The Starr Ann Chronicles

What's Wrong With Us?

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 18:37:00 +0000

Seeing as there are only three chapters left in Grand Theft Equine, Starr Ann and I have been revving up to start posting on a regular basis again. So, we were doing some cowgirl image searches, right?

We were both shocked that neither of us remembers this picture of Jane Fonda from Cat Ballou.

We don't remember this one, either.

I swear, we feel like we should turn in a license or something.

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Twenty-Four: Inquiry

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 02:27:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

ON THE FIRST sunny afternoon past last chance of frost, Cailen set a quick pace as soon as training was over. She spurred Joan through a bolted lunch at the kitchen counter before changing from barn clothes to old shirts and shorts fit for working in the garden.

"Angel, you've been itching to get your hands on these perennials since November, haven't you?" Joan didn’t hate gardening. She appreciated the smell of thawing dirt as much as the next person, though she preferred hers tinged with at least a hint of seasoned horse manure.

Cailen's was an acute case of spring fever. After vigorously probing some loose, graying mulch with a short piece of woody stem, she did not look pleased. "Yeah, well it's a shame to let all this work go to waste. Justine put these in, right? She sure did know what she was doing. There's a real plan in the works here, Joan. How many years have the delphiniums and columbines bloomed since she added new cuttings, do you remember?"

"The what?" All Joan saw was a confusion of nondescript weedy overgrowth.

Cailen dumbed it down. "Did Justine mention when she'd have to replace any of these, like the ones that bloom in vertical, cone-shaped clusters?"

"Not to me. She did seem to have intricate plans, with diagrams and a calendar, but I never really helped out here, so I have no idea what they were. It was beautiful out here when everything was in bloom, though."

Cailen surveyed the neglected patch, thinking she would need a little luck to reverse the devastation. "Did she leave those plans here at the house, by any chance?"

"Now that I can answer. She took them with her."

"Figures." By authority of a decision made, Cailen straightened from her squat. "Here's what we're going to do. We have to weed all this very carefully. You can tell the weeds from the offshoots and shrubs we want to keep, right?"

Joan reached for something she considered ugly. "This would be a wee—"

"No, not those." Cailen stopped Joan's hand just before it uprooted an iris rhizome by what remained of its brown dried-up stalk and suggested, "Why don't you point out some of the ones you'd keep?"

Joan pointed at some brown Sudan grass, a laid-over swatch with dried up Johnson grass in it, and some bright green early orchard grass that Cailen guessed had probably hitched a ride to the yard on boots from hay at the track.

Touching Joan's shoulder, Cailen gave in to amusement. "You're only seeing what could be used for pasture. Unfortunately, all of that constitutes weeds for our purposes." She tried to sound encouraging and enthusiastic. "I know, why don't you be the assistant at first? I'll work on the weeding while you run out for some new mulch. Most of this old stuff is moldy and has to go."

Joan narrowed her eyes. "You're matronizing me."

"Try to think of it as rescuing Justine's perennials from harm's way."

"Fine, I don't mind running the errands. What kind of mulch and how mulch?"

"You mean how much."

"No, how mulch mulch and what kind? Also, who's on first?" Joan thought that was pretty funny, but Cailen had both hands buried in soil now and seemed transported by sensation. Joan really didn't have the heart to break the spell with more corny humor. "So how many bags of mulch do you think we'll need, angel?"

Cailen fluffed around, gently feeling for bulbs, then stood to estimate volumes. "Get twenty bags of the red cedar to be on the safe side. Is there a decent amount of storage room in the shed in case we have a few bags left over?"

Joan eyed the shed door. There was every possibility she'd never been in there. Who the hell knew what was in that shed? "I'll go check." Her report was that, yes, there was plenty of room inside. The thing was practically empty.

"Great. Twenty bags, then. And do I get a surprise?"

"Trying to keep me gone longer so you can weed it all by yourself?"

"Harm's way, Joan, harm's way." Cailen kissed her good-bye. "Hmm, that warm sun on your skin, you smell even better than the dirt. Be careful."

"I will." Joan drove away smiling at herself for being so schoolgirl gratified over smelling even better than the dirt.

Half a muck-basketful of weeds after Joan left, an unfamiliar car cruised through the alley. It passed on by, but came back the opposite way, even more slowly, seconds later. Without appearing to do so, Cailen made certain she wasn't hanging out of her shirt or anything. Probably some jerk seeing what he can see. She would have to discuss privacy fencing with Joan. Too bad, in a neighborhood like this, leaving the alley open could be so nice and neighborly, but it all hinged on whether a couple of idiots chose to mess it up for everybody else. Cailen inwardly lost all patience when the car stopped and somebody got out.

Her demeanor must have reflected her agitation, because the woman, at least it was a woman, started right in with apologies. "I'm so sorry to disturb you. Nothing worse than finally getting the perfect day to dive into all this," she swept the sunglasses from her face and gestured broadly at the sky with them, "then having someone crash the intimacy of the whole thing."

Joan was always so courteous with people, and Cailen didn't want to become known as the grouchy one, so she made herself smile as she dropped everything she'd been doing. "That's all right. It really is a pretty day, isn't it?"

"Certainly is." The woman couldn't get enough of looking at the garden.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, thanks. You're probably going to think this is creepy, but I used to live here and have been thinking about this garden since waking up to such gorgeous weather. I took the day off and have spent much of the morning trying to resist driving by here like a stalker. No pun."

Cailen's real smile replaced the polite one. "Please tell me you're Justine."

Behind those deep brown eyes, a few deductions were made before Justine offered a friendly hand. "And I'll bet you're more than the gardener."

Letting that pass, since she was in the dark about the circumstances of the breakup, Cailen shook hands. "I've been trying to decipher what your intentions were here. All the labor you poured into this really shows. I'd want to see it cared for too, if I were you."

Justine continued to regard Cailen without replying. She shaded her eyes to look up toward the quiet house. All the solitary hours came back, seeing Cailen out here passing the time, working alone. "Is she having her pre-feed time nap?"

"Joan? No, she ran out for mulch."

"Mulch. Joan. Joan Caulder? Dazzling woman, about yay tall?" Justine gauged Joan's height fairly accurately.

Cailen couldn't purge the unalloyed affection from her grin. "She's due back any minute. Do you have time to stay a while and keep me on the right track here? Joan said there were written plans. I'd really like to follow through on the garden the way you designed it. I'll bet you can tell me everything that needs new cuttings and what's situated where, even without your notes."

*****

Joan swung her truck into the alley. Shit! The car was new, but the backyard wasn't so big that Joan couldn't recognize who Cailen was engrossed in deep consultation with, both of them gesturing significantly at some apparently fascinating area of ground near their feet. She unloaded one of the oversize bags and clutched it to her before embarking along the only approach, by way of a narrow concrete walk, to where they stood. Nothing awkward here, when you get down to it. Justine is the one who left me. So why do I feel like a criminal for helping Cailen with the gardening? Maybe because Justine asked me about a thousand times, an absolutely reasonable request, too, to share some time out here with her? Thank God it isn't Kate, at least. Kate could give even Lara a verbal run for her money. Please, Jus, don't be in the sardonic mood. Let it be a grown up banker lady day.

Justine had to half-turn from Cailen to greet her. "Joan, hi."

"Hi, Jus. Wait, let me put this down." Afraid of slaying one of the desirable plants—she really needed to discuss that whole weed versus worthwhile plant trick with Cailen later—Joan circled round, not sure where to disburden herself of the mulch. "Uh, let's see."

"On the sidewalk would be safe," Cailen suggested.

"Right." Her armor thus laid aside, Joan felt exposed but hugged Justine anyway, and with genuine fondness. "You look great."

"You too." Justine surveyed Joan from head to toe. "Enough of the mushy stuff. You almost killed my garden from neglect, do you realize that?" Her hands went to her hips, but the good spark was in her eyes.

For reply, Joan searched the ground and pointed to her cluster of orchard grass. "Weed or darling plant?"

"Weed." Justine didn't even pause to think.

"Weed or esteemed garden member?" Joan indicated the shoot Cailen had barely kept her from pulling.

"Iris."

"You and Cailen win. My answers were the exact opposite. You should be happy for my so-called neglect. If I'd flailed around out here alone, there'd be nothing left to save."

They stood around, eating fudgesickles and discussing the garden, until Cailen peeled the paper from her second bar and the other two said thanks, but one was enough for them.

So Cailen rolled up the brown sack's top until it snugged against the cool cardboard of the ice cream box. "If you're sure, I should get these inside before they melt."

When the screen door smacked shut Justine said, "How did Cailen get those incredible leg muscles?"

"Riding horses."

"Does she work for you?"

"With me, yes."

Cailen’s departure pushed gardening to the background, so there were no diversions from the inevitable catching up. "How's Brie?"

"Jade died."

Justine closed her eyes. "That's too sad to imagine. When? Is Brie okay?"

Still unable to fully take in stride the realness of Jade being gone, Joan halfway shook her head, then shrugged. "It's been a little over five months now. Brie handles it. I'm sure she'd love to see you, if you ever get the chance to drop by the barn."

"Maybe I will, if you truly don't mind. I miss Brie."

Joan nodded. "Brie misses you, too. Still." Jus was not going to believe this. A huge smile overtook Joan's face. "Brie's living off the track."

"No! With someone?"

"Believe it or not, I dare to venture that Senorita Contenta has been snared, heart and soul. She's a total goner." Joan followed Justine over to the yard's one tree, a billowy black sycamore whose leaves were barely poking out, to sit on the scrofulous green wooden bench beneath it. Justine had bought the seat during their first summer together and had stored it in the shed during winter weather. Joan hadn't thought to take it inside for protection, though. As they dusted away flaky paint before sitting, Joan commented, "I'll sand this down and paint it soon."

Rocking back, hands clasped in front of her crossed knees, Justine soaked up the sight of the familiar yard. Joan's words got through and she looked down at the weathered bench slats. "Joan, honey, you will not. Unless we disguise it as a horse, you're not about to spend five minutes on it. Cailen might. But you won't."

Joan heard more nostalgia than reproval in the remark and she had to laugh. "Maybe I'll help Cailen do it."

"You two are pretty inseparable, eh?" Justine looked sideways at her. "Give it up, will you? I'm not on the verge of freaking out."

"I know you aren't. But, Jus, about everything. I've realized lately that I should have made some effort to extend myself more."

Jus patted Joan's leg. "Honey, 'effort' is the operative word there. I will wager it's no effort to be out here with Cailen, and that's wonderful, I'm happy for you both." She used a single finger to loop Joan's forelock into a curl. "Please stop looking so guilty. My personal life has gotten extremely interesting, too. So, relax."

"Interesting? How? What's her name?" Joan gave Justine's arm a tweak.

"Tracy. Adorable, soft-hearted, butch and a little too young for me, but I can't help that."

"Congratulations. Hannah is four years younger than Brie."

"Her name's Hannah? Pretty."

The screen door announced Cailen's return from the house, where she'd found as many little tasks—bathroom, writing down her email address and phone number, and starting a load of barn clothes in the washer—as she could think of to give Joan and Justine a long enough visit without making Joan feel deserted, just in case things got uncomfortable out there.

She held out a piece of paper as she drew close to the bench. "Before we forget, here's my email address and cell phone number."

They'd evidently already discussed trading this information, Joan surmised, since Justine took it as a matter of course and retrieved a card from her back pocket.

"Here's all my current contact information." Justine stood. "Cailen, wonderful to meet you, see you Saturday. Joan, really, I can't say how nice this has been."

"Me too. Please come by the track and see Brie."

"Any chance I'd get to meet Hannah, too?"

"She grooms the four horses next to Brie's, so I can guarantee you'll meet her."

"Brie in love. Amazing. How about Sunday after next?"

"Actually, that would be fine, you could still visit with Brie and Hannah, but Cailen and I are taking that Sunday off."

All Justine could do was turn reverentially to Cailen. "Either you're superwoman or you're sneaking something into her coffee. Good job, whichever it is." She hugged Joan goodbye and promised to see Cailen at noon on Saturday before insisting they get back to work on the weeds instead of walking her to her car.

As Justine drove off, Joan asked about Saturday at noon.

"Justine's bringing her notes and diagrams and we're going to garden together. If it's okay with you, of course. I'll cancel if you're at all uncomfortable."

"Not a bit. I was at first, but that went great." Joan put an arm across Cailen's shoulder. "Allow me to warn you, though. If Kate ever shows up, don't expect the same luck. In that event, we run to the house and lock the doors."

*****

The very next afternoon, Cailen heard the yard calling again, since the weather was cloned from the day before. And muscling aside the grunt work before Saturday and Justine was only polite. Joan was showing some promise at weeding, but Cailen let her off the hook after a while by suggesting they could do with a couple of tarps and one more rake, a heavy claw one. And a hoe, for some reason there was no hoe in the shed. And the clippers needed to be sharpened. Plus, they'd gone through all but two of those bags of mulch, so five more would be good. Poor Joan. By the time Cailen finished her list, running errands loomed almost as oppressively as weeding.

Cailen was ready to take pity and absolve for both jobs. "Why don't you let me go for that stuff after I finish here. I don't mind a bit."

Snagging the list and shoving it into her pocket, Joan brightened. "You don't have to humor me. Besides, I think I'm starting to catch on to weeding already. You're probably going to end up being very impressed with what a good gardener I become."

"Already am. Look at the headway you've made on your side of the walk today."

Joan turned a complete circle. "Am I okay to go out? No dirt or grass stains on my butt or anything?"

The trowel slipped from Cailen's hand and landed with its tip poking into the friable ground. "Maybe we should forget this today and go upstairs. No big hurry, when you get down to it."

"Rain moving in tomorrow, remember?"

Cailen looked from her dirt-crusted hand to the front of Joan's work jeans. Soil washes out. As she took the first step forward, Cailen's intention penetrated and Joan made a mad dash for her truck, barely getting locked in before Cailen crashed into the driver's door and deliberately left dirty finger streaks down the window.

She called from outside the closed cab, "Will you stay inside with me while it rains tomorrow?"

"It's a date. I love you." Joan's voice came out muffled and small, swallowed by the interior's acoustic insulation.

"Me too. Be careful."

Just as Cailen was getting engrossed in the moiling again, another unfamiliar car, not Justine's, came sliding down the alley, extra slowly. Cailen thought, Surely this isn't Kate. When the car slipped with greased ease into Joan's vacated spot, Cailen stood in time to see a chauffeur hustle obligingly from a navy blue Rolls Royce with the blackest tinted windows she had ever seen. The impeccably uniformed man, a human version of the car in his sleek navy blue costume and dark, dark glasses, handed Sassy Rainier smartly out the rear door. Rolls Royce man then settled himself to stand stoically by as Sassy stalked up the walk.

She neither flitted nor fluttered this time, but walked with unyielding purpose. She wore a suit the color of brushed steel that appeared equally as resistant to wrinkling, its fit tailored and tubular, the severe austerity of which matched Sassy's hard-featured and businesslike face. This flinty woman bore no trace of the defeated, submissive one who'd tenderly left champagne and two glasses on the nightstand in that cabin in Camden. Two paces before reaching Cailen she whipped a fast check of her watch. One pace away, she held up a hand in imperial indication that no greeting was necessary.

Good, none was planned.

"Ms. Eagleton, I do not have much time, so listen carefully please. You are to move from this house at once. Not tomorrow. Tonight."

Cailen allowed herself an incredulous snicker before turning her back in dismissal of such nonsense.

Controlled fury put iron reinforcement into Sassy's voice as she raised it to announce, "Pennington's Lass weighs one thousand two hundred and thirty-five pounds. At present stock yard prices, she will bring eight hundred and sixty-two dollars."

Wheeling, Cailen gritted out, "What are you talking about?"

Sassy smiled, enjoying the sting of infliction. "Pennington's Lass, don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember. Why are you telling me what she weighs?" The sunlight, so buttery warm just moments before, had taken on a grating whiteness, its glare pushing Cailen to pat her pockets for sunglasses she'd left on the kitchen counter.

From behind the cool wraparound barricade of designer shades, Sassy's eyes shone in anticipated triumph as she delivered her well-coached lines. "Such a good girl, the men said. A very cooperative animal. The men from the abattoir said she stepped onto the scales and stood for them like an angel. Wasn't that a sweet thing for them to call her, an angel?"

Rage and scalding fear sent rigidity, followed closely by trembling weakness, through Cailen's limbs. Caution told her to keep check on the surface of her reactions, though, since that initial show of anger a moment ago appeared to be exactly what Sassy was after. Cailen waited.

"In Europe, you know, horse is often served as the main course. Very tasty, too. I enjoy it." Sassy's lasered and enameled teeth, superhumanly white, shone in a sick smile. "They say the flavor of a contented animal, an angel like Penny for instance, is quite superior to that of a stressed or nervous one. You and Joan can be thanked for any added flavor, given the lengths to which you've both gone on behalf of keeping her happy. Of course, this is only in the event you foolishly disobey my order to vacate."

Mid-ambush and maintaining provisionary neutrality across her features, Cailen assessed the situation as critically as she was able. Sassy was threatening to send Penny to the killers unless Cailen moved from Joan's house, no doubt unless she left Joan completely. Remembering what Joan had said about fifty thousand dollars being nothing to Sassy, Cailen had no reason to think she was bluffing on that count. Joan had also been very clear about Sassy having no interest in horses aside from business. Try as she might, Cailen could come up with no basis for either argument or appeal for Penny. Anything said without being thoroughly thought out could even make this worse.

An electronic device beeped from inside Sassy's slate-flat purse. She swiveled her head toward the chauffeur, who raised one hand with three fingers extended.

Sassy spoke quickly. "Joan's on her way back. I'm sure you've taken my point concerning the horse. I want you out of this house and Joan's life by midnight tonight. Joan is never to know of this conversation. If she gets wind of it, or if you do not leave, the papers have already been signed and a single call from me will have the meat packers loading Pennington's Lass onto one of their vans within an hour." Sassy let that sink in. "And if you think Joan can fix everything if you tell and she speaks with me, you'd both be mistaken. Oh, and don't worry about notifying me that you've cleared out of here. We will be watching and listening. Goodbye, Ms. Eagleton. I'll give your love to Penny when I get home."

All but caved in by Sassy's tactics, Cailen asked, "What do you think you can possibly gain by this?"

Sassy started to leave, but reconsidered. Some of that tender brokenness she'd shown in the cabin tried to emerge, but got chased back in. "Ms. Eagleton, you are a symptom of my Joan's inability to see her true place in this world. This is to save Joan. She deserves nothing less than first class, and since she can't quite see that, I have to see it for her." Any reply Cailen might have found held no interest for Sassy, so she pivoted on her first-class stilettos and jabbed them at the sidewalk all the way to her car.

Cailen stood motionless until forgetting to breathe made her so dizzy she lost balance and stumbled. That jolt and the realization that Penny's life depended on how well she handled the next few hours restored her clarity of mind.

Treat this like a programming problem. Stay in the left brain. I can do this. It's a problem like any other and there is a solution.

Fighting tears, Cailen ran down the knowns. Recalling the elaborate security system at Rainier Farms and Sassy's bottomless resources, she assumed that the phone was probably tapped and the house could even be bugged. So anything said on the phone or inside must be well staged. That meant intercepting Joan outside, in the yard, when she got home. And someone was probably watching the yard, from a parked car or even from a nearby upstairs window, since lots of the houses in this neighborhood had been divided up into apartments, which changed occupants often. So somehow, Cailen had to prevent a visible reaction from Joan as she learned of their bizarre predicament. Telling her inside the shed was one possibility, but both of them suddenly ducking in there might look suspicious. She'd have to wing that part. First things first, though. Cailen stormed into the house and dialed Brie's number, while keeping watch on the alley from a kitchen window for Joan's truck.

The cell rang three times before Brie answered. "Brie? Cailen. Listen, I know this is sudden and upsetting and unbelievable, but could I use the room tonight?"

"What, you and Joan looking to spice things up with different settings already?"

"Brie, please, I'm in no shape right now to play around, really. Listen to me. I am not joking. We're breaking up. I need a place to stay, just for tonight, then tomorrow I'll make other arrangements." Cailen could picture Brie's knitted, narrowing expression too well as this processed.

"Cailita, I don't know what to say. Please don't go to the room, come here tonight. What about Joan? Should I come be with one of you? Baby, why don't you come here with me, and maybe Hannah should go to Joan. Is Joan at home?"

"She will be soon. Look, I'll come there, but how about holding off on sending Hannah until she clears it with Joan? I don't know what she'll want. Brie, I'm so sorry to dump this on you. I have to go now, be there in two or three hours."

"We feed today, baby, so make it after four forty-five, can you?"

"Be there around five then, if you're sure its okay."

"Sure, anything you need. And I'll keep this phone very close until you get here. If either you or Joan calls, I'll answer immediately." Brie was quiet for a moment. "All I can say is I love both of you."

"I know. Thanks. Sorry."

The situation demanded thinking like Sassy's people. Ideally, they'd heard that conversation. Now, Cailen had to appear to find a way to pick a fight with Joan when she returned. And that had to be initiated outside, where it wouldn't be overheard. Cailen knew that open-air surveillance was technologically possible, but using it required too little background noise and too clear a shot at the target to be feasible among the boxy, closely spaced houses on their block. Sassy's people would have had to park a van full of equipment practically inside the backyard to monitor conversations out there.

As she turned to the problem of keeping a lid on Joan’s reactions, the truck swept into its spot and Cailen shot out the door. On her way down the walk, the idea hit that if Joan’s arms were wrapped around one of those large bags of mulch, the broader physical manifestations of her responses would be stifled. And since they'd be unloading stuff, it would be natural to enter the shed together. Then Cailen ruled out the idea of talking inside the shed. Being an enclosure made it a place where a listening device would work.

"Hi, angel, pretty quick trip, huh? And I proudly claim success with every item on your list." Joan toned down her volume. "I hurried so we could maybe finish weeding early enough to run upstairs before supper."

"Great. Here, let's start with the heavy stuff first, grab a bag of mulch."

Joan crisply saluted Cailen's take-charge manner, saying, “Yes, ma'am, whatever you say, ma'am," and hefted one of the bulky plastic bags.

Cailen grabbed the new rake and sharpened clippers before starting up the walk abreast of her.

Huffing under the burden of the mulch, Joan gave the rake and clippers a pointed look and smirky smile. "Don't strain yourself there."

Several paces inside the yard, Cailen deemed it safe to speak freely. "Joan, do not visibly react when I say this. Please. Keep looking ahead." She hurried her speech and slowed their pace. "Sassy Rainier was here while you were gone. No, don't talk, just listen, this is very bad. She says she'll sell Penny to the killers if I don't clear myself from your life. Keep walking and don't react. She claims to have us under surveillance. I know I sound crazy, but I swear this is all true. Now let's just go into the shed and unload, but it could be bugged so I can't tell you anymore until we're back out again. Understand, so far?"

Joan nodded. "Yes."

They took the final few steps to the shed and entered. Cailen feigned a casual air. "How much did they charge you to sharpen these trimmers?"

"Five dollars, I think." Joan's mind was fragmented, but she had the gist of how they should play this.

Outside, Cailen put her hands on her hips, tried to keep them from trembling, and drifted over by the area Joan had been weeding earlier.

Joan joined her. "I need more details."

"I know. Just keep looking down at the dirt with me while I talk. She came in a chauffeured car, marched up here and told me to leave you by midnight tonight. If I don't or if I tell you what she's threatening, Penny will be loaded onto a killer's van within the hour." Cailen stooped to pick up a handful of dirt and sift it through her fingers. "I totally believe her, Joan."

"Then so do I. Tell me what to do next." Joan put her hands on her hips, in imitation of Cailen's attitude, and appeared to survey the ground at her feet.

Cailen stood. "Let's finish unloading and I'll fill you in on what I've come up with. Remember, only casual talk in and around the shed." This time they each took a bag of mulch. "I already called Brie from inside the house to ask for a place to stay tonight. You and I have to stage an argument that gets bad enough for me to leave. It has to come entirely from my side and you just have to seem bewildered."

"That should be easy enough, I am bewildered. Are you okay?"

"Considering Penny's life is at the mercy of someone who is obviously psychotic, I am. The best thing for Penny is for us to stay sharp, so that's what we're going to do."

"Yes we will. Is there any chance that my talking to Sassy could stop this?"

They were nearing the shed. "No. She covered that. When we go in this time, I'm going to start picking on you."

"I love you and I know you love me." Joan got that in before they were too close to the shed.

Cailen dumped her load on top of the lumpy stack of bags. "So I don't get it. Why you cannot, after this amount of time at it, tell a weed from an expensive, established perennial, is beyond me."

"Angel, I'm sorry. I really am trying." They walked back outside.

"Back to your question, your calling Sassy would be disastrous for Penny. Now, when I get to Brie's I'll tell her the truth about what's going on. Brie already offered for Hannah to come here to be with you for as long as you need her tonight. That'll work well for us. After we stage our fight in the house I'll leave. When I get to their house, I'll think of some way for us to get together tomorrow to chart a plan. By then we'll have had some time to think. I shouldn't show up to work tomorrow. Anyway, you accept Hannah's offer to come over and I'll send a note with her outlining some safe way for us to meet. In the meantime, if you think of anything for her to relay back to me, write it down, don't try to say it out loud."

Approaching the shed with the final load, the real conversation gave way again to the contrived one.

"What has gotten into you, Cailen? Before I left we were talking and laughing, joking around. I'm sorry if I ruined a couple of the good ones, but please, don't be angry. I didn't grow up working in greenhouses like you did, you know."

"Growing up doing it or not, it isn't genetic sequencing, it's pulling weeds for God's sake! How simple can I make it?"

Outside, heading for the back door, Cailen asked, "So are we clear on this? Big blowup in the house. You act hurt and stunned. Hannah will bring written instructions from me about where we can meet. I love you with all my heart, I can't say that enough."

"Mine too." Still a safe distance from the bottom of the steps, Joan averred, "We will protect Penny, angel. Remember she is the only remaining leverage, and Sassy won't lightly give up the advantage of her continued existence."

"I promised Penny we'd always take care of her."

"And we will." Joan went up the back steps ahead of Cailen.

The fight was a remarkable display, or would have been to anyone with access to audio and video. Warm kisses and protective embraces punctuated harsh words, insults and pleas for compassion. When Cailen began to pack, Joan lent loving, silent assistance to provisioning a bag for an absence of two days. Neither of them could fathom enduring the present terms for longer than that.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Dona Nobis Pacem

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 00:31:00 +0000

My best friend Starr Ann and I spent much of yesterday brainstorming over what to say about Peace for this year's BlogBlast.

In the morning, while we were cleaning stalls, Starr Ann had herself an idea that featured me writing a poem about Peace. Well, after hearing me try out a few lines, Starr Ann realized she'd overshot. Can I help it that Peace so temptingly rhymes with grease, police, and almost with squeeze? Anyway, no poem.

Then, during lunch I started thinking maybe it would be fun for Starr Ann and me to collaborate on a parody of some famous song, only our words would be all about Peace. Starr Ann got all excited and said, "Let's do it to Crystal Blue Persuasion!" Which sounded good to me, but we had to start with the actual lyrics and we soon realized that Crystal Blue Persuasion already is about Peace.

We finally decided we were pushing ourselves too hard and the best thing to do would be just to sleep on it and fully expect a fantastic idea to be there, intact, when we woke up today. So, when I woke up with nada, I rushed to Starr Ann's room, positive the Peace Fairy (heh) had visited her overnight. Odd as this might sound, Starr Ann didn't wake up with the post fully formed in her mind either.

By that time, we were getting a little bit ticked at Mimi Lenox for moving BlogBlast up a day this year. If only we had that extra 24 hours, Starr Ann and I were sure we could come up with something. We were down at the pond, tossing stones in the water, finishing up our morning coffee, and blaming Mimi when all of a sudden, Starr Ann threw a rock in and at the instant it broke the surface, Starr Ann called out, "Peace!" Then, as the circle began to expand on the water where the stone had fallen, Starr Ann followed up with, "...starts with a simple act that spreads throughout the universe."

I pitched a stone and when it hit I said, "Peace!" And as the ring formed, I said, "...is knowing you've tried your best."

Starr Ann and I ended up hurling pebbles for a long time, broadcasting the word Peace! and a bunch of things it can mean, just the first things that came to our minds. Like,

Peace! ...lives in the smallest kindness

Peace! ...is a full, deep breath

Peace! ...spelled backward cannot be pronounced

Peace! ...is that blue heron standing there across the pond

Peace! ...in shorthand is ☮!

Peace! ...is bound to catch on sooner or later

Peace! ...is knowing your critters are healthy and happy

Peace! ...was invented by hippies in 1962

Peace! ...trumps religion

Peace! ...needs to walk up and smack Violence! upside the head

Peace! ...is the ultimate public option

When we'd run out of rocks to throw, Starr Ann shrugged her shoulders and said, "Let's just write those on the Chronicles tomorrow, because you know, Peace! ...is not fretting over your BlogBlast post."

And of course, that's what I did.

On the hike back up to the house, Starr Ann laughed that one laugh and said, "I could have sworn Crystal Blue Persuasion was about talking this woman named Crystal Blue into bed."

Chapter Twenty-Three: Eased

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 00:06:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Trailing with Car behind the last set, in which Captain Natural had breezed a sharp four furlongs in forty-seven flat, Joan spied approximately one-third of the front right quarter panel on Cailen’s truck parked there in its old spot. She cleared the end of Mitch’s barn next door at a full run and a scan of the shedrow put Brie’s smile directly in her sights. Still running full out, Joan yelled, “Where, Brie?”

Brie tipped a rolled bandage pad toward the office door and Joan aimed her path more precisely for it. She crossed the boundary from glaring sunshine to shedrow shade and entered the office in a move whose grace could only have been surpassed had she not slammed the door too hard, which sent Singer into a little dance as he cleared the corner.

Outside, Brie smacked the rolled up pad against her knee. “I knew she was going to scare the horses.”

The dust from Singer’s kicked up heels still floated on the air as inside, a long embrace was reluctantly slackened so Joan could smooth at the curls framing Cailen's face.

"How long do we have, angel?"

Cailen's mouth was so dry she could barely speak. "We're both pretty healthy, I'd say we have a good fifty years."

"I want sixty."

"Sixty, then."

Joan tried again. "What I meant was how long can you stay?"

"The whole sixty, if you like."

Joan jostled her and the sweetness of their bodies pressing together nearly swamped her senses. "Be serious, I need to know when you have to be back in Chicago."

"Never, as far as I can foresee." A confiding smile slowly claimed Cailen's features. "Joan, I have a rough idea of what went on here day before yesterday, albeit solely through Lara's version. That must have been some scene." She considered thoughtfully for a moment, taking her time, not realizing Joan hadn't drawn a breath since hearing that Cailen never had to go back. "The thought of you going through something so sordid woke me up good. The morning after she came in spouting off the whole mess, I signed the house over to her and left SoliSoft with an understanding that I may consider doing some programming for them, but only if I can do it from right here." Cailen nearly went into more detail about that prospect, but dismissed it for the moment. "You and I will have to discuss that when the time comes. Anyway," she blew out a long breath, "I'm home for good." She forced a sorrowful look onto her glowing face. "My dowry is reduced by half the sale price of the house, sorry. Don't worry, though, I can still go halves on Penny."

Desired and longed for as it was, the news presented a lot to absorb. Absolutely without warning, Joan cracked. She clung to Cailen and cried a deep, shoulder shaking, sob gulping, all-purpose cry—for Jade, for Brie's loss, for Lara's nastiness, and for the glorious relief of having Cailen back in her arms.

When the outburst shuddered to a rough halt, Cailen's soothing, "I'm here. I've got you," swerved Joan's emotions in another direction and for a while there was renewed energy behind her tears. This second wave of weeping, no longer in the convulsive category, played itself out evenly and dwindled gradually to a smooth stop.

Joan loosened her clench on Cailen and drew back to reveal a tear-washed smile. "I think I'm finished now."

"You sure? I'm not going anywhere and my shoulder won't melt, you know."

Joan shook her head, which was clogged to a density beyond her experience. "No, that'll do it for another twenty years or so, thanks." She laid her hand across her forehead, but smiled. "Guess we should get out there and say goodbye to Brie and Hannah." Joan's smile really did come out from behind the clouds then. "The sooner we do, the sooner I'll have you alone in the truck, and then home."

A discussion of logistics might be just the thing right now, Cailen thought. "Yeah, the truck. I'll need to drive mine home. We'll have to separate for the ride because a few of my nearest and dearest pieces of equipment have the cab jam-packed from ceiling to floorboard."

Part of Joan's attention was straying to the tissues she kept in the side desk drawer, and she was weighing whether getting one was worth letting go of Cailen. "Computers?"

"Sex toys."

Laughing made Joan’s need to blow her nose more critical. "It’s so lame when you try to be shocking."

"Okay, it's computer equipment—two towers, a scanner, my laptop, a large flat panel, all my personal digital devices, and a printer. The very minimum that I cannot do without."

Joan had retrieved a Kleenex and felt much better after blowing her nose. "I really have ended up with a geek, haven't I?"

"Before long, you won't be able to remember how you ever survived without your own personal geek around the house."

One more blow and Joan was ready to go, but she paused to ask, "Where does all the snot come from so immediately when you cry, I wonder? Is it always sitting in a reservoir somewhere, or does your body have to generate it that fast?"

Cailen guided their way to the door with a reassuring arm across Joan's shoulders. "After I'm set up, we'll check that on the Internet."

*****

The big door finally separated them from the outside world about an hour after Joan's torrent. Having secured Cailen's tech toys in what would become her study upstairs and agreed on the best configuration for parking their trucks along the alley behind the backyard, they were finally ready to settle in. And it was Cailen's turn to have an incongruous response. She dearly wanted to eat.

When they ended up in each others' arms on the stair landing, she meekly admitted, "If anybody would have tried to tell me I'd be home this long without getting you into bed, I'd have said they were deranged."

"But?"

"But I have this overpowering desire to sit across the kitchen table from you and eat food, a lot of food."

Joan took her hand, saying, "In the grand scheme of sixty years, why not?" and led her downstairs and through the kitchen's swinging saloon-style doors, where they overdid it on massive cream cheese veggie sandwiches, homemade butter asparagus soup, french fried sweet potatoes, beer, and big hunks of the leftover caramel cake experiment.

Cailen rocked her chair onto its back legs and held her belly. "I haven't felt this particular brand of miserable since we left Calabash Bob's that morning, remember?"

Joan patted her own stomach. "Coin flip or no coin flip, I couldn't drive right now to save my life."

"No way."

Anchored to the chairs by their intemperateness, they luxuriated in passing another little easy while there in the kitchen, spoiling themselves with conversation that was, at last, not edged in deferred solace. All those bleak months full of internal pep talks and heavy phone calls began the long process of fading from memory. Meanwhile, the future sketched, shaded, and painted portraits of itself, forming mental pictures that time would cure into memories. Everything either woman needed or wanted in that particular moment, however, sat exactly one kitchen table-width away.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Twenty-Two: Rough Riding

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 17:24:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

January got going with a whopper of a snowstorm. Fourteen inches of snow is downright entombment for a Southern city with no elevation to speak of. So the horses got two extra days of walking. Joan said it was a good thing they were supposed to be relaxing anyway. By the third day, maintenance had the track in good enough shape for training to resume.

The start of Brie's classes was delayed, too, but Hannah made her study anyway, or at least she lobbied for it. Brie had her own ideas about how to spend the found time.

