He likes to have his harness put on, then be led in a slow circle around their riding ring. Tabitha says that horses don’t have great memories for details, but they seem to develop a nostalgia of sorts for the things in their lives that are pleasant to them.
Charlotte adores him, calls him “my Scooty” and generally fusses over him on a daily basis. She’s horse-mad and she knows it. It isn’t an uncommon affliction in these parts. Horse madness is often seen as a girl thing, but it isn’t. It’s a people thing and there are a lot of horse-mad people around.
So, horses need a lot of things and mostly, they need a lot of food. Some people are very particular about their various feed mixes, often viewing them as a secret recipe, or saying their horse couldn’t possibly make do with a pre-mixed feed.
Others don’t trust themselves to mix it, preferring to take careful recommendations from Tabitha, then sticking to what works with an almost religious fervor. Charlotte understands that too. A horse can slowly starve to death even with ample food if the food mix is incorrect. Tabitha has come to the aid of many a horse owner who didn’t understand, but thought they did because they read books or devoured the wisdom of internet message boards.
All this means that Tabby’s Feed and Seed is the most popular feed store around. It means their customers are many and loyal. They often come from an hour or more away to pick up their loads of feed, waiting patiently for Tabitha to inspect each load and give them the nod. It means the place is huge and carries a very, very large amount of inventory.
“Mom, we can’t get all this. We can’t store it,” Charlotte says on their third trip. They’ve brought four truckloads home, including the first trip Tabitha made alone, and it barely looks like they’ve taken anything at all. It’s taken them ten days to get those truckloads home. It will take months to get everything, even if they had room to store it, which they don’t.
Her mother is eyeing two long rows of pallets, still shrink-wrapped with orders. Each is tagged with the name of a customer and their pick-up date. None have been picked up, of course. Charlotte can’t imagine trying to get those into their barn. There’d be no room for anything else. What would they do with the hay?
“No, that’s not what I’m thinking,” Tabitha answers, still eyeing the stacks.
“Then what?”
“I’m thinking delivery.”
That shocks Charlotte. They’d only just gotten accustomed to going out of the house at night as far as the store. How could she imagine delivery?
“Mom?”
Tabitha blows out a breath so forceful the sound reverberates from the steel ceiling far above. Patting two pallets, she says, “These two are for the Hendersons. They’re about ten miles from here.” Moving along the rows, she pats another, “This one is for Sam Stone. Ten miles the other way.”
She goes on, skipping some pallets entirely, while patting those meant for families or boarding operations within twenty miles or so of their location. Charlotte follows. Her mother ends by resting a foot on the blade of their forklift at the end of the rows.
Many of the names are ones that Charlotte knows well. She goes to school with the children of those families. She rides with others in horse shows. Some, she knows only from the store.
“Aren’t you afraid?” Charlotte asks. She wants her mother to say yes, because she’s afraid and she doesn’t want to be alone in that fear.
She shakes her head, but then makes a face. “More like nervous.”
“Is it safe?”
Tabitha shrugs. “Is anything safe? Honestly, I think whatever it is, we’re immune to it. I’ve been outside in the daylight now for how long? Three days?”
“Five.”
“Five then. Nothing has happened to me. Nothing happened to you on that first day. Maybe that’s all it is. We’re immune. And I’m not saying we should deliver during the day either. I think we should deliver at night. Those places are all rural and we don’t have to go through anything more than one small town to get to any of them.” She stops then, scuffing her foot against the blade of the forklift. “Plus, I can’t help but think of their horses.”
“And you’ve called them? Before the phones went out?” Charlotte asks.
“No, I didn’t think of it then. I should have. I wish the phones worked.”
Charlotte considers the pallets, then thinks about what she would do if she ran out of food for the horses. How would she feel if one day, she had to go into Scoot’s stall with nothing for him to eat? What would happen to her heart if she had to make a terrible decision for that wonderful old horse?
“Yes, Mom. Let’s deliver it. Maybe we can ask the sheriff to let them know we’re coming.”
*****
Word spreads. Of course, it does. There’s an upside to that though. No one breaks into the feed store. Instead, every night they arrive to find at least one customer in the parking lot, patiently waiting in or near their vehicle. Each one is grateful. Sometimes, there are even tears.
A few times, there’s a woman outside waiting. Each time that happens, there’s a moment between her mother and that woman, something silent they pass between them. An acknowledgement that they’re alive and have no idea why.
The dog food goes fastest. They stock a lot of it, more than any pet supply store would. Giant bags of everything from the cheapest kibble to the shiny bags of pricey stuff touting only wild caught ingredients disappear into the back of cars and trucks. When Tabitha uses the forklift to lower the pallets stacked on the very highest shelves, Charlotte knows they’ll soon face a decision. They will either have to ration what each person can buy, or they have to let it
