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stopped. Stone opened the door and stumbled out, managing to make it to the edge of the road
before losing the contents of his stomach. Still bent over and heaving, he felt a hand on his back,
and as the spasms stopped, he saw Geoff standing next to him. Straightening up, he felt Geoff's
arms slide around him, and he was pulled into a hug, a hand soothing his head and a soft voice in
his ear. "It's okay. It'll be okay."
When Stone could move, Geoff released him, and he climbed back in the truck, and Preston
hugged him close as Geoff got back in the truck. "We can turn around if that's what you want.
You don't ever have to see him again," Preston murmured in his ear. "I never would have
suggested this if I'd have known how it was going to make you feel."
"No. Please, Geoff, we need to get Buster," Stone pleaded, lifting his head away from
Preston's chest.
"Are you sure?" Preston asked as his hands smoothed down Stone's back.
"Yes. We need to get Buster." Stone sat up, and Geoff restarted the truck, pulling back out
onto the road. Stone needed to get himself under control. He hadn't thought seeing his father
again would have this much of an effect on him.
"You're not alone, Stone. Geoff and I are here, and we're not going to let anything happen to
you."
Stone nodded his head, but said nothing. There were so many things he was afraid of. He
was pretty sure his father wasn't going to be happy to see him, and he could deal with that. Hell,
he was really hoping his father wasn't home, and he could just get Buster and go. What if Uncle
Pete was there? What if his father had been drinking? What if something happened to Preston or
Geoff? Worry upon worry kept running through his mind, and he found his stomach starting to
cramp again.
"It's okay, Stone." Preston's words were filled with concern. "I know what's bothering you,
and if he's there, I'll kill him, I swear. He's never going to touch you again." Preston was holding
him again, and this time, Stone let himself relax into the embrace.
As they approached town, Stone gave Geoff directions, and Stone felt the jitters start up
again, but he breathed deeply and kept his nerves under control. Cresting a rise, he saw the house
and barn, looking just like they always had. "The drive's just ahead."
Geoff pulled into the drive, and Stone directed him to park near the barn. "I'd like to get out
of here as soon as possible." The truck stopped and they waited, but no one came out of the
house or the barn. The place seemed deserted, and Stone breathed a sigh of relief. Opening the
door, he stepped out and looked around. Things looked the same, but they didn't feel the same, at
least not to him. This was where he'd grown up, but it didn't feel like home, not anymore. He was
almost relieved--at least it wouldn't be hard to leave again.
Reaching behind the seat, he pulled out Preston's chair, unfolded it, and helped him out of
the truck before pulling him backward through the snow toward the barn. He heard the door slide
open, the deep rumble familiar.
"My God!" he heard Geoff mumble, and he turned Preston around, wheeling him inside.
The place smelled foul and dank. Stone looked around frantically and whistled, relieved
when Buster's head poked out of his stall. Letting go of the handles of Preston's chair, he rushed
to the long, brown head, stroking Buster's nose.
"Jesus Christ!" he heard Geoff exclaim from the stall door. "We need to get him out of
there." Geoff swung the door open, and Stone looked inside. The floor was covered in droppings,
and it looked like the stall hadn't been cleaned since he'd left. Grabbing the halter and lead from
the post, he got them over Buster's nose and led him out of the stall, his hooves sloshing as he
stepped. "Let's see if we can find some warm water to clean his hooves. I just hope they're still
solid."
"Me too. They could rot in a mess like that." Stone looked inside the manger and water
trough; both were empty. "Geoff, would you hold his lead? I'm going to get some hay and the
portable trough from the trailer. Who knows when he was last fed." Stone felt his heart breaking
as he raced to the trailer.
Back in the barn, he filled the trough from the hose and got a feedbag, hanging it on one of
the posts. The last thing he wanted to do was put Buster back in the filthy stall, even to eat.
"Don't give him too much right away," Geoff cautioned, "he may not be able to tolerate it."
"What should I do?" Preston asked.
"Over in the corner"--Stone pointed--"is a warming iron. Please bring it over, and I'll fill a
bucket. We can use it to warm the water before washing him." Winter was not the best time to do
this, but they had to get the stuff off his hooves so they could take a look at them.
Stone hung the feedbag, and Geoff led Buster to the food. He immediately began munching.
Filling the trough, Stone set it on a bench, and Buster went for the water, drinking a huge
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