Relaxing at the tiny kitchen table in Hannah’s apartment one snowy afternoon, Brie got up the nerve to mention the shadow that had been hovering between them. "You know, we never did get around to talking about why I couldn't look at you the day Jade left. You said you had a theory?"

Hannah was at the top of a footstool, snipping oregano from a high-hanging window planter. She stepped down and spread her fragrant harvest on a towel to dry. "The theory couldn't be simpler. You keep me at arm's length, Brie." Hannah raised her chin to intercept Brie's dissent. "It's not an accusation, I swear it isn't." She nailed her with a settling look. "You never expected me to come along, and now that I’m here, I'm going to screw up your program, or so you think. That’s why you work real hard to preserve this status quo we've established. But like I always tell you, Brie, it won't hold. We're meant to be together. The day Jade left, emotions were so high, I wanted with my whole heart to hold you, for both our sakes. You couldn't have handled it though, because something might give. The feelings I know you have too, might have cut loose. So you couldn't acknowledge me." Hannah stirred the spaghetti sauce the oregano was destined for. "Look at us though, Brie, together constantly because neither of us feels right anywhere else. And as far as me messing up your career plans, who feeds you, makes you study extra, does everything humanly possible to help you with school? Weird as it seems, because I've always looked out for numero uno—was that Spanish?"

"Not really."

"Self-serving as I've always been, doing those things for you makes me happier than I've ever been in my life. And there's no sex. Great goddess in heaven, we aren’t even making love." Hannah scoffed.

Brie stared at her hands for a long time, as long as it took for Hannah to cook the pasta and get their meal on the table. When they were seated to eat, she finally spoke. "You have had more patience with me than anybody should ever ask for. I am going to admit that you unnerve me. We agree completely on what you said about not feeling right when we are apart. That, alone, terrifies me." They ate for a while until Brie added, "You know, I try to figure out what you get out of our relationship and I come up with very little. There are years and years of hard work and schooling in my future. You should be living life, having fun."

Hannah fluttered her eyelashes mockingly. "I don't want to be happy, I want to be with you," she whined. Then she shook her head while slowly chewing a piece of garlic bread and washing it down with a sip of wine. "Someday you'll get it, Brie, one of these days you're finally going to hear what I've been telling you. And all I've got to say is, you better be worth the wait."

That was the line Hannah usually closed such discussions with, although this one had gone further and been more candid than any of their earlier talks.

Brie used her napkin. "That was delicious. Let's go borrow the sled I saw in your parents' garage and take it to the park."

After a quick check of the clock and brief consideration, Hannah allowed, "We can sled for just a little while, on the condition you promise to work on your first reading for at least an hour when we get back. Come on, Brie, you've got the syllabus and the books, why not get a jump on the semester?"

After snatching the sled, which Hannah couldn't believe Car hadn't beaten them to, they picked their way along the three blocks to Cherokee Park through deep, fluffy snow. "Hannah?"

"Brisada."

Insulated by a snow-blanketed ground and ice-coated trees, Brie's chuckle didn't roll far. "Cracks me up when you say my name that way." She breathed the cold dry air deeply. "I was thinking, it might be good if I bring my things over to the apartment and start paying half the expenses. Not that I'd give up the room. It's too convenient having a base right there in the barn, for both of us, don't you think?"

Hannah did what it took to not sound as ecstatic as she felt. "Definitely. No need whatsoever for you to give up the room. No need at all. But you'll move in? Actually move in?"

Brie looked corralled by her own suggestion. "If you're still offering the spare room."

"Heck, yeah. And forget about the expenses." Hannah caught an obstinate shift in the angle of Brie's head and shoulders, and immediately retreated. "Okay, you pay half."

*****

Forgoing Hialeah had been a sound decision, judging by the gloss on the horses and the lighthearted, energetic humor of almost everyone at Caulder Stables come the beginning of April. January's much talked about blizzard had set the tone for the remainder of that winter, making it a good one for laying low, and the weather's earlier ferocity made April's color and thaw even more precious than most years. When spring hit, Joan's stunned disbelief at passing another change of season without Cailen was the sole shadow on an otherwise idyllic return to verdancy and warmth.

And warm it did get, very early. That first week of April, a full month before the Derby, quickened everyone with sunny seventy-five-degree afternoons. Just after training on one of those unseasonable days, Joan noticed a woman, technically attractive, not really Brie’s type, standing in DotCom’s doorway yammering in slow hissing spurts. For having been, in the days before Hannah, so generous with invitations to the room, Brie had been darn good at averting misunderstandings. Over the years, there had been impressively few scenes like the one Joan imagined to be shaping up at that moment. Brie could spot clingy from a furlong away. Nonetheless, Joan surmised that the incident currently unfolding must be the upshot of some former escapade gone wrong.

Leaving them to the privacy of their quarrel, Joan had one foot on the single step-up to the office when Cailen’s name jutted up like jagged ice through the smooth surface of the woman’s modulated broadside. Joan halted to pay more attention. This hot-shit person had packed herself snugly into jeans and a scoopy top that stretched across scrunched, upward and inward, breasts. Definitely not Brie’s type.

Her volume picked up, pumped louder by growing anger. “Huh, Brie? Won’t answer me will you? What’s the matter, all of a sudden too classy to discuss personal matters?” She fumed as Brie remained silent, then finally commanded, “I said say something!”

Brie commented lazily, “Those jeans make your butt look big.”

“Too late to change this with your stupid idea of humor, Brie. Too late. I know you’re behind Cailen coming home full of ideas about selling our home. Everybody knows what a good fuck you and Cailen have always found each other to be. Oh, yeah, the legendary Cailen and Brie, friends who can fuck and still stay friends.” Lara stopped to catch breath and snarl a vengeful smile. “Cailen admitted you fucked her last meet, Brie. Yeah, she told me all about it, the way you got her crazy by saying how much you always loved doing her standing up because of how sexy it is the way her jeans fall open and away from her hips.” Lara mocked with faux Mexican accent, “After that, Cailita, I could not help myself.” She laughed as that remark changed Brie's casual disposition. “That is sexy, isn’t it? Always makes me hot, too.”

Enjoying her well executed course reversal and newfound leverage, Lara pressed forward against the webbing to showcase her cavernous cleavage and spoke with forced coolness now. “To tell the truth, you’ve accidentally done us a favor. Screwing around on me has helped Cailen wake up, like we’re in the same league again or something. We’re back together and it’s never been better. So, I probably ought to thank you, Brie. Fucking you for a couple of weeks has sent Cailen running right back to my bed, where she belongs.”

Joan was suddenly directly behind her, wearing a noncommittal smile. “You must be Lara.”

Lara pivoted, flipping her long brown braid over one shoulder and taking care not to turn her back on Brie completely. Her eyes flitted to Joan’s. “That’s right.” Until she could assess Joan’s relevance, she tempered her tone and managed a tight smile.

Joan’s smile was quite broad then, as she offered her hand and said, “I’m Joan Caulder, Brie’s fiancée.”

“Brie’s what? Caulder? As in Caulder Stables, I guess?” Lara glanced up at the big C on DotCom’s stall plaque.

“That’s correct, you’re in my shedrow.” Then turning to Brie and oozing attentiveness, Joan said, “Brie, darling, what’s going on here?”

Lara wasn't about to shut up. “I’ll tell you what’s going on here. Your intended has been fucking my girlfriend. She tried to wreck a happy home and a long-term relationship.” Lara paused and her wits accumulated some. “How did you know my name?”

“I recognized you as someone from Cailen’s past.” Joan entered the stall and claimed a spot next to Brie, putting a possessive arm across her shoulder.

“Why would Cailen discuss me with you?”

“Because you are her past and I plan on being her future.” Joan kissed Brie’s cheek for extra effect.

Hannah picked up on Joan’s tack as she eavesdropped two stalls away. At the point where Hannah entered DotCom’s stall to join Joan and Brie, Lara was still merely wary and mildly confused. Hannah put her arms around Brie and helped herself to a deep, unhurried kiss, then leaned back, still smiling at Brie, into Joan’s unsuspecting arms. Hannah thought, What the hell, not many chances like this, and spun around to claim a comparable kiss from Joan.

“When are we going home, babies? I’m starving.” Hannah made Joan continue to hold her.

By the power of some miracle, none of them laughed, even as they watched Lara puff way up and turn very red.

Joan said, “Hannah, uh darling, this is Lara.”

Hannah’s creamy blue eyes widened. “Hey, has Cailen unloaded that house yet? I can’t tell you how much we miss our beautiful Cailen.”

Spit foam actually flew from her mouth when Lara yelled, “Bunch of fucking racetrack trash!”

Hannah produced some real tears before burying her face in Joan’s breasts. Her muffled lament went, “Joan, you make us all so happy, why can’t people just accept us?”

That did it. Lara was done, and her stomp from the shedrow followed by slammed car door and tire-churned gravel sort of implied she wouldn’t be back.

Brie and Hannah beamed broad grins over their farce. All the color in Joan’s face had drained away once Lara was gone, but she smiled weakly back at them.

“You guys were wonderful. Sharp girl, Hannah.”

“Bet we won’t be seeing that one back here anytime soon.”

“Probably not. Thanks again, both of you. Brie, tell Car I’ve gone home for the day, will you?” Joan was done in.

“Sure.”
“Bye, then.” Joan spent her last smile of the morning as she poked her head back into the stall to say, “Very nice kiss, Hannah.”

“My pleasure.”

When the sound of Joan’s truck had fully faded, Brie finally explained, “Hearing all that vindictiveness aimed at Cailen was too abrasive for her.”

Hannah took in a deep breath, because she had a few words to use it on. “Brie, you’re just four years older than me. Why do you treat me like a child? I don’t need to be told it was hard for her to hear that stuff. And it wasn’t just the content, it was the crudeness, too. I wasn’t all that crazy about the content or the crudeness, myself. I mean, you and Cailen, when you and I haven’t even, yet. Sure, one thing to know you were together, another to hear somebody making up details about it.” Too in love to really be angry, Hannah winked at Brie on her way out of the stall.

Brie caught Hannah’s sleeve. “Very nice kiss, Hannah.”

“Gracias. Wish I knew the Spanish for ‘there’s lots more where that came from.’”

“I can teach you that. Maybe when we get home this evening?”

Knowing Brie was no tease, had never so much as led Hannah to think they were on the verge of even kissing, Hannah couldn’t remember a single thing about doing up the rest of her horses that morning. She spent the day so flustered, it was almost a relief later when, after feed time, Brie said she needed to go to Joan’s for a talk first, but would be home in a couple of hours. Hannah could sure use that time to regroup.

*****

On the suspicion that Joan was bound to be cooking up a storm, Brie went around to the kitchen door. All the windows were open and even the warm air out on the back porch was loaded down with baking smells. The screen door clapped dully when Brie knocked on its frame. She was all brown eyes and concern through the silvery sheen of the screen. Joan undid the latch with her elbow instead of putting down the big bowl she was stirring something in.

When the door latch rattled loose, Brie let herself in. “We need to discuss something Lara said.”

Joan was heading back to her work area, tending to the bowl. “No, Brie, we do not. It was an ugly, deceitful episode that’s best left unexamined. I’ve dismissed everything said about you as well as about Cailen, so don’t concern yourself over it.” With a flourish, Joan scraped out one last gob of cake mix and brightly offered Brie the coated bowl and spoon. “Here you go, just in time to lick the batter.”

Brie was too close to nausea to want it, but accepted anyway because that’s what she would normally have done. She caught Joan with a long, sobering look. “My conscience will not let us ignore one part of Lara’s nasty speech. What she said about how I seduced Cailen.” Brie paused to rid her hands, which needed their freedom for gesturing, of the sticky utensils.

“You and I have been over this, Brie. I’m not the least bit bothered by anything you and Cailen did before she and I got together. Anyway, Lara was merely making a good guess about that.”

Brie folded her arms and wished with all her heart she didn’t have to say what had to come next. “Joan, that’s the problem. It wasn’t a guess. She had word-for-word, accurate details from a very private conversation between Cailen and me. No way Lara could have gotten lucky enough to invent it, using my exact words.”

“Which exact words?”

“Cailen’s jeans falling open and all that.”

“Cailen would never have repeated such an intimate exchange, Brie. And she has not touched that creature since going back. How could you believe Cailen’s capable of any of this?”

“I don’t, but I’m having a hard time dismissing it, too. All I’m saying is we need to talk about it.” Brie had imagined Joan would be as heartsick and baffled as she was over the enormous weight of evidence that Cailen had, at the very least, been confiding in Lara on a deep level.

Joan proceeded to work while saying, “Well, little lawyer woman, let’s dissect this situation objectively. Would your evidence against Cailen be considered hearsay or circumstantial?”

“Hearsay, in that Lara is recounting something she was told was said. She did not personally take part in our conversation.” There was a brief pause while Brie thought. “But circumstantial in that she’s claiming Cailen’s disclosure makes it believable that they’re back together.”

Joan smiled. “So, your circumstantial evidence is based on hearsay. Pretty damn weak, counselor. Come back when you get something better than that.” Joan buttered some muffin cups as she added, “But to tell you the truth, Lara could stroll in here armed with a graphic video and her story would still be a pantload as far as I’m concerned.”

Brie picked up the bowl of drying batter and ran a finger through the streaks that were still gooey. “This is good, what is it and when will it be done?”

“A caramel cake I’ve been meaning to try ever since New Year’s Day fell through. The timer should go off in about twenty minutes. Why? Do you think I’ll actually share with someone who doubted Cailen like that?”

Still not convinced there was no cause for concern, but conceding that she’d jumped the gun somewhat, Brie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t reward me, because I'd still like to hear any credible explanation of how Lara knew all that.”

Joan’s focus on the food hadn’t wavered in the slightest and she pulled her face back from opening the oven door, saying resolutely, “We don’t need a credible explanation. We have our faith in Cailen.” Oven shut, end of discussion.

*****

Joan had a single, concise question for Brie when they’d settled at the desk with their coffee the following morning. “Where did you seduce Cailen?”

Brie blinked to make the vertigo stop. “What?”

Calmly, firmly, Joan rephrased. “Exactly where were you and Cailen located when the words Lara repeated so precisely were spoken?”

“In Knucklehead’s stall. Why?”

“Near the rear wall, I’ll venture.” Joan’s smile was both tender and triumphant at the thought of vindicating Cailen to Brie.

“The back corner closest to this end, yes.”

“Then I have your credible explanation—yours, not mine. I don’t need one.”

Appalled that Jimmy had been spying for Sassy and impressed with Joan’s deductions, which were absolutely plausible, Brie let go of her doubts about Cailen and repackaged her turbid responses into indignation that Joan had kept such juicy knowledge, the whole story of Jimmy being Sassy’s informant, to herself for more than two years.

Joan was exultant, as she qualified, “Not exclusively to myself, Car knows and Cailen knows.”

“Car? But not me?”

Painstakingly, Joan laid out her reasoning of the matter. “Car had to know so he and I could use Jimmy to our benefit. We’ve solidly established with Sassy, through intentionally leaked bits we’ve allowed Jimmy to hear, that Car supports Sassy’s opinions, even that he thinks I’m a fool to rebuff her advances.”

It was all far too interesting for Brie to maintain her tiff. Any ploy designed to foil Sassy was fine with her. And relief over Cailen’s exoneration was sinking in.

“An extra cup, okay? And even if we’re late getting started, tell me everything. Please?” Brie lilted over to the coffee stand, laughing. “This is huge.” She served them and took her seat. “First, why put Car on Farms’ good side?”

“So she’ll be likely to turn the string over to him in the event she pushes me too far someday and I have to break ties with her. That way, I’d have the comfort of knowing the horses are in good hands. Through Car, I would at least still have a link to them.” The part of her original reasoning that Joan didn’t mention was that if Car took over, he could have probably seen to it that Brie wasn’t separated from Jade.

Hannah popped in and gave Brie a significant nod. The look they exchanged reminded Joan of that rainy morning Hannah had first shown up, when Joan had finally walked away from the way they were making eyes at each other.

Brie took the meaning of Hannah’s nod and scrambled to her feet, saying, “Okay, let me go down and tie Thunder to the wall for you.” On her way out, she gave Hannah a kiss that was unmistakably of the morning after variety.

Joan forgot to be afraid of being alone in the room with a menstruating Hannah. She slumped into her chair. “My God, don’t tell me! That had to be the longest case of foreplay in history.”

Hannah ran both hands through her hair. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter 21: Holiday Card

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Christmas had not been far ahead when Jade left. It was traditional for all the Caulder horses to walk on Christmas morning and Joan tried her best to have the entire staff out of there before ten, with orders to stay gone until the following morning. Another tradition was for her and Brie to work off Christmas dinner by coming back and doing an abbreviated afternoon feed, just the two of them, all thirty horses. Afterward, they would sequester themselves at Joan's house with leftovers, a bottle of hundred-proof Wild Turkey and enough eggnog to make it slide down easy. Brie always stayed overnight in the guest bedroom.

Joan was cleaning her fifth stall of the morning, the one of Charles' situated next to Hannah's end stall and they were speaking through the wall. "Are you sure you can't get away from your parents' celebration for at least a short while, Hannah? There's plenty of food, believe me." Once again, Hannah had bowed aside to avoid interfering with Joan and Brie's customs.

"Brie and I have all the rest of our Christmases to spend together. You two enjoy each other." She was careful not to mention that thereafter Joan and Cailen would be initiating new holiday customs of their own. That would have pointed up Cailen's current absence.

Joan was getting used to both Hannah's confidence that she and Brie would be together forever and her cheerful ready willingness to say so. "Well then, if you won't drop by later, be sure to meet me in the office before you leave so I can give you your gift."

"Yours is in the car." Hannah came over to poke her head in Joan's stall. "It might be overstepping. If you don't like it will you please say so?"

"I've felt the same way about yours, that it might be overstepping. You say so too, if it is."

The number of horses being walked was thinning out and as grooms finished getting done up, most of them found Joan to wish her a happy holiday and thank her again for the generous bonus. Soon, the shedrow was quiet and down to the horses, Brie, Hannah and Joan. Hannah made one last rundown of the water, hay, halter, and door checklist for each of her horses. Satisfied that all were secure, comfortable, and happy, she jogged over to her car for Joan's gift.

A gold envelope, caught around its middle with thin red ribbon, sat in front of Joan there at her desk. Hannah backed into the office carrying a box wrapped in Sunday funnies with a huge shiny blue bow stuck on top. Before the door shut all the way, Brie called out to hold it open for a second as she lugged through with the big green, red, blue and silver box, tied with a bow made of hay twine, that held Joan's refurbished tack box. Each of them suddenly seized up with powerful doubts about their gifts, which brought escalated excitement and something akin to nervous chatter from all three.

Hannah broke the spell. "Like I said, Joan, you might have no interest whatsoever in this. But I was just thinking about how much energy it takes to be you every day."

"Well, you're probably going to think I've got a lot of nerve—wait, if I say anything else, you won't even need to unwrap it."

Brie tapped the big package. "It looks like we skimped on the wrapping, but you'll see the reason for the twine in a minute. Won't she, Hannah?"

Then everybody's wheels jammed up again for a few seconds.

Joan's hand shot the envelope forward. "You first, Hannah."

With obvious intent to save it, Hannah opened the envelope. Her face went so blank, those soft blue eyes giving nothing away, Joan was left dangling for the longest moment. The first active response was Hannah's question to Brie. "Did you know about this?"

She could tell Hannah was moved. "Joan would give me no clues. Hurry, what is it?"

"Incredible. Spanish lessons. Unbelievable, Joan, I don't know what to say."

"Pretty soon you will, en Español. So will I. If it's not too presumptuous, we can go to class together. I'm enrolled too."

"That's about the only thing that could have made this better. Thank you, I mean it."

Brie's hands went to her hips. "You are taking away the one strategic advantage Cailen and I have over you? Not fair."

"We're not going for fair, are we Joan?"

"What would be the point?"

Brie nudged the hay twine box. "This one next, Joan."

There was a card shoved beneath the knotted twine bow, so Joan opened that first and read aloud. "To Joan. Love, Hannah and Brie."

Hannah's eyes darted to Brie's. They'd agreed to make this gift from Brie alone, or at least Hannah thought they had. Brie did a so-sue-me shrug.

Joan performed the obligatory weight-checking rattle of the box, followed by the usual mystified expression, before unwrapping it with purpose. At first she truly forgot or, rather, failed to maintain awareness that anyone else was in the room. The incongruity of seeing it in this setting, the sheer familiarity of the old wooden case and a thousand memories it had been part of, whacked a catch into her breath. By its handle, which she had gripped over miles and miles of crossing her pastures seeking out her horses for grooming, she lifted the faithfully mended relic. She had to stare at it a few seconds before Brie and Hannah re-materialized.

"You guys, my groom box." Her hands roamed reverently across the surface as she lapsed into recollection of days gone by. "I'm sorry, am I acting like someone being interviewed following a natural disaster or winning the lottery, or something? Because that's how taken aback I am."

"That tells us nothing. Do you like it?"

"You could have no idea how much. Really, no idea. Thank you both, with all my heart. I can’t wait for Cailen to see it. Did she know about this?"

They shook their heads, smiling big time over their coup.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting hungry. We can't spend the whole day on one present." Brie avoided sentimentality like it was quicksand.

Hannah waved her hand graciously toward the funny papers box. "Ms. Caulder."

"Another one for me? Too much, Hannah, really." This one was filled with an assortment of vitamin bottles and supplement containers. "Aw, you want to keep me around for a good long time, don't you?"

"Like I said, you might not care to take up a deliberate regimen like this."

"Oh, but I do. Just never had time to shop for these and be faithful about taking them, that's all." Joan was removing items for individual inspection. "Fully digestible calcium, yes, water soluble vitamin E, yes, slow release iron, yes, glucosamine with chondroitin, yes. What's black cohosh for?"

"Menstrual difficulties."

Joan pitched that bottle to Hannah. "For all our sakes, you double up."

"Hey, no fair."

In one voice, Brie and Joan sing-songed, "We're not going for fair."

"Funny. Ha ha. Read the card, Joan."

Joan dug around under the packing materials, found it, read it, and fixed Brie with a cocky look while addressing Hannah. "You'll be packaging mine every day, just like you do Brie's? Excellent."

Joan was the last one to leave, right after Brie and Hannah had set out for home to shower and change. She was removing her key ring from its hook when the sound of a powerful diesel engine grew very loud before shutting down right outside. The truck was awesome, but it was nothing compared with the eight-horse trailer attached to it, which was maroon with white trim, and had a familiar C tastefully gracing each side. ‘Caulder Stables’ was emblazoned over the front. A big man with a haircut that made his head look blocky and huge shoulders that swallowed his neck was already unhitching the trailer in the time it had taken Joan to come from the office. A Rolls Royce pulled up beside the truck, with Sassy exiting it before her chauffeur could set the brake and get around to her door.

Sassy stood facing the trailer, rapturously appreciating its appearance. She whirled around at the sound of Joan’s surprised, “What on Earth!”

“I was so concerned the color wouldn’t exactly match your awnings and truck, but they do, don’t you think, Joan? They go perfectly, don’t they?” Sassy’s attention returned to the long-awaited sight of the trailer sitting next to Joan’s truck, just outside Joan’s barn, and she took in a long breath of satisfaction. She whispered, “It’s as if it has been here all along.”

Sassy’s Rolls had moved off to a discreet distance and the diesel was gone.

Painfully aware that this must be Sassy’s Christmas gift to her, and needing some time to come up with how she could diplomatically refuse it, Joan said, “Merry Christmas, Sassy.”

Real tears pooled in Sassy’s eyes. “Oh! Merry Christmas, Joan.” Almost taking Joan’s hand but stopping short, as if sticking to some resolve, Sassy took a few enthusiastic steps toward the trailer. “Please come look inside.” When Joan didn’t follow, Sassy’s next, “Please,” was so artless Joan didn’t have the heart not to join her.

The rig was extraordinary. Sassy explained the amenities in great detail, pulling down the hideaway cots and pullout awning, which also bore the Caulder colors, and running down all the safety features for the horses. The shock absorbent suspension was beyond her, but she dug out the owner’s manual from her enormous purse, assuring Joan the whole thing was described fully in it, on page forty-eight. And while she had her purse open, she handed over the title, license, and insurance papers, all taken care of.

Without giving pause for Joan to speak, she pulled out a bundle of envelopes. “And these. Joan, how many employees are on the payroll here these days?”

What a question to have pop up in the midst of all the trailer hoopla. Joan unconsciously rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen up. “Payroll. I believe there are eighteen at the moment.”

Sassy thrust the entire stack of envelopes at her. “Good. There are twenty cash bonuses here, so everyone should be covered. I think Brie should have—” She surveyed the empty parking area and tranquil shedrow, seeming to notice them for the first time. “Has everyone gone already?”

Joan nodded. “We try to wrap it up early on Christmas morning.”

“I guess one more day won’t make much difference. Please give one of those to each employee and I think the two extra should go to Brie, to help with tuition. She is the best groom around, you’ve said it many times.”

Joan fanned the bonuses. “This is very nice of you, Sassy. I’ll be happy to give them out tomorrow. But we need to discuss the trailer.” They were standing inside it, and Joan made a broad motion.

Sassy looked desperate. “Please don’t refuse it, please.”

“But it’s extravagant, too much.”

“Allow me to make my case before you decide. When you brought that horse to Camden last month you had to borrow the veterinarian’s trailer. Joan, I don’t want you to do without anything you need, anything. The thought of it distracts me no end. A woman, a trainer like you should have everything first class.”

Joan nodded. “True, I did borrow Anna’s trailer to ship Penny, but that was an isolated instance. How often do I trailer horses myself? Almost never.”

Folding her hands as if about to pray, but indulging in a secretive smile, Sassy spilled what she considered the big beans. “That may be about to change. Joan, this fall Rainier Farms purchased the most well-bred horse in its history. Corporate Governance. I believe Mag showed him to you when you were in Camden?”

“He’s a very fine specimen, that’s for sure.”

Sassy shivered. “May we finish discussing this in your office?”

“Sure, sorry, I forgot about the cold. Of course, come on.”

There’d been a time when Joan abhorred being alone with Sassy, but for weeks her come-on attitude had been absent in favor of a professional, albeit friendly, owner-trainer demeanor that Joan found infinitely more tolerable.

When they were seated with the desk between them, Sassy took up where they’d quit. “Corporate Governance is more than a fine specimen. Joan, I’ve always dreamed of you running a horse in the Kentucky Derby. He might be the one. Even Mag doesn’t dispute it. I want to send him to you as soon as you think he’s ready, or better yet, you come to Camden and pick him up personally. And I want you to have the means to move him or any of the other horses back and forth from track to farm, whenever you see fit. To do that, with a horse that might one day win the Derby, I think you should have the best transportation possible. You should have the best, Joan.”

Joan furtively checked the clock. Good God, Brie’s going to get there and find me not home yet. “Sassy, I don’t know where to start with all the reasons why I cannot keep that trailer.”

“Good, then don’t. Just accept it.” Sassy dropped her smile and said, looking down at her hands, folded in her lap. “I’m trying to start all over Joan. I want you to like me, as a friend. Mag says for that to happen you have to respect me first. I’ve been working very hard on being someone you can respect.”

“You can’t buy friends, Sassy. We can be friends without the trailer.”

Sassy stood and paced. “I was afraid you’d think it was a bribe. It isn’t. Look, the trailer is here, and I will admit I asked, I can’t remember his name right now, the man who drove it here, anyway I asked him to unhitch and leave right away, because I want you to at least think about keeping it. Will you just think about it? Call Mag, see if she doesn’t think you’ll probably need it now that Corporate Governance is coming along so nicely. He’ll have to ship all over for the races he’ll need before the Derby. If you can find no other grounds for keeping the trailer, we could always consider it a bonus for this past meet. Everybody’s talking about our performance here, you know.”

The quickest way to get out of there and home before Brie arrived was to say yes, so she did. “It’s a conditional acceptance, Sassy, I mean it. I have to think this over. Now, most of Christmas dinner is ready, just needs to be put in the oven for an hour or two. And there’s more than enough food to make Brie and me miserable from overeating, so would you like to come back to the house for dinner?” Brie will kill me dead.

“Thank you very much, but the plane is waiting to take me back. Do you believe twenty people are due at the farm in less than three hours and I’m standing here in Louisville?”

“Somehow, since it’s you, I do believe it.” Joan shook her head at Sassy’s uncertainty over how to take that. She smiled as she ushered them to the door. “Just practicing this concept of us being friends, Sassy. I have a habit of trading barbs with all my friends, take it or leave it.”

Casting one last proud glance over Joan’s trailer before stepping into the Rolls, Sassy looked the picture of peaceful contentment.

*****

Christmas dinner was eaten, chores were done, the fireplace had flickered to idle, and half the eggnog was gone. The time-honored moment for Joan to propose to Brie was upon them.

Joan began with, "Do you believe in polygamy?"

"No. Do you?

Heavy sigh. "No."

"So what do we do now?"

"About me proposing?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure." Joan got up and held out a hand for Brie's glass. "Finish that last bit and I'll get refills. We need more inspiration to figure things out this year."

"Amen."

Joan's phone, which she'd laid on the table next to her end of the sofa, rang, bringing her flying back from the kitchen. "Hi, angel," she said, breathless.

"Do you mean to tell me there's someone you're calling angel and we don't even know her yet? It's not Brie, because she's there with you, right? Joan?"

"Hi, Mom."

Brie clamped a hand over her mouth and left the room.

"So? Miles, did you know our daughter has someone she's serious enough about to be calling angel?"

"Mom, you'll meet her as soon as can be arranged. She has to be away from Louisville for a while, but as soon as she gets back, we'll be out, I promise."

"What does Brie think? Honey, you know we always hoped you and Brie would end up together."

"So you've told me. Brie and Cailen go way back and Brie's crazy about her. Is that good?"

"The name's Cailen, Miles. I guess it'll have to do for now, honey. We just called to wish you Merry Christmas and make sure you're still coming here for New Year's."

"Merry Christmas to you, too. Yes, I'm still planning to be there. I'll bring the dessert this time. There's a cake I've been meaning to try. Tell Dad it's full of caramel."

"He'll be in his glory. We know you're allergic to phones, so we won't keep you. We love you, Joan."

"I love you too, Mom. And I'm building a slight tolerance to these things, so go ahead and put Dad on."

"Miles, she wants to speak to her daddy."

"Hello, dear. Hope we haven't abused the fact that you had to give us your number."

"Hi, Dad. No, it's fine. Actually, it's wonderful hearing from you all. Call anytime, I mean it. Tell Mom, too."

"You and Brie must be pretty far into the eggnog. Better wait and see if you want to stick by that statement when the bourbon wears off. Love you, honey, and Merry Christmas. Be sure to give Brie our love."

"Deal. Love you too, and Merry Christmas. See you for New Year's."

Brie brought the drinks in as soon as the connection was closed.

"Deserter." Joan accepted her eggnog and took a discerning sip. "Firm yet strong."

Brie tried hers and nodded. "Stout yet hefty." She nestled back into her spot and defended herself. "It wasn't desertion, I just didn't want to be cracking up where they could hear me. How did they get your number, anyway?"

Joan's dismissive gesture overshot on disinterest. "Now that I have the phone, it's not right to keep the number from them."

He would never have wished her to be unhappy, so the glazed absence that passed over Brie's face was brief. "Jade."

"Yes." Joan squeezed Brie's ankle. "Hey, did I ever tell you how much my parents have always wanted you and me to be girlfriends?"

"No. Really?"

"It's true. Just now, Mom used my news about Cailen to reiterate that they have always thought we'd end up with each other."

"They're so good." Brie studied the fire. "Have you ever wondered why we haven't?"

Joan laughed and consulted the ceiling. "Dozens of times. Actually, I made a pass at you once, when we first knew each other."

"Impossible."'

"Possible."

"When?"

"Back when you were working at the farm. I stopped by the main barn looking for Mag, but she wasn't anywhere around. You were resetting the dressing on a little black colt with a foot abscess. You'd come back to soak it an extra time."

Fully interested, Brie strained to remember. "Oh, yeah, Bungee Chord. He was a good little boy. Mag sent him out with the West Coast string."

"Anyway, I think we had met about three times by then. I hung around for over an hour, trying to work the conversation onto personal topics, but you stayed right on message. Just the horse particulars, ma'am, all business."

Brie did that deep belly chuckle of hers. "You mean that was your idea of making a pass? I swear to God, it's almost a miracle you've ever had a date, let alone been to bed with so many women."

"Hey, watch it."

"I'm serious about this." Her giggles didn't sound all that serious to Joan. "Did they all have ESP or something? Unbelievable. That was your conception of a pass. So sorry to have missed out. If I'd had any idea I'm sure something could have been arranged."

"Oh, yes, one more complication added to the you, Cailen, and me relationship would be handy."

Brie took a good swallow. "Woo, this one's going to knock me on my butt. Speaking of Cailen, is she calling here or are you calling there? And when?"

"We didn't say either way for sure." Joan checked the mantelpiece clock and sighed. "I've been putting it off because I don't want it to be over. Saying goodnight is always so difficult. Put your feet up here, I'll massage them for you."

"Oh, my God, pure indulgence." Brie drained her glass before obliging. "You know I'll be totally gone after this, right? Just leave me on the couch here."

Less than ten minutes of conspiracy between bourbon, lazy fire crackles, and a delicious foot massage did indeed manage to knock Brie on her butt. Joan was giving it a few more minutes on the feet to make sure she was totally under before calling Cailen. But Cailen beat her to it, and this time when the phone rang Joan took an extra second to check caller i.d.

"Hello, angel."

"Howdy."

"Howdy?"

"Yep, howdy."

"Okay, then. I miss you, how's it going up there?"

"I miss you too, no way to express how much. But we could try. Do you know anything about phone sex?"

"Whoa, girl, no Merry Christmas, no how was dinner? Anyway, Brie's right here, asleep at the end of the couch. Now, how did you spend Christmas day?"

"Working. I volunteered to take standby today, since everybody else wanted to make personal plans. Went off duty a couple of hours ago."

"Standby. That means you didn't actually go in, just stayed by the phone or something?"

"Yeah, didn't get one call, could have predicted that. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

"How was dinner?"

"It turned out well. We were overstuffed as usual and hated the idea of getting out to do chores, but of course that's always the best cure for too much food."

"Great. Now, I think you're supposed to begin this with a wardrobe question. So, what are you wearing?"

Joan came very close to giggling. She whispered forcefully, "Cailen, I told you Brie is right here."

"Okay, what's she wearing?"

Joan set Brie's feet aside and shot off the couch. From the privacy of the kitchen, she asked, "Cailen, are you drinking?"

"A little eggnog, like you and Brie."

"How little?"

"Very little eggnog, lots of Wild Turkey. That's what you have, right?"

Joan made that sound again. "Right."

"You're giggling just like Brie."

"Yes, I heard that. I must be spending way too much time with her and Hannah."

"With who?"

"Brie and Hannah."

"Oh, right, Hannah. How's Brie doing, about Jade and everything?"

Joan paused to think back over the past weeks' transitions. "Jade's always there, but she's back to herself for the most part, at least on the surface. First thing in the morning is the most difficult part of the day for her, I believe. When the first set goes out his absence is so strongly felt, by all of us. But she's managing to be Brie."

"Always a trooper."

"Yes. How about you? I'm surprised about the bourbon, since you hate the way it tastes."

"I'm fine. Frustrated about no progress on the house."

"But that's going to change after the holidays. The house will sell and you'll be back and I'm never letting you leave again."

"Good. I hope you're right."

