Page 12 of True North

I walk for the cattle yards, my mount still tied to the gate where I left her. She’s a good mare. I should give her a name. But that feels too risky. Horses die. Get sold off. I can’t go through gettin’ attached again.

Hell’s hounds, I’m pathetic.

Even my thoughts are runnin’ scared with their tail between their legs.

Fuck me.

Been livin’ under a storm cloud since she left...

Too much.

That’s too much, Harry.

Snap outta it.

I untie Horse from the rail and lead her back to the barn I hand built around ten years ago. Trying to work out the loss of her with my bare hands. The debilitating pain of losing the other half of my soul when I was barely old enough to understand the gravity of what I was going through.

Understand just fine now.

Work is my salvation. I have spent the last ten years makin’ something of this small allotment. Buying up the land around us to build the equity. Equity is king, they say.

I release the clasp on the girth and slide the saddle from Horse’s back. She shifts on her feet. Sweaty, she flicks her tail. I dump the saddle on the rack I spent too many hours building and return for the bridle. Sliding the strap loose, I slip it over her ears and toss it onto a hook. I give her forehead a rub before hosing her off and letting her loose to her pasture.

“You really should give that poor girl a name,” Ma says softly from the doorway of the barn. “You owe her that much.”

I chuckle. “You two been talkin’?”

She offers me a small smile.

In this hard life, she wasn’t granted many, so I take it like the gift it is.

“Going into town today?” Ma asks.

“If you need?”

“Yes, I think I’m all outta potatoes and flour. You could stop at the diner for lunch. The roast will keep for supper.”

“You sure?”

I fight off the blush that’s creepin’ up my neck. I love my mother, I really do. But her cooking’s never been her strong suit. And she is all too aware how often I frequent Darla’s in town. Breakfast, lunch, and sometimes supper, if I’m feelin’ like splurging.

“Oh, I’m sure.” She pulls an odd face. “I know my cookin’ doesn’t even come close, hon. I’m not offended, I promise. You’ve always loved your food. Even as a little boy. Have no idea where you put it. Not an ounce of fat could hang around with all that muscle.”

She rolls her lips together, like she wants to say something else, but won’t.

I chuckle and lean on the barn doorway. “When you want to head off?”

“Give me twenty?” she says.

“Sure, be up to the house soon.”

“Oh, and Harry, change out of that shirt. It reeks of horse and dirt.”

Okay...

I shake my head at her and finish up by tidying the barn and putting out a couple bales of hay for the heifers. They make short work of it, and I head to the house to clean up for the diner.

That’s new...

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