Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

horse trotted down the hill toward me. He was small and wiry, with a scraggly mane and a black stripe running down his back. I whinnied. He threw his head up as he approached and rolled his eyes. I could tell he was nervous. He stopped a few feet from me.
    I stepped forward to meet him, gave him a playful nip on the withers, spun, and galloped off. A minute later I heard his hooves pounding behind me. As his nose drew even with my flank, I sped up, but he matched me easily. I zigzagged, kicking up my heels and arching my neck. I was a much better flirt as a horse than I was as a human.
    Finally I slowed and bowed my head. He came over and rested his muzzle in the curve of my back. I nudged his cheek.
    My brother , I thought. It took a few minutes to find my voice and to direct it at him. It wasn't quite ESP, the way shifters communicated. We didn't read each other's minds, but in order to speak we had to form the words in our heads and project them. I thought it over and over: "My brother."
    And a moment later I heard his answer in my head: "My brother."
    ****
    My brother was currently behaving like a madman. Madhorse. Whatever.
    "We tell Ray the truth," he said. "About what we are."
    Ray was our handler at Ottsenmeiser Ranch. Ottsenmeiser himself, the ranch owner, was a bastard to humans and animals alike, but Ray was incredibly kind. Prone to drinking— though he'd mostly stopped that since Jax and I had arrived. I figured we were a good influence.
    Ray was also quite handsome, as Jax pointed out to me a few dozen times per day.
    "That's your plan?" I asked.
    "Yep."
    "Um, hello? Remember the last time you revealed yourself to a non-shifter?"
    "Ray's different. Ray won't make trouble for us."
    "You don't know that."
    "I trust him."
    "No offense, Jax, but your judgment isn't always spot on."
    He wouldn't have been wrong to point out that neither was mine. After all, I was the one who'd found Changed for the Better. If it weren't me, we'd never have met Dixie, and we sure as hell wouldn't be here right now. I felt a little guilty, but the guilt was nothing compared to my fear of what might happen if Ray found out we weren't regular horses.
    "I want to help him," Jax said. "Ottsenmeiser treats him like shit, and he doesn't deserve it. He ought to work somewhere people appreciate him. I l— I think he's a good man."
    "I do too. And I know how much he means to you. How much you mean to him."
    "You too," Jax mumbled.
    "You in particular."
    Jax didn't speak for a long time. "I didn't mean to like him so much," he said quietly.
    "It's not your fault. I'm glad you two bonded."
    "He's like a horse whisperer. Isn't he, James? I know we're not real horses, but don't you agree? Don't you feel whispered to?"
    "He's a horse whisperer, sure."
    "I feel like I'd do anything he said, just because he asked me."
    "Careful, Jax."
    I saw Jax's ears twitch over the barrier between our stalls. "I like someone like that. Someone who knows what he's doing. And that ass…"
    "Pardon?"
    "How do you ignore his ass in those jeans?"
    "I don't ignore it. I just don't openly drool over it."
    "You know who drools?"
    "You?"
    "Kingston."
    Kingston was the ranch dog, a border collie Aussie mix with one blue and one brown eye. Well, I suspected he was more than a dog, though I couldn't get him to admit it. He chased a convenient beetle or started digging a hole every time I tried to talk to him.
    "Kingston's a dog. Of course he drools."
    "He drools specifically when he's looking at you," Jax said.
    "Don't be silly."
    "You don't see him standing in puddles of his own slime when it's Ottsenmeiser around."
    "We don't even know if King's—"
    "He's one of us. You know it. I know it."
    "He won't say a damn word to me."
    Ray entered the barn then. Jax's ears pricked up, and he whickered. Then he threw up his head and let out a loud whinny.
    "Okay, okay," Ray said, laughing. "I'm here."
    Jax whinnied again, pawing the straw on the floor of his stall.
    "Have some dignity," I muttered.
    "Oh, don't get your halter in a twist."
    Jax's stall was at the very end of the barn, and mine was just before that. So Ray stopped to rub my nose first. Jax stamped impatiently next door.
    "All right," Ray crooned, moving to Jax's stall. Jax stuck as much of his head as he could out the small window and Ray took his nose in his arms. "How's my best boy?"
    I didn't begrudge them their bond. It hurt, sometimes, to see the connection they shared and know that I didn't have that