"What's the matter, angel, is there something else? People sell houses every day. It's going to happen."

"Hang on a second, I'm starting a pot of coffee." Sounds of running water and a cabinet shutting in the background had Joan taking pains to envision what Cailen's kitchen might look like, the sight of Cailen maneuvering in her very own kitchen.

"Godammit! Sorry, dropped the old grounds on the floor." Joan had never heard temper or profanity from Cailen. Not that she expected her to never exhibit either, but it was odd behavior, especially over something so piffling as spilled coffee grounds.

"There is more to it than simply selling the house, isn't there?"

"A little bit more, just annoying stuff. I'm sure when somebody makes a definite offer, everything’s going to iron out."

"What do you mean, 'when somebody makes an offer?' Of course that's what we're waiting for."

"No, I mean Lara is vowing she'll never sign to sell the house. I was so stupid, Joan. Her name is on the deed. We own it half and half."

"I didn't know she was back."

"For two days last week. I tried to be nice, civil, but she stormed through the door waving the For Sale sign, swearing up and down she'd never sign to sell." Cailen wasn't about to mention that Lara had thrown the sign at her, that one of its dirt-caked prongs had pierced the arm she'd put up to block her face, and had required three stitches plus a tetanus shot. "She thinks she can trap me here by not agreeing to sell."

"Two days. Is she gone now?"

"The next fit came when she discovered that I was staying in one of the extra bedrooms, with a latch on the inside of the door. That brought on a big tantrum and she went somewhere the next night. I haven't heard from her since."

"What a mess. Angel, maybe you should just let Lara have the house."

"I really think when it comes down to it, she's not going to be able to turn down half of the equity. Especially since she hasn't contributed anything to it. She'll be walking away with a good amount of cash, and I just don't see her turning that down." Cailen gratefully sipped her fresh-brewed coffee. "This is why I didn't want to get into this right now. Let's talk about good stuff, it's Christmas."

"Good stuff, let's see. I've made the decision about Hialeah. We're not shipping down there this year."

"Now that you've decided, I'll tell you what a relief that is to hear. Being five hours away is one thing, but I didn't know how we were going to handle living twenty-three hours apart. What made up your mind?"

"The success we've been having is a big part of it. We raced fairly heavily during the Churchill meet, and are shipping to Turfway once a week right now, having good results there, too."

"I know. Pepper's win the other day was pretty impressive. That filly has really moved up."

"Charles was awfully proud of her. Anyway, we've all, horses and people, been going at it hard for a few months now. I truly think the best course is to stay put, allow everybody to rest up, and be fresh for Churchill's spring meet. We've already far surpassed last year's earnings, so Sassy won't be disappointed. Neither should any of the other owners. My gut feeling is that if we keep pushing, we'll eventually hit a wall in the form of burnout or an injury. And there's no excuse for that. I told Brie this afternoon and she's overjoyed to be able to enroll here next semester instead of in Miami."

"I love you."

"And I love you. How's that coffee?'

"Good. Want some?"

"What I wouldn't give to be in a position to accept that offer!"

"Guess what? I just made a decision of my own."

"Tell me."

"To spend New Year's Eve and New Year's Day in Louisville. Somebody else's turn to do holiday standby."

"Are you certain? Please let's not plan this unless we can actually do it. You know, it's breaking our resolution to next see each other when it's for keeps, but that's been feeling more and more like a silly constraint." Joan took a breath. "I have to tone it down, or I'll wake Brie all the way in the other room."

"So it's a date? I get your first kiss of the New Year?"

"The first one, a couple million in between, and the last one. Then we start all over the next year."

"In that case, I'll definitely be there."

Joan put the leftovers in the fridge and turned out the kitchen light. "And speaking of kisses, night before last I had the most sentient dream about us kissing. We were in chest-high water, very warm, clear blue water. Like the ocean, only no waves. There were so many blues—the sky, the water, the horizon. Your eyes matched the water. Everything like crystal, but solid. Anyway, we stood facing each other in the water and the rules, you know how dreams sometimes have an understood, underlying organization?"

“Like you know the room you're in is the one you had when you were little, even though it's allowed to look different in the dream."

"Exactly. So in this one, the rules were that we could kiss, but only underwater. And we were fine with that, smiling and ducking under to kiss as long as possible before coming up for air. Sometimes you needed to come up first and some of the time I did. We got really good at telling when the other one needed to surface. At first we were fine with it, but then having to stop got frustrating." Joan was making her way through the house, securing the fireplace doors, putting a thick beige afghan over Brie, turning out lights in the upstairs hallway and bathroom, on her way to the bedroom. "At the same instant, we each realized that touching underwater was acceptable, so we continued to kiss and surface, but started a whole other level of intimacy below. The colors were so arresting, I can't begin to get across how stunning their effect was. They got all caught up in what we were doing. The more aroused we became, the more vivid the colors got." Joan closed the bedroom door behind her.

Cailen cleared her throat. "How did it end?"

"Let me just say that to the old question of whether I dream in color or black and white, I can go one better and report that in dreams I come in color."

A throaty little moan arrived from the Chicago end.

After lighting a candle on her dresser Joan undid her blouse and ran an open hand between her breasts. She asked, "So, angel, there was a clothing question?"

*****

On New Year’s Eve, Joan was alone at the barn, basking in the promise of a good day's training when Cailen called, less than twelve hours before she should be leaving Chicago. Lara had just phoned to say she'd had a change of heart and would drop by late that night to sign over her right to the house, which would give Cailen leeway to accept the first decent contract that came along. Lara even said she trusted Cailen to turn over her half of the sale price. Of course, Cailen had tried to inveigle meeting on another day, but Lara was inflexible. She would sign on New Year's Eve or not at all. The first call Joan received was not to cancel, but to discuss the possibility of postponing the start of their holiday together.

All through New Year’s Eve night, Lara strung Cailen along and caused so many delays that Cailen decided to forget about the contract and head for Louisville. But that didn’t even work, because her truck broke down two blocks from home - on New Year’s afternoon. Water had somehow gotten into the fuel tank.

It was clear their holiday plans had fallen through, and in the final, giving up phone call about the matter, Joan and Cailen had decided on comparative pain for dealing with their letdown. They were, after all, so lucky to have found each other. Whining about a brief delay not only lacked grace, it was childish, given the magnitude of true disappointment in so many lives.

"So let's buck up, little cowgirl. You sell that there house and git yerself back here as quick as you can, ya hear?"

"God, every accent you do is so terrible."

"Not. How about my British?"

"Please don't do it. Please. It's like a verbal walk across hot coals. All that ah-ah-ah."

"My tipsy Aussie, then. What about that one?"

"It sounds like your tipsy everything else."

"Now all this comes out. And after I've already told everybody we're engaged."

"Engaged? Who've you told that to?"

"Okay, nobody yet. But I was thinking the other day about how partner sounds like we really are cowgirls and I'm always tempted to pronounce it podna, and lover brings nudity and tongues to mind, and girlfriend is so froofy. Anyway, I thought fiancee would be good."

"But it isn't legal for us to marry, yet."

"Precisely. Fiancee makes a statement. Kinda assumes it's all just a matter of time, now don't it little lady?"

"Your John Wayne. It's not any good either."

"You recognized it, didn't you? Couldn't be that bad if you recognized it."

"Only because of the little lady. You always have him say little lady. Otherwise, somebody with flatulence, maybe a flatulent Aussie, would have been my first guess."

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Twenty: Green Pasture

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Joan punched at her phone as she pulled from the parking area, and in the conversation that followed, Sassy took the news with understated, businesslike seriousness. She assured Joan that Anna’s signature on the vet’s report would be sufficient for her insurance claim and gave permission for Jade’s body to be transported for burial at Joan’s family home in Versailles, Kentucky. She also remembered to send condolences to Brie, commenting on how close Brie and Jade had always been.

The next call was to the farm. “Mom?”

“Joan? Joan Caulder? For heaven’s sake, so this is what my daughter’s voice sounds like over a telephone.”

“Mom, there’s been a problem with one of our horses, Jade’s Gold. Remember him?”

“Sure I remember Brie’s favorite, what happened?”

“He passed away this morning. Twisted gut. There was nothing to be done to save him.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry. Wait a minute, honey, your dad’s scared.” Joan’s mother’s voice faded as she covered the receiver. “It’s one of the horses, Miles, the one Brie loves so much died this morning.”

Joan could hear her father in the background saying that was just awful. “Mom, I called because I think burying him would be the best thing for Brie at this point. May we bring him there?”

“Honey, you don’t even have to ask, you know that. They want to bury him here, Miles. Joan, your dad wants to speak with you. Be careful, honey.”

“I will. Dad?”

“Right here. Sorry about the horse, honey. What do you need me to do?”

“Well, track maintenance will see to it that he’s gotten out of the stall in time. After that, if we aren’t having the wagon pick him up, I think we’re on our own. I’m on my way to rent one of those boxy moving trucks now. One of those should be wide enough to get him into even after his legs stiffen, don’t you think?”

“Sure, plenty wide. But you’ll need me to get a loader over there to lift him into it. Lou Anderson’s boy, Jason, has something that would work. I’m gonna see if he can free it up today. If he can’t, don’t worry, we’ll come up with something else. Now, Joan, depending on how things work out, I’ll either be coming over with the machinery or staying here to dig.”

“Are you up to that?”

“Sure, nothing to it. Just an hour on the backhoe.” Miles Caulder thought for a minute. “Better give me a number so we can reach you. Somebody’ll have to vouch for the equipment coming in the track gate.”

Joan repeated the number a few times while Betty and Miles first thought they might simply memorize it then decided to fumble around for paper and a pen and write the thing down, just in case.

Two of the ten-foot-wide enclosed trucks were available when Joan got to the rental store. Once she was on the road in one of them headed back to Churchill, she speed dialed Cailen’s number.

"Hi ya, wonderful."

Joan felt everything inside relax a notch. "Hi!" She sounded utterly grateful and desperate, which sent alarm streaking through Cailen.

"What is it, what's the matter? You or Brie?"

Finding a considerably less strained tone, Joan tried to project steadiness. "Neither, angel, it's Jade. He colicked early this morning."

"Oh God, bad?"

"There was extensive separation. We couldn't save him."

Joan waited out the expected silence on the other end of the line without pressing.

"Poor Jade. Was Brie with him?"

"At the end, yes, and I believe he was aware she was there. Hope so, anyway."

Joan recounted the details, along with her plan to move him to the farm for burial that afternoon.

Flatly, Cailen commented, "You're thinking of Digna. That's why you want Brie to have a grave to visit."

"She's so quiet, Cailen. Should we give her space, or stick close, or what?"

"Who's we?"

"Hannah and me."

"Oh, right, forgot about Hannah. I know as much about getting Brie through something this bad as you do. Mostly good things happen to Brie. Not much negativity penetrates that attitude of hers."

"Angel, I'm almost to the gate, so we'd better hang up for now."

"A couple of things first. Once you guys get on the road, tell Brie I'm waiting for a call from her."

"Good, I'd feel much better if you spoke with her."

"The other thing is you. How are you doing, aside from being everybody's rock?"

"Believe me, I'm no rock. I nearly broke down at the sound of your voice when you answered." Joan checked her watch. "This nightmare is only four hours old and it feels like days."

"Do you want me to come down? I can fix things here at work and be there by five or six this evening."

"I know, but we'll probably be at my folks' by that time and, honestly, if I had you here I don't think I could let you leave again."

"Call me from the road then?"

"We will. I love you."

"I love you, Joan."

*****

A bulky mound of beige canvass lay outside Joan's barn, over by the center spigots, when she returned. Brie and Hannah stood next to it. To Joan, Brie standing there unfazed by the cold for once, holding herself in an awkwardly formal posture, was heartbreaking. She'd seen people, her mom, stand beside caskets with that same muted dignity. And the attentive helplessness Hannah radiated was almost as unbearable to witness.

Joan found Car first thing. "Catch me up on what's gone on here."

He tilted his chin toward Brie and his sister. "They didn't see any of it. Shedrow was all put back by the time they came out."

"Good job." Joan glanced at Jade's closed stall door.

"Left that closed out of, I don't know, respect I guess. But it's cleaned, down to the floor, with a layer of lime laid down."

"How long have they been standing out there?"

"Twenty minutes at the most. Brie won't take a chair, for some reason."

"What would we have done without you, Car? Thanks for being here."

Car’s cheeks colored some as Joan stepped onto the first rung of the loft ladder. Once up, she pushed two bales of straw to the edge and called, "Whoa back!"

Car checked the corner. "Nobody coming, Joan."

She toppled the straw bales into the shedrow below and Car dragged them off to one side. Joan climbed down and gathered the strings then carried a bale in each hand outside to the tarp.

"Sit, both of you. This could be a longish wait." Brie and Hannah sat. "Here's the situation. My dad or one of his friends is on the way with something we can use to lift Jade into that moving truck." They hadn't noticed the truck until Joan pointed to it. "After they load him, the three of us—Hannah, are you free for the rest of the day?"

Hannah nodded.

"The three of us are going to take Jade's body to my parents' farm for burial. Do you approve of all that, Brie?"

"I was so afraid we'd have to let him go to the renderers."

"That's not going to happen. Is my parents' farm okay with you? Case 'Em Out is buried there, you know that, so I'll never sell the place. It'll always be kept intact."

"It's the best place in the world for him."

Joan gave the silence about ten minutes before speaking again. "Brie?"

"Huh?"

"Could I have a little time here alone with him? After things start happening, I'll be busy and might not get another quiet spell."

"Sure." Brie stood and Hannah rose to follow.

"Why don't the two of you go to the room and find warmer clothes? That truck's heater doesn't work, so we have a frigid trip ahead of us. And, Hannah, maybe you could bring back three hot cups of that tea Brie fixed for you the other day."

"Good idea, come on Brie."

Joan was finishing a call with her dad when they returned. She hung up and locked the keys. "Dad's neighbor should be here in half an hour."

*****

The rented truck had that stark, industrial-for-its-own-protection feel, like a cheap motel room. Hard cold black vinyl, thick and comfortless enough to stand up to the abuse of renters, covered the seats and seat backs. A barren metallic no-nonsense dashboard apprised the occupants only of speed, gas and oil levels, and mileage. There were simple heater controls, apparently connected to nothing, and a big ashtray on a loose hinge that flapped open. But it was by far the better of the two trucks left to choose from. Joan had double-covered the seats with barn blankets and thrown a couple extra ones in for Brie and Hannah to wrap themselves in, especially for the late-evening return trip.

When they were on the interstate and up to cruising speed, Joan got the phone out. "May I get Cailen's number for you, Brie? She asked for a call from you when we were on the road."

Brie took the phone. "Drive, I can dial it." She punched in the number she'd committed to memory the evening after they'd given her the laptop.

Cailen was there right away. "Brie?"

"It's me, baby."

"Dígame acerca de lo, mija." The familiarity of Cailen's patient voice, her simple encouragement to 'Tell me about it, baby,' opened a valve in Brie’s heart. After so many pent up hours being barely capable of communicating the answers to direct questions, much less of expressing her feelings, she suddenly had to talk. For the next twenty miles, her stream of exotic Spanish cadence carried Hannah and Joan on its current, sparsely islanded with words they understood. There was Jade's name, along with Joan's a few times, and many Cailitas. Hannah did not hear her own name spoken once.

When the conversation was finished, Brie reminded Joan to call Cailen once she was safely home for the night. There was a change in Brie's demeanor from the phone call onward. Still subdued, she nonetheless lavished thanks on Joan for circumventing the more regular means of disposal. And she wanted to talk about exactly where Jade would be laid to rest.

"I can picture in general the top of that hill where you have Case 'Em Out, but tell me about what kind of things are growing up there."

Cailen had worked a miracle. Joan laid a hand on Brie’s knee, "Let's see, in early summer there are black raspberries along the old fence line there to the south, just inside that little stand of trees. Those are mostly just Osage orange and scrub cedars, nothing fancy, but they make a nice full wind block. We can come out in the spring and you can plant anything you like."

"Okay, we'll get advice from Cailen about that. Do you know her family, her mother, ran a bunch of greenhouses all while she was growing up?"

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah they did, so she'll know what should do well up there." Brie took Joan's hand. "This is unreal, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

*****

The Caulder farmhouse was not visible from the road. Its narrow river rock drive folded into a buffer of tall western pines and emerged a hundred yards further into a one-acre yard. Spread behind and around that were two pastures, the barn, a five-acre soybean field, and a few acres they had let grow wild that included the hill where Jade would rest. Wider than a pickup truck by a few feet, the square-bodied truck scraped loudly against pine boughs and left a wake of wildly waving limbs as Joan drove it through the buffer. The house itself was a two-storey clapboard painted pale blue - four bedrooms above living room, study, playroom and a great big kitchen.

They entered through the back and hung their coats on the mudroom rack before getting to the kitchen, where they heard Joan’s mom helloing from the next room before they saw her. It was a cinch Betty would be fixing chicken, because Brie always raved about the way she fried it. She rinsed batter from her hands and dried them on the way to the doorway for hugs.

"You girls sure are being put through the mill today. I'm so sorry." After releasing Joan and Brie, Betty hugged Hannah even though there hadn't been time to introduce her yet. Joan's mother was a few inches shorter and a little wider than her daughter, same coloring though, and they shared a confident ease in the way they carried themselves.

"Mom, this is our friend Hannah."

Betty had hold of both Hannah's hands and leaned back to take stock. "Hannah, are you any kin to Car? You look a whole lot like him."

“Yes ma'am, he's my twin brother.”

“He's a good boy.” Betty put her arm around Brie and walked her toward the table. “Miles should be back any minute. We can time things however you girls want. Supper will be ready in about an hour, but I can keep it on hold as long as you need. If you want to go up the hill first, that'll be fine. Whatever is going to be best for you all.”

Brie and Hannah looked to Joan. “Mom, none off us has eaten yet today. Is there something to hold us over until we've taken care of Jade? Afterward, I think we'd feel more like settling down to a whole meal.”

Betty was immediately into the refrigerator and cabinets. Joan pitched in and they had bread, cheese, sliced ham, and turkey, plus condiments, on the table by the time Brie and Hannah returned from washing up. Miles joined them, reporting that Jason Anderson was back from Louisville and had dropped off the loader. Joan didn't see any point in prolonging things, so as soon as the food was put away she suggested that she and her Dad go on up the hill. She would come back for Brie and Hannah before refilling the grave, but after Jade had been lowered in.

*****

Miles Caulder was fairly tall without a trace of lankiness. He looked as natural and at home in his body as he stood for a moment with an arm around Brie at the graveside as he did driving the bobcat back down the hill. When the diesel engine's knock had faded to nothing, the three women standing beside Jade's fresh grave took in the softer whir of a light breeze sifting itself through bare thorny Osage orange branches. The bracing air, which had been neutral, filled with sweet smoke from somebody's fireplace.

Brie inhaled and held it for a few beats. "Nice."

"Wild cherry, I think."

"It's beautiful up here, Joan." Hannah felt solid relief at having Jade's body securely in the ground and just hoped Brie was getting some comfort from it too.

Brie had spent the day between two hells. So much reverence and care extended to Jade brought back, with a renewed feeling of helplessness, the inadequacy of Digna's hasty, sandy burial. For so many years, Brie had counted on the buildup of time itself to cover Digna, but today she knew that would never be enough. Having lived those last days hungry, thirsty, and miserable, Digna had then been poorly secured in death. No going back, no changing it. But the plan was still intact. Brie's resolve to arm herself with the education for helping the overwhelmingly disadvantaged had never been stronger. Nothing would stop her.

She asked, "Are there coyotes around here, Joan?"

"Yes, a few."

Brie stooped down and smoothed her hand across some of the loose dirt. "No way they'll get to him, though. You and your parents have seen to that."

"No, I don't expect so."

*****

There was still enough daylight after supper, so Brie insisted on a visit with High and Nellie. It would be a shame to let Joan be this close to her old horses without taking time to see them.

Miles heard them talking about it and came back in from the mudroom, already wearing his coat. "Don't look for them in the pasture. I put them up so we could leave the gates open, with all the driving back and forth. I was just now going out to secure the gates and turn them out. Gonna be two angry horses if they don't get back outside soon."

Joan shook her head and smiled fondly. "Those two. Has to be in the teens before they'll stay inside without getting an attitude. Come to the barn with us, Dad?"

"Sure."

Halfway down to the barn Joan volunteered, "Let me close the gates, Dad. You guys go ahead and I'll be right there."

The carrots and sugar cubes Brie and Hannah brought went a long way in tempering High and Nellie's indignation over being put up for the afternoon, and they were their usual sweet selves. Securing the pasture's three far-flung gates took Joan a few minutes, so Miles was showing Brie and Hannah around the barn, pointing out the rafter Joan had once hit her head on, been knocked unconscious, when she'd gotten the bright idea to mount Nellie, who wasn't fully broken at the time, from inside the stall.

"Joan thought she'd be easier to get on in a confined space. Well, she no sooner lighted in the saddle than Nellie went straight up in the air. Joan was out cold for several seconds. Wonder she didn't end up getting stepped on, too, but once she'd rid herself of the burden, Nellie stood there just as still and nice. Really scared me, though."

Hannah spied a cobweb covered wooden box sitting on a table in a doorless tack room. "Wow, that's awesome."

"Mean you can tell what it is under all that dust?"

"Sure, it's an old fashioned tack box. Look, Brie, how much brush space there is and how high the sides are. Is this handmade, Mr. Caulder?"

"Really is okay to call me Miles, Hannah. Yep, Joan keeps saying someday she's going to take it home and clean it up, sand it down and refinish it. Been saying that for about eight or nine years, now."

High and Nellie were all over Joan when she finally returned. Nellie nickered and High stomped back and forth, demanding to get closer to her. It was always like this when the three of them reunited. Brie had actually been fearful for Joan the first time she'd come to the farm and they'd walked out to the pasture. It had been summer and the horses were on the far side grazing. Joan had whistled, causing both their heads to jerk up. Recognition was instant and they set a course for Joan that began at a curious trot, but built to an all out gallop by the time they reached her. They’d managed a wild, disorderly halt just a few feet from running her down, and then the three of them had nudged and pushed and patted their hellos for a very long time.

After turning the horses out and giving them supper, Joan noted the setting sun and suggested they get back to the house and gather up to head for Churchill. Hannah told her and Brie to go on ahead and asked Miles if he'd show her the engine in his tractor. That struck Joan as odd before she surmised it was likely an excuse to give her and Brie some time alone. Hannah certainly could be generous when it came to sharing Brie's company.

*****

Eight-thirty had a middle of the night aspect, coming as it did on the heels of a miserably cold drive back to Churchill. Betty had been right about them being put through the mill. Even Joan showed fatigue. After shutting down the truck's rough engine outside the office gap, she leaned her head forward briefly, soaking up the silence and steeping in the sensations of being returned.

When she pushed back from the steering wheel and sat up straight, Brie patted her leg. "You moved a mountain for us today. That will never be forgotten, no matter what."

Joan was very aware that Brie had scarcely addressed Hannah directly throughout the entire dreadful day. "So, where are you guys spending the night? Hannah's?" They plainly had not discussed it yet, and Joan could sense Hannah holding her breath during the ensuing hush. Finally, in the stillness of Brie not answering, Joan opened her door and dropped heavy-footed from the truck. "There are a few things for me to attend to in the office."

With Joan gone, Hannah got busy retrieving something wrapped in a big black plastic bag from behind the seat. "Hurry, let's get this to the room before Joan comes back out and sees."

"What is it?"

"Tell you in the room." She kept tabs on the closed office door. "Let's just get it in there."

Inside the room, Hannah unveiled the cobwebby tack box they'd seen in the Caulders' barn and took care to shield the immaculate floor from falling dust. Brie looked a bit like herself at the unexpected sight.

"Know what this is?"

Brie frowned puzzlement. "Sure, but what's it doing here?"

"Then tell me what it is."

"Joan's old tack box."

Hannah shook her head slowly, smiling slyly. "No, this here is your Christmas gift to Joan."

The words were nonsensical, but the smile succeeded in reawakening Brie to how much Hannah felt like home to her. It was as if she were truly aware of her for the first time all day. "I think I'm a little slow right now. You will have to spell this out."

"Remember how Miles said Joan has been wanting to restore this? Well, he and I didn't really check out the tractor when we stayed behind in the barn. I asked him if he thought it would spoil things for us to refinish it for her. He said hell no, Joan was never going to get to it, but having it done would make her ecstatic. So, since you've been racking your brain about what to get her for Christmas, I thought we could fix it up for her."

Brie didn't have the gumption to envision a project. "Only thing is, no tools and no know-how."

"My parents have a workshop in their basement that rarely gets used, except by their one and only daughter. I can help you make this beautiful again. Joan'll be stunned."

Brie ran her hand along the tack box edge then across the uppercase cursive JMC carved into a side panel. "Hannah?"

"Brisada." Brie smiled at the melodramatic way Hannah said that.

"I know I've been weird with you today. I mean, you've stuck by me and I've been so, just weird." She shook her head. "I can't explain it. Why was I like that?"

"I have a theory. But do you really want to talk through it tonight? It can wait until tomorrow, or the day after. This isn't about me, and anyway I'm fine, I just want you to be all right."

Brie had a feeling they probably were too tired for a big discussion before sleeping. She went to her dresser, but before getting clean clothes out, she asked, "Am I welcome at the apartment tonight? I don't think I can stand to be away from you."

It was the most open declaration of need Brie had ever allowed herself to make to Hannah, but Hannah was not about to capitalize, not on this night. She thanked her goddesses Brie was coming home, though, and concentrated on getting her there in time for enough sleep before morning, which promised to be difficult enough, even on a full night's sleep, with Jade's empty stall sitting there in the middle of everything.

"You know the answer to that. It will always be yes. Mind if I check on Joan while you get your clothes together?"

"No, I'll be right over." Brie anticipated the airiness of Hannah's place, with its blended scents of herbal teas, basil growing in the window planter, and two tangy oranges they had picked up yesterday. Mainly, though, there would be Hannah. After Digna, there had only been the night's cold, dark trek until morning when it would be time to lie in a new ditch, frying on the hot desert floor, waiting for the next darkness to come. And then again, and again.

Joan was locking the office when Hannah came outside. "Do you need to get in here, Hannah? I can leave it open."

"No, we're on our way out, but I wanted to thank you for giving me such, I don't know what to call it, legitimacy I guess, today. Legitimacy in Brie's life, I mean. It's not like we're a real couple, yet."

Uncharacteristically philosophical after the day's solemnity, Joan pondered the capriciousness of a woman's status in another woman's life. "You know, I say lets take, and give, our legitimacy where we can find it. What defines a real couple, anyway?"

Brie practically staggered from the room carrying her little pack of clothing.

"Hannah, get that woman home before she falls on her face."

"On the way!" Hannah had moved her car to the barn next door when the loader came for Jade. "Brie, stay here while I get the car. Night, Joan, and thanks again."

"Goodnight, no thanks necessary. Brie, Car already said he and Ramon have things covered tomorrow if you and Hannah want to take the day off."

They weren't twenty feet from Jade's sealed stall. "No, here's where we belong. But don't worry about me if we disappear pretty soon after getting our horses done up. Hannah and I need to have a long talk."

"Good. Do that." Joan kissed her cheek before wrapping her in a protective hug. Poor Brie didn't even try to take advantage.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Nineteen: Favorite

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Brim Holden, the night watchman, tossed up a careless goodbye wave on his way out. He was gimping pretty good.

He paused to say something, or maybe just to rest for a few seconds. “Knees are killing me this morning, Joan.”

“See that, Brim. Anything I can do?”

The old guy had been around the track for a lot of years. With a stomach lining half chewed away from eating bute to ease his arthritic knees, and the crippling effect of the arthritis itself, even the light duties of watching over the horses and setting out morning feed were about the limit of what he could physically handle anymore. Brain still worked though, and he did know horses.

“Naw. Goin’ home for a hot soak and put some WD-40 on ‘em. Be good as new by time to show up tonight, don’t worry.”

Joan started a pot brewing before beginning her shedrow rounds. Jade’s corner stall was the first one she passed. As usual, he was sprawled on his side, having one last snooze before training time. More often than not, the big battleship gray colt was also snoring, but all was silent this morning.

DotCom came next. She paused mid-lick on her salt block, tongue partway out, resting on the little brick as she registered, nervous filly, that it was just Joan at the door having a look at her. Before reaching Knucklehead in the next stall, Joan heard a snore down at Jade’s end and absently listened for a rhythmic repetition to kick in.

Odd, just one.

As she ran a tender hand over Knucklehead’s heels, which were wont to chap in cold dry weather like they were having, she heard what was plainly not a snore but a grunt issue from Jade’s stall. In the seconds it took her to get down there another cry, definitely pain now, escaped him.

A quick rummage through the straw around where he laid revealed no stools. Jade’s bowels had not moved overnight. His morning oats were untouched, too.

“Hey, big boy, you aren’t trying to colic on us, are you?” Maintaining outward composure, Joan laid a reassuring hand on the side of his head, up by that soft flesh at the base of the ear. “Take it easy, buddy.” She quietly left his stall, her mind sorting and prioritizing as she ran for all she was worth toward the feed room while unpocketing the cell phone and following the steps Cailen had shown her to speed dial Anna Blevins’ number. “Please answer, Anna.”

Before the fourth ring Joan had already laid out petroleum jelly and a thermometer and was drawing Banamine into a large needled syringe. On the fifth, Anna answered.

A churning sound that Joan hoped was Anna’s truck engine filled the background. “This is Dr. Blevins.”

“Anna, Joan. I just found Jade acting very colicky. Can you come take a look?”

“Right away, I’ll be there in three minutes. Less. Is he down?”

“Yes, but I can’t say for how long. Not a single pile in his straw. I’m about to take his temperature. Is ten milliliters of Banamine okay?”

“Take the temp, but since I’m so close, hold the painkiller until I’ve examined him. Turning in the gate now, go ahead and get that temp stick in him.”

Joan coolly slipped back into the stall and knelt down beside Jade. “We’ve got you, buddy. Let’s hope this is just a great big old gas pain.” She eased her hand along his neck, withers, and back, trying to avoid surprising him when she lifted his tail. Her touch above his abdomen, light as it was, brought a flinch and a groan of profound discomfort. She smeared petroleum jelly on the thermometer before inserting it gingerly into his rectum. A string tied to the protruding part of the glass column had a clothespin on the opposite end, which she carefully clipped to some tail hair as a precaution against losing the instrument inside him or in the straw before noting the time.

Help arrived before the two minutes were up. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” Anna dropped to her knees and got to work, checking Jade’s eyes, gum color and bowel sounds. She yanked the stethoscope from her ears. “Nothing moving in there. Absolutely nothing. How long on the temp?”

Joan consulted her watch. “Thirty more seconds.”

Anna was punching on her cell phone while checking his pulse and respiration. “I’d like to get Erin on her way with what we’ll need for emergency surgery right here, not saying we’ll need it, but just in case.” Joan nodded and Anna spoke into the phone while palpating Jade’s stomach. “Erin, we’ve got a possible volvulus at Joan Caulder’s, Barn 81B, corner stall by the office. Bring everything we’ll need for emergency surgery as quickly as you can.” Jade’s distress at being pressed, even gently, was audible through the phone. “No, I don’t expect he’ll be getting up on his own. It’ll have to be here. Any questions concerning what equipment to bring? Good.” She hung up.

“Hundred and three point four,” was Joan’s gloomy temp report.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough. Do you have any objections to my opening him up, Joan? His pain level is much higher than either gas or simple blockage should cause. From my exam, I’d say we have torsion in this area.” Anna indicated the site without actually touching him again and then drew a syringe of morphine. “This will take the edge off in a minute or two.”

Erin made it there in fifteen minutes and Joan hustled out to help her unload the panel van. Jade was groggy by then and, Joan hoped, only dimly aware, if at all, of bright lamps being clipped overhead and straw being hastily kicked from two corners to make way for monitors that hummed monotonously after they were switched on.

At that point, Joan surrendered her authority and relegated herself to being an observer. But her mind had to do something, so it empathized with Jade, much like the way she used to lie on pasture grass at home and mentally inhabit High or Nellie’s body. She knew that to his equine olfactory system, the astringent odor must have been overpowering. When the pain blocker hit, she felt the muscles loosen first in his withers and on down to his hocks. She saw Anna sterilize her hands and then wrestle with latex gloves, an exaggerated struggle to get them on without compromising their sterility that looked perversely comical, a pantomime taking place in some other reality. Only Jade’s face, so handsome and familiar, seemed real. Stainless steel instruments energetically glinted light from those overhead lamps and clanked starkly in a metal tray. Abruptly, the intrusive sounds of Car and Hannah’s straining voices filtered into the dreamlike scene.

“Brie, no, you shouldn’t!”

The moment she heard Brie’s name, Joan recognized the end of her own allotted time for being dazed, and she noiselessly moved outside. “I’ve got her, Car.” Joan’s natural strength far surpassed Brie’s, but desperation multiplies might, so she was almost more than Joan could handle. Hannah jumped in and they looked like reckless brawlers as they managed to roughly cram Brie through the office door. When the door was shut and Joan believed Jade couldn’t hear her, she yelled, “Stop it!”

Brie was at the bottom of an emotional well. Her perceptions were pushed back to a stage where she barely understood English, but spat venomous curses in her own language while clawing back toward the door.

Joan kept battling. “Stop it! I’m going to let you go in. Do you hear me, Brie? You can be with him. But Jade is in no shape to tolerate this!”

Jade’s name recalled Brie from the sickening tunnel. She went limp and in a voice hoarse from the force of her pleas she said, “I promise to be calm. Let me go in.”

The morning was still black, but the shedrow looked like exaggerated high noon. From the office threshold you’d think a movie scene was being shot in Jade’s stall with all the bystanders, bright lights, and the sense of drama. Brie crept inside and lowered herself to the straw just behind his neck and head. Joan signaled the somber stable hands to move back as she closed both panels of the white wooden door behind Hannah and herself.

Barely daring to breathe as Anna methodically located the spot where the intestine had twisted and pulled away, each woman receded to that place in herself that sanctioned spirituality.

Hannah filled her mind with tranquil thoughts for both Jade and Brie. She vividly imagined the entire universe opening its limitless store of positive, peaceful energy to them and envisioned them immersed in the natural order and flow beyond bodily confinements.

As always, Joan relied on herself. She sat behind Brie and formulated the possible outcomes, inwardly pleading with Jade. Come on, big boy, try.

The Hail Mary kept starting up in Brie’s mind and she repeatedly shut it off before the second line, The Lord is with thee, because she didn’t believe in any of that anymore. No hard feelings, she just didn’t buy it, and to spasmodically reach for it when there was trouble felt dishonorable. She found she could shut off the prayer by focusing hard on Jade. Her eyes drifted to the chevron-shaped scar on his shoulder that was probably the result of something he’d done at the farm when he was a baby.

Anna’s jaw muscles suddenly tightened down even harder.

Dios te salve, María; llena eres de gracia; el Señor es—Brie forced her attention away from Anna, down Jade’s leg and to his right front hoof, his only light colored one, the one that looked exactly like a beautiful creamy turtle shell on the bottom, such a surprise some mornings when she was still a little sleepy and forgot which hoof she was picking and the frog-shaped mud fell out to reveal that pretty pecan pattern.

Anna put an instrument down without going for another one.

Dios te salve, María; llena eres de gracia; el Señor es contigo.

She considered her incision site for a moment.

Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.

Anna made frank eye contact with Joan, then with Brie, and then with Joan again.

Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores—No! Not sinners.

