Picturesque

Chapter 26: A Good Horse

Dawn was cracking through the open spaces of the barn by the time we woke up. We somehow woke up at the exact same time—I slept on a pad of hay in the corner of the stable while Jo slept curled up to Willow.

I stood up, watching Jo. I wondered if she would feel any better this morning, or if she would feel even worse. The first sleep after a tragedy is always the worst.

Jo sat up, her hair filled with hay, her eyes puffy and red from crying and from sleep. She looked at Willow, pressed her hand under the horse's arm, as if checking one last time to see if it was real. I expected her to burst into tears again, but she only closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Silent words formed on her lips that I could not hear, but I think she was finally saying goodbye. She leaned down to Willow's head, patted her mane gently, and kissed her between her ears.

Jo didn't cry, but she didn't say anything at all. Richard had already started digging a grave the day before, expecting the worse. When we stepped out of the barn and into the creeping morning sunrise, he was already out in the field with his tractor.

I helped Jo to gather some other horses to help take Willow's body out into the field. We secured ropes around Willow's body, and Jo kept undoing them for fear that they were too tight on her. It was obvious she had experience handling horses, but she worked slow and steady, never saying a word other than instructing me.

It was evening by the time Richard finished digging the grave, and we maneuvered Willow's body gently into it. I felt dirty from sleeping in the stable, sweaty from the day's work, and starving. But I didn't complain or quit. I helped Jo find two good pieces of wood in the leftover pile from when they had built the new barn. She took a small pocketknife and carved Willow's name across the horizontal plank. In smaller words, she wrote below it: A Good Horse. When Richard finished covering the grave, Jo took the cross and stuck it in the ground above the fresh dirt of Willow's grave.

I was standing a little away, giving her the space she needed. Once the grave was finished, she stepped back and stood next to me. She just stared at it for a while, not crying, not saying anything. After a few moments, I felt her hand reach for mine, her fingers hesitating over my palm. I enclosed it around her hand and held it softly, staring at the makeshift gravestone and the freshly turned dirt as the sunset spilled over the distant hills.

Jo didn't want to go home, but I told her she couldn't stay in the stable forever. She hadn't eaten in days, and we both were very dirty, so I finally convinced her. She took her Fury that she had driven herself in, and I took the Pontiac, following behind her as we drove home. I watched her hair flowing back in the wind of the convertible whose top was always down, driving towards the sunset as it faded.

I wasn't aware of what would be waiting for me at the Donnelley Estate. As soon as I stepped into the house after Jo, Katie came flying down the stairs, Marty right after her. Her hand grabbed the column at the end of the stairs as she swiveled around it, her dress flashing as she did. "Where the hell have you been?!" she exclaimed, looking between Jo and me.

Jo creased her brow. "What?"

"Not you—you!" Katie said, pointing her finger past Jo and straight at me. I froze where I stood, her eyes dropping down to the Pontiac car keys in my hands. "You stole our car!"

"No, Katie," Marty said, raising his hands to try to deescalate the situation he had already foreseen. "I gave her the keys to go to Manor Farm."

"You were supposed to have French lessons today with the children!" Katie screeched, her face turning red as the veins in her thin neck bulged. "What the hell did we hire you for?!"

"Katie—"

"You had no business going to Manor Farm! That is our farm! It is not your job to go play with horses all day when we are paying you our hard-earned money to educate our damn children!"