High Country Cowgirl. Joanna Sims

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      Gracias a Dios. Bonita silently thanked God.

      “I’ve never been here.” She gestured out the windshield. “Ohio.”

      Gabe nodded wordlessly.

      “Where are we stopping for the night?”

      “My friend’s got a spread not too far from here. Plenty of room for Val to let loose some energy. Doc’s ready for him—got a stall set up for tonight.”

      She assumed that Doc was the friend; she didn’t ask because she was tired and feeling irritable. She’d find out soon enough one way or the other.

      “I don’t know how you do this all the time,” Bonita muttered and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The drive was tedious, just one endless mile after another. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

      “Sometimes,” Gabe said. “But this is part of how I make a living, so I get over it quick enough.”

      He thankfully took the next exit and then they went deep into the back roads on the far outskirts of Columbus. There were more miles with more cows and more dilapidated barns in more flat fields, and then Bonita spotted the sign announcing that they had finally arrived at their destination: Hobby Horse Farm.

      It was a lovely farm. The crown jewel was a whitewashed Victorian farmhouse with a wraparound porch, carved gables and two stately brick chimneys. There were miles of green pastureland, white fences and grazing horses dotting the landscape. She hugged Tater to her body a little too hard in her excitement, and the dog gave a grunt of discomfort.

      “Oh! I’m sorry, little one.” She kissed the dog on the head. “I’m just so happy that we’re finally here!”

      * * *

      “Gabe Brand, as I live and breathe!”

      Doc turned out to be a wiry woman, possibly in her late forties. She had a wild mass of copper curls and deep smile lines around her eyes and mouth. She was dressed in riding boots and breeches and she was waving her arms in the air in enthusiastic greeting. A small pack of dogs—old, young, small and large—surrounded Gabe’s friend, barking and tails wagging. Not to be outdone, Tater began to alternate between growls and woofs.

      Gabe stuck his hand out the window and waved. “Where do you want her?”

      “Pull straight on in.” The woman pointed to the large gravel area ahead. “It’ll hold you.”

      He parked and hopped out of the rig. Bonita was glad to follow. Carrying Tater, she rounded the front of the rig and caught the greeting between friends. The woman, who seemed to jerk from one position to the next in big leaps and movements, tossed her arms over Gabe’s shoulders and kissed him right on the lips. It wasn’t a lingering kiss, but Bonita sure didn’t recall greeting any of her friends—male or female—with a kiss on the lips.

      “Goodness gracious, I’m glad to see you.” Doc exclaimed, her hands now on her boyish hips. “It’s been too long.”

      Like a bee in search of nectar, their hostess flitted toward her, a wide, welcoming smile on her face. The woman invaded her personal space and stuck out her hand. “Janice Joplin. Same sound, different spelling. I know, can you believe it? I married into the name. I thought about changing it after the divorce, but by then I’d been Doc Joplin for years, so why bother. I can’t sing, I’ve never had a drug problem, I’m not kin. So there you go.”

      It took Bonita a split second to realize that Janice had finished, come up for air and was waiting on her now.

      “Bonny.” She told Janice her nickname, sometimes a little shy about her own given name, while Janice’s pack of dogs wove around her legs, smacking her legs with their wagging tails. Tater was snarling at the circling, friendly pack of canines, showing her teeth and growling low in her throat.

      “She’s the owner,” Gabe told Janice, and Bonita got the impression that he wanted to quickly clear up any confusion regarding her status.

      “Perfect. Nice to meet you,” Janice said before she lurched away, her attention now on the horse in the rig. “Let’s see what you’ve brought me!”

      Gabe grabbed the health certificate that had allowed them to travel across state lines with Val and handed it to Janice. Their hostess scanned the document, nodded quickly and handed it back.

      “Doc is one of the few large animal veterinarians who specialize in acupuncture,” Gabe told Bonita as they walked to the back of the rig. “My brother Liam worked with her right out of vet school.”

      Hands on her hips, Janice had moved on from small talk and her focus was on Val. “Let’s get him out of there and into the pasture.”

      Gabe lowered the hydraulic ramp and hooked a lead rope to Val’s halter. Wide-eyed, ears forward, head bobbing up and down, Val was anxiously pawing at the ground, wanting to be free from his mobile stall.

      Janice whistled her appreciation. “I do love an Oldenburg. You’ve got a nice horse here.”

      Val came down the ramp, his nostrils flared, snorting loudly at the nearby horses. It was strange—Val was Bonita’s dream horse, and yet there was something that made her feel cautious around him. The horse was giant, muscular and in peak fitness. When his head was raised and he was wild-eyed and anxious, he was a handful.

      Gabe, calm in the face of the horse’s natural fear and anxiety, handed the lead rope to Janice. He bent down and started to remove Val’s padded shipping boots from each leg, staying with the horse no matter how rambunctious he got.

      “I know,” Janice said in a soothing voice to the nervous horse, rubbing his neck. “It’s all so strange.”

      Glad to have the excuse of holding Tater, Bonita stood back, letting the other two handle Val. She had always felt a connection to every horse she had ever owned. But this time, she only felt nervous around Val. No connection. And it worried her. Her father and mother, who wanted her to continue showing, had picked out Val for her, and who would say no to a dream horse as a graduation present? It was the first time she hadn’t picked out her own show horse. Standing in Ohio, not wanting to engage with her new horse, made Bonita think that she should have said no.

      “Where do you want him?” Gabe asked, taking the lead rope again.

      “Take him to this pasture right here.” Janice pointed to an unoccupied pasture to her left. To Bonita, she added, “He’ll have the whole place to himself, so you won’t have to worry about him getting injured.”

      Horses were herd animals, and as prey animals, they were highly alert to any possible danger. They were always curious about any new horse that appeared on the scene and the Oldenburg’s arrival was no exception. As Val pranced alongside Gabe, tossing his head and letting his tail fly like an unfurled flag behind him, all of the horses on the property had come to the edge of their fences and were watching attentively. Some of them started to run in their pastures, snorting and bucking and kicking at their pasture-mates. Others followed Val on their side of the fence, trying to catch his scent.

      The moment Val was let off his lead, the Oldenburg exploded, bucking several times, farting and kicking out his hind legs, before he galloped to the far end of the pasture.

      “He’s СКАЧАТЬ