It’s been almost a year and I guess karma, God, or whatever hasn’t found me yet. I figure that’s the case, because I haven’t been punished. Some days, I can’t help but wonder if maybe He’s forgotten all about me.
Tires crunch on the gravel and someone hollers out my name.
Outside the stall, the bright sunshine reflecting off the big horse trailer makes me squint. Molly pokes her head out of the driver’s side window of the truck. Her round face is red, maybe from the heat. More likely from shouting. “We need some more help here!”
The pitchfork fits snugly in the holder just outside the stall and I jog over to the horse trailer. Heat radiates from the diesel and I can hardly hear what Molly is saying over the engine noise and the banging coming from the trailer.
“May need help with this one.” Molly’s sun burnt elbow rests on the open window. Bilby jumps out of the passenger side, crosses in front of the truck, and walks along the length of the trailer, patting the side with his palm as he walks. When Molly cuts the engine, a hush falls over the yard, but only for a minute. The other rescue horses thrust their heads out of stall windows, sensing a new arrival, and whinny.
Whatever’s inside the trailer screams back and doesn’t stop. He punctuates it with a slam against the side.
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