Josie’s blank stare lets me know she has no idea what I’m talking about. The big draft horse came to Kim with cataracts and they’re getting to the point of needing removal. Kim and I discussed the imminent removal when I was at her barn only a week or so ago. It’s pretty obvious—to a knowledgeable horse person, that is—that the cloudy eye has some sort of issue and will need to go before it gets too painful or infected. It’s an expensive surgery and having to haul the horse hours away and then have her boarded at the clinic for at least a few days before hauling her back home will be just as expensive.
“I’ll, um…I’ll…I’ll set something up,” she finally says back.
“Look,” I say empathetically. “I’m really sorry about Kim. She was a special person who really knew what she was doing, and I’m sure she’d agree that what matters most is the welfare of the horses. Your aunt didn’t have any formal education, but she’d been rescuing and retraining for so long she taught me a thing or two.” My lips pull into a half-smile, thinking about my first year out of vet school. I thought I was prepared, but when I got to my first farm call for a serious injury, I felt like I’d been thrown to the wolves.
“Right.” Josie wraps Riley’s leash around her hand and forces a smile. “And the welfare of the horses is what I’m most concerned about. Which is why I am fully prepared for the challenges that lie ahead of me.”
Her response sounds contrived. I must have hit a nerve, but this isn’t something you can hustle your way through. It takes knowledge, time, and money to be able to properly care for the animals on that farm. Josie is grieving the loss of her aunt now.
I’m sure she’ll come to her senses sooner than later and realize this is just too much for her to take on. And when she does, I’ll be ready to make my offer.
Chapter Fifteen
JOSIE
Why am I getting the feeling that Jacob Harris, DVM, doesn’t think I’m fit to take over Aunt Kim’s position on her rescue? All his questions and poking and prodding—all with that smug look on his face—made me think he was trying to set me up to fail.
“It’s like he just knew I didn’t know what he was talking about, but jokes on him because I know I don’t know all that much which is why I’m going to bust my butt to make this work,” I angry-whisper to Riley. I open the passenger-side door of the truck for him to jump up into. I go around and get in, slamming my door with more force than I meant to.
Letting out a breath, I close my eyes and lean back. Riley gently paws my arm and I open my eyes and hold his paw.
“Thanks, buddy. And you’re right. Getting angry won’t solve anything. Getting to work will. So, let’s go.”
The temperature dropped again, so I zip my jacket and start the truck. I realized on the way here that the heat doesn’t work. We’re close enough to warm weather I can let it go until the fall. I definitely don’t have money for that right now, and I start feeling overwhelmed as I back out of the parking space.
Dr. Asshole was right to say that the rescue takes a lot of work—which I’m aware of, duh. Of course it’s a lot of work. Owning Phoenix was a lot of work and we kept him at a full-service boarding barn fifteen minutes from our house. My heart still hurts when I think of him even though it’s been years since I lost him. He was a once-in-a-lifetime horse and was perfect. For me, that is.
He had his emotional baggage coming off the track and would occasionally forget he wasn’t at the racetrack, bolting forward so he could get in front of whatever other horses were in the arena with us. He had tried with his whole heart, and I have a box of blue ribbons somewhere to prove it.
And, speaking of that box of ribbons, I have so much shit to do back at my house in Indy. It’s tidy but far from staged, and I need to figure out how I’m going to find the time to get back there to pack and then get it listed on the market. I only have a few more days of bereavement leave left at work, and it would make sense to go down to Indy and start packing now.
But then there would be no one to take care of the horses. Heather and her girls could do a weekend, as they already offered. Can I get my house packed up in one weekend? The house is modest, and I’ve tried convincing myself I’m a minimalist, though I know that’s far from the truth.