What do I do with my furniture? Aunt Kim’s house is fully furnished, though I wouldn’t mind switching out our stuff. Which means I have to deal with removing and selling, or donating, what’s in the house right now.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell Riley. “These are good problems to have. Too much furniture? Some people can’t afford to buy any. There was a time when all I had was a futon in the living room of a one-bedroom apartment, and it doubled as my couch and my bed.”
I sigh again, knowing I can do this. If anyone knows how to muster up the willpower to get through hard times, it’s me.
Riley’s tail wags so hard his whole body wiggles. We stopped by the feed store to get salt licks for the horses and the two girls behind the counter are gushing all over him. Jacob was also right in telling me that the dog is well-known in this store, and I don’t know why I hate that he’s right.
Of course he knows Riley’s routine better than I would. He’s been Aunt Kim’s vet for years and Silver Ridge is a small town. It’s easy to see the same people doing the same thing day in and day out.
Leaving Riley with his little fan club, I grab a cart and head to the horse section, loading up on everything that I’m going to need for the next week. Fly spray is on sale so I grab a couple of bottles, and then stock up on my equine first aid supplies, which totals to way more than I thought it would.
Doing my best not to panic, I swipe my credit card and leave feeling a little more prepared. I got this. Riley has perked up since visiting the store, and he ate a handful of treats while being gushed over. I’m not used to having a dog to take with me everywhere, but Riley is friendly and well-behaved. I don’t think I’ll mind.
My phone rings as I pull out of the parking lot. It’s Elijah. He and my parents are staying for a few more days until we get Aunt Kim’s ashes back. Thanks to Louisa handling all the paperwork as well as the low death rate here in Silver Ridge, the cremation should be happening right about now, which is odd to think about. It doesn’t disturb me and, for some reason, I think it should.
But a body is just a body once the soul is gone, right? I can see it play out before me when I blink: the skin melting off the bones. The hair igniting almost immediately. It has to smell, even though the bodies are locked tight in…the oven? Kiln? No, incinerator. I’m sure there’s a proper name for it.
“Hello?” I answer, putting my phone on speaker. This truck is too old to have my call connect via Bluetooth.
“Hey,” my brother says back. “Are the llamas supposed to be in the front yard? Because we just pulled up and that’s where they are.”
Fuck. “No, they’re not. Which means a gate is open.” My heart speeds up. “Are the horses out?”
“Out where?”
“Of the pasture,” I spit.
“I don’t know. I don’t see them.”
My foot presses down a little harder on the gas. “Okay, go down to the pasture, close the gate, and tell me how many horses you see. There should be eight and Bowser, the cow. He’s not a black and white cow,” I quickly add, knowing my brother is the epitome of “city boy” and thinks all cows are black and white. “He’s kind of an orange color with shaggy fur and horns.”
“Is it going to attack me?”
“Only if you piss him off. Are you going to the pasture, Elijah?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I hear a car door slam and Dad’s voice in the background. “How do we catch the llamas?”
“Get a bucket of alpha cubes and shake it.”
“What are alpha cubes?”
I grip the steering wheel and grit my teeth. “They look like blocks made out of hay. They’re green. And in a bag in the barn labeled alpha cubes.”
“Geez, sis, don’t have an aneurysm.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just…just do what you can and don’t chase anyone. They’re more likely to come back on their own. Eventually.” I end the call and speed down the road, wincing when I pass by a Silver Ridge Police car. The officer is looking down and must not have his radar gun on, thank the freaking stars.
I drive more carefully until I’m out of town, and then gun-it when my tires hit the country road that takes us to the farm. I pull up to what I can only describe as a shit show. Elijah has a rope wrapped around Bowser’s neck, trying to pull the bull out of the overgrown flowerbed along the side of the house. Mom is running around with a broom in her hands, trying to shoo the chickens back toward their coop, and dad is being chased by both llamas.