Yet I was awake as if someone had dumped a bucket of water on me. I decided to go check the barn, just in case. My boots were so cold when I stuffed my feet in, I almost changed my mind. Instead, I pulled on my warm parka and gloves, grabbed a flashlight, and let myself out the door.
A nearly full moon overhead lit a white landscape. An inch or more of snow had landed while I slept, but now the sky had cleared. Bathed in moonlight, the barnyard sparkled, every tree and fencepost and roof white and clean. I strolled toward the barn, looking around for anything amiss. Nothing moved between the cabins, or over by the house. The snow lay fresh and unmarked, with no coyote tracks.
No new cars. No barking, either. The dogs were in Davis’s cabin tonight because Tiffany and John had headed out for San Francisco to celebrate the Thanksgiving weekend with family, but Ramble still would’ve warned us if someone drove up. Or if a bear had somehow missed the cue to hibernate.
As I reached the barn door, I looked closer at the ground. Were those lines fading footprints or just the ripples of wind sculpting the snow around? I eased the door open and stepped inside, pushing off my hood.
We didn’t heat the barn, but between two dozen horses and one bred-out-of-season cow in a box stall giving off heat, the temperature went up twenty degrees. One small safety light over the door and the moon through dusty windows kept the interior from being pitch black, but shadows lay deep in all the corners.I paused, listening. All I heard was the usual faint breathing and rustles of horses in the straw. Still uneasy, I flicked on my flashlight and swept the beam around instead of turning on the overhead lights.
My spotlight flickered over wooden partitions and concrete aisles, dusty corners, and the high ceiling with the hayloft above. Nothing amiss. I wandered down the aisle. The horses were mostly asleep, some standing, some down in their bedding. A couple blinked lazy eyes at me. Ahwan got up as I approached and came to the stall door to nuzzle me and demand a carrot. I rubbed her forehead with my free hand and murmured, “Later, baby.”
When I reached the tack room, I took a quick look inside. Still tidy, the unused saddles still gleaming, but the ones we’d used today marred by a little dust, clean but not polished. A few headstalls hung crooked. No hard-working brownies tonight.
I went into the feed room too, but everything was in its place there, neat and tidy. Cleaner than usual? I couldn’t decide. We kept carrots in the fridge, and I dug one out for Ahwan, making a note to restock soon. Our supply was lower than I remembered.
My favorite mare still waited at her door and she took the carrot I held out, chomping enthusiastically and slobbering bits over my glove. I rubbed the glop off my hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into my petting. Her simple affection went a ways to soothing my restlessness, and I spent a few more minutes loving on her.
Nothing. Time to go back to bed.
But as I stepped back from Ahwan, Bingo, the paint gelding in the last stall who also loved carrots, heaved to his feet, whickering. I heard a muffled “Ouch” from the direction of his stall. Ten strides got me down there, and I shone my light past Bingo’s shoulder into the stall. A glow of green eyes marked Mimi, the tabby cat, crouched in the straw. She flicked her tail atme, leaped to the divider, and sauntered off. Then, as I swept my light over the shadowy corners, the beam caught a flash of pale skin. I swung back.
There he was, huddled against the wall, straw pulled up around him like he could hide from me. Austin raised his head as I kept the flashlight on him and met my gaze.
“Come on out,” I said, my voice steady.
For a moment he didn’t move, his eyes wide and panicked. Then he stood stiffly, and limped toward me. I noted that he petted the gelding’s shoulder, gentle and kind, moving him out of the way. I unlatched the stall door, opened it a crack, and Austin slipped through. Wasn’t a big enough gap for most men, but he was a skinny thing, even in his parka. I noted the smell of him as he passed me, unwashed male sweat. Shouldn’t have made my dick perk up. Somehow did.
That was so fucking inappropriate right now. I ignored my response, slipped the bolt back across the stall door, and turned.
He’d got past me, nearer to the door now than I was. I wondered if he’d run. Instead, he stared at the ground.
“I wasn’t doing any harm.” Austin kept his voice soft, as if to be kind to the sleeping horses. Although maybe he just didn’t want to rouse any more of the hands to come find him.
“Then why are you here? Looking for something to steal? What were you doing in Bingo’s stall?”
“Bingo?” Austin sighed, kicking at a bit of straw with his booted toe. “He seemed the most mellow of the lot.”
“Yeah, probably. So?”
White teeth indented Austin’s full lower lip as he bit it. I wanted to reach out and make him quit that. Didn’t, though. I waited him out. He just stood there.
“So?” I repeated.
“It’s a lot warmer sleeping next to a horse than in my truck.”
“In your truck?” I stared at him. “What the hell? Why would you do that?”
He lifted his chin as he met my gaze. “Because I ran out of gas and I have thirty-four cents to my name, plus the truck. It’s mine. Joe sold it to me. It’s a lot better than being homeless, but tonight’s cold as fuck.”
“No kidding. It’s snowing out there, if you didn’t notice!” I hadn’t kept my tones as low as his and Bingo snorted at me. I rubbed the gelding’s black cheek. “Sorry, boy, but really. This idiot’s trying to sleep in a truck in the deepfreeze.”
“You say that like I had a choice.”
“You did!” I couldn’t believe this kid. “You could have told me when I asked two days ago, ‘Sure. I could use gas money.’ Or, ‘Yeah, I could use some help.’”
“I’m not a beggar.” His eyes glittered. “I don’t want anything I haven’t earned.”
“You’re sleeping in Mr. Bowen’s barn,” I said, like an accusation, which was the exact opposite of what I meant to offer.
