Tumbleweed (6 page)

Farms all around us were having “herd reduction” sales, and the first time horse buyer could pick up a horse for a song. Of course, so could horse traders and more than one horse with perfect conformation and a mile-long pedigree found its way to the meat market overseas as a result. A lot of horses less fortunate than Mountain View's were looking more than a bit thin lately, like the little red roan appaloosa on Hobbes' place that Aaron and I had taken to sneaking treats to.

We named her Allie and gave her attention whenever we passed her on our way to or from anywhere. There were times I stood at our pasture watching this year's babies playing and wondering what kind of world they'd been brought in to.

Of course, whenever I mustered up the gumption to walk over to Ethan's to call my family, I always hung up with the feeling they really couldn't care less. But these animals were important to me. What's more, we were happy here. It seemed I'd finally found somewhere that Aaron and I fit.

So maybe I wasn't exactly accepted with open arms at the local hangouts, and maybe shopping for the purpose of finding inner peace was out, but I had found something I'd never considered possible for me – contentment. There was so much to do; I was never
bored. If for some freakish reason things slowed down in the office, there was always something to fix outside or a horse that needed something.

As much as there was to be done, there was still time to sit in the swing in the evening, sipping sweet tea and talking to Ethan about the state of the world, politics, religion, or whatever else crossed our minds. I found myself looking forward to our sunset talks almost as much as the morning stroll to the barn. That was a quiet time for just me and my thoughts, and at the end of the walk, Ethan was there to greet me with that easy grin of his.

The other thing I made time for was leaning against the railing to watch Aaron's horseback riding lesson with Cheyenne.

“This kid's a natural,” she spoke to me without taking her eyes off of Aaron. “And he works hard, too.”

“My back is killing me from cleaning horse hooves. I really don't like cleaning the hooves,” Aaron interjected with a grimace.

“It'll make you stronger,” she reassured him.

“And it'll get easier with time.” I smiled.

“I'm not sure if I believe you.” He eyed me warily.

“Where's the trust? Where's the love?” I feigned shock.

“Put your hands down, but don't hang on the saddle horn,” Cheyenne corrected Aaron. “Your balance should be in your hips, not your hands.”

“When did you get your start?” I briefly turned my attention from Aaron to Cheyenne.

“I don't remember a time when I wasn't riding.” She shrugged casually. Her bright copper hair shimmered in the sunlight as she followed Aaron in a circle around the pen, her presence silently driving the horse forward. “This has always been what I wanted to do.”

“Me too,” I sighed wistfully. “But it was pretty low on my folks' list of priorities. I never had lessons.”

“Oh, me either. Mama never cared much for horses. I walked to the nearest stables and asked what I could do for them just so they'd let me hang around. Eventually they let me ride, and then cleaning stalls turned into exercising the horses. That just kind of evolved into
competing in events and eventually training. When I was 15, they started paying me for the work I was doing, and I squirreled away enough money to buy my first horse.” She smiled prettily at me.

“That's great,” I muttered feebly, resisting the urge to grimace. Pretty, perky and driven. Maybe for giggles later I'd get her to tell me how she landed a perfect husband first go-round, too.

Inferior feelings to the next door neighbor aside, there was a rhythm to life on the ranch that fit us easy enough, and before I realized it, the last days of summer had drifted away and we were greeted by the crisp, clean scent of fall. The evenings of catching fire flies were replaced by an explosion of color on the Ozark mountaintops.

It was over a hot cup of coffee on a cool clear morning when I finally got a chance to talk to Ethan about the direction the ranch was headed.

“You guys really are out of money, aren't you?” I handed him a cup of my specialty and plopped down into one of the easy chairs in his office.

“You noticed?” He grinned at me. “And it's not me who's out of money. It's Jim. I'm actually pretty wisely diversified.”

“Good for you. Want a cookie?” I made a face at him.

“You made cookies?”

“It's a figure of speech; don't get your hopes up.” I rolled my eyes. “Should we talk about what you want me to do about the lack of funding?”

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” He sighed deeply.