Brie’s prayer broke off as she realized Anna was speaking.

“… and with that much separation, there’s no possibility of repair.”

Joan must have nodded, because Anna looked back at Brie again. Brie nodded too, so Anna prepared the injection, located a neck vein, and repositioned her stethoscope. Brie settled herself lengthwise along Jade’s neck and back. A view from the ceiling would have given the impression she was riding him, flat out. Joan’s hand was on Brie’s shoulder and Hannah’s fingertips rested at the crown of Brie’s head. Brie buried her face in Jade’s crest and breathed his final breaths with him, taking in his distinct gray horse smell, until one exhalation seemed to go on forever.

“Fly now, mijo,” whispered Brie into the curve of his mane. She closed her eyes and witnessed a joyful beginning. “¿Es instantáneo? ¿Ahora cabalga Digna un caballo gris hermoso?”

Respectfully but efficiently, Anna and Erin packed up their gear. Joan motioned for Hannah to stay with Brie and went outside with Anna.

“How long before his legs are too stiff to get him out of there?”

“That depends. Why? Maintenance should have someone over here in plenty of time. You have your hands full, I can stop by and inform them if you like.”

Joan’s mind was darting, but purposeful. “Okay, but let them know I don’t want him transported, just extricated from the stall. We’ll cover him with a tarp and have him out of here before the day’s over.”

“Out of here, where?”

“My parents’ farm, if about a dozen pieces will fall into place right.”

Erin put the last case in the back of the van and slammed the door. Joan walked over to say, “Erin, thank you so much for everything. You got the equipment here in an impossibly short time. We appreciate your efforts.”

“I just wish the outcome could have been positive, Ms. Caulder.”

“I do too.” Joan turned to Anna. “Thank you too, Anna. You both did all that was possible.”

“So, I’m informing maintenance, correct?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Erin, I’ll see you back at the office.”

Before the vet had driven from sight, Joan was back at Jade’s stall door. Brie was still sitting beside him, and Joan signaled for Hannah to come outside.

Whispering, because Hannah had barely cleared the door and seemed willing to go no further, Joan said, “I have some arrangements to make, so will be gone for a while. You’ll stay close to Brie?”

“As close as she’ll let me. What about my horses?”

“Car will have someone take care of yours and Brie’s other three. May I have a minute alone with her before I go?”

Taken off guard by Joan’s deference, Hannah said, “Of course.”

Brie barely looked up when Joan entered and seated herself in the straw near Jade’s face.

She slowly stroked his forelock until Brie spoke. “Maintenance will be here pretty soon, won’t they?”

“Shouldn’t be long.” Joan laid her hand flat against his muzzle. “When they do, I want you—”

“No, Joan, the groom stays with the horse until the wagon comes.”

“Listen a minute. Nobody is going to force you to do anything. Now, please listen and consider for me. When they come, it’ll be just to pull him out of the stall. I wish you’d go into the office while they do that. I’m not sending him over for the wagon to pick him up. He’s staying here until I can make some arrangements.”

“What kind of arrangements?”

“Can I tell you that after I find out how possible they are? For now, just know that we’re not sending him over for pickup, okay?”

“I’m staying with him for as long as possible. I’m his groom.”

“Yes, you are. But will you go into the office with Hannah while they move him? You’ll be right back out with him.”

Brie sighed. It didn’t matter anyway. “Okay.”

“I have to leave for a while.” Joan kissed Brie’s temple before standing.

Outside, Joan found Hannah pacing just inches from the door and put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I’ll probably still be gone when the backhoe gets here. Brie has agreed to go inside the office with you while they move Jade out.”

“Got it.” Hannah looked like she might be sick.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Go on, do what you have to do and get back here with us.”

“This shouldn’t take more than two hours, maybe less. Here’s my cell phone number. If you or Brie needs me, don’t hesitate.” Hannah looked at the display and punched the number into her phone.

Joan caught up with Car at the schedule board making adjustments. He already had several horses out walking, released from galloping because there wouldn’t be time enough to get them all out. He stopped what he was doing when she approached.

“Good, Car. Do whatever you think best about rearranging sets. Besides getting started late, you’ll have to get everybody out of the shedrow when maintenance gets here.”

“Already talked to Mitch across the parking lot. When the backhoe gets here, we’ll shift the walkers over to his shedrow.”

“Thank him for me. I have to leave for a while. When they move Jade, make sure Hannah and Brie are in the office with the door shut tight. And clean up any hair or hide that the dragging leaves before they come back out. If I’m back I’ll do it, but I may still be gone.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got everything.”

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Eighteen: Lead Change

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Singer won his first race that meet, just as Jade had won his. By the end of the first week, Caulder Stables was two for two, both quite classy races. In fact, Joan’s horses ended up hitting the board more times than not that fall, and when they weren’t in the money they usually at least got fourth or fifth, which entitled them to a piece of the purse. In Jade’s big race, his Grade II stakes attempt, he turned in a very respectable second behind Noble Consent, a horse nobody was going to beat on that particular day. Days after the race, Brie was still showering Jade with praise over his valiant stretch run.

Joan and Cailen tried hard to keep phone calls to a minimum, as they both agreed the loneliness afterward was more intense. They always talked at the end of race days, though, because Cailen knew all the horses personally and wanted to make sure they had come back uninjured. By the end of the meet, the first of December, it seemed like they’d been separated for months and Cailen could still report no progress in selling the house. It was beginning to look like they might just as well accept that people just didn’t have time to house hunt during the holidays. Even though it was priced to go, there would probably be no sale until after the New Year.

Sassy's manners had been impeccable—no inappropriate touching of Joan, no open or veiled insults to Brie, no wheedling for attention. Good thing, too, because she showed up for each race and almost every weekend. Joan was encouraged and relieved by the apparent transformation, while Brie waited for the other shoe to drop.

At the beginning of December everything slowed down. Churchill’s meet was over, and although Joan liked to ship up to Turfway for a few races on their winter card, the frenetic pace of a race every two or three days was eased for a while. She still hadn’t decided whether to leave Louisville in early January for racing at Hialeah before coming back for Churchill’s spring meet. Brie’s last class was on December 8, so there were a few weeks to look forward to during the holidays when the workday settled into routine training only.

On one particular morning, Brie banged free of her room more enthusiastically than usual. It was Saturday and she and Hannah had spent Friday evening watching a video, but never managed to get past curling up on opposite ends of Hannah’s couch talking about first loves and coming out. The evening could not have been more emotionally intimate, but physical intimacy hadn’t quite developed, which was an astonishing circumstance, given their respective histories and operating assumptions about life and sexuality. Still, Brie was feeling marvelous.

“Hey, Joan.”

“Hey.” The smile still came quickly to Joan’s features, but missing Cailen was weighing on her.

Brie paused at the office threshold. “Got a few minutes? I think we’re running a little early.”

“Sure.” When the door was securely caught behind them, Joan asked what was up.

“No one specific thing. We just haven’t talked in a while.”

“That’s true. I don’t even know what’s been happening with you and Hannah.” Joan took her seat behind the desk and propped her feet on its edge, indicating there was no hurry.

Brie parked her butt against the coffee stand. “Hannah and I are good friends.”

“Friends who spend almost every free moment together. That’s still going on, right?”

Brie shrugged. “I guess so.”

To continue to let this pass without giving Brie a hard time would have been a serious breach of the articles of their friendship. “You guess so? Unbelievable. Brisada Contenta, treasurer of the female body, champion of physical love, sustains an inseparable platonic friendship with an alluring, reputedly predatory lesbian, for a month and a half. Has to be some kind of record, Brie. Know what I think?”

“I’m sure I will in a few seconds.”

With the sparring, Joan’s eyes had regained a bit of their sparkle. “I think you’re afraid of Hannah Wells.”

Brie had no return volley. She lowered her dark brown eyes to the like-colored surface in her cup, which rippled mildly from the slight didder of her hand. “I really am.”

Joan’s face went into free fall as she got to her feet and rounded the desk to get to Brie. “Oh, God, you are. I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I didn’t realize.” Joan took Brie by the shoulders and peered into her face. “Why? Is there a girlfriend? Surely not, I mean, with the amount of time you two spend together. Tell me about it so I can help.”

Brie shrugged, trying to discount the subject’s import but her words, as always, were honest. “I’m a walking cliché. She’s on my mind constantly, when we’re apart I live for the minute we get back together, when we’re together all I can think of is touching her, and on and on and on. Total clichés, but it’s like this is the first time anybody ever felt this way.” The most tepid smile Joan had ever seen on Brie’s face came and went unceremoniously. “That was one more cliché for you.”

Joan was stooping by the chair. “Do you know why you’re afraid?”

Brie nodded and rolled her eyes in self-mockery.

With a mild, not unkind laugh Joan said, “I’ve certainly never seen you like this. So, what is it you’re afraid of?”

“Joan, look how hard I’ve worked on my plan to get through law school. Even if everything works out perfectly, it’s going to take me six whole more years. And that depends on a bunch of things, like getting the right job after becoming a paralegal. I just don’t need to fall in love right now. It’s sure to slow me down. Slow me down and slow her down. I don’t want Hannah treading water for years waiting for me to have time for a regular life. It’s not easy living with someone who’s in school full time, and when I really get into law school, well, there’s going to be absolutely no spare time, no spare energy.”

“What does Hannah say?”

Glumly, Brie reported, “She says we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. All I have to do is get used to the idea.”

“Hannah comes right out and says that to you?”

“Every day or two.” Brie’s delivery couldn’t have been dourer.

“Sex?”

“Says she’ll wait as long as it takes.” A little smile surfaced. “And that I better be worth it.”

Joan returned to her chair to think for a minute. When she spoke, she didn’t rush her words. “You say Hannah is going to ruin your plans. Seems to me that all she’s done since the first day you met is help with your plans. She’s taken over your meals, she sees to it that you do your homework and get enough sleep. Then there’s the vitamin thing.” She flipped the desk calendar edge a few times. “Maybe you should consider letting your guard down some.”

“Maybe.”

Joan mused over a few sips of coffee before warning, “But perhaps not this morning.”

Off her guard because most of what she’d just acknowledged was news to her, Brie didn’t catch the hint of consternation in Joan’s voice. “Why’s that?”

“Hannah tied Thunder to the back wall for grooming this morning. I saw him there just before she saw me, so I made my escape.”

“I must have missed something. What are you talking about?”

Joan hit the high points of that conversation with Hannah about Thunder being the kind of stallion who notices when a woman is having her period, complete with Hannah’s black mumbled warning.

Brie jumped to her feet and began to pace with one hand flat on her forehead, which Joan knew was never a good sign. Finding a little coffee left in the pot, Brie sloshed it into Joan’s cup without asking first. “I need to run some plain water through this,” she said, as she put an empty filter in the basket and poured spring water into the maker. Then she ordered, “Watch that while I go to the room. There’s some tea, supposed to be very soothing, that I swiped from the apartment to give her when this happened.” And she was gone.

By the time Brie returned with the tea, there was enough hot water to fill the mug she brought along with it. Concentration slowed her words, made them elastic, as she prepared the concoction. “Hannah told me to stay clear of her on these days, but that’s not how it’s going to go. I found this tea shoved to the back of one of her kitchen cabinets. The box says it restores a woman’s sense of well being on her special days. Something stupid like that.” Brie pressed carefully at the tea bag and added just a spoon tip of honey. “But it’s worth a try.” When she was satisfied with the tea’s strength, she stood up straight, looking hopeful, and said, “Wish me luck.”

“Luck. May I make more coffee now?”

“Sure.”

Joan hopped across the room ahead of Brie to catch the door—no sense in risking the precious contents of that mug. Then instead of closing the door, Joan watched Brie carry her holy tea to Hannah’s stalls.

Rejection of the tea and any other assistance Brie might get it into her head to offer was swift and loud, easily heard inside the office. Poor Brie rushed back inside, all in a flurry, then rebounded to the shedrow and tossed the tea into the ditch.

“That didn’t go over so well. She said it smells like coffee from running the water through that maker.” Brie contemptuously indicated the machine that was dutifully sputtering out its next pot.

“She did warn us, Brie. Maybe keeping clear really is the best tactic.”

“No. She’s miserable, that’s why she acts so badly. Don’t be mad at her, Joan.”

“I’m not mad at anyone. I just know when to stay away from a hormonally challenged woman, that’s all. You never met Amanda.”

“All I know is that she’s miserable and I’m not going to let her go through it alone every month now that I’m here. She can be as mean to me as she wants, but I’m not going to let her scare me off.” Brie checked the cabinet underneath the coffee bar to make sure they were well stocked with spring water. “Joan, I have to run to Walgreen’s to buy a virgin coffee maker. Would you tack up Jade for me? This should only take twenty minutes, total.”

Joan was floored. She would have happily assumed Brie’s entire job for as long as she needed, no reasons necessary. But that willingness to oblige didn’t lessen the force of such an exceptional moment. Asking for help of any kind was far enough outside Brie’s nature to make this request seem phenomenal to Joan.

“Of course, but don’t drive fast or hurry, I’ve got you covered,” was Joan’s stunned reply.

By late the next evening, the worst was over. But the passing of the storm itself didn’t bring an all clear. Once the chemicals evened out and she felt less bloated and ugly, Hannah was consumed with regret over how she’d behaved and Brie had to rally all her powers of persuasion to mollify Hannah’s self-reproach. Things weren’t fully back to normal until the third day after Hannah started. And once it was over, Brie embarked on a new mission to tame Hannah’s unruly ovaries, not so much for herself—three rough days out of twenty-eight weren’t so much to put up with—but for Hannah.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Seventeen: Winning Meet

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Joan canvassed her shedrow for a good long while on the morning Cailen left. A week away from her horses, an entire enchanted week of being out of touch with their daily small crises—a hoof drying out, a tendon filling up, snot in a nose, loose stools, hard stools—had her feeling a little out of the loop, so she’d come in super early to reconnect with each horse before embarking on her first morning back in the action.

Half an hour earlier, she and Cailen had kissed goodbye at the curbstone in front of the house. Now Joan was ready to train horses. Her right rear jeans pocket was the new home of the cell phone Cailen had given her, and she pulled it out to reassure herself it was still on, keys locked to prevent inadvertent engagement, and that it was ready to receive Cailen’s call, which was expected sometime between nine and ten, as the drive to Chicago took roughly five hours, plus the time it took to get to the house in Arlington Heights. Joan’s phone check revealed no change in status. If Cailen needed to get through, she could.

An increasingly familiar-sounding engine neared and cut off just outside the parking area then glided silently into its spot. Brie and Hannah climbed up and out of the low-slung car. Hannah peeled off toward her stalls, hips and arms swinging freely, as Brie cut left to join Joan.

Brie stopped a few yards short of Joan and planted her hands on her hips. “How do you do that?”

Joan’s eyes quit the gratifying sight of her shedrow to flash a confident smile at Brie. “Do what?”

“Make everything seem so much more under control just by standing there?” Brie led their way to the coffee pot. “I mean, Car and I had it, we really did. No problem. Everything went great while you were gone. But now that you’re back…forget it, it’s hard to explain.”

“Just habit, Brie, merely what you’re accustomed to. The horses look wonderful, and the few changes Car had to make to our long-term schedule were right on the money, perfect decisions. You guys did great.” Joan’s eyes did a there and back in the direction of Hannah’s section of shedrow. “Do you need to change clothes?”

“No, I showered and dressed at the apartment before we left.”

“In that case, would you mind getting our coffee ready?” Joan thrust her empty cup at Brie. “I’d like a moment with Hannah. All four of her horses are dappled out to the max, really quite a stunning improvement in only a week.”

When Brie was feeling proud of something she loved, Jade for instance, her chest and stomach jutted outward and upward ever so slightly and her dimples all but disappeared. It interested Joan to see this transformation on Hannah’s behalf.

“She has them glowing for sure, but wait until you see how they act with her already. Hannah’s really something, Joan.”

“So it seems. I’ll be right back. Let me go tell her how much I appreciate her work.” Playfully, she added, “I certainly hope you haven’t forgotten how I take my coffee.”

Thunder was one who always went in the first set, so Hannah was busy knocking the night’s dust off him. She had him facing the front of the stall and was brushing his tail as he munched alfalfa from a bulging hay net. Thunder wore his halter, but wasn’t secured to anything. He acknowledged Joan’s pat on his neck by making eye contact without withdrawing his nose from deep in the sweet, leafy hay.

“Hannah, I can’t say how impressive it is that you’ve won such trust from this colt after so few days working with him.”

Hannah suspended her brush and ran a hand along Thunder’s body as she walked toward the door. “Thank you. He’s such a great boy,” she said, scratching the side of his unconcerned face. “Just needed some extra interest taken in him, that’s all.”

Joan gave herself a couple of seconds to study Hannah, the woman. “You’ve worked your tail off on all four of them and it shows.”

“That’s my job. I wasn’t bullshitting you during my interview. I totally love being a groom. It’s selfish, really, not a bit of work ethic involved. I love having my hands on them, smelling them, listening to them eat. That’s a biggie, the rhythmic crunching of hungry, healthy horses eating oats and rustling through their hay is at least as soothing as the sound of the ocean, I think. And …” Hannah fluffed her short gold hair. “From what Brie says, I don’t have to sell you on all this. Preaching to the choir, aren’t I?”

“Even so, it’s good to hear someone else voice it. We’re lucky people, Hannah, to have found and recognize what we want in life.” Joan thumped Thunder’s sturdy neck once more. “Brie will have my hide if I let my coffee get cold. I’ll let you get back to work. One thing, though. Thunder is one of those stallions who gets on the muscle with women during our, uh, when the moon catches up with us. So you might want to revert to the practice of tying him to the wall for grooming on those days, or he’ll likely bite. You know how his kind can be.”

“Yeah, thanks for the warning. I’ll do that.”

Joan laughed. “Of course, that means there’s the drawback that your cycle becomes common knowledge around the barn.”

As Joan started for the office she barely caught Hannah’s grimly delivered low reply of, “Huh, as if it isn’t obvious enough to anybody within striking or spitting distance anyway.”

Joan made a mental note to avoid Hannah’s shedrow whenever Thunder was tied to the wall, and then checked her cell phone again on the way to the office. All systems were still go.

Stretching with satisfaction before sitting down to her coffee, Joan took in a long, deep breath and beamed smugly at Brie. “The apartment, eh?”

“So?” Brie blinked umbrage.

“Hey, don’t get defensive with me. I’m glad, it’s nice, I mean Hannah really does seem to be something else.” Joan tested her coffee. “Aw, you did remember. Still coming over tonight to play on the computer? If there’s something more…pressing…with Hannah, I understand.”

Brie, ever comfortable and serenely secure, actually fidgeted. “Look, we aren’t sleeping together. Nothing physical, okay? Nada.”

In a display of non-aggression, Joan put up her hands. “Whoa back there, girl. Fine with me.” But she could not resist adding, “Whose idea is that? The nada part?”

“Mine.”

“Yours?” Hard to believe, knowing Brie.

“What’s wrong with that? Can’t I enjoy having a friend? You and I are friends and I think it works out pretty great.” Brie shook her head. “Except for times like this.”

“It works out very great.” But we don’t spend every free minute together and you aren’t nervous as a waxed-over mare whose water’s about to break at the mention of my name.

“Okay then, just so you know. And yes, I’m still coming over. That computer’s a blast. Did you see all the extra software Cailen put on it?”

“Mmm hmm, she’s brilliant with that technical stuff, isn’t she?” Joan’s hand reflexively went to the phone in her pocket. “Cailen should be calling in a few hours to say she got there safely.”

Brie said, “Good, let me know when she does. Think we better get out there and get to work?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

The return of Joan’s energy to the barn stirred a ripple of fresh incentive through everyone, even the horses. Grooms moved more sharply and hotwalkers paid crisper attention to picking up hot horses the second they got back from the track. Jokes flew between the exercise riders as they sat imperiously on their mounts turning left in the shedrow. Car and Brie had done a clean job of running things, but with Joan back, the feeling of greater sureness and trust was palpable.

Anytime Joan and Car caucused about a horse, or just spoke in low tones, heads inclined toward one another, within view of the shedrow, their sight lines fell into a tightly synchronized routine, eyes flitting in unison first from a passing horse’s right front foot, say, to the carriage of another’s head, to a twitch on another’s withers. When it came to the horses, they were a team of mystic quality.

Deep within their consultive cocoon as they hustled in behind the returning fourth set, Joan and Car appeared wholly reconnected. She tapped his shoulder as they separated, he heading to the far side to tell Nesto not to grease Foxy Friend’s hooves before the farrier arrived and she rushing to tell Brie that Cailen had phoned.

“She’s there, safe and sound. I just spoke with her.”

Brie sidestepped an attempted nip from Singer as a hotwalker led him by. “Anything else? Is the scorpion there?”

“Not a sign of her. It doesn’t look as if Lara’s been there since Cailen left.”

*****

That evening a gust of cold wind fairly punted Brie past the massive front door the instant Joan cracked it open.

Breathing hard, she said, “Tomorrow morning will be a doozy.”

“Doozy? Where’d you pick that up?”

“Hannah, probably.” Brie shut her eyes and leaned her back against the foyer wall, gratefully inhaling the warm aroma of simmering vegetables and hot apples. “Have I ever known this house to be without the smell of wonderful food? I don’t think so.”

“I’m glad. Where’s the laptop?”

Brie’s eyes snapped open. Pulling the case from beneath her parka, she said with a degree of gravity, “The manual says don’t expose it to extreme temperatures.”

After dinner but before pie, they sat side by side on the couch to explore the games Cailen had downloaded.

Brie conducted the tour. “She put a million of them on here.” A few mouse clicks and a pool game began to load. “We could play pool.”

“Nah. Too mundane.”

“Okay, then.” Click, click. “Here’s one that’s so very Cailen.” Brie rolled her eyes and launched When Wildlife Goes Redneck. “See? The woodland animals drink beer and drive trucks and hunt humans. Is that something Cailen would appreciate, or what? Let’s not play it first, though. You’ll die when you see this next one.” Brie double-clicked on a triangular purple icon.

Joan threw her head back and laughed. “I wondered how long it would take you to discover that one.”

As a dance mix of Leather and Lace played behind the tumbling entry onto the screen of lavender letters that settled to form the game’s title, Brie said, “This will crack you up even more. I found it right away, but not because I had any idea it was a simulated leather bar. When I saw the title, I thought Cailen must have remembered how much I like roller coasters. I thought she had gotten me an amusement park game. I mean, Topsy Turvy, doesn’t that sound more like roller coasters than top and bottom or butch and femme or whatever?”

Joan was holding her sides, laughing way too hard. “Stop talking. My God, there’s a stitch under my ribcage and it feels like all those mashed potatoes I ate are clumping around it.”

Brie was brutal. “Of course, you’d be the one to ask about all those labels, wouldn’t you?”

Joan leaned back against the couch arm and moaned as she jabbed at Brie with sock feet. “Shut up for just a minute. I’m in pain.”

“Sure, I’ll just assign my character’s persona while you compose yourself.” Brie studiously tapped some keys then clicked the mouse here and there. She tapped a couple of more keys before glancing over at Joan. “Better?”

“I might live.”

“Good.” Brie consulted the screen again. “Would you spell Kenna with one “n” or two?”

Joan delivered a sharp kick to the side of her butt. “Hey, that hurt. Oh, sorry Joan, maybe Kenna, two n’s I guess, was the name you wanted to use.”

“Brisada, that whole adventure was a string of complete misunderstandings and you know it.”

“Yeah, whatever. Here, your turn to create your character.”

Joan carefully settled the keyboard on her lap and Brie watched her build a profile.

“Bottom? You’re going to be a bottom?”

Joan was fully attending her choices. “Cailen warned me to start out with that. Beginners apparently never win if they try to start out being a top.”

“Then let me change mine before we start.”

“No way, hotshot, if you thought you could start out as a top, you’ll just have to live with the consequences. Your character’s already set.”

“But we haven’t entered the bar yet. Cailen warned you. It’s cheating if you don’t let me change mine.”

Joan impatiently clicked her final selection, no blindfold, and passed the keyboard to Brie.

“No blindfold? Did Cailen give you a tip about that? Because if she did, I’m changing mine, too.”

Joan sat with arms folded. “She only advised me on the dominant/submissive choice. I’ve got sense enough to pick no blindfold on my own. You seriously picked yes blindfold?”

“Maybe. But now that Kenna is switching to a bottom, I might go with no blindfold.” Brie made her adjustments. “Yep. No blindfold. By the way, when you and Cailen talked about this game did you tell her about Kenna?”

“I don’t recall the name coming up, no. But I’m sure the story will come out someday, and I’m also sure Cailen will be fully as fascinated by it as you still seem to be.”

“How can you be so sure it’ll come up?”

Joan’s eyes glittered, picturing Cailen’s teasing expression. “Because twice now she has emerged from the bedroom wearing T-shirts I keep in the same drawer where I put those restraint things Kenna left behind. Each time, she’s also worn this smug grin and hummed some cutesy tune, taunting me, you know? Just daring me to not explain. So I pretend nothing’s up. Now it’s a contest to see who’ll mention it first.” Joan took the controls and allowed her character, Marie, to enter the bar and purchase a beer in a frosted glass.”
“Marie? You’re a bottom named Marie? Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

“Who are they, the threesome at the corner table?”

“Blasphemer.”

“In hell with the sinners. Anyway, the whole time Cailen was telling me about this game, she had that same smirk on her face. I know she was ready to fly apart wanting to ask me about the toys in the T-shirt drawer. She’ll break someday, don’t worry.”

“You two deserve each other.”
“Thanks.”

Brie squealed. “Somebody just bought me a drink! Can you believe it? Joan, it’s that incredibly fit looking woman.” Brie put the cursor over the tall blonde who was slowly approaching Kenna from the bar. “She’s gorgeous. No blindfold, definitely no blindfold! Do you love this game, or what?”

*****

It snowed and froze hard in the overnight hours, creating a Thursday morning pleasant to look at, but not much good for training horses. Joan pulled all her trackers from the schedule except four and on the board beneath their names she’d written large EVERYBODY ELSE WALKS. It would seem like a Sunday.

Hannah had somehow managed enough traction in that toy car to make it to work safely.

“Hannah, you’re as dependable as the mail, first one here even on roads like these.” Joan walked alongside her the short distance to her stalls.

“Roads were no trouble. Did you guys have a good time last night?”

“Brie and me? Sure. Next time you’ll both have to come.”

Hannah shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t want to infringe on the two of you, though. Brie said you were going to explore that new laptop.”

Joan was curious about the infringe remark, but didn’t probe right away. “There wasn’t much exploration beyond one of the games Cailen put on the thing. We got started playing Topsy Turvy and didn’t quit until I made Brie go home around nine-thirty. She’s supposed to be relaxing during this short school break and I want her to save her energy for that paper due at the end of it.”

With obvious appreciation, Hannah paused after standing back up from removing Bolero Blouse’s bandages. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do, let her rest up for a few days before starting that monster paper. A week might sound like a long time, but it isn’t, not really.” She brushed loose straw from her knees and brought Bolero’s leg pads closer to Joan, examining them and deciding they were a little too dingy to re-use before laundering. “Topsy Turvy, eh?” Hannah winked and Joan caught a glimpse of what was undoing Brie. “Anybody get lucky?”

“As a matter of fact, Brie’s little sim slut certainly had a good time.”

“How about yours?”

“Mine may join a convent. So, you’ve played it? Very much?”
Hannah intentionally sounded boastful. “On my PC, in the leather bars in four major cities, I’m the top top. Which city were you guys in?”

“Atlanta.”

“Atlanta. Tough. And Brie got decent attention? First time playing, right? That’s not easy.”

Joan glanced in the direction of Brie’s room. Still no movement down there. “So, Hannah, give me a quick tip or two that might help next time.”

“First thing, and this is important, what was Brie’s statement of current mood? You know what I mean, that sentence or two you’re supposed to enter as part of your profile?”

“Yes, I remember. Brie’s was something like, ‘Rescue me, I’m wet. I’m really, really wet.’” Joan focused thoughtfully on a piece of straw that had gotten tracked into the otherwise speckless shedrow. “There might have even been another ‘really’ in there, she was extremely enthusiastic.”

Flicking a brief smile toward Brie’s still-closed door, Hannah tried to remain analytical. “And yours?”

“Mine expressed the hope that the bar’s pool tables would be of good quality, which pales in comparison to Brie’s, but the instructions explicitly said others in the bar would not be privy to the statement. So that didn’t affect anything, did it?”

“Joan, you have to remember, the computer still has access to those pieces of information and it uses them to create your, you know, aura, or attitude or whatever. See what I mean?”

Looking past Hannah’s shoulder, Joan spotted Brie. “Here comes Ms. Popularity now.” The sight of Brie incapacitated by heavy clothing always tickled Joan. “Morning, Frosty.”

“Morning.”

“Joan was just telling me what a hit you were last night in Atlanta.”

Brie’s voice was still rough from sleep. “Not me, Kenna.”

“Congratulations to Kenna, then. You look like you need your coffee. Why don’t you guys go have the morning meeting? Since none of mine are trackers, I’m going to get started on stalls and might walk Thunder myself to free up a hotwalker.”

Brie was already piloting her many-layered self toward the office. “Great idea. See you in a while.”

Hannah called after her, “Oh, and I’ve packaged up your morning vitamins and supplements. They’ll be in your room by the time you come back outside. Be sure to take them before it gets much later.”

“I will.”

Joan fixed the coffees with exaggerated gentility and delicately placed a cup in front of Brie before sitting down with her own, all in meticulous, pregnant silence.

Before they had a chance to speak, someone’s courteous tap on the door drew a, “Come in,” from Joan.

It was Sassy, clad tip to toe in a shockingly suitable outfit. No spike heels for aerating the shedrow, no painted-on pants, no why-bother-to-even-cover-the-boobs blouse, no lacquered hair, and no I-could-buy-and-sell-you-a-hundred-times jewelry. While not exactly workaday, her appearance had by some miracle been downplayed to that of a carbon-based life form.

Her tone eerily absent the slightest trace of sarcasm, Sassy said, “Excuse me, Brie, I didn’t realize you were in here too. That sweet young woman, Hannah, directed me this way when I asked for Joan.”

“No problem.” Brie was waiting for the punch line.

Joan unfolded an extra chair. “Sit down, Sassy. Coffee?”

Sassy extended a hand, palm down. “No, thank you, to either. I just came by to let you know I’m in town a day early for Singer’s race.” She nodded politely to Brie. “Congratulations, by the way, on Jade’s win.” There was an awkward moment before she added, “Well, that’s all. I’ll look forward to seeing you both tomorrow.” Sassy smiled kind of genuinely and respectfully closed the door behind her as she left.

Joan and Brie sat motionless, briefly incapacitated.

“I’m confused.” Joan swiped a hand through her hair.

“Me too. How should we interpret that? Did it even really happen?”

Joan took a bracing slug of coffee. “It happened all right. Maybe Mag was right. When Cailen and I were in Camden, she was worried Sassy might be heading for some kind of breakdown. This could be the aftermath."

“Doubt it. It was a good performance, but I’m suspicious of the whole act.”

Joan put her feet up. “Whatever the case, a Sassy visit can certainly make you grateful for your mental health.”

“Sure can.”

Joan saw her chance and launched into oratory. “And I always say there’s no better safeguard for one’s health than proper nutrition. A good vitamin and supplement regimen is absolutely essential in maintaining—”

Since there were no horses circling yet, Brie slammed the door on her way out.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Sixteen: Post Positions

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Cailen judged Joan a most spectacular vision astride a long-legged black mare, sleek as a seal, with proud carriage of body and head alike. Spellbinding, beautiful images had always impelled Cailen to reach for her camera and the sight of Joan mounted gracefully atop that mare certainly qualified as one of those. So it was peculiar that Cailen felt no urge to preserve the moment by photographing it. But she had noticed at other times with Joan, even back when denial of her true feelings was strong, that scenes she ordinarily would have wanted to frame through a lens demanded her full attention in a way that left no room for fiddling with gadgets. When those moments arose, surpassing typical reality, eclipsing it, the need to be fully present outweighed the old habit of taking pictures.

And now, watching this singular woman, whom she loved beyond expectation or reason, turn in the saddle and smile over her shoulder, Cailen understood why. Such instants with Joan indelibly impressed themselves into Cailen’s mind, maybe even her soul. No photo, however artful the lighting or angle, could compare to pure recollection.

Weeks ago, she had caught Joan unawares, applying a leg wrap to Dreamer’s Fantasy, and had come close to tears watching her earnest concentration and innocent desire to do a good job, even at something so mundane. That image of Joan was in Cailen’s mind—retrievable on demand, solid, real, forever—just as the vision of Joan on this glossy mare would now be.

Riding bareback on a big-haunched Palomino quarter horse and leading Penny, Cailen trotted abreast of Joan and the black. “Look at this lively girl! Can you believe this is our same Penny?” Cailen gave the filly plenty of the leather shank’s length so she could toss her head, fidget and dance all she cared to.

Joan laughed warily. “Better watch it, she’s high as a kite. In a couple of days she’ll be so field high we may never catch her again.”

“Beautiful sight, don’t you think?”

“Sure is.”

Reaching the pasture where Mag had said to turn Penny out took almost an hour of navigating a labyrinth of passageways and gates between fences that surrounded the many fields they passed. At the edge of the appointed pasture full of broodmares, which took in about twenty acres, Joan gave Penny a mint and placed a kiss beneath her forelock, then left Cailen alone to whisper a few words in the chestnut’s ear. “Joan and I will be back for you, girl. We’re going to make sure the rest of your life is happy, we promise.”

Cailen slid the halter down Penny’s nose and after a brief hesitation, a jolt of something wild and electric shot through the filly. She charged into the nearest grouping of mares, and they briefly adjourned a sedate grazing session to romp with her in celebration of freedom, pasture, sky, and the company of others. Afterward, they all dropped their heads and picked placidly at the fading winter grass.

*****

Satisfaction with their time spent together and with the settlement of Penny rested tranquilly in their hearts and minds as the trip back to Churchill began. Cailen took first shift driving and they agreed to stop for a big breakfast at the first decent-looking place along the way. As the truck neared Rainier Farms’ exit, they slowed up to search among browning magnolia leaves for the ever watchful security cameras.

“Damn things are awfully well-hidden,” Joan remarked, still straining to look upward through the windshield’s slant. “I know they’re in there though, because I’ve been in the control room and seen the monitors.”

Cailen had helped with software implementation on enough security systems to know how well concealed the equipment could be. “Probably so small you’d have to climb the trees to find them.”

Joan sat back and straightened her askew sunglasses. “Guess so.”

The night’s stealthy lovemaking, nothing but coffee in the cabin, and a long ride on horseback that began at dawn made for two ravenous breakfast customers at Calabash Bob’s, a place just the other side of Charleston that boasted the best Calabash cooking in the region, plus breakfast served all day. Of course every restaurant in the region laid claim to having the best Calabash cooking, but they lucked out. Breakfast was hot and tasty and there was plenty of it.

“Are you able to keep driving for a while? I may be too full to function.”

Cailen rubbed her belly. “God, I was hoping you’d take the keys back.”

Joan pulled a quarter from her jeans pocket and held it in pre-flip position. “Call it.”

“Tails.”

Joan slapped it onto her forearm. “Shit.”

Cailen gleefully handed over the keys, and slogged around to nestle herself into the passenger’s seat, where she could give in fully to the food induced coma.

Conversation had picked up after an hour or so spent quietly digesting, and someplace in North Carolina she had mercy on Joan and they traded spots. As they passed the ruins of a used-up quarry, Cailen saw Joan incline her head and smile to herself.

