The screen door has a few rips in it, letting bugs in the house. That’s an easy fix and is something I can do. I’ve taken the screen frames out and replaced them multiple times before.
“Hi, Aunt Kim!” I call through the screen, knocking on the wooden frame. There’s no answer, and only a second or two later, a dog comes running up from the old barn.
“She’s in the barn!” Everly drops her bag and goes down the steps again, running right toward the barking dog. I quickly open the screen door and set the cat carrier down inside, and then follow after Everly, who’s now crouched down so she can greet Riley, a Golden Retriever.
“Josie? Is that you?” Aunt Kim comes out of the barn, hauling a full muck bucket.
“Hey, Aunt Kim!” I say with a wave. Riley bombards me next, demanding attention. I pause, petting him, and then motion for Everly to continue to the barn.
“Bye, pup,” she tells him, but he follows us down a worn dirt path. I can’t help the smile that takes over my face as we push open a rusty metal gate, stepping into the paddock that surrounds the barn. There’s a large grass pasture beyond that with a cow and two llamas in addition to the horses.
“Look at you!” Aunt Kim stops pulling the muck bucket and opens her arms, waiting for Everly to make her way to her. “You’ve gotten so big!”
“It’s been a while,” Everly says back, voice muffled since her face is pressed up against Aunt Kim’s chest.
“And you,” Aunt Kim goes on, looking at me with a broad smile. “You look good, kid.”
“Thanks.” I give her a hug once Everly steps aside. “What can we help with?”
Aunt Kim waves her hand in the air and gives us a wink. “You just got here. I’ll give you one day off—and one morning to sleep in tomorrow—and then the real work starts.”
“Can I see the horses?” Everly asks eagerly. “Mom said you just got two more from an auction.”
Aunt Kim nods and we all go into the barn. There are four horses in stalls, happily munching on hay. My heart soars not only at the sight and the familiar smell of horses, but at how happy my daughter looks in this moment.
“This is Baldur,” Aunt Kim introduces, stopping outside the stall of a large Belgian draft horse. “He pulled a cart for the Amish for twenty years and they just dumped him at an auction.” She shakes her head, getting angry at the thought. “We think he was in some sort of accident on the road. He was all beat up when I found him.”
Everly and I both fawn over him for a minute before we move onto the next stall, housing a scrawny bay pony. “This is Thor, and what he lacks in height he makes up for in attitude,” Kim goes on. “He was left in a pasture for months and months before animal control finally did something about it. The story I got was he was purchased for grandkids who lost interest and they “kind of forgot” they had him.”
“I hate people,” I sigh. “How do you forget you have a pony?”
“Right?” Aunt Kim’s eyes widen, and we shuffle a few feet down the aisle. “This is Freya. She’s from the auction and is missing her friend she came with.”
“What happened to him?” Everly’s eyes widen, fearing the worse.
“He’s at the vet clinic in town.”
“Will he be okay?”
Aunt Kim shrugs. “I’m hoping, but I don’t know. He was neglected for years and being starved for most of your life is very damaging to your internal organs.”
Everly looks from Aunt Kim to me. I gave her a gentle warning on the drive here that rescuing horses from severe situations isn’t cupcakes and rainbows. It’s not all heroically sweeping in, saving a horse, and nursing it back to health. Not all the horses make it, and sometimes the kindest thing to do is offer a peaceful ending.
“And this is Odin.” Aunt Kim steps across the aisle. A chestnut gelding sticks his head out through the window in his stall door.
“I like the Norse god theme going on,” I tell her, slowly extending my hand for Odin to sniff.
“There are only a few gods left before I have to switch to Pagan gods,” she says with a laugh. “We already did the Greek and the Roman gods.” She pulls a handful of horse treats from her pocket and gives them to Everly. “He came from an auction too and was skinny like Freya when I got him. Took us a year to get to this point.”
“He looks great now,” I comment, feeling a pull on my heart when I take in the horse’s kind eyes. “He’s cleared for training?”
“He is,” Kim says. “But these knees aren’t what they used to be.” She looks down at her own legs. “Someone younger would be much better suited.”