Tethered (The Stables Trilogy #2) (10 page)

It wasn’t fair that she was going to lose Bonnie, but any rancher worth her salt knew life wasn’t fair. Bonnie was the light to her dark. The innocence of the sweet horse balanced Maple’s own insecurities and Stygian past.

As the noises of the stable coalesced into the perfect background music, Maple fell into a restless sleep.

She dreamed of monsters.

Chapter Nine

The air was freezing. The body was cold.

Maple stared at her breath, frozen by disbelief. One freaking night. The vet had come, and all Maple had wanted was one more night with Bonnie.

But the sweet, old horse must have died sometime in the night. Probably not too long after Maple had fallen asleep, judging by how cool the skin was to touch.

Now Maple sat, cross-legged, next to the dead animal. She sat, and she watched her breath, one hand absentmindedly stroking Bonnie’s mane. Inside was too much emotion. She wished she could define it. Analyze it. Break it down into comprehensible pieces because then she could pick up those pieces.

Then she could pick herself up.

But the grief, the longing, the fear, and the horror had managed to roll into one, undefinable lump. That lump sat in her stomach, huge and heavy. And it
churned
.

She didn’t know how long she sat.

You’re being ridiculous. Get up and get help. Bonnie was just a horse.

But her chest ached, and no, Bonnie was
not
just a horse. That’s the thing about horses, Maple knew. They were family. The amount of time, devotion, and mutual affection created a bond that no one could sever.

The stall door groaned as it opened behind her.

“Oh, Maple--” it was Raúl. He sounded sad… and a little scared. “Is she dead then?”

Maple sniffed and tried to clear the tears from her throat. “Yeah.” It was all she could choke out before her body threatened to throw itself into sobbing again.

Raúl shuffled behind her. “How long?”

“I don’t know.”

She was numb as he brushed past her. Crouching next to Bonnie’s flank, he tested the horse’s leg. It didn’t move. Raúl cursed under his breath.

“I’m going to have to get J.B.”

She nodded, mute.

“Maple…”

It took effort, but she met his gaze. His eyes were full of sorrow. It wasn’t for Bonnie.

“I just don’t understand why you make everything so hard for yourself.”

He walked away without explaining. Maple tried to get angry about it. Her mind shouted things like
how can you say that to me?
and
you don’t know anything about me, or how hard things are!

But in the end, the fight in her was just gone. It would come back. She knew it would, because Tony had tried his very hardest to beat and fuck the fight out of her, and she was here now, without him and stronger for it. It would come back.

First though… pain.

She steeled herself for J.B. Prepared for the narrowed eyes, the seething anger. Prepared for whatever punishment (and release) he had planned for her. He had asked her to do something and, yet again, she’d disobeyed.

Maple tried to picture what he’d say. How he’d hurt her. Her body was starting to warm up, to hum in anticipation. She wanted it. She
needed
it.

J.B. was going to punish her, and she could escape Bonnie’s absence, just for a moment.

So she waited, eager, full of dread and hope.

He said nothing. When she finally met his mismatched eyes, there wasn’t any anger in them. Instead, like Raúl’s, they were full of sorrow. “I’m sorry about Bonnie,” he said.

It cut like a knife, her ribs screaming as her chest constricted.

“I’m sorry I didn’t obey,” she said meekly, hoping to trigger him. She didn’t want his compassion now. She wanted his wrath.

“Yep,” was all she got in return.

When nothing else happened, she found a little bit of fight was still in there. “Yep? That’s it? I didn’t do as you said!”

“Bonnie’s death seems like punishment enough.”

No. He was wrong! She needed more. Maple needed him to release her from the anguish. “We knew it was coming! And you warned me! Now what?” The last part didn’t come out as challenging as it had sounded in her mind. It came out like a little girl, lost and needing guidance.

“Now what? Now you get to work.”

If it weren’t for his lamenting gaze, Maple would accuse him of indifference. She still launched an attack.

“What do you mean, get to work? What about Bonnie? What about what I did?”

He shook his head. “Maple… you created your own punishment when you didn’t listen to me. Do you know why I told you to get her outside?”

She chewed her lip, waiting.

“Because now that her body is cold, now that rigor mortis has set in, we can’t get her out of the stall. And we can’t afford to wait for her limbs to ease, either. It isn’t safe or healthy for the other horses if we leave a corpse in here.”