“What?”

“That quarry. I’m still busy from time to time being impressed by Brie having delivered a baby. You said it was a girl? I hope they named her Brisada after all that.”

Cailen wrestled over whether to tell Joan about the naming of the baby and decided it would be better for her to tell it than take a chance on Joan asking Brie. Cautiously, she waded in with, “Cinda and Harrison, that’s her husband, they’ve been together since they were seventeen, they wanted to name the baby after Brie, but she asked them to name her Digna, after Brie’s younger cousin.” Cailen jostled their joined hands a little bit. “Have you and Brie ever gotten onto the subject of her border crossing? The details, I mean?”

“Not the details. I know she has strong feelings about the treatment of immigrants, and some of those surely come from personal experience.”

“Well, her crossing was even more traumatic than most. She traveled here with an aunt, two uncles and three cousins. One of the cousins was five years old and the daughter of one of the uncles. The little girl’s mother had died a couple of years earlier and Brie had gotten really close to her. Brie was fourteen and almost like a mother to her.” Cailen focused on her mental picture of a place she’d gone to many times in her imagination during the years since Brie told her the story. “They had taken the desert route for various weather and border patrol enforcement reasons, factors that always seem to be shifting. Anyway, the men who were being paid to meet them once they reached the US border had advised the uncles to take one of the desert routes. There were setbacks and the trip on foot ended up taking them something like sixteen days.”

Joan stared at her other, unheld hand, its knuckles white from her fingers digging into her thigh. She made a witting attempt to relax. Too late to stop this now.

Cailen cleared her throat. “They had to lie very still in ditches during the day to avoid detection. Brie said that was the hardest part for the little ones, especially her little cousin. Brie used to whisper to them about all the fun and food and water they'd have across the border, if they could just stay still. Then they ran low on water, which was bad, but Digna got diarrhea and that pretty much sealed her fate. They were still too far out in the desert to make it in before she died of dehydration. So, that’s what Brie asked Cinda and Harrison to name the baby. Digna.”

There were no tears, as Cailen had expected to see. Joan’s eyes were in fact very clear as she mentally focused on a picture of a place that she would carry in her imagination from that time on.

“For how long was Brie without water, do you know?”

“Days, I don’t know how many.”

“Did they bury Digna there, in the desert?”

“They had to. Brie tried to stop them, tried to bargain with the whole family to let her carry the body herself, but that would have been impossible. Anyway, then what? It wasn’t like they had a destination, land, waiting for them. Brie said she had nightmares for a long time, dreams about coyotes getting into the small, shallow grave. Along their journey, they had to bury their feces deep so it wouldn’t draw coyotes and give them away. That detail stuck in her mind.”

Joan’s hand was shaky in Cailen’s, but her voice did not waver. “Did Digna pass quietly?”

“Sounds like it. Brie said she got weaker and weaker and was increasingly out of her head, though.”

Joan loosened the grip she had tightened to the point of pain around Cailen’s hand. “That explains why Brie needed such reassurance the night you were delirious with fever. I’ve never seen her so insecure about anything.”

“Probably so. Brie used her own body to make shade in the ditch for her during the daytime, so she was right there with her during the delirium. The night she died Brie said she was clearheaded as ever for a while, but extremely weak. That night she asked Brie to tell her stories about having all the water you want to drink and all the food you want to eat and being happy every day in the US. The last thing she said to Brie, this little five-year-old kid, was that she wanted Brie to promise to drink both their shares of water and to have enough fun for the both of them every day.”

Joan smiled through the shimmer of unshed tears and said with pride, “I don’t know about the water, but Brie has certainly kept the second half of that promise. It’s a damn good thing I can’t get my hands on her right now, I’d hug her so hard she’d be scared out of her wits.”

“Scared, hah! Once she realized you were carried away with emotion, those hands would be all over you.”

Delivered by this observation from the brink of really losing it, Joan laughed. “You’re right. She can be so wicked.”

Not long after the talk of Digna, something about the approach of the Tennessee-Kentucky line led both their minds to the same, hitherto unmentioned topic.

Cailen spoke first, shooting for a bright tone. “Let’s see, Penny is happily off the racetrack and there’s a brand new ‘floating groom’ at Caulder Stables to lighten Brie’s load.” She squeezed the hand Joan offered. “You’ve successfully dismantled all my reasons to stay in Louisville instead of dealing immediately with Chicago.”

Joan raised their clasped hands, kissed each of Cailen’s fingers and countered, “I prefer to look at it as removing the barriers to your getting on with your, our, life.”

Cailen smiled at the finger kisses, but couldn’t help projecting an overall cheerless change of mood. Keeping their physical connection, she mutely observed a passing shack-strewn craggy hillside where slapdash wire-enclosed, bladeless pastures sat entirely upon sloped surfaces.

Still absorbed with that hill face, she said, “Wonder how cows survive like that. Makes you want to find a way to get them to level ground.”

Unlike Brie, who had always railed against Cailen’s seemingly off-subject ramblings, Joan was coming to appreciate them as freewheeling but purposeful respites for part of Cailen’s mind, while another part of it processed the matter at hand.

Joan nodded and said, “Know what you mean, angel. Horses, too. Can you imagine what constantly standing on uneven ground does to their legs and spines?”

“Yeah, what a waste.” Cailen slapped her thigh and blew out a decisive sigh. “Okay. So I need to go to Chicago. Now what?”

“Now I guess we should decide on when, exactly.” Discussing this was beginning to sink Joan’s heart. She drew in and breathed out a long sigh of her own.

“Probably no reason to put it off. May I stay until Monday?”

“Darling, I’m not trying to get rid of you. If I thought there existed the remotest possibility of our beginning our life right now, without you returning to Chicago, I’d be conniving to make that happen, believe me. You know that, don’t you, Cailen?”

“Yes, but you’re right. It can’t be done that way. I do have to finalize everything back there and it should be done sooner than later.” For Joan’s sake Cailen came up with a convincing grin. “Anyway, I have a house to sell before we can buy Penny.”

“Can we separate our hands for a second?”

Cailen unclasped instantly and dried the sweaty hand on her jeans. “Sorry, thinking of leaving is stressful.”

“I think mine started it.” Joan dried her palms then plunged back in. “Monday is not the ideal day for you to leave.”

“Why?”

“Jade’s Gold is entered in a nice little race late Tuesday afternoon, a tuner for a graded stakes I have my eye on for him later in the meet, and I’d love for you to be there. Brie would be overjoyed too, I’m sure. She’s so proud of Jade, and on his race days, well, it would be a shame for you to miss the way she beams.”

“And the Sassy woman? Jade does belong to her.” Cailen folded her arms.

“True, Sassy will likely make a showing, but—”

“Then I’m staying. The more we establish our relationship in her mind before I leave, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

Joan’s glee made her do baby talk. “You so cute when you decisive.”

Cailen eyed her wryly. “Okay, then here’s more decisiveness. I want us to get Brie a laptop computer, an early Christmas gift.”

Nodding, but skeptical, Joan said, “Wonderful idea, but she won’t allow it. I’ve tried to exceed her gift-giving limits in the past and she always sticks to her guns. She says thanks, but makes me return whatever it is anyway.”

“I’m going to get off at that next exit for a bathroom break.”

“Sure.”

“The rules are different with me involved, Joan. She has to accept nice things from me. Brie put me through my first two years of programming school—tuition, our apartment, everything. She can’t refuse anything we give her together.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yep. Brie is solid gold. God, I really need that bathroom.”

*****

Jade’s Gold won the feature race at Churchill Downs that first Tuesday of the meet. He always exhibited a stalking racing style, lying comfortably off the pace, deceptively far behind the leader until that final turn and his first look at the homestretch. To the thrilled delight of the fans, once Jade turned for home he exploded with a burst of speed that made the rest of the field look like their feet were nailed to the turf. Jade eating up the leaders in the last furlong, coming on like his life depended on it, could put a lump in the throat of the most hardened tracker. Even the uninitiated, those who didn’t fully realize what they were witnessing, got their share of exhilaration watching the big gray storm to the lead.

In the win photo, Brie’s hand rests lightly on his bridle and she’s sneaking a sideways peak at the dark dappled colt instead of looking into the camera. Cailen stands, radiant, next to her, one arm across Brie’s shoulder and one across the trainer’s, who is close by her other side.

If Sassy Rainier attended the race, they did not see her beforehand, nor did she turn up to be in the picture, which was typically her favorite part of winning, next to collecting purse money. Ever optimistic, especially when hoping to avoid a muddle, Joan took Sassy’s absence as encouraging evidence that she’d gained some sense concerning the non-existence of a romantic relationship between the two of them. Cailen, too, hoped she’d been duly discouraged.

Brie, in an expansive mood over Jade’s success, shrugged at their conjecturing and allowed, “Maybe.”

Back at the barn after drug testing, Jade was being walked through the final stage of post-race cooling. Joan, Cailen and Brie milled convivially around his stall, where Brie prepared Jade’s hoof packing and a soothing poultice for his legs. Joan showed off the tiny cellular phone Cailen had gotten for her the day before. Brie glanced at the phone, which looked like every other one in the world to her.

She cast an incredulous eye toward Cailen. “You have actually talked her into carrying this thing?”

Cailen didn’t know about all the previous failed campaigns by Brie and Joan’s parents to induce her to get a telephone, any telephone, one at the house, a cell, one for the truck. “Sure, why not?”

Brie slid her eyes Joan’s way. “And you are accepting this?”

Knowing full well it was a reversal of her long-held and stubbornly guarded position on the issue, Joan echoed Cailen. “Sure, why not?”

Jade was led around the corner and Brie stopped him to run a hand over his kidneys. “He’s good, Mike, you can put him in.” Jade would have a few minutes to relax in his stall, get a bite of hay and maybe urinate again. Brie turned back to them and gave the cell phone a sour look. “You two deserve each other.”

“Thanks!” Their effusive happiness really did make them a little obnoxious.

Brie knew Cailen would be leaving first thing in the morning, so she laid down the law. “Look how late it is and I’ve got at least another hour’s work before putting him to bed. You two go away.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Joan hopped to. “I have maybe ten minutes of work to finish up in the office before we’re out of here.”

When they were alone, Brie put the question bluntly to Cailen. “Is there any chance at all that you’re going to waver on this? Even the slightest chance Lara will get her hooks back into you?”

Cailen studied the closed office door for a moment. “Absolutely none. Any time you start to doubt that, and I know in the past my resolve hasn’t been all that reliable, just take a look at Joan’s smile or think about how good and true and funny and caring and goofy she is.” She pulled Brie into a hug and said, “Try not to doubt me. She doesn’t.” Still pressing Brie close, she added, “I love you both very much. You take care of each other until I can get back, okay?”

Brie really did not want to cry, so she carped to deflect the increasing urge. “Who do you think has been taking care of us for the last five years? Each other, that’s who. We don’t need you to tell us to do it.” She scolded, but tightened the hug.

“Yeah, but let me just say one other thing. The phone. I’m the only one who has the number and she’s the only one with mine. That way, if hers rings, she’s counting on it being me. Anyway, don’t let anybody bug her for the number. But I want you to have my number in case you or Joan needs me for anything.”

Brie pulled back and punctuated the embrace by kissing Cailen’s cheek. “You know I love you, baby, right? That’ll never change.”

“I know. Now! Let’s go find Ms. Caulder. I have a hunch her fictitious paperwork is going to keep her busy until she’s sure we’ve had enough time alone.” Cailen took Brie’s hand and pulled her toward the office. “Besides, we have a surprise for you. You get your Christmas present from us early this year.”

“Christmas present? You can’t, it’s way early.”

As Cailen guided Brie through the office door, she was replying, “Too bad, I might not be here and we want to be together to give you your gift. Right Joan?”

Joan flapped closed her training log and tossed it into the top desk drawer, shoved that one shut and opened the deeper side draw. “That’s right.” She pointed inside the drawer. “Cailen, do the honors please?”

Cailen came around and lifted a red and gold package onto the top of Joan’s desk.

Brie’s eyes widened. “No offense, baby, but I can tell right away that Joan wrapped this, not you.” She ran her hand over the satiny gold paper and offered, “Joan, I should warn you that Cailen’s idea of gift wrapping leaves a bunch to be desired. Basically, she conceals the identity of the gift, but there is nothing aesthetic about how she does it.”

“I can live with that, for the rest of my life I can live with that.”

Cailen was anxious for the surprise to hit. “Come on, Brie, open it. Let’s see if the pajamas we got you fit.”

“Pajamas? Hah! Since when have you ever known me to wear—sorry, Joan.”

Joan hooted at Brie’s discomfiture. “Don’t be sorry. My whole outlook on the issue of you two and your history has changed. We’ll have to talk about it in depth some day soon, Brie.”

“Great, now there’s that to look forward to.” Brie rolled her eyes, but those dimples gave away her amusement.

“If you don’t open this, I will.”

“Cailita, once impatience claims you, your manners vanish. Plus, you become tactless.”

“Open it!”

When the last of the paper fell onto the dirt-tamped concrete floor, Brie gasped. “Blessed Virgin, a laptop!”

Excitement seized Cailen and she rattled off the computer’s features while Brie navigated an ingeniously slotted cardboard container as she tried to reach the actual instrument. “Now you can write your papers in the comfort of the room, or anywhere. We couldn’t find the printer we wanted to go with it, but there’s a place in Chicago where I know they have them. Until I send it, just put anything you need printed on a floppy and print it out on a library computer.”

Carefully, Brie pulled out adapter, wires, batteries and a charger before getting to the computer itself.

“And look, Brie, you just plug this in for a while to recharge your batteries. Here’s the accessories cord. Only use the batteries when a wall socket isn’t available. Oh, and we’ve got you all fixed up for Internet, so any research you can do on the Net can be done right in your room, or wherever there's wireless access.”

Brie’s head snapped left and right, then back into the box, then toward what Cailen was holding, trying to keep up with all the pieces. “Hannah’s going to freak when I show her this. Joan, do you understand how to use all this stuff? I mean, I can figure it out with the instructions eventually, but.”

“You must be joking. Me? The Luddite who got her first cell phone yesterday? The only help I can offer is that we’re not supposed to call it ‘stuff.’ Cailen insists on the term ‘features.’”

“Okay, then, features. Cailita, will you hook everything up and then turn it on once for me? I want to play with it right now. Then you guys can go home and I’ll figure out the features on my own.”

“Sure, give me a few minutes.” Cailen loosely re-packed the box and took it to Brie’s room.

Brie turned to Joan, who was astonished and relieved at the absence of objections. “It’s fantastic, Joan, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Of course, Cailen’s the genius who knew what to get and how to set it all up. I still haven’t seen the thing in action.”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Don’t play dumb, Brie. You can well imagine that tomorrow won’t be an easy one for me.”

“What if I bring my new toy over to your house and we’ll play with it, then?”

“Superb suggestion. How about some good old mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, and apple pie for supper?”

Cailen was back in fifteen minutes. “All set up. Just double-click either the Internet Explorer or Netscape icon when you want the Net.”

“Am I plugged into the wall?”

“Yeah.”

“Can it stay like that until I get Jade done up?”

“Sure, it’ll go on standby in a few minutes, so move the mouse to wake it up.”

“Got it.” Brie looked from one to the other of them. “What a merry Christmas already.” She turned to go. “Cailita, I can’t say goodbye to you again. Remember I love you and hurry home.” She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Do we call this your home, now?”

“Wherever Joan is, is home.”

“Perfect answer. Joan, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early. Have fun with the toy tonight, but don’t let time get away from you.”

“I won’t. Okay, bye guys, the handsome winner of today’s seventh race is waiting for me.”
Halfway to the truck Cailen went back to hug Brie one more time. She whispered, “There’s a Word file named ‘Cailen’s cell’ in your MyDocuments directory. It contains my phone number. Anytime, Brie, day or night, if either of you needs me.”

“I will. Now please get out of here.”

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - PART TWO - Chapter Fifteen: Horse Traders

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Penny loaded into the trailer like a pro. In fact, Penny did most things asked of her with poise and good sense. She was simply one of those animals with a strong personality that happened not to mesh with the human designs on her existence. It wasn’t the first time Joan had witnessed such a mismatch, nor the first time she had released a horse from racetrack duty with the recommendation of reassignment as broodmare or retirement to the more parochial life of a jumper or trail horse. It was the first time, however, that she had planned to buy the horse and turn it out at the homestead with her beloved retired racers, King’s Highway and Blatant Nellie.

Interstate wintriness, a study in vapid grayscale, clipped methodically past the truck’s exterior. But the cab’s interior was crammed with technicolor ambience, dense with myriad shades of felicity.

Just the other side of Knoxville, Cailen broke out their travel sandwiches as Joan was winding up the presentation of her plan. “So, Penny can remain at Camden for another six months or a year, after which time I’m sure Sassy will accept a nice down payment, say half her value, for her. I’d get Penny sooner, but Mom and Dad have been giving definite signals about moving from the farm to a condo within this next year. The farm is for me, of course, but I’ll have to make arrangements for its and the horses’ care. And since Mom and Dad are moving partly because the work is getting to be beyond them, I can’t very well send Penny there to add to their load.”

Cailen listened, but had so far offered no comments. She handed Joan a sandwich. “How much is Penny worth?”

“Fifty-five, which sounds like a lot but is actually near the bottom of Rainier Farms’ stock, lucky for us. That amount means nothing to Sassy.”

Cailen took a big bite of the tofu salad sandwich Joan had prepared. She held it away from her face to examine it better. “Can’t believe this is actually good. Why bother to own a horse worth that then, if her value is so relatively negligible?”

“Same reason major corporations diversify. The less profitable ventures help with taxes and those that win or breed successfully help the bottom line cumulatively by clearing up minor expenses. It’s the same principle as a big soybean farmer bothering to put a few acres in alfalfa.”

“Diversification I understand, but you lost me with the soybeans and alfalfa. I’m not a farm girl like you, Joan. All my horse experience comes from racetracks and rodeos.”

“Go with the diversification then. How about a pickle?”

Cailen shoved her hand into the food bag and rooted around, peeking in as she did. “We’ve got pickles?”

“In there someplace. Well, what do you think?”

“I think you could use a partner in this venture, Ms. Caulder. Will you let me put up half?” Cailen fully realized the import of a step like this. She smiled victoriously. “Found the pickles!”

Joan accepted one. The commitment implicit in buying Penny together did not escape her either. “I had planned to put her in your name, anyway. Cailen, I know how much you love this horse and I won’t allow her well-being to be beyond your control, regardless of whose money is behind it.”

“You love her too, right?”

“Of course, but I’d feel perfectly at ease having her in your name.”

Cailen gestured thoughtfully with what was left of her sandwich. “After the house is sold, I’ll have more than enough cash to split the cost. That way, we pay cash and you’ll incur zero debt to Sassy Rainier.” Cailen devoured a pickle wedge in two bites and looked pointedly at Joan. “Even though you aren’t interested in that woman, the idea of her being near you makes me seethe with, uh, I’m pretty sure it’s hatred. Chips?”

“Sure.” Joan handed over her empty wax paper for disposal. “I’ll make it clear to Sassy that we’re together, don’t worry.” The best kind of smile, one that’s impossible to suppress, overtook Joan’s features. “We are going steady, right?”

“I don’t recall being asked. Do you have a school ring or letter sweater or anything?”

Joan lowered her chin and peered upward. “I am figuratively on one knee here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Cailen Eagleton, I will be the happiest person alive if you’ll go steady with me. My school ring is probably in a box in my folks’ attic and I never had a letter sweater, but may I offer half-interest in a beautiful, incredibly smart, and gentle chestnut filly as symbol of my love?”

“Pull off at the next rest stop so I can sample those kisses one more time before answering.”

“Good idea. We can also take that opportunity to water the filly in question.”

*****

Rainier Farms’ main entrance road was two lanes wide with towering magnolias standing graceful guard for the full half-mile stretch of it.

“In the spring, the scent along here can get you drunk.” Joan had always been partial to the old trees, whose waxy leaves clacked their greeting on any breezy day of the year.

“I can imagine.” Cailen hadn’t formulated a clear idea of what to expect the farm to look like, but anything she could have envisioned would have been far less opulent.

The pastures were double-fenced with an unbroken line of evergreens ribboning the centers of the corridors between black four-board fences. It required a crew of menders working year-round replacing damaged boards and applying thick black paint to keep it in shape. In the five summers it took to paint the entire network it was time to begin again.

Just outside the four-winged main barn, which oversaw a large chunk of the nineteen-hundred-acre estate from its commanding perspective atop the highest point on the place, Joan and Cailen stood, shoulders touching, gazing across the maze of pastures.

“And that bizarre woman owns all this.” Cailen couldn’t begin to count the horses sprinkled liberally over the landscape below.

“Inherited. All she had to do was manage to draw breath longer than her parents.”

“How long has she been in charge?”

“Eight years, roughly, I’m not sure. Her strength lies in her lassitude. Either by luck or by…I guess it had to be luck, she hired some excellent horsepeople to run this outfit. That way, she can mostly play. Sassy is no horsewoman, doesn’t seem to care for horses one way or another beyond their return on her investment.”

Cailen nodded, recalling, “A hard fact to miss with one look at those shoes she wore to the barn that morning I saw her.”

Joan was in agreement. “But Mag Shuman certainly is a fine horsewoman. She’s in charge of the thoroughbred end of the business. Rainier Farms breeds and raises all kinds of horses.” Penny slammed a hoof into the trailer lining. “Speaking of Mag, we’d better find her so we can unload Penny. Mag probably has a stall all bedded down and waiting for her.”

Cailen turned with Joan toward the barn. “Do you think you and I could personally take her out to the broodmares in the morning?”

“My plan precisely.” Joan took her hand and swung it back and forth in a low arc as they strolled toward the barn. “After we get Penny settled, we could shower at the cabin and go out for dinner. Then would you sleep with me tonight? Hold me all night long?”

Penny banged on her partition again, this time more adamantly.

“Can’t wait to be in bed with you.” Cailen regarded the trailer over her shoulder. “Maybe you should find Mag while I calm our impatient daughter.”

“Good idea.” Joan retraced the first five paces away from Cailen to come back and say, “I love you, so much.”

“And I love you. Now go, so we can get to the part where we’re alone in that cabin.”

*****
Mag was sitting on a footlocker to the stall-ward side of a shedrow in the northwest wing. She appeared to be doing nothing more than transforming a large colorful pile of disheveled galloping bandages on her right into a neat stack of tightly rolled galloping bandages on her left. Joan’s backlit figure ducking under a two-by-four braced across the wide breezeway drew Mag’s attention.

“Joan, come in out of that glare and let me take a look at you. It’s been too long.”

“It has been a while hasn’t it?” Joan picked up a bandage and began to roll.

Mag Shuman was a tall, hefty, homely woman. Her abject lack of even one attractive physical trait to capitalize on dispensed with looks as an issue, positive or negative, in relating to her. With Mag, substance was everything and form was irrelevant. Joan was in awe of her.

A groom leading a handsome young black colt passed them. Joan’s eyes latched onto the horse and her mind took keen inventory of conformation, coat, foot placement and a hundred other traits all at once as she went on. “Our trip went smoothly, made it in just under twelve—not bad given we stopped four times to water her off.” When the horse was well past them she commented, “Put together awfully well. Does he have any run to back up those looks?”

“Hope so. She paid seven million for him.” Mag’s gruff laugh was difficult to decipher. “And to top it off, I think he may be worth every nickel.” Her manner was so unconcerned that they might as well have been discussing high fashion.

Joan whistled softly at the price. “How is Sassy? Other than exercising her wallet, I mean.”

A fuzzy red bandage popped from Mag’s hands and merrily unrolled itself across the dirt shedrow. “Come back here.” She ran a few bent over steps to retrieve it. Reseated and dusting off the leg wrap, Mag gave Joan a dry look through the top panes of her bifocals. “Be more sensible for me to be asking you that, don’t you think?”

“Why? Louisville hasn’t been blessed with a visitation for nearly a month. Each weekend I hold my breath, but she doesn’t show. Last time up, she drew pretty heavy fire from me over an ugly slur she made toward Brie, so that’s probably been the reason for our good fortune.”

As Mag tossed a rolled one to her left, the black colt went by again and pulled Joan’s gaze along with him.

Mag pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thought so, just trying to give that girl the benefit of the doubt. She’s been pretending she meets you every weekend and that you two are hitting it off very well.”

Joan laughed it off. “Well, I’ve certainly not seen her. Is it too much to hope she’s using me to conceal where she’s really spending her time? Maybe she’s found someone. That would be a relief.”

Mag shook her head discouragingly. “Don’t count on relief. I think her obsession with you has progressed to self-delusion.”

Joan laughed again, at which Mag gave her a look that said it might not be something to laugh about. “Unless you actually hear her talk about you it sounds easy to dismiss, but I’m telling you she could be going off the deep end.”

“Jesus, Mag, you’re seriously concerned for her aren’t you?”

“For her and for you.” Mag was about to elaborate, but there went that horse again, with his tractor beam that kept capturing Joan’s attention. “Alright, Joan! He’s passed us three times and something about him has snagged you each time. What is it?”

Joan folded her arms across her chest and nearly frowned with concentration as she stared after the retreating form. “Wish I could say. He seems off somewhere, very subtle, but I can’t stay comfortable looking at him for three consecutive steps.” She crossed to the outside of the shedrow so she could watch him walk from the opposite side next time around. Mag abandoned the leg wraps to follow her.

Cailen caught sight of their backs in the breezeway and since Penny had quieted, she joined them. Mag needed only the smile that broke over Joan’s face at Cailen’s approach to get a fix on her significance. For better or worse, she thought, this is going to shake Sassy out of her delusional state.

No sooner had introductions been accomplished than the black colt came back around. They all stood motionless until he was two stalls beyond them, at which point Joan stepped to the center of the shedrow to get a direct rear line on him.

“To me there’s something, Mag, but maybe I’m wrong because I sure as hell can’t nail what it is or where it’s coming from.”

“No, you aren’t wrong, I keep picking it up too. That’s why he’s being walked this time of day while I pretend to be sorting laundry. I thought if everything was quiet and my mind was clear I could divine what it is. You’re the only other one who’s seen it besides me.”

Joan informed Cailen, “That young man is worth seven million dollars and seems to be a bit off. Did you notice anything?”

“I’d be more likely to feel it while galloping him than to see it.”

Mag could appreciate that and supplied, “Whatever it is seems to even out when he gallops. Guess we won’t get to the bottom of this today.” She made a gesture of futility then seemed to lay the conundrum aside. “His name is Corporate Governance, Cailen, isn’t he a beaut? Joan might end up running him in that little race ya’ll have at Churchill every May.”

Mag always brought out Joan’s most conscientious professionalism, and mention of a Kentucky Derby hopeful compounded that effect. “Let’s give ourselves a chance here, kick it around a little bit. I can stay comfortable with him for about two steps then it comes apart. How about you, Mag?”

“Something like that. The intermittence you’re describing could be what’s making this so hard to pin down. But then the question becomes what’s behind the intermittence?”

“Indeed.” Joan thought hard. “Can we go up in the loft to observe him?”

“Sure.” Mag would try anything at this point. She led the way to an aisle in the center of the shedrow and climbed a narrow raw pine ladder up to the loft. Moving silently on the chaff covered floor to avoid spooking the horses below, they made their way around stacks of hay bales to the loft’s edge overlooking the shedrow. The groom and young horse passed beneath their post. When he’d cleared from their view, Joan’s eyes met Mag’s in knowing agreement.

Joan ventured modestly, “Left and high would be my guess. Nothing more than a tight shoulder, I’ll bet.”

Mag was as proud of Joan as she was pleased about the horse. “Ninety-nine percent sure, I’d say, but we’ll have that shoulder X-rayed from every possible angle anyway. Liniment’s more than likely all it’ll take to loosen it up though.”

That Joan respected and wanted to be respected by Mag was clear. Even given Joan’s intensity during morning training, the effort and focus she’d marshaled to apply to the colt’s phantom irregular movement had been extraordinary. The three of them remained perched in the loft, Mag and Joan apparently wanting to watch the colt’s gait from that angle once more before descending.

Cailen addressed whoever cared to explicate. “You both have a much better eye than mine, what did I miss?”

Mag ran it down. “I think Joan suspected that by viewing Gov from ground level, we were in essence seeing the abnormal movement edge-on, minimizing its appearance, exactly as if you were to view a bead rolling in a circle from edge-on. Such a direct side view would make the bead appear to be simply moving in a straight line from left to right.” She turned to Joan. “Right?”

Joan nodded. “Good way to explain it.”

Mag added, “Only by changing your point of view to somewhere above or below the plane of the circle would it appear to be circular.”

Cailen was good with spatial relations. “That part computes with me, but what did you both see from up here that I didn’t?”

“That’s where Joan’s long days lying in pasture grass watching her horses, instead of TV and whatever else most teenagers do, pays off. Here he comes again. Explain this Joan.”

Joan put a hand on Cailen’s shoulder as they peered over the loft ledge. “Once you see it, Cailen, you won’t be able to not see it. Look how his body positions itself over his legs. Can you see how, rather than moving forward in a straight line, he oscillates ever so slightly around and away from that left shoulder so that his full weight ends up on the left front only every third time he puts it down?”

Cailen took a long, concentrated look. “I guess I see it. But it’s so miniscule, I could be imagining it because you say it’s there.”

“No, it’s real. In a few days, without attention, he’d probably be favoring it heavily.”

Mag clapped Joan on the back, not an easy gesture to weather from a woman her size. “Thanks, Joan, I deliberately had him brought out as soon as you crossed the property line, just hoping you’d notice it too, and help me out.”

Joan caught Cailen’s quizzical expression, so she explained, “Security around here is as impressive as everything else. There are monitored cameras near the entrance among the magnolias.”

Accustomed to the surveillance, Mag shrugged. “I owe you, Joan. Well, what do you say we put Pennington’s Lass to bed so you two can get settled?”

“I’m sure Penny won’t object.”

Penny announced her return with loud whinnies as she came off the trailer and several mares in the barn whinnied back their welcome. Once in her stall with shipping bandages removed, she stomped to the corner and grabbed a mouthful of hay, chewing hard as she hurried importantly to the front again to look out. Mag dumped a scoop of plain oats into the feeder and Penny attacked them as if she were starving.

“Thought you said this filly wouldn’t eat, Joan?” Mag teased. “Why, she’s famished.”

“Seems I need to qualify that. Penny does not eat on racetracks.” Joan and Cailen were smiling big time. “On farms, she eats like a horse.”

*****

Going out for dinner would have taken more energy and inclination than Cailen or Joan could rally, and the cabin was too cozy to leave, so they were digging out leftovers from their trip when someone knocked at the door.

Through a puzzled half-smile Joan said on her way to answering it, “Thought we settled everything with Mag about tomorrow morning. She must have—Sassy, hello.”

“Joanie, I’m so happy you’re here,” Sassy enthused, barging through the door with champagne and two empty glasses in hand. “The second I heard, I just grabbed this and came right—” Sassy’s mouth gaped at the sight of Cailen. Looking like she’d been stung, she twisted back to face Joan, displaying a wobbly smile. “I assumed you’d be alone, Joanie.”

Joan was never more uncomfortable than when confronted with someone else’s embarrassment. She opted for self-deprecation. “Most of the time that would have been a safe, a very safe assumption, Sassy.” She moved to Cailen’s side. “But I’ve found reason to clean up my act. I don’t believe you have formally met. Sassy, this is Cailen Eagleton. Cailen, Sassy Rainier.”

It seemed a sure bet that Sassy was going to cry, but she went cold and indignant instead. “The exercise girl.” Her words were leaden. Then brightly, “How long will you be here, Joanie?”

“We hope to be headed home by ten in the morning.” With the fresh news of Mag’s concerns over Sassy’s stability, neutrality seemed prudent to Joan.

Sassy carefully, lovingly, placed the champagne and glasses on the bedside table. “I probably won’t see you again, then. I have a rather late engagement tonight and will most likely sleep in tomorrow.” Before closing the door on her way out, she paused to say, “You’re always welcome here, Joanie.”

With Sassy gone, Cailen inspected the champagne label. “Expensive stuff.” She sat on the side of the bed. “You know, I had to keep replaying how she treated Brie to steel myself against feeling sorry for her.”

Joan stretched out behind her and reached up to massage her shoulders. “These are tight from driving. Let me tell you a few things about Sassy. First of all, that entire scene was probably staged. There’s little chance, with the security here, she didn’t know in advance that you were with me. She no doubt enjoyed her little drama. Although I must admit, she had me going at first.”

“But why?”

“Who knows what drives some people. Mag seems to believe Sassy could be courting a mental breakdown.”

Cailen stripped to her T-shirt in support of the back rub. “Brie claims she’s evil.”

“That could be true too. It’s all beyond me.”

Later, Joan suggested a starlit stroll around the pond they’d seen on the way in.

“There are a few other Sassy-related things I think you should know, but I didn’t want to discuss them in the room. Sounds paranoid, but it may be bugged.”

Cailen just shook her head. “Pathetic.”

“Yes it is. The main other thing is that a couple years ago Sassy solicited an informant in the barn.”

“Our barn? Caulder Stables?”

“Now calm down. Let me give you all the details. It’s Jimmy. She must pay him to report my personal business to her.”

“How obsessed can you get? I’m not sure you should even keep a business relationship with her, Joan.”

“Angel, if I break ties with Sassy, lots of people suffer. Brie loses Jade. I lose the horses. And most of them have been with me since they were two-year-olds.” The night’s warmth was an unexpected pleasure, and Joan stopped so they could enjoy the pond’s frog song for a moment.

“Jimmy. What a jerk. He’s always so full of jokes and wisecracks. What information, specifically, has the little weasel given her? ”

“Yes he is always full of jokes, everybody likes Jimmy. Every barn needs a Jimmy to keep the banter going, help the long hours pass, you know that. Anyway, I don’t think he sees it as anything malicious. I became suspicious when Sassy seemed to have uncanny luck in dropping in for the weekend whenever Kate was out of town for a conference or something. Car and I planted false information within earshot of several people and Sassy showed up in response to what we’d said for Jimmy to hear, every time. Since then, several occurrences have verified that it’s Jimmy. Perfectly harmless gossip being passed along, and it probably pads his pockets pretty thickly.”

“But still.”

“Yes, but still. Anyway, like they say, better the enemy you know... By the way, you and Car are the only ones I’ve told.”

“Not Brie?”

“Give me some credit. Do you think I’m nuts? Brie already dreams of killing Sassy.”

“I see your point. Hey, when we go to bed, since the cabin could be bugged, we’ll have to be very quiet, won’t we?”

“Now I see your point.”

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 14:15:00 +0000

Due to a technical situation (that USB stick has to be here somewhere) Part Two of Grand Theft Equine will begin, I guess, next Sunday.

Down On The Night River

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 15:49:00 +0000

The reason my best friend Starr Ann and I got fired from that bookstore when we were younger is that whenever someone came up to the Customer Service Desk and asked for assistance finding the Self-Help section, Starr Ann would just wink and say, "You can count on me not to show you."

Even way back then I didn't get mad at Starr Ann for losing her job, which meant of course that I lost mine because I followed her right out the door. No, the consequences didn't matter nearly as much as my appreciation for the natural working of Starr Ann's mind.

Like the way you can’t exactly say that Starr Ann divides her days into distinct periods of sleep and wakefulness. In fact, a lot of the boundaries and borders most of us automatically see and stay within are kinda transparent to Starr Ann. Well, not exactly transparent, but let's just say they're real shapeless and much less solid.

