Baldur is standing half out of the barn, watching everything transpire, and Thor is on the freaking porch. He’s licking the living room windows and, as soon as Riley and I get out of the truck, a dog I’ve never seen before comes bounding from the woods, yipping and barking. I freeze, eyes wide as I try to figure out what to do. But then Riley takes off, running full speed toward the stray.
“Riley, no!” I call and take off after him, certain he’s going to get mulled. But he greets the stray with a wagging tail, and the two start playing. What? Shaking myself, I spring into action only to come to a stop and turn around.
Where do I go first? And what the fuck happened?
Something crashes in the barn and Baldur shuffles back out, hooves slipping on the slick dirt right outside the door.
“Easy boy,” I tell him and head in his direction, moving swiftly but not running so I don’t scare him. His nostrils flare when he sees me, but he doesn’t run away and I’m able to grab his halter. “What is going on?” I ask him, almost scared to look in the barn.
I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dim barn, and see that he pulled a hay bale off the stack and it crashed into a stall, knocking a box fan down. Lucy and Ethel put themselves away—in the same stall. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but they’re big horses who can’t freely move around and if one panics, the other will and they can easily get hurt.
“Good boy,” I tell Baldur, putting him in his stall and closing the door. Heart in my throat, I go to grab Ethel’s halter and bring her out. Lucy tries to follow and exactly what I feared happens. They both try to leave at the same time, don’t fit and, in turn, Ethel squishes me up against the side of the stall.
“Ah, move,” I pant, having the wind knocked out of me. Somehow, I’m able to push Ethel away and Lucy steps back. Ethel shoots out of the stall and I gasp for air while jumping forward so I can close the stall before Lucy escapes. Ethel doesn’t leave her friend and trots a few feet down the aisle and goes into her stall.
“Fuck,” I pant, just now realizing that my wrist hurts. It must have gotten bent funny when Ethel pushed me up against the wall. Shaking it, I turn, looking up and down the barn aisle as my mind races. The horses. The other horses. I have four accounted for, granted the fucking pony is on the porch, which leaves me another four to find.
Knowing there’s a chance they’re still in the pasture, I race through the barn, eyes scanning the yard. The gate is wide open, and I spot the chain that’s needed to keep Thor from letting everyone out hanging on the fence. Did I forget to wrap it around?
No, I’m certain I did this morning. I double-checked that the gate was closed and that the water was off. Didn’t I?
“Oh, thank god,” I sigh, out of breath by the time I get to the gate. Freya is grazing near Penny and Bailey, and Odin is a few yards behind them. Hands shaking, I close the gate and grab several lead ropes. I pull them off the fence so fast the metal latches swing back and hit me in the shin. Wincing but not allowing myself time to stop, I run back into the barn and fill a bucket with grain since the lid is off, no doubt knocked off by one of the horses who probably helped themselves.
“Dinner time!” I call loudly, shaking the grain. The three draft horses in their stalls start to nicker, and Baldur kicks at his door, anxious for grain. “Sorry guys, I’ll get you something in a minute.” Hurrying out of the barn with the lead ropes swinging from my arm, I limp my way up the path going from the barn to the house.
“Shoo! Shoo!” Mom yells and two of the chickens launch themselves at her. Dad has his arms wrapped around one of the llama’s neck, fighting to keep it from running away. The llamas look alike, and I can’t tell if that’s Henry or Harry.
“Come on boys,” I say and shake the grain bucket again. Bowser pops his head up and takes off, pulling Elijah along with him. My brother stupidly hangs onto the rope and face plants, getting dragged a few feet before he finally lets go. The llamas follow their friend and, for a split second, I think I’ll get everyone into the barn unscathed. Except for Elijah, but he’ll be fine.
But then a loud crack comes from the porch, and I look up just in time to see some of the rotten boards break under Thor’s back legs. The pony panics, trying to pull his leg free. I drop the grain bucket and rush to him, tripping on the steps and whacking my already beat-to-hell shins.