felt the connection, beast to man, man to beast. He’d taken my measure and I’d done alright. I’d passed whatever horsey paces he’d put me through.
“Good boy, Samson, that’s a good boy.”
I stroked the white stripe on his face and he didn’t flinch.
Didn’t move when I wrapped my arms aroundhis neck and gave the beast a hug, caring fuck all for my suit.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “Friends now.”
It felt seriously fucking good.