Anyway, if you loosen up on the reins completely and give Starr Ann her head, things you normally think are separate start running together and it begins to dawn on you just how far off the beaten path Starr Ann travels. Wait, let me take that back. What starts to dawn on you is how Starr Ann sails right over the rough as well as the worn paths, apparently without realizing there are obstacles along either.

So, what got me going on this in the first place was the way Starr Ann can sometime kinda blend being asleep and being awake. Like last night.

Last night, Starr Ann came to my room, cuddled in beside me and said, "You awake?"

I said, "Now I am. Are you?"

And knowing Starr Ann like I do, her answer of "I'm not sure" didn't surprise me one bit.

When she goes into one of these states of grace, it's like Starr Ann is able to take the training wheels off her consciousness, and she's fearlessly hurtling through her moments, totally accepting each second for its own self. I think it's what J. D. Salinger, in Frannie and Zooey, calls unlearning the differences.

I've tried my best to get to that state, but I've never really done it the justice Starr Ann does. Mainly, I don't think it's someplace you can get to through thinking. Somehow, you have to open up a back door for that kind of enlightenment to enter by.

Since I've never been as good at getting onto that plane as Starr Ann is, last night I waited for her breath to get into sleeping rhythm and asked her, "Starr Ann, do you have some secret or trick or anything for learning how to unlearn the differences?"

Just as regular as anything, Starr Ann said, "Margo, do you remember that set of encyclopedias the orphanage had when I first got there?"

"The light green ones with the maroon lettering on the spines?"

Starr Ann said, "It was the set that had two S volumes."

I said, "Yeah, I think I vaguely remember that."

"Margo, there are only three things I never told you about in our entire time growing up together. One of them is that I was scared to death of the first of those two S volumes."

To my shame, I still wasn't feeling all that much on an elevated plane and I couldn't help it that the first thing out of my mouth was, "Are you going to tell me the other two things after you finish with this encyclopedia one?"

Well, Miss State of Grace just went on with, "I was so terribly afraid of snakes when I was little, and that first volume ended with the entry on Snakes, including pictures that just freaked me all the way out."

As I started wondering if maybe one of the other things Starr Ann never told me about had anything to do with my first girlfriend, Shania, Starr Ann continued, "I started thinking of that volume as the Bad S volume and the other one, the one without Snakes, as the Good S volume. And it didn't stop there. It wasn't long before I began to hate all the words in the Bad S volume and I'd do anything I could think of to avoid them."

I took that opportunity to ask, real nice, "Did you by any chance ever wish you could look up the word 'Shania,' but were unable to because of it being in the Bad S volume?"

At times like these, Starr Ann isn't all that keen on answering direct questions.

She said, "Then one day, that old encyclopedia was gone, replaced by the one they still had when we left. Remember? Brown leather covers and gold lettering?"

Oh, sure, she gets to ask me stuff. I said, "Yeah, I remember those."

"Well, I braced myself and went right to the S's to find out which volume I had to be afraid of, to see whether Snakes ended up in the first half or the second half of the S's. But there weren't two volumes. There was just the one, and I had to realize that unless I wanted to give up Sun worship...Stetson hat...Barbara Stanwyck..."

I offered, "Shania?"

"...just like I'd already given up Sand fox...Secret code...and all the other wonderful S words, I had to accept Snakes right there in the middle of them."

Not long after that, Starr Ann's breathing got all even again, but I didn't get a bit of sleep. Then a little before dawn, Starr Ann threw her leg over me and gave me a real nice lying down hug then got up and started putting on her chaps. She looked so sweet climbing out my window into the moonlight, I forgot to bother her with any more questions.

Soon after she left, my room picked up a faint glow as the barn lights went on, and I just knew Starr Ann was down there making over the horses, probably whispering to them all about those other two things she never told me.

Ordinarily, I'd just automatically come out and say whether I sneaked down there to try and overhear what she told them. But since I know Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) will be reading this, I think I'll deliberately keep that information to myself, just to demonstrate that if one cowgirl can have a few things she never told another cowgirl, then the other cowgirl can too. Just sayin'.

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Fourteen: Photo Finish

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

As they had done half a day earlier, Joan and Cailen nodded soberly at the official who waved curtly from beneath the guard shack’s yellow light as they exited Churchill Downs’ backside. But this evening the dash-lit truck cab sheltered two considerably more fulfilled women.

Joan heard the schlick of Cailen releasing herself from the seat belt before sliding across to the driver’s side. Once again Cailen pulled back the vest collar to kiss beneath it.

“Just think, this morning when we made this trip I hadn’t even tasted you yet.”

“Are you trying to render me incapable of driving again?”

“No, I expect you to keep enough control to get us directly home, regardless of what I say or do.” Cailen dove deeper, in tone and into Joan’s neckline.

Being more than willing to engage the challenge, Joan blinked hard and slid her ungloved hands to colder, more bracing positions on the wheel, saying “Tell me a little story about yourself, something from when you were a child.”

After a brief hesitation Cailen asked, between inhalations of the warmth that puffed from Joan’s shirt as she shifted her hands, “Is eleven young enough?”

What Joan was after was the caress of words, any words, from Cailen’s mouth. “Sure, yes.”

“Well,” Cailen raised her head some, positioning her lips over that sensitive groove where the big artery lies, “when I was about eleven, a friend of mine and I were trading pieces of information we knew about sex. She introduced me to the word ‘cunt’ and we agreed it was a much prettier way to refer to what we’d only heard called by clinical names. Now, the nuns, in vocabulary lessons, were always saying ‘use a new word ten times to make it your own,’ so we giggled and had the best time all afternoon making up a bunch of sentences that involved the word cunt.” The arterial vicinity of her lips provided Cailen with a wealth of feedback on the effect she was having. Joan’s blood was pumping at a frenzied pace in there and the groove had grown nearly convex to handle the rush. “As soon as I got home, I looked up cunt in my juvenile dictionary, but it wasn’t there. It was in the big unabridged at the library though, and I cried half the way back home after learning that our innocent enticing word, which had seemed so perfect and natural, was considered vulgar. The other dictionary on the second floor said obscene. It made me furious to think that if anybody had heard Amanda and me practicing it, we’d have been in big trouble for talking nasty.”

Cailen’s voice, not to mention the story’s content, had Joan so ambivalently aroused that the flood of sympathy she felt for the younger Cailen had to work itself in around the margins of her mind and senses. “That poor little eleven-year-old you.”

A trill of laughter rolled free from deep down in Cailen’s belly. “Don’t feel sorry for me, uh, her. For the second half of that walk home I formed this incredibly clear picture of how easily the world, people, can ruin anything you might find beautiful. By the time I reached home I was determined, though I couldn’t have expressed it in so many words, to set and live by my own standards. It was my first ‘to hell with the rest of the world’ moment. Very invigorating.”

Joan laughed with her. “I can imagine!”

*****

Between the trellised gate that gave entry into Joan’s back yard and the eight-step-high porch, they had dallied every few feet to enjoy the luxury of kissing and touching and pressing together.

For the second time that day, the huge walnut front door, which Cailen would come to regard as their private, devout sentinel, secured them within Joan’s house. Directly inside the polished door lay a rectangular entryway that was nearly formal in its unforced elegance. There was a glossy hardwood floor covered in its center, but with wide borders, by a plush rug of a simple pattern dominated by gold and royal blue. The walls had wide, dark woodwork and doorframes, and white background wallpaper with tiny dark blue flowers that matched the royal in the carpet, creeping up narrow green columnar vines.

In the privacy behind the stalwart door, Joan took Cailen in her arms and kissed her securely into the entryway’s corner. She gripped each of Cailen’s butt muscles and descended to her knees.

“Let me kneel before your beautiful cunt.” Joan kissed the fly of the khaki pants she’d lent Cailen, then loosened the drawstring and pulled them down. “Relax, I have you. You can’t fall.” Fingers back to snugly supporting that firm rear end, Joan sailed high on the new familiarity of Cailen’s scent as she nestled her face into curls that were soon too wet to conceal the bounty beneath them.

“Joan, I can’t, God that’s so good. I really can’t stay up.”

Joan was lost in kissing, making out with, Cailen’s cunt. She caught the last of what had been said and paused. “I have you. Nothing can go wrong. You won’t fall.”

Cailen closed her eyes, leaned back into the corner, and steadied her legs against the sturdiness of Joan’s shoulders. Joan’s power to push her to the limit of arousal while withholding relief seemed boundless, and Cailen silently endured the exquisite purgatory Joan created, pure pleasure suffered within the excruciating need for release.

The extreme quiet of the hallway, with Joan in a near dreamlike state of union with Cailen’s body, and Cailen barely willing to breathe aloud over the thrum of her nerve endings, was finally broken by Cailen’s plea. “Joan, I trust you, I do, but I really might pass out.”

Joan ushered Cailen smoothly beyond the next sensual threshold and held her securely while an unhurried, deep, thoroughly savored orgasm rolled through her. When the aftershocks calmed, Joan pushed herself upward between Cailen’s legs, gathered them, and carried her to the bedroom.

“May I finish undressing you for bed?”

“You’ll have to, I can’t move yet.”

After the delightful task of getting them both naked, Joan turned Cailen away from her and snuggled against her back. “Sweet dreams, angel.”

Cailen forced herself to stir and protested, “We’re not going to sleep yet.”

“Yes, we are. I feel exactly as I want to. Please let me hold you and fall asleep feeling like this.”

“But you’re—”

“I’m where I want to be.”

Deep in the night Joan awoke, still in that contented embrace. Consciousness, suffused as it was with impressions of the previous few days, was welcome. Welcome for Cailen’s wondrous presence in her life, but also for the novelty of an extremely elusive shift in where that consciousness now lay. The fundamental vantage of Joan’s awareness had somehow moved closer to her center. The creature she was beneath bone, muscle, and breath, that buried flickery spark, had crossed to a new inner frontier and arrived from the journey stronger and more vibrant than ever.

“Are your eyes blinking?”

Joan’s adrenal glands shot their wad. “Jesus Christ, woman, when will my nerves adjust to the timber of your voice?” She bunched the source of terror more tightly in her arms.

“Sorry. Oh, no, your poor heart. I can feel it thumping against my back. You know, when we have your thyroid checked, we should mention this jumpiness.”

“There she is. I wondered when your brat self was going to surface above your sweet, irresistibly sexy self. Have you been lying here awake long?”

“Not very. I heard your breathing change and your eyelashes made a little flicking sound when you blinked. Were your thoughts happy?”

“Quite. Care to know what they were?”

Cailen settled her butt more firmly into Joan’s pelvis. “Yeah.”

“The first images that came were a bunch of disjointed half-memories of women I’ve cared for.”

“Okay, let’s change the subject.” Cailen jutted her hips forward.
Joan reached around front and pulled her back. “I am no child at this, Cailen. I recognize infatuation, and I’m all too familiar with lust, but this between us goes much farther than both. You’re so far inside me, you’re essential to my completeness now.” Joan rested her lips against Cailen’s shoulder.

“Were you wondering if I feel the same way?”

“Not yet, I hadn’t gotten that far.”

“Well, I am a child at this, comparatively. There has only been Brie and Lara. But I swear to you, even before we made love I’d already admitted to myself that I’m in love with you.” She turned a circle in Joan’s arms so they could see each other’s eyes in the curtain-filtered moonlight. “I resisted it and sabotaged it the best I could, for as long as I could, but I love you Joan Caulder, with all my heart.”

Joan kissed away two moonlit teardrops from her cheeks. “And I love you, Cailen, with all my heart. Will you sleep with me, then allow me to cook you a breakfast fit for the queen that you are?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Wait a minute!” Joan shot up onto an elbow.

“What?” Cailen had already given herself over to the sleeping together part.

“How did you suppose I knew about you and Brie?”

“I don’t know, didn’t think about it, just assumed you could tell, I guess.”

“No, I couldn’t tell. Do you have any idea how tormented I was over that question, and then when I’d convinced myself your relationship didn’t extend beyond friendship, how startling it was when you gave it all away while you were delirious?” Joan stopped short and mused, “Was that just last night? Amazing.”

“So, what exactly did I say? Were you upset?” No effort was made to mask the hope that Joan had been upset.

“Hell yes, I was upset.” Joan’s voice knocked with laughter. “Brie was there and I was holding you in her bed and you were shivering, no matter what we did to warm you. Then your head pops up and you’re with it just enough to babble something about never being cold in Brie’s bed.”

“Did Brie have that cornered animal look she gets?”

“Yes, and I didn’t let her off the hook right away, either.”

“Poor Brie.”

“Poor Brie? Poor me.”

“Well, poor you too. But Brie cares so much about you, it must have been miserable for her to think you were upset with her.”
“It wasn’t that bad, she kept the upper hand. In fact, Brie always seems to have the upper hand with me. Then we made very nice before she went off to spend the night with Hannah. Can you believe she’s already swooped down and captured Hannah?”

“Yeah, but she told me they spent the whole night talking.”

“Right.”

“That’s what I said.”

Joan smoothed back some curls that were tickling her neck. “Okay, let’s sleep together now.”

“Tell me one more time first.”

“I love you, Cailen.”

“I love you, Joan.”

© 2006 Margo Moon

Member Fatigue (or) How Does Your Garden Grow?

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 16:40:00 +0000

An innovator in nearly everything she does, my best friend Starr Ann has some unusual, yet highly successful, gardening techniques. That's why I encouraged her to enter the incredibly popular and competitive annual tomato growing contest in our town this summer.

Only thing is, with Starr Ann, one thing kinda leads to another and the main themes dominating her brain tend to get all braided together sometime. Like last month, right before I mentioned the tomato contest, she was all up in the air over how many penis emails were still penetrating the firewalls and spam-fighting filters she'd put on our computers. That last filter, E-Zipper, had shown such promise.

Anyway, around the same time, she also got a zero-interest-for-nine-months credit card offer in one of her post office boxes. You know, one of those alluring deals where a credit card company dangles money in front of you, hoping you'll borrow it and default in some way so they can slap on a sky-high interest rate you'll never get yourself out from under? But this was an especially innerestin' offer, as it was made out to one of the fake identities Starr Ann created for her voter fraud scheme back in 2004 when she decided you had to use Bush tactics to fight Bush.

So here's where the braiding together of two aggravations comes into play. Starr Ann replied to each and every penile enhancement email in her inbox. And guess how she paid for it all? That's right. She charged up about eight thousand dollars worth of penile assistance with that fake credit card. Now if you're thinking there's no way Starr Ann could pull off such a scam without getting caught, then you just haven't been paying attention to Starr Ann's talents.

I never doubted we were in for some major deliveries, and sure enough, starting about two weeks ago, Starr Ann would leave the house early in the morning and come riding in before sunset, with her saddle bags bulging like...well, you know.

Which brings me to why I encouraged her to enter that tomato growing contest. Thought it might take Starr Ann's mind off of her latest little subversive hobby. And bless her heart, she smiled real big when I mentioned the contest and said, "Why, Margo, what a perfect idea!"

Right away, she called the contest organizer who was real excited about Starr Ann signing up, because apparently the same people competed each and every year, and they were frankly suffering from a little member fatigue.

Anyway, like I said, Starr Ann's an innovative gardener. But the very next day after she entered that contest, her tomato plants got to looking extraordinary. By the end of the week, when the contest judges were due to drop by for a preliminary look-see, those plants were reaching so proudly for the sky that Starr Ann had actually removed the stakes, saying, "Margo, I don't believe there'll be any further need to prop these babies up."

Well, that shoulda got my suspicions aroused, but of course it didn't.

You wouldn't believe how impressed the judges were. They kept making comments like, "Never saw such stalks!" and "Those're big around as baseball bats!" and "Look at how the tomatoes are all hanging in pairs!" The one real bull-dykey judge even stayed behind when the others left and told Starr Ann that when it came time to whack those suckers down to make room for the cold crop, she'd be happy to bring her sickle over and do it by hand.

That was the comment that finally tipped me off. When the judges were good and gone, I said, "Give it to me straight, Starr Ann. What you been feeding these tomatoes?"

Well, Starr Ann got that one look on her face. The one where you just know she knows you've caught her doing something super tricky. Then she just smiled and said, "Now Margo, you know how I always try not tell you enough details about some things, in order to keep you legally in the clear?"

I said, "Yep I do Starr Ann, and I appreciate that, but just give me a hint, okay?"

Well, Starr Ann circulated through her garden a little bit, pulling up a couple of tiny weeds, picking a few yellowing tomato leaves, and just generally thinking. Then she said, real casual, "Wonder how many tomatoes it'd take to break even if, say, somebody used about eight thousand dollars worth of fertilizer on 'em."

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Thirteen: Running Wild

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 00:35:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

A section of fence was out, and Cailen and Joan were bolting through it like rogues thundering for the horizon. The instant they cleared the guard’s gate, nodding innocently at the uniformed woman who waved them through, Cailen popped her seat belt and scooted to Joan’s side.

“How are you feeling?” Joan steered left-handed so she could make a deft check of Cailen’s forehead. “You’re cool enough.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Ah, yeah. But we have to bear in mind how ill you were just a few hours ago. Are you tired?”

Cailen straightened her posture. “If, after everything you said in the tack room, and after that kiss, you insist on being too solicitous of my health, then you are just teasing me, Joan.” Her imitation was faithful enough to get laughter. And the fingers brushing along Joan’s neck drew a soft gasp to follow it.

“I just want to be sure you aren’t tired.”

“Tired? I am tired.” Cailen dropped to an intimate whisper. “Tired of my first thought every morning being of what color shirt you’ll have on that day. Tired of holding my breath at every sound when I’m in Penny’s stall in the evening, just hoping you’ve decided to join us. Tired of the disappointment when it isn’t you.” She exposed Joan’s neck for a few kisses then nuzzled in further. “I’m so tired, Joan, of not being able to sleep at night until I’ve exhausted myself, seeing your face the whole time then calling your name without having you there to hear.” She pushed her face further down into the vest. “Tired of wondering if you still want me, tired of dreaming of kissing you and licking you and sucking you senseless.”

The morning sky was still dark and they were stopped at a red light on a deserted street. Joan had valiantly fought to contain it, but the orgasm tumbled through her as inevitably as rainwater tripping down a rocky embankment. Cailen was taken off guard at first by the little catch of breath, but she realized what was happening in time to cover Joan’s stomach with a supporting hand as the shudders played themselves out.

The traffic signal was on who knew what iteration of its cycle by the time Joan was able to seize a green light and pull to the curb. Placing her hand on top of Cailen’s and pressing it firmly into her abdomen to coax one last tremor, she said after a satisfied sigh, “Haven’t had a chance to mention yet that your voice never fails to have the most pleasant impact on me.”

Cailen pressed Joan that way once more and was rewarded with another deep swell. “Drive as soon as you can. I need to hold you, Joan, and I’m about out of my mind. I’m serious.”

*****

The high, solid wood front door closed behind them and they stood in Joan’s foyer facing each other in one final, fading lucid moment.

“So this is your house.” Cailen removed her vest.

“I think so.” Joan removed hers then leaned forward and they kissed without touching anywhere else.

Cailen eased back slowly, keeping her eyes closed. She swallowed hard. “How far are we from your bed?”

“Too far.” Joan reached for her waist and pulled their bodies together.

“No, it isn’t. We’re going to lie down beside each other.”

Without another word, Joan led Cailen to the bedroom. She folded back the linens, undressed slowly and got between the sheets, covering only up to her hips.

“Take your clothes off for me, Cailen.”

Cailen kicked off her shoes, unfastened her jeans and let them fall open, then stripped the rest of the way less ceremoniously than Joan had because urgency was consuming her.

Joan held open the sheets as Cailen gently, almost reverently, lowered herself between them.

It was too delicious for Cailen to savor slowly. Bare skin whispering against bare skin for the length of their bodies. Nipples hardening and pressing into one another. Tears rising in Joan’s eyes—sapphires shattered into a million blue-fire diamonds. Joan breathing heavily. Joan’s arms pulling her closer.

Cailen rolled to the top and pushed her pelvis into Joan’s. When Joan lifted, she pushed more insistently. She reached between to spread them apart, clitoris to clitoris. Joan’s hips came up hard and joined Cailen’s thrusts, matching her rhythm, amplifying the pressure.

Their eyes exchanged an ancient recognition, two feral creatures come face to face in wilderness, in rare understanding, their bodies rejoicing in the gift of lust, giving themselves over to carnal bliss, letting it own them.

Finally, Joan, with the sheerest inclination of her head, requested to come. Cailen let herself slip closer to the brink and pulled Joan over it with her. They may have howled, they may have said unsayable things, or maybe they’d been quite demure. Neither had recollection afterward of anything except the fire that swept through them and the tremendous shattering spasms that racked both their bodies—all of it shared, all of it felt as one being.

Then, like newborn mammals groping blindly for another’s life-giving presence, they clutched for each other and adjusted positions and burrowed this way and that until an embrace, sufficiently tight and tangled, was mutually accepted.

After long minutes, “Are you asleep?”

“I don’t think they make you sleep in heaven.”

“One of the benefits.”

“Mmm hmm.”

They might have dozed briefly, then, “Still in heaven?”

“If I’m still with you.”

“I need you again.”

“Anything.”

“And we’ll go so slow this time. I want to show you how sweet I can be.”

“Anything. Everything.”

While trailing hot fingertips from Joan’s ribs to her thighs and back up, Cailen settled a cheek against her breast and felt the soft nipple harden. Joan could tell it pleased Cailen that she was trying to lie still and withstand the caresses, giving her excitement away only through involuntary responses—heart pounding savagely, breathing difficult to control, and fingers occasionally digging into the bed or Cailen’s arm.

The first time Cailen dipped into herself for wetness to paint Joan’s inner thighs, Joan was oblivious to it, but the second time she was aware and a faint cry got out before she regained control.

Cailen delighted in both Joan’s fall from composure and her hard won return to it, rewarding the stoicism with a whispered, “You are magnificent.”

When the moment seemed right, Cailen trailed her breasts down Joan’s body until her mouth was poised between Joan’s legs. The more Joan readied herself to take the first touch of Cailen’s lips the more impossible seemed the prospect of not exploding the moment they did. But Cailen took in a few brisk breaths through parted lips so that when they enfolded Joan they felt miraculously cool and soothing at first.

Joan had long recognized two distinct forms of cunnilingus—one meant to satisfy the receiver and one meant to satisfy the giver. From the first long, lusty lick Joan knew that Cailen’s desire was seeking to quench itself, that each taste, each suck was Cailen’s hunger unleashed, and the effect was worlds more arousing than any intentional effort to arouse. She spread herself wider and wider, offering Cailen’s mouth everything of her it could possibly want.

Joan was in uncharted sexual and emotional territory where the urge to beg Cailen for release was nearly overpowering.

She took a long, quivery breath. “Cailen, darling?”

Cailen slid her tongue out. “Yes?”

Her voice nearly unrecognizable, Joan said, “Cailen, please, keep me from coming for as long as humanly possible. You have me in an amazing place.”

Cailen lowered her face and held nothing back.

She eventually led Joan to the edge and deliberately allowed her to tumble over. When the plunge began, Joan’s first impulse was to brace a hand behind Cailen’s head, but she resisted, with the faint thought, Cailen will know how much. She will know how hard. She will know.

*****

Cailen was lying facedown and spread eagle. Her elastic limbs stretched so that no corner post of Joan’s bed was far from one of her feet or one of her hands. Her naked slender sleeping form impressed a delicate topography onto the thin crisp custard-colored sheet draped over all but her sandy-curled head. Sunlight that had carried its warmth through cold December air cast itself evenly across the creamy cover, and Joan sipped absently at her coffee cup as she leaned on the doorjamb. She was about to credit Cailen’s presence with the bedroom’s transformed nature, when it occurred to her that in seven years of owning this house, she had never viewed the bedroom during mid-morning. The bed Cailen now graced was catching exposure from east and south windows, which rendered it unfamiliar, as if the house had kept the effect secret from Joan until just that moment.

A fleeting impression deposited the melancholy notion that other women with whom she had shared this house, room, bed, were privy to the secret, had experienced the spectral washing-in, if not every day, surely on sunny weekend mornings. Without grasping why at first, Joan felt a small, tender loss at not realizing this until now. And she felt a narrow measure of blame that each of them had only basked in it alone. And then a moving and unforeseen truth came to her. They were simply lonely. Loving me has been a lonesome endeavor.

Cailen squirmed, sensed she was being smiled upon, and crooked her head. “Is that coffee?”

“Yes, but I’ve been suspended here for so long, it’s cool off.” Joan set both cups on the dresser and bent to kiss her. “Be right back.”

A quick hand caught her wrist. “Cool is fine. Don’t you go anywhere.”

Joan made a slow swipe across Cailen’s forehead to smooth the curls from her face. “I’ll have to get a bigger bed.”

“Why? This one is pure luxury. And don’t think making an enigmatic statement while you do it will distract me from the fact that you’re still checking me for fever.”

“Because the minute I rose a while ago, you filled the entire space, like water flowing to fill its container. Look how you’ve sprawled out.” She swatted Cailen’s butt. “And, yes, I think it’s smart to make sure you don’t start getting feverish.”

Cailen rolled over to make lots of room before pulling Joan down with her. “Aahh, you smell nice. Did you shower? I didn’t think I was sleeping that soundly.”

“You were and I did.” Joan stood back up to remove her blue satin robe. “Now, I suggest we both sleep a few hours then you can shower while I fix supper before we go to Penny.” She slid under the sheet.

Lying naked together and sun-drenched was not conducive to sleeping, as it turned out. Hands, one pair fine-tuned by years of reading subtle signals transmitted through leather reins, one pair adept at detecting the faintest change in tendon or hoof, took their leisure roaming the mysteries of the new lovers before them.

“I wonder if you could have any idea,” Joan’s fingertips were on a languorous journey from Cailen’s shoulder, along her side, over her hip, and down her thigh, “of how much this means to me, how much more than anything that’s gone before.”

“I do. Can’t you feel that I’m right there with you?” Cailen was brushing the backs of her fingers over full nipples. “Are you afraid at all?”

“No, are you?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Cailen, I can’t keep going slowly like this.”

“Me, either.”

Joan kissed a fiery trail downward until her mouth was just above the folds her fingers held open. She hesitated long enough to fill her need to look, to see what she was now free to enjoy. Her warm exhalations were like strokes to Cailen, who had to call on every ounce of control to wait for actual contact. Joan raised her eyes to span the length of Cailen’s body and met her beseeching expression. “I’m about to, I promise, but I want to say how beautiful you are, how precious to me. You’re like nothing else, Cailen.” Then she allowed her mouth to taste and feel and play.

When Cailen’s shattering explosion came, Joan’s fingers and tongue stayed with her as every nerve shot its effervescence into the universe, spouted a few less energetic parting plumes, and finally settled into a gentle sloshing beneath her skin.

Afterward Joan, like something thrown ashore by the tide, lay with her breasts between Cailen’s legs, head resting on Cailen’s stomach, loose arms above her head, hands lightly touching Cailen’s shoulders. They slept that way until the sun slid too far west to warm them through the bedroom windows and Joan awoke as a mild shiver passed over Cailen. Pulling the sheet up jostled Cailen’s leg and she shifted some.

“Come here to me, are you cold?” Joan crawled back up to the pillows.

“A little chill, not enough for you to go heating blankets or anything.” She cuddled closer and kissed Joan’s cheek.

“You’ve graduated from hot blankets to my hot body, my dear. Come here.”

*****

Clear, still evening air enfolded Joan and Cailen as they closed the heavy front door behind them on their way to Churchill. For the first time, Penny’s head was anxiously poking from her stall when they arrived.

“Hey, look at that. Our daughter missed us last night.” Joan shifted their pizza box to access her mint pocket.

Cailen reached Penny first. “My big girl! I missed you, too.” Penny flattened her ears out sideways so Cailen could scratch between them, a favorite spot she had discovered about a week earlier.

Penny let out a demanding nicker at the crackle of a mint being unwrapped, and Joan said, “Here you are. Now shove over and let me see if you’ve eaten anything without us.” Joan found the tub full with no soaked grain smeared along the sides. “Nope.”

As she arranged their food, which was, sentimentally, the same as that first supper together, Cailen asked, “Penny, what are we going to do about you, baby?”

It was a question that had been getting a lot of Joan’s attention. At that very moment she made her decision about the filly, and she also decided to make the solution a surprise for Cailen.

Penny might have been playing her usual coy games with supper, but Joan and Cailen ate like overworked farmhands.

“I saw how you took everything in while we walked through the shedrow, Joan. If you want us to come back to work in the morning, I’m fine with that.”
“Tomorrow? I was just thinking about extending our holiday, not cutting it short. What I envision is spending all of tomorrow at home again until time for Penny. And then over the next couple of days would you take a short trip with me to Camden, to the training center?”

Cailen didn’t see how they could just drop everything, but she weighed the lure of all that time with Joan against their obligations. The pizza and beer were long gone and they sat close in their usual corner while Penny pushed, without zeal, at her feed.

Cailen leaned forward for a kiss. “Hard to believe we can do that now.”

“Mmm hmm, let’s do it some more.”

After a while, Cailen got back to the subject of the Camden trip. “You know, I’d love to drive off somewhere with you for a few days, but there’s Penny to consider, and we can’t put that kind of pressure on Brie, can we?”

Joan kissed her again and pushed the curls from her forehead. “Not a fever check, I swear.”

“I know, I can tell when you’re doing that.”

“What if I fix everything concerning Brie and Penny to your satisfaction? Will you go away with me then?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t see how you’re going to do that.”
“Leave it to me. I promise you’ll approve.”

“What about that Sassy woman? Won’t we meet up with her if we go there?” Cailen’s inflection left no guesswork concerning her disdain for Sassy Rainier.

“Not necessarily. It’s a big place and Sassy’s out of town a lot. We could drive down, take care of my business there, spend one night and drive back the next day. We’ll be unannounced, except for a call to Mag asking her to set us up in one of the cabins, and I doubt we’ll see anything of Sassy.”

“How long is the drive?”

Come on, angel, don’t make me ruin the surprise. “Eleven hours, give or take. The country is really beautiful. Camden is where the filly Ruffian was bred, you know.”

“No, I never heard that. Do I have to keep my hands off you for the whole eleven hour drive?”

“Absolutely not. Let’s be careful not to give any truckers a show, though.”

“I’m in, if you fix things for Brie and Penny.”

“Consider them fixed.”

Before they left the office, after Penny cleaned up dinner and was tucked in for the night, Joan wrote a note for the top of Brie’s pizza warmer. Cailen thought the rather lengthy message was probably training or barn instructions for Brie and Car.

Joan’s note read: Brie, thank you so much for those well-placed nudges over the past few days to help Cailen and me get where we are now. I have never been this happy. At the same time, I’m sure I’ll miss our coffee together tomorrow. Do you realize we have greeted each other every single morning for the last five years? Now for a touch of business. Will you find Anna tomorrow and ask her if I may borrow her two-horse trailer Thursday and Friday? She rarely uses that one, but if it’s going to be tied up, please leave me a note tomorrow afternoon. One more thing, I’d like for you and Car to hire an additional groom. If I’m to desert you guys like this, and I do believe I’ll be taking a day off now and then, you need to be free of grooming duties to manage the barn. And the extra person will allow you to take time off during exams. The rest of the time, he or she can float, providing days off for the other grooms. Don’t argue with me about this! HIRE SOMEONE. Enjoy your pizza. Regards to Hannah. I love you. Joan.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Twelve: Turn For Home

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Joan had packed an elaborate Italian meal, complete with salads, fresh-baked bread and wine for the three of them that evening. Rain still hammered down as she eased her truck close to the office gap for unloading. That night, finally, she had every intention of staying to dine with Cailen. After all, she had promised to stop avoiding her.

Food and dry blankets were warming, and the next morning’s schedule was prepared, but Cailen hadn’t shown up yet. Joan dismissed her lateness, thinking maybe she had changed her arrival time. Joan hadn’t stayed around to eat with her for so long, the routine had probably evolved. When another hour passed and there was still no Cailen, Joan knocked on Brie’s door but got no answer, even though it wasn’t a class night.

By eight-thirty Joan, afraid she was transgressing, but too worried to stop herself, had looked up Cailen’s address in the employee record book and was bolting from the office, headed for her apartment. As Joan’s feet hit the shedrow’s packed-dirt floor, a harsh headlight beam caught her from behind. Over her shoulder, she saw Brie spill from the car and run around to the passenger door. Joan pivoted and ran toward the blazing headlamps, shading her eyes, straining to see what Brie was unloading so frenetically.

“What’s the matter Brie?” Joan shouted over the clattering engine and hard blowing rain.

“Joan! Help me get her inside!” When Brie caught a glimpse of Joan’s shocked face staring at Cailen slumped sideways in the front seat she added, “It’ll be okay, but she has a pretty high fever!”

Explanations would have to wait. Brie stepped aside so Joan could get a good hold on Cailen then ran ahead to fold back the thick blankets on her mattresses. Joan laid Cailen down and they snugged covers in around her. Even bundled like that, Cailen shook violently.

Joan started for the door. “There are barn blankets warming on the heater, I’ll go get them.”

Brie touched Joan’s arm and said, “No, let me. She was saying your name the whole way over here. If she wakes up, I want her to know she’s with you.”

Once heated blankets topped the already heavy layer Brie usually slept under, Cailen’s jerking chills softened to mild shivers, quieting enough that Joan judged it safe to speak. “What happened?”

“I went over to her place to see how she was doing. There was just this feeling she was sicker than she admitted today during training”

“Sick? Why didn’t I know about this?” Joan lay alongside Cailen, trying to stifle the resurging chills.

“She would have killed me if I told you. Don’t worry, I was keeping tabs on her. I found her didn’t I? Anyway, early this morning all she had was some nausea that made her throw up a couple of times. But she was looking a little gray by the time she left here. That’s why I went over. When I got there she was only slightly feverish and kept trying to chase me away. Cailen does not like to be fussed over when she’s sick. She’s like a cat that wants to crawl off to die.”

“So what then, her fever just spiked?”

“No, it went up gradually, but she didn’t want me to bring her anything for it. Cailen goes along with fevers being meant to burn off infection.”

“I do too, but only to a point. She still hasn’t taken anything for it?”

“Like I said, she refused.” In fact, there had been nothing for Brie to work with at Cailen’s apartment, where there was no medication or even a glass to bring her water in, since she had expected to be around for three or four days at the most and her furniture consisted entirely of the inflatable mattress and a can opener. “She got a little out of her head and started talking weird. About an hour ago, she started asking for you.” Brie kept her eyes on Cailen as she spoke, and could see that the blanketed shivers were getting stronger again. “I hated bringing her out in this weather, but there wasn’t much of a choice. She has one blanket at her place and the way she’s freezing, it was no comfort.”

Cailen had thrashed around a couple of times, but hadn’t seemed coherent enough to talk until she suddenly tried to sit up halfway and mumbled, “Joan isn’t here? Brie, where’s Joan?”

“Yes, I’m right here. Right here, see?” Joan’s words didn’t register and Cailen plopped her head on the pillow hard, apparently ticked off at Joan’s absence. Then she dozed again.

“Bit of a temper there.” Joan smiled tentatively and sprawled out to maximize bodily contact with the outside of the blankets.

With a cautious smile, Brie said, “That’s Cailen.”

“Unless you have some, Brie, will you go to Walgreen’s and bring back Tylenol, ibuprophen and a thermometer?”

Brie yanked her top desk drawer open. “Here’s ibuprophen, let’s get a couple of these down her and I’ll be back as soon as I can with the rest.”

