Page 23 of Xel: Broken Bond

“Like I said; you’re welcome,” she crooned.

My master rolled his eyes and headed for the car. “I’m going to put the trailer back and then get some lunch. You want some?” he asked Leesha.

“Oh, you’re a darling,” she said with a grin. “I’m just going to check the polvers again, then I’ll meet you over there.”

My master climbed into the car, then called to me, “Xel? You coming?”

I hesitated for a moment. “I’ll walk back to the cottage,” I told him. “I’ll meet you there.”

“No problem,” he agreed, then headed off down the dirt road that led past the reception building and around to the house.

On the walk back to the house, I contemplated what I’d just seen. Doot had treated my master with the normal level of respect that I’d have expected of any professional person. Leesha was less formal with him, but in a way that remained perfectly friendly. And neither of them seemed to have any problem with his physical appearance. Nor did Bo, for that matter, or Aiden, or Kade. So why was my master so flighty around people? Why did he closet himself away on this property, refusing to speak to anyone, when there were plenty of people who accepted him just the way he was?

Was that what Bo had meant when she’d said I would be a good influence on him? Was I supposed to encourage him to go out more, to talk to more people?

But based on my master’s abrupt reaction to the visitors this morning, I suspected there might be more to the situation than I was currently seeing. I resolved to keep an eye on things for the next few days. I didn’t want to create problems if I was misunderstanding something. But at the same time, letting my master wallow in his own self-pity couldn’t make for a very comfortable life. For either of us.

Back at the house, some ten minutes later, I was washing my hands at the kitchen sink and preparing to make some sandwiches, while I listened to Leesha fill my master in on what she’d been up to that morning. And it surprised me to find that my master seemed to have no objections to her running monologue. He asked a few questions, laughed at the appropriate spots, and then gave her a rundown of what we’d seen at the property where we’d picked up Huckleberry. It was the most natural and comfortable conversation I’d heard in years. Even at the hotel, talk had usually been done in hushed tones, where our supervisors wouldn’t overhear us, and most of it had consisted of comments or complaints about work. And yes, this conversation was also about work, I supposed, but ina way that conveyed a general enjoyment of the various tasks, rather than a consistent dislike of them. For all the isolation of this place, I was already getting the impression that it would be a significant improvement on my previous situation.

“What about you, Xel?” Leesha asked, as I set the plates of sandwiches on the table. “How are you dealing with scooping up animal poop and negotiating with grumpy cats? You have met Midnight, right?”

I smiled at the memory of the cat I’d met that morning. He’d tried to take a swipe at the visitors who’d come to adopt a pet, and they’d both reacted with unfortunate but understandable trepidation. “I’m enjoying it so far. I think I have a lot to learn,” I added, though I wasn’t feeling quite as daunted by the whole situation as I had been that morning. “This isn’t the sort of work I’m used to doing. But I really enjoyed the drive to collect Huckleberry this morning. I haven’t had the chance to see much of the city.” I hoped, in a vague and insubstantial way, that my master might pay attention to the comment. It was not my place – nor would it ever be – to ask him to let me explore the city, with or without his supervision. But if there were occasions when he or any of his employees had to attend to matters offsite, then I wanted him to be aware that I was more than willing to go along and help.

“How old are you?” Leesha asked, in a sudden change of topic, and I had to think about it for a moment.

“Uh… Twenty-three,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but it was close enough. Dimari were typically sold when we were roughly twenty years old, and if I’d been at the hotel for three years, that would make me twenty-three.

“Not bad, not bad,” Leesha said, talking around a mouthful of her sandwich. “That’s still young enough to get out and explore the world a bit. Not like Cole here. He’s twenty-six,” she said, in a conspiratorial whisper. “So he’s turned into a stuffy old man.”

“Screw you,” my master grumbled at her, to which she stuck her tongue out at him. I tried to suppress a grin, and when that didn’t quite work, I stuffed the corner of my sandwich into my mouth. It was oddly soothing to see them banter with each other.

