I wouldn’t run. At least not yet.
* * *
“You’re letting your emotions get the better of you, dragonfly,” Cash called from outside the paddock. It had been two weeks since the mares were dropped off at the sanctuary and we’d quickly settled into a new routine.
Cash usually woke up at the crack of dawn to take care of the various creatures on the farm and I forced myself to do the same.
Cash’s property was much larger than I thought it was.
There was a second barn behind a copse of trees where the animals who had graduated from the first barn lived. These were the animals who had been with Cash for a long time and were… an interesting bunch.
From Lenny the three-legged cow to Como the blind emu, all of the animals that lived on Windheart Farm were unique in some way or another.
Working alongside Cash gave me a new appreciation for the men who worked in my mother’s stable. My shoulders were constantly sore as I worked out new muscles and after long days I usually collapsed into my bed, falling asleep instantly.
After our morning with the animals, we drove to the Wharf. I no longer cared what the other artists at the shop thought of Cash and I coming to work together, and for the most part no one commented on it anymore.
Well, no one except Effie. Effie seemed pleased as fuck with it.
As the days passed in a blur, I found myself getting even closer to the tree nymph. It was the first friendship I’d made since marrying Mike, and though I was resistant to her energetic advances at first, I was glad that I let her in.
Effie also didn’t push for more information about my sudden arrival in Port Haven. Just like Cash, I knew she probably saw right through me, but I appreciated that she wasn’t the type to force me to talk about my past.
“I am not, I’m completely calm,” I called to Cash, keeping my eyes on the clearly upset mare that was trotting back and forth on the other side of the pen.
He’d let me name the horses the day after they came. I called the brown and white spotted mare Cocoa, and her butter colored sister, Marshmallow. At first, I’d been worried that the names sounded silly, but Cash just chuckled and told me he liked them.
“Cocoa can see the stiffness in your shoulders and it’s upsetting her,” he responded. “Try to relax and approach her.”
We noticed early on that, when they were in their stall, they were calm and let us touch and stroke them. But as soon as we brought them into the paddock it was like they couldn’t even recognize us.
Cash figured it was because they associated being outside with working on the farm, and being whipped for not working fast enough.
I took a deep breath and worked on letting all of the tension in my shoulders melt away before finally taking another step forward.
“Hey girl,” I cooed softly, holding my hand out as I approached. “It’s just me. You know me.”
Cocoa eyed me warily, her nostrils flaring wide. I made it about ten feet before she shifted from skittish to enraged. The mare pawed at the ground once before charging in my direction.
She only made it a few feet before I was yanked up and over the fence by Cash. He held me against his chest so tightly that I could feel the slow thud of his heartbeat.
I could never get used to touching Cash. Over the past few days the contact had turned almost electric, like we both had too much static in our bodies and when we touched there was an almost audible snap.
“Thanks,” I told him breathlessly, gently pushing against his chest until he let me go. “I really thought she’d let me touch her this time.”
“You should let me handle her,” Cash grumbled, glaring at the mare who was galloping around the paddock in circles. “She’s much worse than Marshmallow.”
Of the two horses, Marshmallow had taken to the sanctuary the best. She was even getting comfortable with a saddle again.
Cocoa was not even close to being ready for that.
“I know she is, but I really think if we give it a couple of months she’ll open up,” I said as we watched her tire herself out.
Cash just snorted. “There’s going to be a day where I don’t pull you out quick enough and you’re going to get hurt. At least I’m much harder to hurt and I can calm her much quicker.”
“We can’t all have a calming Irish brogue to calm wayward animals with,” I teased, trying to mimic his accent.
If I hadn’t known any better, I would think Cash had some kind of magical ability to communicate with the animals. When we came out in the morning to feed them, they usually surrounded him adoringly, waiting for a pat from the gargoyle. It was one of my favorite things to watch happen.