As they pitched the patient forward and forced her to swallow two tablets, Joan said, “Don’t drive like a maniac. She’s going to be fine.”

After Brie set out, Cailen muttered a phrase or two now and then, but Joan’s name was the only decipherable part. Joan, with no way to gage whether she was understood or even heard, pressed her lips to a very hot temple and said over and over, “I’m here, I’m right here with you.” .

Brie made it back in record time. “Here’s the stuff. How is she?”

“Either the ibuprophen has hit, or I’ve regulated to the heat coming off her, but it feels like she’s not quite as bad. Let’s get that thermometer going.” When the time was up, Joan shook her head, “My God, a hundred and three point six. Poor baby.”

Getting a little animated, Brie asked, “She does seem better though, doesn’t she? Wonder how bad it was before those pills. She does seem better, right?”

Cailen rolled over and said very clearly, “I’m so cold.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Joan eased back alongside her.

When Cailen closed her eyes again and sighed, “Joan? I knew Joan would come,” Brie and Joan wordlessly smiled encouragement to each other.

“Sure, I did. I’m right here.”

“Don’t leave, okay?”

“No way.”

Brie was lying across the foot of the bed with an arm extended along Cailen’s calf. “She’s not really with it yet, or she wouldn’t admit she wants you here, but I think she’s better, don’t you?”

Joan nodded and it hit her for the first time how often Brie had asked to be reassured that everything was going to be okay.

Cailen heard the second voice and tried to sit upright. “Brie?” She looked around with astonishment. “Brie’s bed? I’m never cold in your bed.” Then the chill of an air leak in the blankets caused by sitting up sent her back under cover, burrowing into Joan for warmth.

Brie cursed herself for not fully explaining her and Cailen’s relationship earlier and her glance swiftly slid sideways. “Joan, I –”

“Later.”

“Right.”

A spell of relative stability, during which they merely stared at Cailen’s sleeping face, ensued. Neither woman spoke until Brie eased off the bed and whispered into Joan’s ear, “Bathroom and a phone call.”

She soon scooted noiselessly back inside to find Joan still holding Cailen, but stripped down to her white sleeveless V-neck undershirt. Joan rose, rolling smoothly from the mattress to keep from waking Cailen. Her upright state revealed that she was bra-less and the sapphire pendant she always wore glimmered from its berth at the inverted apex of the V nestled in firm, inviting cleavage. To make things worse, the white cotton shirt and skin beneath it were lightly damp with sweat.

“Mary, Mother of God, Joan.” Brie’s eyes had settled on the vicinity of the sapphire and flatly refused to leave.

“Shh.” Joan, irritated that Cailen might have been disturbed, jerked her head back toward the mattress. But there was no stirring beneath the blankets, so she relaxed and cupped a hand under Brie’s elbow and steered her to the door. “I was suffocating. You keep it, what, about a hundred and five in here?” Joan was whispering and keeping visual tabs on Cailen, on sharp lookout for signs of waking. “Let’s go to the office for a minute.”
Brie implored, “Just bring that pretty silky blue shirt with you. It’ll be cooler out here. You should put it back on.”

Joan snagged the shirt from the doorknob with one finger. “Serves you right.”

“For what?”

“For…I don’t know. Let’s just get out of here before we wake her.”

The office did prove cooler, but Joan tossed her shirt and vest over the desk chair armrest and paced back and forth. “Her fever has broken and she’s sweating, that’s why I thought it safe to leave her briefly.”

“Good news.”

“Yes, and since she can have the Tylenol two hours after the ibuprophen, and that’s only twenty minutes from now, I think we can keep it down.”

“Great, so why are you pacing like that?”

“You know why, Brisada.” Joan wasn’t angry. On what grounds could she be? But she had been thrown way off kilter, was definitely shaken up. “Do I ask you about this? Do I even have any right to?” She roughed up her damp hair in frustration. “Help me, Brie.”

“You help me first. Put your shirt back on.” She panted lightly for effect, or because she was really panting, and comically ogled Joan’s breasts in the bright tack room light.

With tensions slightly relieved, Joan laughed as she dressed, and then collapsed resignedly into her chair, spreading both arms wide to expose the chasteness of her new look – the shirt was buttoned to her Adam’s apple.

“You look ridiculous.” Brie giggled. “Keep it that way.”

Joan’s features reluctantly relinquished the smile and gave way to the seriousness of her thoughts. “I gather you and Cailen were once…girlfriends?”

“Mmm hmm.” Brie nodded slowly to back up the tepid acknowledgment.

“Serious, probably?”

“We care a lot about each other, yes. Surely you have seen that.”

“Of course, I have. Look, Brie, just tell me, okay? Was it before Lara?”

“Mostly. You know I love you and would never intentionally hurt you, right Joan?”

“Oh, God. This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Jealousy, or whatever the name of the God-forsaken emotion that swamped Joan then, was novel for her. But so many responses connected with Cailen were new that she wasn’t surprised, just at a loss as to how to conquer them. Or perhaps they weren’t meant for conquering, but for accepting. Maybe the deal that must be struck in exchange for such captivation, for such pleasant, tender attraction to another is the acceptance, without struggle, of raw and exposed vulnerabilities. Possibly, the attraction is even created in part by the very power of the exposure.

Brie’s words came out as soothing as Joan’s had with Cailen. “The fact that you already know about Lara helps. Think of your outrage, Joan, when she told you what Lara has done to her. Think of that!” Brie could barely speak Lara’s name without pounding a fist into something, but she controlled her fury and went on, “Now, think about whether you’d choose for her to have been treated that way only, or if you’d wish for her to have been happy some of the time.”

Almost too low to hear, Joan admitted, “I’d choose happiness for her, of course.”

“Wonderful. I hope to ease your mind by assuring you that she has, I believe, experienced at least one happy relationship.”

“But what happened? How did Lara even get in? Cailen obviously adores you.”

Brie pondered that one for a moment. “Happy doesn’t always mean fulfilling, Joan. Look at all your relationships since we’ve known each other and tell me that any one of them filled you up. I doubt you can claim that. Happy for the most part, yes, but I’ve never seen you hopelessly in love.”

Joan focused on a bridle across the room, recounting how resiliently she bounced back with every relationship’s ending.

Then Brie added, “Until now.”

“Until now, what?”

“I haven’t seen you hopelessly in love until now. Deny it and you are a stinking rotten gringa liar.” Brie brought out the big guns, her most dazzling dimpled smile.

Joan burst with relief and laughter. “I don’t think I can deny it. Problem is, I’m not sure of what to do with it. Cailen has wedged this self-imposed grace period, or something, between us. She’s the most confounding combination of—God, Brie, I’m a mess. And I’m sorry to have grilled you like this over something that happened so long ago.”

Brie spoke reflectively. “Time, yes, time and the related topic of chronology are interesting concepts. Very ethereal, too. Take your phrase ‘so long ago.’ There’s a slippery one for you. Very interesting to explore that one.”

“So, you and Cailen have…been together… since she met Lara?”

Brie nodded.

“Since she found out about Lara’s cheating?”

Affirmation needed no nod, merely the absence of denial.

Joan pictured Cailen’s face that first night when she had grudgingly accepted a beer with her pizza. She envisaged the cold, chapped hand wiggling free from a Caulder Stables maroon and white blanket and heard again that stubborn voice give in and take what Joan had offered. A rapid succession of recent memories chased each other across her mind—Cailen’s kiss; her profile in the truck last night; her willing descent into illness for Penny, Brie and Joan’s sakes; the evident pain when recounting her years with Lara; her laughter at lunch yesterday as they told their stories.

Returning almost grudgingly to the moment, Joan said, “I love you too, Brie, and even if you slept with Cailen yesterday, so be it. I think I am in love with her and that’s all that counts.” Joan caught herself at a starling thought. “Are you in love with her?”

“We settled all that years ago, don’t worry. And I know you aren’t asking, but just let me volunteer somthing. Not since she stopped seeing you as the evil horse trainer, okay?”

“Okay.” The air really did seem cleared then. “Let’s go check on her.” Joan stopped short. “Actually, she’s soaking wet from the fever breaking. Under the circumstances, you should probably be the one to get her into some dry things.”

“Sure, but then you take over and stay with her the rest of the night. You did promise.” Brie tried to escape ahead of Joan’s argument.

“I can’t take your room, Brie. Where will you sleep? My house! Let me give you my keys.”

“Don’t worry so much, will you? My phone call was to let Hannah know why I’m running late. She’s waiting for me at her apartment. I have a place to sleep.” To her credit, Brie resisted a smirk.

Joan gave her one of those blank, reserved for Brie only, half-amazed, half ain’t-it-a-shame looks that never failed to entertain Brie. “I truly do not know whether to admire or admonish you, Brisada.”

Brie returned from dressing Cailen in no time. “All fixed. She’s comfortable and dry in one of my sweat shirts and a pair of shorts.”

“Did she wake up?”

“Dimly. I told her you’d be right back to stay with her, but how well she understood I am not sure. I’ll bet you she’s just mainly pooped from trying to be superwoman. We let her drive her resistance too low, you know.”

Joan lowered her eyes. “That’s over, believe me.” She looked back up, resolute. “From now on, no more ‘Oh, Cailen, you’ve got to slow down and get some rest’ then we turn around and let her do whatever she damn well pleases. We have to work together on this, Brie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brie saluted.

Joan rose wearily. “Get out of here. Enjoy your … date.”

“Going.” But Brie went to Joan, not the door. She unfastened the three top buttons Joan would normally have left open and poofed up her collar to make it sit right, all the while commenting, “You know, I’ve never seen Cailen as knocked off her props as she is over you. You admit you love her, Joan, and I’d bet anything the feeling is mutual.” Brie let a long sigh escape. “Too bad Lara has succeeded in making Cailen believe she’s unworthy of you.”

*****

Standing in perfect stillness, Joan listened to the crush of Brie’s tires on wet gravel change to a fading swish on slick pavement. The rain had stopped and a first-quarter moon shone at half-strength under the barn’s maroon awning as Joan stepped from the office carrying the solution to what had so enigmatically rung false in Cailen’s reasoning. Brie had pinpointed the fallacy. Cailen was in no way unworthy of seeking happiness and for Joan to step aside as if she were, would constitute unthinkable complicity with Lara’s abusive behavior. Powered by the potency of this truth, Joan strode back to Brie’s room and, seeing that Cailen had thrown off all her covers, turned down the heater before retrieving from the tiny corner refrigerator the Sprite Brie had opened for washing down Cailen’s medication.

“Cailen, honey, can you sit up and take two more tablets for me?”

“Hmm?” Even in the syrupy light of the single candle Brie had lit, Cailen squinted but managed to prop up on her elbows.

“Here you go, now one good swallow. That’s it, angel.” Joan lowered the curl-covered head onto the pillow. “Go back to sleep.” She removed her shirt before the sweating started again and stretched out alongside this woman who had dominated her thoughts and dreams since that day Marty hadn’t shown for work and Car had to fetch a freelancer.

Throughout what remained of the night, at perfect two-hour intervals Joan roused Cailen to take her medication, each time finding her more alert until after the three o’clock dose the patient’s head fell to the pillow, but her eyes stayed open to watch Joan lie back down and wrap strong arms around her.

“What time is it?”

Joan jumped. “God, you scared me. About three, go back to sleep.”

“Have you been here all night?”

“You were in pretty rough shape. We were afraid to leave you alone. Anyway, I wanted to give you something for your fever every couple of hours. That last round should do it, unless you get feverish again.”

“No, I’m fine now. Where’s Brie?” She started to sit up, but decided against it.

Joan smiled. “Don’t ask.”

“Wait, I remember. Hannah’s place, right?”

“Yep. Brie’s operating assumption must be that there is no tomorrow, I’ve just about decided.” Joan was so close, Cailen could feel her smiling, but the return to wakefulness had seemed deceptively solid and she konked out again.

*****

An hour later Joan delicately withdrew from the night’s borrowed embrace. She blew out the candle before slipping from Brie’s room. Not long after, her schedule was neatly posted and converted to sets of no more than four horses each, because she’d be short a rider. Her second cup of coffee tasted wonderful as she surveyed the tranquil shedrow for a moment before a fast, tiny car roared to a halt in the gravel outside. Hannah bounce-walked to her new stalls and Brie came to Joan, like always.

Looking hopeful, Brie asked, “Hey, how is she?”

“Cool as a cucumber and she woke up alert for a few minutes around three. Do you need to go in your room for anything right away?”

“To change, yes.”

“Check her forehead, will you? I’ll pour your coffee.”

“Sure. Anything else happen? You couldn’t have gotten much sleep, but you’re more like my Joan than I’ve seen you in many days.”

Pausing and nodding thoughtfully, Joan said, “A lot has happened, only Cailen isn’t aware of it yet. Try not to wake her.”

Brie found the exercise girl in question not only awake but up, dressed, and pulling on her riding boots, which she’d been keeping, along with helmet and chaps, in Brie’s room instead of dragging them back and forth to her apartment.

Brie put her hands on her hips. “Joan will have a fit. Don’t you even dare walk out there carrying that helmet after that woman stayed up all night worrying about you.”

“I can take care of Joan. How was your date with Hannah?” Cailen was feeling strong enough to taunt, “Sorry I hogged your room and you had to spend the night with her.”

Pulling on a fresh pair of jeans, Brie smiled. “It was nice. We talked a lot.” She actually blushed, which as far as Cailen could remember, was a first.

“Good for you. Okay, all ready here. Let’s go, I’m dying for some coffee.”

Brie sang, “She’s going to blow a gasket, I can promise you this.”

“I said I can handle Joan.”

Brie did not need caffeine badly enough to brave strolling into that tack room alongside Cailen all dressed and ready to gallop horses, so she cut to the left, toward her stalls, calling behind, “May many saints and martyrs be with you, Cailita.”

At the sound of the opening door, Joan turned expectantly from the pot to offer Brie’s coffee. “How is sh—how are you?”

Cailen beamed a hearty smile Joan’s way, deliberately displaying her sturdiness. “She, I am great. Is that coffee for me?”

Joan seemed calm enough. “No, it’s Brie’s, but let me fix you a cup. Sit down.”

“Don’t need to sit, thanks.” Cailen was already busy assembling Jade’s tack for Brie. “I’ll just get this together and take it to Brie, along with her coffee.” Greater nonchalance would have required whistling a casual tune.

Joan puttered at the coffee stand. “So, you’re fully recovered and intend to work today, I see.”

“Right.” Cailen re-hung Jade’s bit. “I think our boy Jade is ready to go in a plain D-bit, so I’m going to switch him to that this morning, if you agree.”

“Wrong.”

“But he’s doing great, a D is all he—”

“I’m not talking about the bit. You know damn well I won’t allow you to ride today. What is this?”

Cailen still faced the wall, fiddling with tack as she responded coolly, “Nothing, I’m perfectly fit for work this morning.”

“Cailen, you are not! What you’re trying to pull off here is a denial of last night.”

“No, you’re mistaken.”

“Goddammit, will you turn around?”

Cailen tranquilly complied. “What’s the matter?”

“If, after calling my name and quieting only when I held you all through last night, you continue to act like there is nothing between us, if after that and the way you kissed me in Penny’s stall, you refuse to acknowledge it, then you’re being cruel, you’re just teasing me.”

Seeing the genuine pain in Joan’s eyes, Cailen dropped the façade and gently refuted her. “I would never try to tease you.”

“Well, I feel teased.”

“Look, I don’t remember a lot about last night, but I recall enough to know you were very sweet to me.”

“Sweet? I tortured myself with holding you in my arms all night, scared to death your fever would go up again and at the same time losing my mind from wanting to touch you. And you wanted me there, Cailen. You wanted me next to you.” Joan took the three steps that collapsed the distance between them. “Please don’t repeat for me your take on the status of your freedom, or lack thereof, to get on with your life and pursue your own happiness. I finally got through my head what that translates to. It says ‘Cailen is unworthy now, because she innocently promised herself to the wrong person.’ Sorry, I am officially closed to that argument. Lara may have shot down your self-esteem, but mine is alive and well enough for the both of us.”

Cailen, who had maintained steady eye contact, turned her attention to attaching stirrups to Jade’s saddle.

Incredulous, Joan had to laugh. “Cailen, how many ways do I have to say that you are not galloping my horses today?” She stood on the opposite side of the saddle and slapped it onto the floor with a broad sweep of her arm. At the sloppy flap of leather flopping on concrete, the dangerous blue flash of Joan’s eyes softened with embarrassment at yet another loss of temper. “This needs finishing,” Joan whispered, as she leaned across the polished wood saddle brace that remained between them. Faithfully reconstructing their original kiss, she smoothly pulled Cailen by her vest collar, checked her eyes for invitation, found it, and then hesitated on the precipice where their closed mouths met.

Cailen plunged first, unable to prevent her tongue from venturing over the trace of Joan’s lips, then dreamily entering her mouth. Instead of answering with her own tongue strokes, Joan closed around Cailen’s, enfolding it in imitation of accepting other, more intimate penetrations to come. Cailen nearly swooned at the foreshadowing and was rocking on the brink of lost restraint when, as with that first kiss, all the diffuse, edgy longing that had been scraping both women’s nerves coalesced into honeyed, slow-flowing desire that begged to be savored.

They shared immersion in the warmth of controlled ecstasy until Joan reluctantly surfaced and, fighting for breath and mastery over her voice, suggested, “If you’re really feeling as strong as you claim, maybe you’d be up to coming home with me as soon as training is finished.” She reached in for another kiss. “But I suggest that, since you are forbidden to gallop horses today, you return to Brie’s room for some rest until then. My plans for our afternoon and evening will demand all the energy you can gather.”

Cailen reached below the yellow pine saddle rack and rested her fingertips on her boss’s hips, whispering, “Not later. Now.”

Joan’s voice skipped at the contact. “Right now?”

“Yes. I surrender, totally and completely, but not unconditionally. Take me home with you, right now.”

Joan offered her hand to lead and Cailen accepted. On their way outside, Cailen paused to hang her helmet on a peg by the door then reached for her chaps buckle.

Joan stilled her fingers. “Leave your helmet, but we may find a use for the chaps.”

Cailen smiled gamely at the raw lust on display in Joan’s eyes. “Jesus, Joan, am I ready for this, for you?”

Joan’s hormones were running away with her but she exalted in conquering their savage anarchy. Quirking her most devilish smile at Cailen, she replied, “I don’t know how you could possibly be.”

*****

Brie’s barefaced delight at the sight of their joined hands and flushed faces was instant. “Where’s my coffee? Never mind, I’ll get it later. Well? Something’s up, what is it?”

Cailen fetched Brie’s forgotten coffee while Joan arranged matters. “Brie, I’m taking the day off.”

“I’m flabbergasted,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I was sure you would be.” Joan matched her forced composure.

Cailen returned and reclaimed Joan’s hand after Brie greedily accepted the fresh hot coffee.

Joan persevered, entwining the treasured fingers in her own and becoming dizzy with the thrill that simple gesture delivered. “So when Car gets here, will you congratulate him on being in charge of training for the day?”

Cailen squeezed twice to get her attention and quietly amended, “Maybe two days.”

Joan nodded. “Yes, better tell him two days, Brie. That means Car will be setting up tomorrow and the next day’s schedules. I expect he’ll be ecstatic.”

Brie really had missed her coffee. She got in one more sip before agreeing. “The poor guy has waited four years for you to take a day off, it’s about time.”

“Tell him I have full confidence in him.”

“I will.” Brie knew Joan had never bothered to have a phone connected at her house, so she added, “Will you be in contact at all? He’ll be happy, but he’ll probably want to work with a net.”

Joan shook her head. “No, but if there’s an emergency, you can always come to—”

“We’ll be here for Penny in the evenings,” Cailen offered with a small shrug.

Joan’s headshake swerved into a nod. “Oh yes, Penny. Tell him we’ll be here both evenings for a couple of hours.”

Brie was so happy for them she feared she was about to get sentimental. As sounds of a heavy car grew louder, she said, “Here comes the groom-mobile, you guys better get while the getting is good.”

No need to tell them twice. Joan called back over her shoulder, “Wheeler should be dropping by to take the hay order sometime this morning. Tell him two hundred bales each of alfalfa and orchard grass.”

Brie hooted. “Is that definite, Joan? I mean, I didn’t hear Cailen okay it.” Her mockery escalated as she added, “Hey, Cailen, is that the hay order? Just thought we should check it with you—like everything else.” She was still dancing and laughing when Joan’s taillights cleared the corner of the barn next door.

Hannah, who had been with Wild As A Bug two stalls from all the excitement, swung out under the webbing to shake a finger at Brie and declare, “You’re a crazy woman.” Then her attention shifted to the other end of the shedrow. “Hey, here comes my brother.”

“He’s going to love this.” Brie could not wait to break to Car the news of Joan’s defection.

Car wore a puzzled expression as he reached them and tilted his chin toward the truck's path of departure. “Was that Joan leaving?”

Somberly, Brie touched his shoulder and answered, “Yes, I am afraid we are leaderless today, my friend. You’re in charge.”

“You’re kidding. Joan take the day off? No way.”

“More like three days off. The reins are in your sweaty little hands.” She affectionately punched Hannah’s twin brother.

Car cross-examined Brie until he was reasonably sure she wasn’t toying with him then, suddenly feeling the weight of his responsibilities, hurried to the office.

It was good to see her brother so enthused, and Hannah’s smile trailed after him. “Why did you tell him three days? Joan said two.”

Brie fluttered her black paintbrush lashes, feigning insouciance. “In my opinion, and judging by the looks on their faces, I predict that if those two are alone for two days, they will be in no shape to work on the third.”

Hannah wondered how she would ever get any work done, what with her stalls being situated right next to the cutest, most tempting spitfire of a girl on the racetrack. She was dead serious when she said, “And my poor, innocent brother thought you people would calm me down.”

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Eleven: Gaining Ground

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

It was still pitch dark out, but Cailen already had two of Bean’s stalls done and was unlatching the heavy white wooden door of the third when the swing of Joan’s truck lights briefly flashed shadows on the stall fronts then died out. Steady rain, which had begun just after midnight, intensified a notch for Joan’s trot across the gravel parking area to the shelter of her barn.

Cailen slipped Wild As A Bug’s halter over the bay mare’s head and braced for Joan’s approach, but instead of coming directly to the stalls, Joan made coffee. Five minutes later, she stood at Bug’s threshold holding two cups that issued fast-flying steam into the cold, humid morning air.

“What have you done with Bug?”

Cailen flashed a huge hello smile over her shoulder then turned to face Joan and, after propping the pitchfork against the wall, gratefully accepted her coffee. “I don’t trust cleaning an entire stall with a horse in it, even with a plastic pitchfork. I’ve been putting them in that empty one on the end. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Pitchfork injuries have ruined lots of—wait a minute! Them?” Joan checked Bean’s other stalls. “Three? What the hell time did you get here? It’s only four-fifteen now.”

“Shh. We’ve got horses still trying to sleep here.”

“Cailen, don’t be cute. Brie’s right about you, you’re going to work yourself sick if you keep pulling stunts like this.” Joan joined Cailen in taking a few careful sips before asking, “How did it go with Penny last night after I left?”

Cailen admitted, “She hadn’t eaten a thing while we talked in the tack room.”

“So, you had to wait with her? That means you couldn’t have gotten more than an hour or two of sleep.” Joan shook her head.

Cailen hadn’t slept at all, and she’d been a bit lightheaded and nauseous while mucking those stalls, but she vigorously declared, “I feel great. And I don’t know what you mean by ‘stunt.’ I merely popped in a tiny bit early because you’ve got no business trying to groom four horses and train thirty at the same time.”

Giving no ground, Joan said, “And you’ve no business cleaning four stalls before hurling yourself over a sloppy racetrack on the back of a speeding animal, with little or no sleep.”

Please don’t say hurl. Cailen managed another smile. “Are we having a fight?”

As her eyes dove to a deeper shade of blue, Joan shot back, “Believe me, if we fight, you won’t have to ask. How did I do making coffee for you? Enough cream? Too much?”

“Perfect.”

“I’m glad. Now get out of here and allow me to do my penance in peace.”

“Penance?”

“For horsewhipping a groom yesterday, remember that?” Joan’s smile was devilish. She’d slept soundly for the first time since the night of the kiss and woke up ready to conquer the world, or at least the part of it Cailen inhabited.

Cailen kept that pitchfork busy sorting soiled straw, flagrantly disregarding the cease and desist order, so Joan resigned herself to washing feed tubs.

As Joan started the first tub, Brie showed up bundled in thick layers against the dampness. “Hey, Joan, it felt funny to come out and not find you in front of the tack room.”

“Really, now? Did it also feel funny to be up an hour ahead of time?” Joan’s sarcasm was delivered at high volume to be heard over the sounds of water slapping concrete, tubs knocking into each other and runoff rushing down the big-mouthed drainpipes. “You should still be sleeping, Brie.”

“Thought I’d clean a couple of extra stalls on this lovely morning.” Brie squinted out at the rain.

“Well, turn yourself back around, Cailen is already on her third, check Bug’s stall.”

Brie sauntered over to Bug’s stall. “Morning, Cailen. What happened to cleaning my stalls for me?” Then lower and with too much seriousness to be serious, “Are you going steady with Joan now, Cailita?”

Hearing the slippery tubs knocking together as Joan approached, Cailen started to shush Brie, but a diversion interjected in the form of a strange car pulling up, moving a little too fast, next to the gap.

“Wonder what the hell this is all about.” Joan had never known her barn to be so active at that hour of the morning.

Someone bearing a self-assured stride ascended from the loud, high-performance car and entered the shadows near the office corner of the barn. They got a good look at her as she tossed off her dripping yellow hood and poked her head inside the lighted office, found it vacant, looked around, spotted them, and set a new course in their direction.

“Okay, I’m really in love this time, I mean this.” Brie put her hand lightly to her heart.

Joan laughed and Cailen did her best to, too, from the crest of a new wave of nausea and dizziness. She hoped Joan hadn’t noticed that most of her coffee remained in the cup getting cold.

“Morning, I’m Hannah.” She shook hands efficiently with each of them, leaving Joan for last and, Cailen noted, pausing briefly before releasing her.

Joan assumed the introductory duties. “Nice to meet you, this is Brie, and Cailen. I’m Joan.”

Hannah’s face lit up. “Joan, great! You’re the woman I came to see. I heard you might be looking for a good groom. I happen to be an excellent groom, so if being overqualified doesn’t disqualify me for the job, I’d like to apply.”

Cailen shot a disgusted look at Brie who, instead of commiserating with her over such an audacious display, only stared at the intruder.

Joan’s amusement at and appreciation of Hannah’s straightforward approach was evident. As Hannah spoke, she had moved closer to Joan, close enough to invite notice of their complementarity. Joan’s daring black hair countered Hannah’s baby-blond bangs, and though each woman’s eyes were blue, the electricity in Joan’s midnight blue shared little with the soothing light blue of Hannah’s, which hinted connection to seascape and sky. The sight of them so near one another had an elemental appeal that rendered Brie speechless for once. Cailen was surreptitiously surveying the vicinity for a spot where she might discreetly throw up.

“Yes, Hannah, I do need a groom. Would you mind stepping into the office for a moment, please?”

As the door shut behind them, Brie recovered enough to notice Cailen’s pallor. “Take it easy, baby. Joan always interviews grooms in private.”

Car arrived and came directly to Bean’s stalls, looking concerned, when he saw the closed office door.

Brie yawned before saying, “You’re way early too, Car. Come to help Joan with these stalls?”

“Yeah, looks like you guys beat me to it.” He tipped his head toward the tack room. “Joan interviewing a new groom?”

“That’s right. An extremely…confident…person.” Brie was already dreaming of Hannah working daily in the four stalls adjoining hers.

Car laughed nervously. “Confident? That’s a nice way to say it. I couldn’t help notice my sister’s car out there, my sister Hannah.”

Brie twisted her body to view Car face-on. “Dude, now that you say it, there’s an incredible resemblance.”

“We’re twins.”

Brie punched his arm. “Well, where’ve you been keeping her all this time? Afraid we’d corrupt her, Car?”

“No, just the opposite. There’ve been lots of times when I thought you and Joan would be good influences on Han. She’s great with horses and works really hard.”

“That tells me nothing. In that case, why didn’t you bring her around before now?”

A tendency to blush was something Car had been trying to gain control over. The effort was showing no promise though, as his fair skin flushed pink. “She’s, uh, of the same persuasion as you and Joan and all, and I really have thought you guys would be a good influence on her, but Han’s kinda, I don’t know, kinda predatory and I was afraid she’d stir up trouble somehow.”

Brie gazed wistfully at the door behind which Joan spoke with Hannah. “Predatory, you say?”

“She’s a good person, don’t get me wrong. I just hope if Joan hires her she doesn’t cause any problems around here.”

Cailen quietly slipped down to Bug’s stall and vomited in the half-filled wheelbarrow she’d left there.

Fifteen eternal minutes later, all of Bean’s stalls were ready, Car was seeing to something on the other side of the shedrow and Joan was still in the office with Hannah.

Brie moved down to her own stalls, Cailen in tow and looking lost, with the nausea somewhat relieved, but lurking on the fringes. Brie had picked up on the retching sounds earlier and had made cover noise so Car wouldn’t hear.

“Cailita, I have to confess that your misery is making me very happy.”

“Love you too. What are you talking about?”

“You seem pretty upset by Joan being in there with Hannah and by what Car said about his sister.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re way off.”

“Fine, mija. Whatever you say. I guess it won’t bother you then if Joan hires her today and it turns out that you got here in the middle of the night to clean Hannah’s stalls.”

A click of the office doorknob snapped Cailen’s attention, and she knew Brie was just about to burst with satisfaction. Joan and Hannah emerged, laughing about something one of them had just said. They stood for a moment outside the tack room for Joan to explain an item Hannah had pointed to on her tax form, then proceeded toward Brie’s stalls.

As they approached, Joan was wrapping up, “So welcome to Caulder Stables, Hannah.” Seeing that Brie was alone Joan asked, “Is Cailen still down there working?”

“No, those stalls are all finished. I think maybe Cailen drifted off in the direction of the restrooms.”

Joan peered into the darkness toward the nearest battery of women’s showers and bathrooms. She looked searchingly into the heavy rain, trying to catch sight of Cailen, but the shedrow lights were bright and gave way to opaque blackness just beyond the barn’s concrete half-wall. Giving up, she announced, “Brie, Hannah’s going to be your new neighbor.”

Her eyes never leaving Hannah, Brie replied, “And I’ll still get paid for this, or should I start paying you, Joan?”

Joan looked up into the rafters and shook her head. Not yet five in the morning and Brie was on the prowl.

“I’ve suggested that the two of you share the cleaning of your stalls this morning, Brie, since the other four have already been done.” Joan noticed that Hannah was holding her own with Brie in the eye-contact department. “As I was saying, if anybody cares, Hannah will need clean saddle towels and bandages today, because Bean left dirty laundry. So, anyway, why don’t I just see to my business and let you two work things out.”

She should have started posting the schedule half an hour ago, but Joan ducked out the far end gap to check on Cailen. She met her out beyond the gravel, where soft black asphalt took over. “I was coming to look for you.”

“Why? In this rain?”

“Good question. I don’t really know, but Brie said you’d stepped out and following seemed like the thing to do. Chalk it up to...chalk it up to me being extremely inefficient this morning. You cleaned all my stalls and I haven’t even posted today’s schedule. Did hire a groom to replace Bean though, and I don’t believe there’ll be a need to get Brie anything additional for Christmas this year.”

Cailen smiled in spite of having strained every stomach muscle she owned while being sick in the restroom. “You’d better get that training plan on the board. I need something from my truck.” Cailen didn’t want to give Joan too much opportunity for observing her worsening condition, which was surely just from eating too many doughnuts last night.

As she gave Cailen a leg up on her first mount, Joan did notice some mushiness in her spring. “That was pretty pitiful, was it my fault or yours?”

“Sorry Joan, mine. My hand must have slipped a little on the saddle edge.”

Joan let it pass at that, too cheerful to be on the lookout for anything menacing, her mind and mood aglow with the new circumstances of Cailen’s being ‘not free.’ Although she was theoretically as unavailable as before, it sure didn’t feel the same. In fact, there was something about Cailen’s declaration of being bound as tightly as if by fidelity that Joan inwardly rebelled against. True, Cailen’s intentions were honorable, but Joan wasn’t at all sure her reasoning was sound.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Ten: Head to Head

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

As Cailen drove away from the curb in front of Cinda’s house Joan asked, “Do you know your way back from here?”

“To the track, but you’ll have to direct me to your place.”

“No, go to the track. I’ll put on a pot of coffee and drive myself home later.”

“I’m not taking you to the track.”

“But my truck’s there.”

“Precisely the point.”

“Without my truck, how am I supposed to get to the barn tomorrow morning?”

“Tell me what time to pick you up, and I’ll be there.”

“Cailen, be reasonable.”

Cailen smiled in the condescending manner of a sober person dealing with an inebriated one. “You be reasonable. Your little drinking buddy and you had four of those things each. Would you approve of Brie driving after that?”

Joan’s legs were extended out as straight as she could get them and she punched her hands deeply into her jeans pockets as she sighed defeat. “I suppose not.”

“And put your seatbelt on, please.”

Joan had moved over to Brie’s vacated spot. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to see that the belt, indeed, was not fastened.

“Brie and I are drinking buddies, you know.”

“Really?” You’re reaching a really cute phase of your buzz, now. Please let it be over soon.

“Yes, I’d call us that, as we only drink to intoxication, as a rule, once a year and that is with each other.”

“Christmas eggnog?”

Surprise spread across Joan’s features. “She told you about our Christmases?”

“The eggnog part—and the marriage proposal part.”

Joan rocked her head back in tender recollection. “It’s always very romantic.” Then she sat up straighter and got more serious. “Okay, no fair. You know a lot about me, especially after all these tales Brie initiated today. I know almost nothing about you. Tell me things about you.”

“You know lots about me.”

“Not really. You told me you’ve been friends with Brie for thirteen or fourteen years, I know you ride like a dream and have a rare, deep affinity with horses and there’s a ‘complicated’ girlfriend tucked away somewhere.”

Cailen was so happy to be alone with Joan that she set aside the hopelessness of the situation to simply revel in her company for these few minutes.

“That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“But it’s not stories like the Sassy at the gym story and the frozen water pipe story.”

“You want a story. Okay, does it have to be funny like those?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Does it have to involve nudity like those?”

“Optional.”

“Let me see, then.” Cailen stared at the road ahead briefly before coming up with, “Okay, that friend whose house we left Brie at, Cinda? Do you know her?”

“No, but I gathered that you both have for a while. Where do you know her from?”

“Racetracks all over. Arlington, Hialeah, here. Anyway, Brie ruined a car of mine once delivering a baby in the back seat, Cinda’s first little girl. You wouldn’t believe the mess that makes.”

Joan scootched around beneath her seat belt, fidgeting with interest. “Brie actually delivered a baby? Tell me how that happened.”

“Well, the three of us, or four depending on how you count, had the afternoon off and for some reason, even though Cinda was about due, we drove way out of town to a deserted quarry, just exploring. So, of course,” Cailen made a dour face, “Cinda’s water broke all over that gray quarry stone and we had to help her back to the car and onto the rear seat where she could lie down and, did you hear Brie say Cinda has four of them now?”

“Four children? Yes.”

“Well, she drops them like calves in a field or whatever drops its babies really fast, at least the first three, which are how many I knew about. So, she went into labor there in my car and Brie just hopped over the seatback and improvised everything, but delivered it safe and perfectly healthy.”

