She responds right away. She’s in the barn, trying to untangle the barbed wire from around the horse’s legs. She tells me to bring my first aid kit. Aiden takes it and stays close as we go through the rain-rotted door. The barn reeks of ammonia. Aiden buries his head in his shoulder, coughing. Shit. This isn’t good for anyone to be breathing in. It’s even worse for him, since he’s sick.
We walk around mounds of moldy hay, and the stench of rodent droppings and horse urine gets stronger and stronger. The rafters are too low to be safe to house a horse, and they are covered in thick, dusty cobwebs. The boards above us have buckled from being perpetually wet with rotting hay in the loft, and the whole thing seems like it’s one strong gust of wind away from blowing over.
Voices come from inside the barn. “Hello?” I call, not to startle her or the horse.
“She’s here, Mom,” Judy’s teenage daughter, Alexis, says. Aiden and I round a corner and go down a cement aisle. At one time, this barn must have been prestigious. I imagine it to have been a breeder barn for cattle. It’s huge, and it makes me sad to know it’s been let go like this. We could take in so many rescues in a place like this.
Not we—I. I could.
A bit of that passion I’ve lost comes back. If I’m able to get this horse back with me, my barn will be full until I can get Sundance a home. My mind flashes to the pole barn near the house that Mom wanted to buy.
I use the flashlight on my phone, breaking a few spiderwebs as we moved to the horse. Soft light spills from the last stall.
“Oh, Haley,” Judy says before I get all the way to her. She comes out of the stall, wiping a bloody hand on her jeans. She looks at me with tears in her eyes. I’ve only seen her a few times since the funeral. She was the biggest help when I was in the hospital and finishing school. I take in a breath, centering myself. “Your momma would be so proud.” She pulls me into an embrace and tears fill my eyes. “So proud.”
She pats my back and lets go, eyeing Aiden. She gets a look on her face, like she’s trying to figure out how she knows him. She shakes her head; it doesn’t matter. The horse matters. I go into the stall. No matter how much I see, it still stops my heart, still shocks me to see such a magnificent creature reduced to blood and bones, lying on a dirty stall floor.
“I already got pictures,” Judy tells me. The pictures are for evidence later on. “Someone did this to him.” Judy kneels down. Alexis is sitting on the ground, stroking the horse’s face. I take a few seconds to assess. He’s a draft mix, probably sixteen hands high, and dapple gray, but he is so thin I can’t get a good guess on his breed. Large hooves curl up, not having been tended to in years. His tail is a matted mess filled with burs. I can smell the thrush on his hooves and the infection that set in the wounds along his body.
Barbed wire is tightly wound around his front legs, blood and pus oozing around the cuts. I clench my jaw and kneel down.
“Hey, buddy,” I say to the gelding. Tears are running down Alexis’s face.
“We can’t get him to stand,” she says, voice quivering. “And we can’t unwind the wire.”
I lean over and gently touch his front leg. He tenses. “It needs to be clipped out. He can’t bend his legs like this.” Fuck. Were we too late? I wasn’t sure if this big guy would ever be able to walk again. “Aiden,” I say. “There are wire cutters in the first aid kit.” Barbed wire and horses don’t mix. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen the horrors the sharp metal can do.
Alexis looks up, just now realizing that someone else is with me. Her jaw drops when she sees Aiden. After hearing me say his name, there is no mistaking who he is.
“Here you go,” Aiden says as he comes over to me and bends over. I take the wire cutters from him, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Thanks.” I think about how to do this. We have to get him out of here now, before he gets even weaker and before someone sees us. “Aiden, can you hold the light? Alexis, hold his head and try to keep him calm. And Judy, hold him still as best you can?”
Everyone moves into position. Aiden shines the light on the gelding’s right leg. Skin has started to grow over the wire. My stomach churns for this big guy. How long has he suffered? I find an inch of wire and put my hand on his leg.
Alexis hums to him, stroking his face. I push the clippers against his skin, and he stiffens. I clip down and he struggles.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I say. “I know it hurts, but you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”
“We’ll take care of you,” Alexis says. I run my hands over his leg, pushing back the long, shaggy fur, and clip another section. Hurting and scared, the gelding tries to get up. His leg is still too tightly wound in wire to bend. He swipes it, clipping me in the knee. I wince but don’t stop trying.
Aiden puts his hand on my shoulder, holding the light closer. I have to clip the wire around his knee so he can bend his leg. Then maybe we can get him up and into the trailer.
When I touch him again, he panics and tries to stand. Unable to bend his leg, his hoof slides out from under him and he hefts back to the ground, groaning. I push Aiden back, worried he’s going to get hurt.
“Easy, big guy,” I say. “Almost done.” Blood stains my skin and an abscess pops, green pus spilling out, getting on my hands. Its pungent odor chokes me. “That must feel a little bit better, huh?” I ask, knowing an abscess feels like a giant painful zit. Well, one that is infected.
I make a few more clips, and finally he can bend his leg enough to stand. I set the clippers down. “Let’s get him up,” I say, handing Alexis the halter. She slips it around his head. He’s panting, lying there with that look in his eyes that says he understands, finally understands we are there to help him. It takes several minutes and lots of muscle to get the large gelding on his feet. He’s limping badly and can hardly support his weight. He outweighs me by a lot, even though he’s severely underweight, but I’ll help him stand until we both fall.
Alexis keeps stealing glances at Aiden but doesn’t say anything as we struggle out of the stall. She’s a smart girl. The gelding moves slowly, each step more and more painful than the last. He’s coated in mud and feces. I’m sure once I get him home and into the light we will find more injuries.
It takes fifteen minutes to get the gelding into the trailer, and it’s not because he refuses. With his injuries, he can hardly walk up the ramp. But he gets in, and I shut and lock the doors. We’re almost out of there when a car comes racing down the road, slamming on the brakes and sliding to a stop next to us. Oh, fuck.
“Mom,” Alexis says, voice shaking.
“It’s okay, honey,” Judy says as she pulls out her phone. We’ll call the police if we have to and cross our fingers we don’t get a dick of a cop who refuses to let us save this horse.
A stout man gets out of the Jeep. He’s bald with a long beard. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands and storms over. “That’s my horse. You can’t take my horse! Get him the fuck out before I call the police. You’re stealing my horse!”
“Your horse,” I scoff, eyes narrowing in anger. “You’re killing your horse. We’re taking him. You obviously don’t care.”
“You can’t take him. He’s mine!”
I’ll never understand why neglectful owners insist on keeping the animals they’re killing. The hoarders, well, they have a mental condition and are unable to care for their animals. It’s still wrong, but in their minds, they try. People like this guy in front of me are just evil. They know what they are doing and don’t care.
“Give me my horse and get the fuck off my property,” he says. “Before I charge you with trespassing and stealing.”
People like this set fires to their barns to save themselves a fine. People like this killed my mother. I step forward. “Get the fuck out of my way. We’re taking the horse. And you’re getting charged with animal cruelty and neglect.”