“You know I've moved the books onto a computer system. It's enabled me to forecast a few different scenarios. I've also done some research on the markets, where they seem to be headed. I think we should geld the stallion and keep only a few mares. Let's not scramble to sell so they wind up with traders or anything, but really search for good homes. They're classy girls; we can sell them in the upscale market if we work at it. We install a few cattle chutes and change some of the basic structures. If we move, we can be ready for the cattle auctions in the spring. I think there's something for us in running cattle. We're certainly one of the last large acreage farms in the area.
We have a shot anyway. Oh, and I want to talk to the electric co-op. I'd like them to do a walk-through with us and see what we'd need to start using some wind and solar power. We can cut our electric costs by 80% or more if we start using some alternate forms of energy,” I finished and waited expectantly for his response.

“I've been kind of checking into this whole DNA thing that seems to be emerging in the cattle markets. I'm all for the place ‘going green’ – provided you can get me a cost-savings analysis on that,” Ethan nodded approvingly. “Not sure the stallion would appreciate being gelded. He could be sold, you know.”

“True, but is it right to encourage active breeding in such a tight market?”

“But have you seen him? He's a magnificent horse.”

“He'll be a slightly less magnificent gelding too.” I shrugged.

“You're awfully blasé about it. The market's going to rebound eventually, and it's so much harder on a horse to geld him when he's fully grown.”

“Say some. Is it harder than being eaten?”

“Fine, we'll geld the stallion,” he sighed again.

“It's your horse.” I took a sip of my coffee.

“Actually, he's Jim's.”

“You know what I mean.” The man could be exasperating sometimes.

“Do you have a formal presentation ready for Jim?”

“I wanted your input first. I was hired to save the farm's finances. Not dismantle the place. I just don't see another way, Ethan.”

“Me either. Why do you think I was looking into DNA testing in cattle?”

“I'll get the report ready and have it on your desk by the end of the week,” I promised.

“I think it's time to start ground work with Tumbleweed. He needs to be halter trained and taught some basic commands on a lunge line. I prefer to teach a horse everything it needs to know long before anyone tries to climb on its back,” Ethan switched gears. “Do you think Aaron would like to help me some?”

“He'd love it. Are you sure?”

“Cheyenne says he's a natural in the saddle.” Ethan nodded and I couldn't help beaming with pride. “She thinks he'll be one of the good ones if he sticks with it.”

“He certainly wants to be.”

“He works hard and has the knack. He'll do it,” Ethan said with complete assurance.

“Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.” I avoided his eyes, unsure why I'd blurted that out, before standing to stretch a kink out of my back.

“It's the truth. Hey, where are you going? I'm not done with you yet.”

“Oh really?” I arched an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know?”

“If we are going to sell those mares, we're going to want to do some work with them. They're a little rusty on their manners since they've been busy having babies.”

“True.”

“You wanna work with one or two?”

“Me?” I choked on my French vanilla concoction.

“Is there a reason I shouldn't let you around my girls?” A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, I'd love to help. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” And just like that I was dismissed. I wandered back to my office, feeling a little dazed.

A whole lifetime of loving horses, and I'd never really had the chance to ride them. Oh, there'd been a trail ride here and there, but all of the brilliant horse-knowledge I had passed on to Aaron had come from books. I wasn't sure I wanted him to know he was a better rider than I was by now. And, like a crazy person, I had just agreed to hop on the back of horses that hadn't seen a rider in ages. As if on cue the phone rang.

“Hi Jonathan.” I sank into my chair and sighed. My older brother was calling to be nice. He was calling to make small talk. He was calling to see if I had come to my senses yet. Somewhere in the back of my perception, I could hear Ethan's truck rumble to life and my heart sank; the chances of him coming to save me just got
slimmer. At this point, my best plan of attack was to listen with one ear while putting together my report and occasionally chiming in with “uh-huh.”

“You aren't listening to me,” Jonathan accused.

“Of course I am.” I flat out lied.

“Sure.” He didn't sound convinced. “What are you really doing right now?”

Taking a chance, I took a deep breath and filled him in on the project I'd just undertaken.

“That's going to be a lot of work.” Jonathan let out a low whistle.