Oh, God. She hadn’t thought of that. “How does she get out?”

J.B. walked to grab something from just outside the stable door. When he came back in--

He was holding an ax.

Not a large one, like she imagined men used for cutting wood. This was a small hand ax, fitting easily in his palm, looking like an extension of his arm.

“You can’t be serious! You can’t do that to her!”

The two times she’d left home, for college and then for this job, Maple’s mother had snuck a Bible into her bag. God wasn’t a major player in her parents’ household in the regular ways; they didn’t go to church, they didn’t pray before meals (except at holidays), and they didn’t talk about it much. That didn’t mean belief wasn’t there.

Her mother was a fervent believer in Christ. While she didn’t speak it aloud, Maple knew her mother prayed for the farm. Prayed for her family. Other things, too, Maple imagined, but she wasn’t privy to her mother’s thoughts.

Maple only needed to pray for forgiveness, but she didn’t think God would listen to someone like her. So she left religion behind, not out of spite, but out of avoidance.

Practically speaking, J.B. was right, and she shouldn’t be so upset by this. A body was a body. It’s spirit, or whatever it was that made it a personality and not just flesh, was gone. There was a corpse in the stall. Not Bonnie.

But it
was
still Bonnie. That body was the only thing left of Maple’s friend. Already Maple felt the things she’d held so dear fading. It scared her.

“I’m not going to do it to her, Maple.”

The tightness in her chest released a little. “What then? Do we take out a wall? Make an opening--”

“Nope.” He pressed the ax into her hand. It was heavier than she imagined. “You’re going to do it.”

Time stopped. The flurry of her thoughts became too dense, a buzz in her ears. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

“Maple, I don’t know how to get through to you anymore. I don’t know what we’re doing, you and me. But damnit, I just want you to listen to me. Just once. Until you do, you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences.”

Her mouth was dry. Lips trembling. The ax in her hand threatened to slide to the floor. Absentmindedly, she tightened the grip.

He couldn’t be serious now. It was an inhuman and masochistic request. No, not request. J.B. didn’t ask, he told. He didn’t really expect her to go in there and use the ax…

But he did, because he added “Raúl will be here after he’s done his rounds with the steer to help you clean up.”

Then J.B. left her, shaking and sick, with an ax and a body.

She showered until the hot water ran out. Then she showered until she was shivering uncontrollably.

Maple skipped two meals in a row. It was too hard to see Raúl or the others. Somehow she’d managed to be a part of the ranch again after breaking into J.B.’s ponygirl stable the first time. That had been a greater grievance. She’d threatened the ranch, their jobs, and their lives when she’d done that.

Yet after, Maple had managed to keep seeing them. To keep working and, well, functioning.

Now her suitcase was on the bed. It was half packed. She sat next to it, picking at her nails. From time to time she’d hold her hand up and look for any trace of blood still caked in the cuticles.

Everything about this was new.

Maple thought she’d known guilt. Holy hell, she’d killed a man and managed to drive away. Pick herself up enough to start a life again. She’d had her heart and mind and body broken and could still make decisions. Live with the consequences.

Why was this so different?

Why did the wound cut so deep, so thoroughly? She didn’t just feel like she was bleeding inside. Maple felt bled dry. Empty.

Her stomach roiled. It was that torturous mix of so hungry it hurt and yet, nauseous. She was sick to her stomach with the day. Sick of the ranch. Sick of everyone putting up with J.B.’s cruelty.

Sick of J.B.?

Because he was why her suitcase was open in the first place. This time he’d gone too far. It was fine with Maple if he used and tortured her body. She wanted that. But it had been beyond unfair to ask her to…

No. She couldn’t even think of it. The visuals of it, the sounds and the smells… those things would
never
leave her. There was no wall she could build in herself that was tall enough, thick enough, fucking impenetrable enough to bury those memories.

The one good thing about his punishment-- and it was a poor fucking excuse for a silver lining-- was it had helped her move more quickly out of debilitating grief. She’d hacked away at the numbness, at the heartbreak, and at the loneliness. All that was left was bitterness and fury.

After skipping dinner, after showering, after sleeping it off (or rather lying in bed with the lights off, trying to stomach everything she’d done), Maple still hadn’t been able to find the smallest bit of forgiveness.