Unherd (The Unpublished Edition)

Chapter 2

They decided to go to Dallas' fundraiser because they didn't have any other plans.

It was too nice of a day to stay in bed, and given the gloomy forecast for the rest of the week, Barnaby wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

He'd driven past the wooden Old Trenton Stables sign with Malcolm on several occasions - it was hard to miss - but for the first time, he saw behind the row of trees that separated the ranch from the road through Gil's passenger seat.

Right around the bend was an Information Hub, a wooden hut with a handful of booths set up outside of it; each one had their own colorful sign, and the majority of people stationing them wore matching tye-dye shirts.

Beyond the Information Hub, white-picket fences divided the rolling hills into different sections. The closest section had people lining up for their own chance at horseback riding; the next pen had hurdles and horses ridden by experienced handlers, leaping over obstacles while another group of spectators looked on. A rectangular barn connected that pen to the rest of the pasture, where a few other horses grazed freely.

Gil parked his Range Rover in a dirt lot with the other cars. As soon as they stepped out, he removed the purple flannel he was so intent on wearing that morning and wrapped it around his waist.

"I told you it was going to be warm," Barnaby giggled. He wasn't much better off, wearing overalls over his saffron shirt.

"I'm not warm," Gil huffed, evening out the bracelets on his wrists. "I'm blending in."

Barnaby raised a brow. "Blending in?"

"Like...someone who comes to watch horses."

Barnaby stifled another laugh. If Gil's idea of "someone who watches horses" was a goth kid forced into summer camp by his parents, he wasn't going to correct him. Besides, he still thought the purple was a nice touch.

He took hold of Gil's hand, gently tugging him along. "Let's go."

They started over to the booths where they were quickly noticed by one of the tye-dye wearing volunteers. "Hello!" She greeted them, "Would either of you like to fill out a coloring sheet? We're using them to decorate the shelter."

Outlines of cartoon cats, dogs, and horses were laid out next to a pile of future Adoption Day fliers. A basket of crayons sat in the middle, along with a donation bucket.

"Uh-" Gil dug around for his wallet, and without batting an eye, tossed $100 into the bucket. Next, he took a sheet of a dog playing with a ball and grabbed a handful of crayons. What the Hell? Sure."

Barnaby claimed an outline of a horse, picking a few neutral colors for himself.

They found a fold-out table to sit at and started coloring in silence. Not awkward silence; volunteers talked amongst themselves, spectators cheered on horses and their riders, and country music played from somewhere, filling the spaces in between.

Occasionally, they'd bump the other's foot, or purposely brush the other's hand if they needed to swap crayons.

When Barnaby looked up to check Gil's progress, he realized he'd turned the puppy's ball into a bloody eye. "Gil," he hissed, "these are for the shelter."

Gil bit his tongue, his nose scrunching up in amusement- "What's wrong with it?" He lifted his gaze right as his expression changed; his eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape. "Holy shit."

Barnaby looked over his shoulder. There was no mistaking what Gil had seen: making its way to each of the booths was a furry. Specifically, a brown dog with floppy ears and big, toonish brown eyes, wearing the same tye-dye shirt as the other volunteers.