“Really? Gee, I was thinking that it would be a breeze.”

“You are such a brat,” he accused. “If you would let me finish, I was going to say it sounds like solid business sense. Good luck with your proposal.”

“Oh, well thank you then.” I was a little taken aback.

“Are you coming back for Thanksgiving?” He changed topics.

“Oh wow, is it time to start thinking about that already?” Where were the days going? “I don't know if I can afford to drive up now if we want to be there for Christmas.”

“I'll let you be the one to tell your sisters that.”

“Sure you don't want to do that for me?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Hailey, come here!” Ethan bellowed for me, which was completely unlike him.

“Oooh, I'd better go Jonathan. Something must be going on out there. Have a great day and thanks for calling. Love you.” I hung up the phone and dashed outside to find Ethan half-in, half-out of his truck.

“I found him beside the road. Someone must've dropped them off.” Ethan produced a red and white animal that vaguely resembled a dog. “He was sitting by what used to be his buddy.”

“Used to be?” I wasn't sure I wanted him to clarify that.

“The other dog had been hit by a car. I couldn't just leave him sitting there. Not sure we can keep him here; I don't have time to take care of him, and he's in no shape to run with the other dogs.”

“We'll take him in,” my mouth volunteered before my brain had time to process. “At least until he's healed up a little.” I examined the wounds on the dog's neck. He'd been tied with a collar that was too small in his recent past. There were a few other cuts and scrapes that said his journey thus far hadn't been an easy one. Still, he licked my face with gratitude, as if he somehow understood he was safe, and I decided it was worth whatever headache I had just brought upon myself.

“He's a pog,” I decided.

“Excuse me?”

“He looks like he's half-pig, half-dog… a pog,” I held the animal's head in my hands and examined his face. He had very pig-like ears with a bulldog underbite, small nose and wide mouth. The effect was an animal so ugly it was cute.

Ethan chuckled at my description, but he couldn't deny it. He set the pog on the ground, and the animal instantly started bounding around in Pepé Le Pew fashion, trying to get one of us to play with him. He had a very bulldog build and a docked tail, but with slightly longer legs – again, very reminiscent of a pig. He was absolutely ridiculous-looking and I couldn't wait to show Aaron. Ethan and I stood at his truck for a while, wondering what exactly had crossed with what to create an animal like that.

Eventually Ethan had to go back to work. I did too, but first I wanted to take care of the pog's wounds and show him to Aaron, who would be getting off the bus any time now.

I bathed him and cleaned his scratches and even found one of Blue's old collars to put around his neck. Aaron came bursting through the door about the time I finished. I could tell by the look on his face Ethan had already spilled the beans. He had the look of a boy who wanted to see his new dog.

“That's hilarious.” Aaron dropped his backpack and made a beeline for the animal.

“I said the same thing the first time I saw you.” I ruffled his hair.

“Very funny.” He playfully shoved me away.

“We could name him Lucky. In memory, we could name his friend Not-so,” I suggested.

“Oh, that's original.” Aaron rolled his eyes at me. “How about Rover?”

“Much better.” I nodded sagely, refusing to succumb to the urge to chuckle. “Rover it is.”

And just like that, our little family grew. Turns out Rover was a gigantic pain in the behind, but he was ridiculously cute and eternally grateful, so I found myself forgiving him a lot.

He loved to sneak up behind me while I was folding laundry to steal a sock or pair of underwear. Usually it was amusing and only mildly frustrating. That is, until he took off with my “too hot to handle” panties and tore through the yard with them. The look on Ethan's face when he retrieved them was almost worth my mortification.

Then came the day that I was hanging laundry on the line and heard a shudder-inducing, inhuman scream coming from the other side of the lawn. I dropped what I was doing to sprint in that direction as fast as my out-of-shape body could go. The days of eighth grade track seemed really distant at that moment.

What I found stopped me short and I stood with my head cocked, not quite sure how to proceed. Rover's behind was in the air, his face pressed low to the ground, held to some rolled up chicken wire by what appeared to be a squirrel stuck in the meshing. The beast had its teeth latched onto the dog's nose and didn't seem any-too-ready to let go.