As I called to Sunshine, the blind rescue we’d taken in with her companion, Damselfly, I saw a car slow down, no doubt impressed by the scenic image of a pure white mare grazing peacefully next to a gangly and very tall chestnut gelding.
Only the gelding in question was laying his lazy self down in the sunny patch, which, if you did not know just how lazy he was, and how he loved nothing more than to take naps, you might mistake for a horse in trouble.
“How dare you!”
The voice that broke the tranquil, if chilly, February air was feminine and, as I approached the horses, appeared to be coming from the car.
“Eh?”I said, confused.“Sunshine, it’s just me coming up on your left.No, that’s not a snake, it’s the halter.The very same halter you’ve smelled every day for the last six years.Lady, what is it you want?You’re scaring my horse.She’s blind, and she doesn’t like loud noises, so if you could turn down your volume a couple of notches, I’d be grateful.”
“How dare you!”she said for the fifth time, having repeated herself while I was warning Sunshine of my location, although she did stop screaming it.Most likely that was because I led Sunshine a few steps toward the fence, so I could converse in a more polite volume.
“How dare I have a blind horse?Or how dare I ride her?The vet was adamant that as long as she’s comfortable, and I’m taking care of where we go, then the exercise and mental stimulation is good for her.”
“How dare you leave that!”the woman said, sticking one hand out the open window to wave at Damsel.
I looked over at him.“He’s her companion horse.They’re a bonded pair.It would be cruel not to take him in, as well.”
“He’s dead!”The woman was back to screeching again.She clutched the car door as she leaned out the window.“You have a dead horse right there where anyone can see it!My children have seen it!They have seen a dead horse!They are traumatized!What is wrong with you Scotmens that you leave dead animals lying around to traumatize innocent children?”
The writer in me was not able to let some things pass.“Scotsmen, I believe, is the correct—”
“I have half a mind to film you and your atrocious animal husbandry, and put it online for everyone to see!”
“She admitted she has half a mind,” I told Sunshine.“You heard it.I don’t have to say it, do I?”
Sunshine, who was groaning slightly as I scratched a particularly favorite spot behind one ear, flipped her head a couple of times.
“I’m so glad you agree.Damsel, get up.No, you are not dead, no matter how still you try to be.Dead horses don’t have the oomph to flip their tails around, and yours hasn’t stopped the whole time those people over there have been confused about you.Lady, for the love of god, stop!I told you he’s a rescue horse.He lives for drama, but he’s also Sunshine’s bestie.See?He’s fine.”
Damsel, never one to turn down a chance at the grain bucket, picked up his head to look at me when I shook the bucket as I spoke.With a prodigious fart, he got to his feet, shook himself, then, with sublime indifference to the woman who was still hanging out of the window lambasting me, wandered over and stuck his face into the bucket.
Whoever was at the wheel of the car drove off while the woman was in the middle of another rant, which just made me laugh all the way back to the barn.I got Sunshine saddled, and with Damsel tethered to me so Sunshine knew he was there, we headed out at a brisk walk to find the man who still made my pulse quicken.
I knew the minute I saw Iain that something was wrong.
He stood next to one of the two quad bikes that he and Mark—our shepherd, and one of Iain’s oldest friends—used to get around the hills.Although Iain stood with his back to me, silhouetted against the pale winter sun, the drooped set of his shoulders told me all was not well.
“Just a warning, Sunshine: I’m going to speak loudly in five seconds, so don’t be startled when I suddenly yell.WHAT’S WRONG?”I more or less bellowed the last two words.
Iain turned as I rode up, making me gasp and pull up sharper than I intended.Sunshine—who used a bitless bridle—snorted and shook her head at my poor horsemanship, but happily took two steps forward in order to snuffle Iain for signs of potential treats.
“What the hell?”I asked, slowly dismounting and tying Sunshine’s reins to the quad.“Iain, why is your beautiful face bloody and swollen, and is that a black eye?”I stood in front of him, wanting to reach out and wipe away the blood and dirt, but unable to do so because he looked so miserable.
“I went and fell off the bluidy mountain, didn’t I?”he answered, patting his pockets.
I wanted to laugh at the statement, since it’s one I had said the day I arrived at the farm.“You fell on your face?No, sit, and let me get some of the mud off.”I pulled out the handful of tissues and sanitizer wipes, and waited for him to gingerly sit on the running board.“Did you hurt anything else?You’re kind of listing to one side.”
He hesitated for a dozen seconds, swearing in Gaelic under his breath as I dabbed at his gory face.“Aye, I’m a right bourach.My ribs are a bit bruised, and I think my knee’s blown out.I can’t bear much weight on it.”
“Gotcha,” I said, trying hard to calm the urge to stand up and scream for someone to help.Over the years, I’ve managed to soak up some of Iain’s calm, which I was grateful for at that moment.I certainly wouldn’t have been standing around silently if I was as hurt as he was, that’s for sure.“Where’s Mark?”
“He’s over toward Leery’s lifting the BFL ewes.No, love, don’t bother—I already called him and told him to keep moving the sheep.We need them out of there while Leery puts up the new fence.Just give me a minute to get myself sorted—then I’ll finish up with the cheviot ewes.”
“Not if you can’t walk, you won’t.Can you drive?”I tried to assess just how hurt he was, and whether I needed to call for medical aid.Iain came from seriously stoic ancestors (Vikings, no doubt, interbred with wild Celts), so it was always difficult to gauge the seriousness of any injury or illness.
“Aye, but I’m not going to use the bike to lift the ewes.”Iain frowned while I continued to wipe blood and muck from his face.“I’ll be fine in a few minutes.Or fine enough to finish up, then I’ll go back and put something cold on my knee.”
“Oh, you’ll be doing a lot more than putting frozen peas on your knee,” I told him, tapping on my phone.“Ewan!Have you left yet?”