“I’m twenty-four,” Leesha rambled on, “which means I’m a spry young thing. I can still go out to parties that finish after nine o’clock in the evening.” She nodded in an exaggerated way, looking pleased with herself, while my master just rolled his eyes.

“I need to call in a farrier this afternoon,” my master said, changing subject to avoid any more teasing. “And the vet’s going to have to come and give Huckleberry a thorough check over. He’ll probably need worming, and I think I’ll ask to get him vaccinated, just in case. It’s hard to know when his owner would have last done anything for him.”

Leesha sobered and nodded. “Give me a yell if you need a hand with anything. I’m going to try training Doza a bit more,” she said, naming one of the dogs that apparently had a few behavioural issues. “Then I’ll do the afternoon feeding, if you’re still caught up with Huckleberry. And I’ll check on Rose, as well. She was looking kind of restless earlier, so she might be getting ready to calve.”

My master nodded, then stood up, his sandwich having disappeared in record time. “I’ll go make a few phone calls and meet you back at Huckleberry’s pen,” he said to me, and I felt a momentary panic. I hadn’t finished eating yet… but there was nothing in either my master’s tone or his words to indicate that he was displeased about that. I nodded and mumbled a hasty “Yes, sir,” not quite managing to swallow my mouthful before he was out the door. I glanced at Leesha, wondering whether she was going to say anything about him. Back at the hotel, the staff had always been quick to complain about my master the instant he was out of the room, and I was apprehensive of finding outthat Leesha wanted to do the same. It would be disappointing to discover that her friendliness just a few minutes ago had only been a front.

But instead, she grinned and winked at me. “He can take a bit of getting used to. He’s a good man underneath all that frantic worrying, though, so give him a couple of days to grow on you. And the more help you can give him around the sanctuary, the more he’ll start to relax.” She narrowed her eyes, seeming to scrutinise me more thoroughly. “Bo thinks you’re going to be good for him. And based on the way he looks at you, I think I’m starting to agree.” She finished her sandwich in two swift bites and stood up before I could come up with a reply, and then she, too, was gone.

◊◊◊

As I watched the farrier explaining the trim he’d done to Huckleberry’s hooves, I found I was liking the man less and less with each passing minute. His name was Jarra, and he was a Denzogal, eight feet tall and covered in fur that was such a light brown, it was almost blond. It was quite an unusual colour for a Denzogal, and in the past three years, I’d only ever seen one other individual who’d had the same colouring.

What I’d seen plenty of, though, was conceited assholes who felt they were above everyone around them. “It’s important to keep them trimmed on a regular basis,” Jarra was saying to my master, who, to his credit, was standing silently and letting the man get on with his speech, instead of telling him he was a fuckwit. “See the shape of them? Not too up and down, but a lot less flat than they were before. Keep an eye on him, too. He might be a bit sore for the next couple of days. The laser trimmer is as gentle as we can possibly be, but when the hooves were that long, it can take the poor creatures a bit of time to get used to it.”

He was speaking to my master as if he firstly had never seen a donkey before, and secondly, that Huckleberry’s condition was somehow my master’s fault. Did he not understand that this was a shelter where we rescued injured and abandoned animals?

“Any questions?” Jarra finished, smiling condescendingly at my master.

“No, that’ll do,” my master said. “Send us your invoice, and I’ll see that it gets paid. Thank you for your time.”

Thankfully, the man left at the obvious dismissal, and once he was out of earshot, I turned to my master and said, “He didn’t seem very polite.” It was a mild statement, designed to test my master’s mood. It was not generally a dimari’s place to comment on the comings and goings around their master’s property, but I suspected that in this case, my master’s opinion would match my own.

Unless, of course, I had somehow misjudged the situation.

“He was a grade-A asshole,” my master said, giving Huckleberry a final scratch between his ears, then leading the way out of the pen. “He’s not the usual farrier we get. Hank wasn’t available today, so I had to call this dimwit. And unfortunately, that’s one of the two ways people tend to react when they see my scars. Half of them recoil like I’m going to infect them with some hideous disease, and the other half treat me like a toddler. I avoid calling Jarra whenever possible, but Huckleberry really needed to see someone today.”