Joan’s eyes were alight. “That’s amazing. And Brie’s so crazy about kids. Was she ecstatic? Or in shock?”

“You’d have thought she was the daddy or something. Did I mention that the car was useless after that?”

Joan laughed hard. “Yes you did, and I have to say I’d have felt the same way. Gruesome business, birth. Joan stopped laughing at a thought, and said very seriously, “I’m sure you know Brie fully intends to have children.”

Cailen winced. “Yeah, she’s obsessed.”

“Some women simply cannot ignore the tick of that biological clock.”

“Brie’s chimes on the hour, I think.”

Joan clapped her agreement. “What a great story! More.”

“More?” Cailen was laughing too now. “That one was hard enough to come up with. Help me out, ask a distinct question.”

Before she could catch herself, Joan said, “What’s her name?”

“Whose?”

“Your lover’s.”

All the lightheartedness evaporated from their mood and Cailen chose her words carefully. “Joan, in trying to spare you some unpleasant details I might have given the wrong impression of my circumstances at home.”

Joan remained silent, weighing the words.

Cailen’s finger tipped the heater fan switch. “Brie really craves tropical conditions. Mind if I turn this down?”

A bemused grin settled on Joan’s face. “You’re aware of my abnormal metabolism, yes, please do.” She had carried her vest to the truck in anticipation of an overly warm cab with Brie aboard, and with Cailen’s mention of temperature, rolled up her shirtsleeves.

Because of driving in unfamiliar territory, Cailen was able to steal only brief, unsatisfying glimpses of Joan. She saw that last smile dawn though, and continued to tease herself with single-frame shots of Joan’s jacketless figure. “You look great in that shirt.” I can’t do this. I can’t help myself.

“Must be one hell of a shirt. Brie made a point of requesting that I wear it.”

That confirmed Cailen’s hunch. Even before the afternoon’s machinations, seemingly designed to throw Joan and her at one another, Cailen had been suspicious about Brie’s discontinuation of afternoon invitations to the room. Not that Cailen could have accepted while feeling the way she did about Joan.

“Brie’s a special girl.” Cailen meant it in a variety of ways.

“Yes, Brie is special. Funny you should mention there could be a miscommunication between us concerning your girlfriend. For some reason, Brie suggested we revisit that topic.”

Cailen snickered at Brie’s acumen. “And how did she happen to be on the topic?”

“You aroused her attention when you mentioned I had gone to lift weights several nights ago.”

“I don’t get it.”

Joan rolled her eyes, an exaggerated expression that betrayed the lingering tequila effect. “Brie knows me so well it’s frightening sometimes. When suffering from a romantic disappointment, not an unusual occurrence, I lift weights at night to exhaust myself before going to bed. Brie knows that, and it didn’t take much for her to deduce that you are the source this time.”

“Joan, you can’t convince me you’ve had that much romantic disappointment in your life. You’re criminally attractive and you know it.” Shut up.

“Well, Cailen, thank you but as it turns out, I am eminently leavable.”

Smiling, Cailen countenanced herself to just ease back and let the conversation bump harmlessly along. No sense in spoiling Joan’s high.

“Eminently leavable.” Cailen flattened the pitch of her voice. “Would that be a reference to Justine?”

With no trace of self-pity, Joan recounted, “Justine. And Kate, and Amanda, and Cheryl.”

Cailen performed a shallow but reverent half-bow from behind her steering wheel. “Your Eminence,” she intoned respectively.

Joan cordially accepted the accolade with a regal hand flourish.

Cailen added, “So, what’s your main defect? Bad temper?”

Now it was Joan’s turn to choose words carefully. “Cailen, I meant to thank you for being so amiable throughout lunch, considering how you feel about what I did to Bean today.”

“Really? How do I feel about that?”

“The specifics I can only speculate over. Disappointment, disgust, disapproval. Something along those lines. I couldn’t help noticing how abruptly you left after the festivities this morning.”

Cailen slowly nodded understanding. “I did have to leave, but you’ve got the reason all wrong, trust me.”

Joan’s descent to clear and perfect sobriety had been steep and she was silent for a few moments, absorbing the landing.

If not for the mess waiting back in Chicago and the unfairness of drawing Joan into her life before attending to that, Cailen would have stopped the truck and admitted she had not been able to endure the sight of another woman holding Joan so intimately, even Brie, even in jest. She would have explained about needing to get far and fast away from that to keep from making a fool of herself. But for the present, bringing those feelings to light was a disclosure Cailen considered beyond the bounds of selfishness.

“Know what, Joan?”

“What?”

“One of the spices they use in that Tex-Mex always makes me want doughnuts an hour or two after eating it. Let’s take a dozen back to the barn and have them with Penny. By the time they’re all gone and she’s finished eating I might even let you drive yourself home.”

“I shouldn’t, but thanks.”

Desperate to dispel the dejection she’d sensed in Joan since bringing up the morning’s unpleasantness, Cailen pleaded, “Come on. I’ll tell you about Lara and me.”

Lara. Shit! Great name. “You will?”

“Guess I just said I would.” At times, Cailen could not believe her own lack of good judgment.

“Get the doughnuts.” Joan sincerely hoped that learning some details about Lara would make her more real, would somehow ease the preoccupation with Cailen, once and for all.

Cailen declared seriously, “There’s one very important piece of information I need from you first though, and I’m terrified of what you’ll say.”

Joan answered Cailen’s gravity by sitting straighter and turning a notch more sideways. “Please, anything, ask me.”

“Do you harbor any, and I mean any inclinations toward washing down doughnuts with beer?”

Joan suddenly understood exactly why Brie could so often be seen bopping Cailen in the head. “Never previously, but if you continue to be such a brat I might make you try it.”

*****

There was no mistaking Penny’s approval of Joan’s dinnertime return, to say nothing of the mints.

As she affectionately watched Joan’s attentions to the filly, Cailen said, “We haven’t spoken much lately, but I’ve been meaning to tell you how much fun Penny and I are having on our jogs after training. We jog a bit then we take little tours of the barn area that she seems to relish. She’s such a character, Joan. And smart? If she had a bigger body she’d make a heck of a lead pony.”

Joan turned happily from Penny’s mint-seeking muzzle, about to comment generally on the sociability and intelligence of horses, but Cailen’s aspect arrested her mid-motion. A sensation, identical to the hot flush of welling tears, filled Joan’s abdomen and pierced downward, a rush remarkable in its fusion of sexual surge and desolate sadness.

For a time, they teetered on a fine-edged fulcrum, Joan flooding with need and the absolute refusal to fill it, Cailen captivated by the unhidden longing in Joan's eyes.

Finally Joan, her voice far off-balance, said, “Cailen, I’m not this strong. I wish so much that I were, but I’m not. I have to go.”

Cailen was as calm as Joan was unsteady as she held her ground in the doorway, barring exit. When Joan tried to slip past, Cailen steered her path back to center, gently guiding her by the shoulders. Through the worn black cotton fabric of Joan’s shirt, her strong triceps, firm and fluid in the way only fit female muscles can be, trembled under Cailen’s fingers.

“Are you actually cold?”

“Maybe. Yes, I guess so. My truck heater is a good one though, and I really need to get out of here, Cailen. Please let me go.”

“You aren’t going to your truck. You’re coming with me to the tack room where it’s already warm.”

“What about Penny?”

Cailen looked past Joan, whom she still held firmly to the spot, toward the gleaming copper filly. “Penny, baby, this is test night for you. I’m taking Joan to the office to tell her a story about my past. It’s your job to eat without having us in the stall with you. We’ll be nearby. Right, Joan?”

Relenting, Joan weakly affirmed, “Right.”

The juices that had rushed to suffuse Joan’s lower regions were trying to reabsorb all at once, leaving her legs rubbery. Feeling as if she’d been stampeded, she gratefully dropped into the familiar comfort of the chair behind her desk.

Cailen pulled a padded folding chair across the desk from Joan and began, “Lara’s a barrel racer, a very good one. Some friends and I were at a rodeo in Cincinnati the first time I saw her. She took top place that night and since one of my friends had gone to school with her, we were all invited out to celebrate afterward. That’s how we met.

“We dated for only a few weeks before moving in together, a little over five years ago. Brie, by the way, never approved of Lara. I had such a hard time understanding at first, how two people I loved so much could possibly not love, or even like, each other.” Cailen put her feet on the desk, since Joan’s were already up there.

The sun had been set for a while and the office’s stark overhead light was on, compounding the headache that was closing in on Joan.

Cailen continued, “Anyway, be careful of ever discounting Brisada’s instincts. I was off the racetrack by then, doing IT consulting for a really nice firm. Not all corporations are greedy and disreputable, I’ve found.” Cailen grinned. “Same as the way all thoroughbred trainers aren’t necessarily heartless egomaniacs. That’s a misconception you’ve divested me of. And thank you.”

“Is that why you were so short with me the first few days you were here?”

“Yes, sorry. Anyway, Lara spent a lot of time on the road without me, since my job kept me in Chicago.” Cailen swung her feet to the concrete floor. “Okay, here’s the accelerated version. I built the house Lara asked for and cleared her way to ride as much as she wanted. Three years ago, I discovered she had been—how can I put this—unfaithful, on a regular basis, since six months after we got together.” Cailen stood and crossed the room to straighten a bridle on its hook. “Brie has a more colorful way of describing the whole thing. Ask her for her version sometime.”

“Yours is the only version I want to hear.” Joan could imagine Brie must have wanted to kill Lara for hurting Cailen like that. Joan certainly could have.

“So, there you have it. I’ve spent the years after finding out about it making vain attempts at breaking up with Lara.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“No. Honestly, no.”

“Then why three whole years? I don’t understand.”

“At first there were arguments, of course, and I’d tell her it was over, but she’d convince me things would be different.” She sneaked a sheepish look at Joan. “Stupid of me, I know.”

“Not by my standards.”

“So anyway, I’d fall for it and we’d try again, but by that time I was less trusting and she never really tried very hard to cover her tracks.” Cailen was seated again, feet on the desk. She stopped speaking and studied the tips of her sneakers while Joan studied her face.

Cailen looked up. “What are you thinking?”

“Right that second? My instantaneous thought?”

“Yeah.”

“At that second, I had decided on blue as the color of your eyes tonight, in here. Earlier, in the stall, they were green I thought. And definitely gray at the restaurant this afternoon.”

Cailen grinned. “I’m glad you aren’t ignoring me anymore.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, that was self-preservation and not very courageous of me. I’m sorry if you were hurt by it. We won’t go back to that, okay?”

“Good. Well, there’s my story. Not a very nice one.”

Joan sat forward, her elbows coming to rest on the desk calendar’s edge. “Hold on, I have questions.”

“Like?”

“Like, why are you in Louisville, and are you two still periodically reconciling?”

Cailen shook her head. “The time for reconciliation is over. I originally came here to be out of the way until Lara headed out in mid-November for one of her big rodeo events.”

“But it’s past that now.”

“Yeah, it is. Meeting up with Brie kind of changed my plans. Now I want to stick it out here until the end of this semester, help her through it.”

“Then what?”

“Then go home, sell the house, give plenty of notice to the company I do consulting for.”

“And Lara?” Joan girded herself for the answer, but needed to know.

“This time she can throw all the fits she likes. It’s really over. It has been over for a long time.”

“Are you being honest with yourself about that, Cailen? Not too many days ago you pushed me away because of her.”

Cailen shook her head again, “No, not because of her, because of me. I told you I’m not free, which is true, and then let you fill in the blanks as to the reason.”

God, you’re exasperating. “Then tell me what ‘not free’ means.”

“Joan, I loved Lara so much. I promised, many times, that I’d always love her. I was absolutely sure I’d always love her. And now I don’t. Now there’s none of that left.”

“Cailen, that happens. And it sounds as if you’ve been given good cause for your feelings to change.”

Cailen waved her hand dismissively, “The reason is incidental. What I can’t get over is the certainty I had about loving her and staying with her no matter what happened. Now I don’t love her and am not going to stay with her. How can I ever trust that feeling again? If I ever said those things, felt those things again, how could I believe myself, knowing I’ve said and meant them before, yet did leave her and did stop loving her? I’m not free until I sell that house, leave by the front door, and figure out the answers to those questions. To me, that’s equivalent to being bound by fidelity.”

Something about Cailen’s reasoning wasn’t quite washing with Joan. “Not a bit tough on yourself, are you?”

A visibly pleased Brie opened the door on their conversation. “Do you two have any idea what time it is?”

They looked up at the wall clock. Ten-thirty.

Joan jumped to her feet. “Shit! I still have to figure out tomorrow’s schedule.” She collected the morning’s workout times from the top drawer and extended an open palm to Cailen. “My keys, please.”

Cailen laughed. “How did you know?”

“Saw you pilfer them from the hook before we left this afternoon. She probably stole yours too, Brie, if she could get to them.” Joan’s eyes bore into Cailen’s.

Cailen returned both sets of keys. “I take my designated driver duties very seriously.”

“Apparently.” Joan was fully mobilized, organizing her mind around the next day’s demands. “Did you eat supper, Brie?”

“A little, at Cinda’s, but I’m still full from lunch.”

“Bull. Cailen bought doughnuts and we had plenty left.”

“Doughnuts?”

Cailen headed for the door, saying, “They’re still down by Penny’s stall, let me get them for you.”

Joan rounded her desk, heading for the door too. “Goodnight, Cailen, I’ll be out of here in thirty seconds. See you in the morning.”

Brie enjoyed a ringside seat from which to watch their eyes find each other again and linger briefly before Cailen smiled and said, “See you in the morning, then.”

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Nine: Down The Backstretch

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 07:01:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

Sagebrush Restaurant offered typical Tex-Mex décor and fare. Its multi-level, rambling layout drew nearly no clientele at two-thirty on a Monday afternoon and the few patrons who did grace the establishment sat or stood near the bar. Brie had appointed herself to run this outing, so when the hostess finally showed up she had a specific seating request ready.

“We’d like a non-smoking area in one of the rear rooms, please. And a booth would be good.”

On the drive over, Brie had mentally rehearsed how she would manipulate the seating arrangement so that Joan and Cailen would have to sit next to each other. And her plan worked well, except for Cailen being plastered against the wall and Joan nearly teetering on the edge of the other end of their bench seat. To sit any further apart, Cailen would have to penetrate the wall or Joan would have to sit on the floor.

Brie took in the ambiance. “Have you ever in your life seen fakier authenticity?”

Cailen ordered the brand of beer Joan had brought to Penny’s stall on the easygoing nights before the kiss.

Joan shrugged her vest off and allowed it to fall against the booth back. Cailen had only ever seen her wearing the stiff sided, insulated vest that hit her at mid-hip. This new vision of Joan’s exquisite shoulders, breasts slightly fuller than the vest had hinted at, and a flat stomach that Cailen had the unusual impulse to lay her head against drew a shudder from her that Brie caught, but Joan did not. Cailen’s eyes jerked to Brie’s, checking for interception of the reaction, but Brie could be stoic, and betrayed none of her delight.

As they considered their menus, Brie teased, “Joan, I expect you’ll be eating for two, since you are working out so industriously these days.”

“I expect so.” Joan shot Brie a warning glance before addressing Cailen. “Try not to look this way during our meal. Brie’s right, the sight of me eating can be less than delicate when I’m ravenous.”

“Now I’ll have to look. Sorry.” Cailen smiled, but didn’t break consultation with her menu.

Joan rolled her eyes. “Great.” If she weren’t terrified of being alone with Cailen, she’d have pulled her aside to discuss, one on one, that morning’s incident. Believing she’d disappointed Cailen was clouding her mood more than the attack itself or the prospect of losing her license to train horses. Suddenly, it struck Joan that she hadn’t yet fully faced Cailen since the attack on Bean.

She turned to her left on the high-backed bench and looked directly into Cailen’s eyes, saying lightly, “As I imagine you’re aware of Cailen, we’re in for a treat this afternoon if Senorita Contenta braves more than one margarita.”

“Treat, eh? Guess that’s one word for it. I don’t know how she acts with you, Joan, but Brie tends to point out my faults in great detail when she’s influenced by bitter waters.”

“Hmm.” Joan rocked her head slightly to one side. “It’s the opposite with me. All I hear are compliments, veiled in sarcasm, yes, but I’m certain they’re meant to be flattering.”

Neither woman had been so present in a moment since the last time they’d spoken playfully in Penny’s stall, before the kiss, before the barriers went up.

“What you’re saying is that it’s all a matter of how you interpret her comments? I might borrow that tactic, if you don’t mind.”

“Please, be my guest.”

Brie would have objected, but she enjoyed attention. Anyway, the verbal exchange was entirely independent of another dialogue being spoken with their eyes, and that one she definitely did not want to interrupt.

“Speaking of drinks,” Brie said, and sat back to give their server space for laying out napkins and setting down glasses.

Purely without thinking, Joan twisted off the cap of Cailen’s beer before handing it to her, a move that Cailen accepted just as casually and without question.

Brie nearly chuckled out loud.

By their second round of margaritas, Joan and Brie had begun prefacing sentences with ‘Remember that time when …’ and Cailen’s sides ached from laughing at their recollected exploits. Eventually, one of the stories hit on the topic of Sassy Rainier. Cailen did not enjoy replaying the image of Sassy fawning and falling over Joan.

Brie said, “You know, Joan, you are an incredibly sexist person.”

Before dealing with this remark, Joan said, “See, Cailen? Now, some people might take that as an affront. I prefer to take it as admiration for my disregard of political correctness and all the phoniness that accompanies its practice.” Then to Brie, “And upon what do you base your assessment?”

“On the fact that if Rainier Farms were a man and tried half, one-tenth, of the stuff with you that she does you’d have his ass in a sling.”

Joan mulled this over another draft of slushy intoxicant. “True. You know, that is awfully sexist of me.”

Cailen broke in, “Has that woman always acted that way with you?”

Joan was truly impressed with Cailen’s congeniality and her ability to rise above her disapproval of the temper fit with Bean. “No, she’s become much more aggressive over the last, what, Brie? Eight or nine months?”

Brie giggled. This was child’s play. “Since whenever it was she saw you naked. That’s when she really started coming unglued.

“Explain that statement, Brisada. You’re deliberately casting me in a bad light.”

“Not what Rainier Farms said. She said the light was just fine.”

“Explanation, now.” Joan’s eyes were gorgeously playful and Cailen was suffering in more ways than Brie had for inviting a gallop girl to her room.

Brie reined in her joy and explained. “Okay, okay. Cailen, Money Bitch is practically a stalker when it comes to Joan. She had the nerve, about eight months ago,” she looked to Joan to corroborate her timing, “or, really, it started getting bad about a year ago, right Joan? That’s when Joan and Justine broke up.”

Joan nodded. “Almost exactly one year.”

“Okay, so Farms gets all encouraged as soon as Justine is out of the picture, right? And Joan keeps playing her off and everything.” The third round arrived and Brie continued, “Then Joan is at her gym one night, in the dressing room, and the curtain flies open and guess who’s standing there pretending it’s all a big coincidence? She just happened to throw back the curtain Joan was naked behind. How do you like that, Cailen?”

“Sounds like a stalker to me.” Cailen gave Joan an ominous look.

“Sassy’s harmless.”

Brie stayed on subject. “Well, you asked me when she started getting worse. That was undoubtedly the trigger. Not that I blame the depraved bitch. I mean, after I saw you naked I wanted to stalk you myself.”

“You have never seen me in a state of undress. You made that up. Cailen, she made that up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Busted water pipe.” Check and mate to Brie. She sipped triumphantly.

Joan raised fingertips to temples and winced through a smile, “Forgot about that. Brie’s correct. A couple of winters ago I got the bright idea to bang on a frozen spigot pipe—in sub-zero-degree weather. The thing burst, drenching me with water that froze on contact. Brie pulled me to her room and got me into a pair of sweats, for which I was very grateful. How did we get on this subject?”

Cailen answered, “By way of Sassy Rainier.”

“Joan does a great Rainier impersonation. Show her Joan. She practically channels her, Cailen.” Brie scooted to a more alert position.

“I’m not feeling the spirit right now.”

“Come on.”

“Okay, just the vocals though.” And Joan rendered a too-good Sassy imitation.

Brie laughed but complained, “It’s so much better with the visuals.”

“Not today.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always tell Rainier too, isn’t it? I tell you, though, when she tries to rub her breasts all over your arm, that does make me want to kill her.”

“Well, it shouldn’t bother you. They’re composed strictly of inorganic materials at this point, so it’s not like actual body parts. They’re more dangerous than intimate.” Joan drained her glass. “Stiff as boards.”

“Whatever. But I’ll tell you one thing, then let’s quit talking about Rainier.”

“What’s that?”

“You are eventually going to have to give her what she wants. You will have to sleep with Rainier so she doesn’t take her horses away. I can’t lose Jade.” Brie sipped her drink with finality.

“Brie, there are many altars upon which I’d gladly sacrifice myself for you, but the Altar of Sassy’s Wooden Bosom is not one of them.”

The chuckle that drew from Brie made Cailen aware of how grateful she was that Brie had found a friendship so deep and with someone as solid as Joan. Cailen was less consciously aware of the inescapable truth that the bond between Brie and Joan created yet another dimension to Joan’s overpowering appeal.

*****

Out in the parking lot, Brie had to tie her shoes a few steps away from Cailen’s truck, forcing Joan to sit in the middle, straddling the shifter, thigh-to-thigh with Cailen.

“Cailita, I forgot to clear this with you earlier, sorry. Would you mind dropping me off at Cinda’s house? She roped me into babysitting tonight. I should show up, but after the margaritas, I think maybe Cinda should send Harrison out to play alone.”

“Cinda and Harrison. It’s been a long time. How many kids do they have now?”

“Four. Can you believe it?”

“Of course I can. Where does she live?”

“You don’t know Louisville well enough to find it, I’ll give directions. Okay, get on the expressway here and I’ll let you know which exit to take.” Brie fiddled with the heater controls and blew warm breath into her cupped hands as she spoke.

On queue, Joan took Brie’s hands in her own. “These feel frozen. Were you cold the whole time in the restaurant?”

“Some, not bad.”

Cailen painfully recalled the feel of Joan’s warm hand that night in Penny’s stall, as Brie halfway snuggled against Joan, their entwined hands resting in Joan’s lap, right where Cailen couldn’t avoid seeing.

“Yeah, I guess I was pretty much chilled to the bone, but you’re fixing that.” Brie was nearly purring.

“Good, and the heater’s starting to kick in, so you should be fine in a minute.” Joan pulled her in more tightly.

When Cailen switched the blower on full blast and directed it toward Brie, Brie could not congratulate herself enough on Cailen’s discombobulation.

“Okay, Cailita, here comes our exit.”

It turned out that Cinda lived a good twenty minutes from the track. As Cailen and Joan’s gaze followed Brie up the narrow, grass-punctured sidewalk that led to a tiny shotgun house with an oversized stone-copinged porch, Cailen said, “She had herself a blast.”

Watching Brie hop to stay warm as she waited for an answer to the doorbell, Joan echoed Cailen’s affection, “She usually does have a blast, one way or another.”

When the door opened, Brie pivoted for a goodbye wave before being pulled in, at waist and knee levels, by three eager pairs of small, chubby hands.

Once Brie was out of sight, leaving Cailen and Joan to each other’s exclusive company for at least the next twenty minutes, they turned to each other and blew out identical nervous sighs.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammo

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 14:55:00 +0000

We were kinda hyped Saturday afternoon as time drew near for that "Open Carry" church meeting out on Valley Station Road. If you'll remember, Starr Ann had eased Jodie and me into the idea of attending and taking our own guns - toy six-shooters and holster for Jodie, plastic AK-47 for Starr Ann, and a hot pink water gun for me.

The only thing that wasn't settled yet when it was almost time to leave was what I was gonna fill that water gun with. Holy water had been mentioned, but it wasn't really a Catholic service. It was getting late, and we didn't want to miss anything, so I was just about to settle on plain water when the idea hit me. Astroglide - the personal lubricant and moisturizer guaranteed to broker a smooth agreement over any friction that may arise between you and your favorite silicon accessory. It took us mere seconds to load up and head for church.

First thing we noticed there at New Bethel Church was a line of people waiting to have their firearms checked for ammunition. The flyer had specifically said no ammo.

For some reason, nobody really acted like they wanted to talk to us. Starr Ann tried to find some common ground by sighing real loud and saying, "I can't believe Michael Jackson's dead!"

That made everybody around us stop for a second, but then they started back up talking only to each other again pretty quick.

When we got close to the front of the line, we could see the church volunteers up there inspecting guns. They were serious as heart attacks as they carefully took each person's pride and joy and handled it like it was the perfect instrument for spreading God's dear love around.

All of a sudden it was our turn!

The man looked up at us and said real loud, "You gotta be shittin' me."

Everything got so quiet, it started feeling like church used to feel when we were little and the nuns forced us to go. Then a guy that turned out to be the pastor, Pastor Pagano (yes, take off the 'o' and you're left with Pagan - truth is stranger than fiction). So, Pastor Pagano rushes up to us all smiles and asks what's going on here.

Jodie said, "We're attending your Open Carry service, just like everyone else." She patted her toy holster. "And we brought our guns."

Pastor Pagano got a little flushed and you could tell he wasn't coming up with any ideas that might get us the hell out of there without him admitting his fondness for the Second Amendment outweighed that for the First Amendment.

Then this woman wearing a T-shirt with a Knob Creek Gun Range logo on it walked up. She kinda brushed the man of the cloth aside and gave all three of us a good lookin' at. She honed in on me and got this wide smile on her face. "Sorry, ma'am. Can't allow you into the service with ammunition in your...gun. Rules."

Dang. No way was I willing to waste that amount of Astroglide. No way.

I said, "But it's only a watery fluid. You're serving refreshments in there, aren't you? People will be drinking water and soft drinks and coffee, won't they?"

"Yes, ma'am. But in the case of that weapon, it's considered ammunition, and the rules say no ammunition."

Well, we're not the kind of cowgirls to stick around too long after being asked to leave. At least not once they get us on a technicality. Anyway, we'd made our point, so we mounted up and were ready to head back home, when this teenage girl came over and asked to pet the horses. We told her that'd be fine, and while she was out of her family's earshot, she told us about this alternative service they were holding over at Thomas Jefferson Unitarian Church.

Starr Ann asked her what kind of alternative service?

The girl had all the details. Her eyes got all light, and she said, "It's being put on by Interfaith Paths to Peace and about a dozen other spiritual and peace groups. They're calling it Bring Your Peaceful Heart...Leave Your Gun at Home, and they're having it the exact same time as this service. It's open to the public, and they're having games, poetry, art, music, and readings about peace from the world's great religions."

Jodie looked over her shoulder at the gun crowd all absorbed with their weaponry again. When she turned back, she said, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Not taking her eyes off Oatmeal, who was enjoying having his muzzle rubbed, she said, "Karen."

Jodie said, "You'd rather be at the Peace Service, wouldn't you, Karen?"

"Yes, ma'am, I guess so. I better go on, now. Thanks for letting me pet your horses."

Instead of going home, we decided to head on over to Thomas Jefferson Unitarian and check it out.

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter 8: Rail Spot

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 04:00:00 +0000

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.

In the final week before the opening day of racing, the backside’s pace and population picked up daily until barn area traffic—human, horse, and vehicular—nearly quadrupled. And as the ambient intensity amplified, so did some of Caulder barn’s internal pressures.

Cailen continued to work with Penny, in spite of the fact that the filly only ate if Cailen stayed with her, sometimes quite late. And the nights were getting colder. Even though Joan cooked good healthy meals, which she could now bear only to drop off in the office before Cailen arrived each evening, lack of sleep and sitting out in chilly, damp night air was taking its toll on Cailen’s health. She started each morning tired and achy and had a sore throat courtesy of lowered resistance.

The way Joan avoided her stirred a deep loneliness she had no means of addressing short of abandoning her silent promise to help Brie get through the semester. Cailen longed to return to Chicago and complete the breakup with Lara. Then, with any luck, she could rejoin Caulder Stables in a position to take up with Joan where that aborted kiss had left off. That part about Joan wasn’t a recognized concept yet, but it was always there, lurking just beneath Cailen’s conscious thoughts. And the also latent fear that Joan may no longer be receptive by the time Cailen returned a free woman constantly gnawed at her nerves. A fear aided by Joan’s date with Linda, which loomed in Cailen’s mind as a close call that might not end so harmlessly next time.

For her part, Joan could have used a little more latency in her awareness of the turmoil inside her. The barriers she’d built between herself and Cailen failed to protect her from the memory of that kiss and the relentless desire to be near her.

Of course, Brie knew what they were going through. If not the depth, at least the nature of it. She kept herself alert and available, biding time and waiting for a chance to interfere without exactly going behind anybody’s back. That opportunity presented itself five days before the start of the Churchill meet.

It was a Monday, a four-set morning during which training had progressed smoothly, and just after its early finish Joan strode past Brie’s stalls, where Brie was doing up Jade and Cailen was brushing North American Baby. As Joan came abreast of the stall door belonging to Real Thunder, Bean’s dark bay colt, she witnessed what appeared to be a practiced maneuver. Thunder, tied to the back wall for grooming, jerked his head around, attempting to bite Bean’s arm, common behavior for a male three-year-old that had not been gelded. Bean’s response was to ram the point of his boot forcefully into the horse’s belly, then in the split second while the pain of that blow sent Thunder arching away, Bean grabbed a riding crop stashed in the corner and crack it hard against the stallion’s testicles. From outside Thunder’s stall, Joan witnessed the entire disgusting three-second display.

The first sound to draw Brie and Cailen's attention was of something thudding heavily and repeatedly into a wall somewhere. They both thought a horse had gotten casted, had laid down and gotten stuck against the wall with no rolling room for gathering momentum to stand back up unassisted. Cailen and Brie raced toward the racket and had to dodge Bean’s flailing body as it flew from Thunder’s stall. Even then, they still thought they were dealing with a casted horse whose blind, panicked kicking had expelled Bean. That assumption fell apart as Joan, crop in hand and features unnervingly calm, barreled through the door in pursuit of Bean, who was crumpled against the outside half-wall.

When she got to within a whip’s length of him, she went to work with the crop. Joan’s body remained composed except for the X’s her right arm slashed first in the air then into Bean. He stayed close to the ground, kicking and clawing at the dirt, scratching and scrambling his way down the shedrow to escape Joan’s fury, her whip a fan blade blowing him like dust along the wall bottom.

Of the grooms and hotwalkers who stood motionless near Bean’s stalls, Brie was first to overcome the shock of what they’d all seen. She threw her arms low around Joan’s torso and dug her heels into the dirt, slowing Joan but not stopping her. Car came flying from the opposite end of the barn and scaled Bean, landing smack in front of Joan, forcing her to either stop the crop or hit Car with it.

Once Bean was a little distance away from Joan, he got to his feet. Sobbing disjointed phrases, he voiced every threat he could get his hysterical mind around.

As he reached the gap, where he felt assured of safe exit, he yelled, “Dyke bitch! The stewards are going to pull your fucking license over this, you wait and see.”

Charles, Caulder Stables’ oldest groom and the one of least words, spoke up resoundingly, the novelty of his raised voice adding to the exceptional nature of this ongoing spectacle. He said, “Son, you try some mischief against Joan and you best watch your back from that minute on. Every tracker in this barn’ll be out to hurt you way worse than you been hurt today.”

It was true that for all his whimpering and banging about, Bean didn’t look badly injured. He seemed to be walking fine and had blocked the crop blows with his forearms. They were bruising up some, and he would likely be body sore from being slammed against Thunder’s walls. Other than that, there appeared to be no real damage.

Car had removed the stick from Joan’s unresisting hand, and Brie was still clamped around her waist, as they all listened to Bean’s oaths receding in the direction of the track kitchen for a moment before the assembled grooms, hotwalkers and exercise people walked slowly from the scene, muttering derogatory remarks about Bean. Nobody yet knew what had prompted the assault, but consensus was that it had to have been pretty bad to drive Joan to that.

As Joan reanimated, she looked slightly dazed at first, but that cleared and she said, “Car, have Bean’s check ready and in the office by feed time, will you please? Give it to him whenever he asks for it.”

“Sure, Joan, you okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He was still facing her, standing very close, and seemed to not quite know what to do next. “Guess I’ll go take care of that check now, then.”

“And Car?”

“Yeah?”

“Burn that thing, or bury it, take it home with you, I don’t care. I just don’t want to see it again.”

Car had forgotten he was still holding the crop. “It’s gone.”

As Car hurried off toward the office, Joan twisted to her right and realized something was hanging around her waist. Brie.

“You may release me now.” Joan sounded more like herself.

“You sure? Maybe another five or ten minutes would be better.” Brie rubbed herself back and forth against Joan’s butt a couple of times.

For Brie, the separate currents of friendship and sex flowed easily together and diverged again without resistance. But despite isolated instances of flagrant flirtation with Joan, sex mixed with their friendship was one confluence they had both wordlessly agreed to disallow. So, although it was meant only as a friendly tease to get Joan laughing, the sight of someone touching her like that—it was only Brie for God’s sake—sent a scalding shot of jealousy through Cailen’s veins. She turned her head aside, and when that didn’t help she had to walk away.

Joan, who’d been about to play along and pretend to flirt back with Brie, lost her thread of thought watching Cailen’s retreat, which she mistook to be prompted by disgust with the attack on Bean.

So Joan remained serious as she asked, “Brie, where in hell did that come from? I didn’t think I had that in me.” She filled Brie in on what Bean had done to Thunder and Brie assured her that if it had been her who’d caught sight of that, she’d have done likewise.

Brie had moved around to Joan’s front, but didn’t let go of her.

Joan smiled. “So, I guess you can remove yourself from my thigh any time now.”

“Forgot.” Brie winked and separated her legs, releasing their grip. “I’ll finish doing Thunder up and between us we’ll all pitch in on finishing Bean’s horses.”

“Thanks Brie, but I’ll assume his duties until we get a replacement.” She knew that might take a few days, since the barns were full now and lots of trainers ship in without enough help, which meant the pool of experienced people on the backside looking for work had dwindled in the last few days.

First thing, Joan unhooked Thunder from the wall-tie and checked him over. He was fine, but wound up, which was to be expected after being abused by Bean then subjected to Joan’s rage right there inside his stall. She apologized to the seventeen-hands-tall colt and borrowed one of Penny’s mints from her pocket to offer him. Thunder magnanimously accepted. He was the kind of horse—tough as nails, short memory, crazy about sweets—that considered such an episode well worth the candy.

When she was satisfied Thunder was no worse for his experience, Joan went looking for Car and found him at the whiteboard erasing the day’s schedule.

“Car, will you have everyone come to the feed room in ten minutes, please?”

“Sure, Joan. Hey, Brie told me what happened. You were in the right.”

“I appreciate that Car, but no, I was thoroughly in the wrong.”

*****

The deep breath Joan needed before walking into the jammed feed room was to calm her dread of facing just one of its occupants. It was bad enough she had lost her temper and acted the way she had, she’d have felt ashamed of that under any circumstances, but Cailen’s reaction was what was tearing her apart. Entering the room, she located Cailen in the crowd without having to look directly at her. Unobtrusively keeping track of Cailen and what she was doing had become reflexive for Joan. She couldn’t break that habit and she couldn’t stop thinking of her, no matter how much she forced herself to dodge direct contact between them.

Joan scanned the faces turned toward her. “Thank you all for interrupting what you were doing. I want to offer my apology to each of you for my behavior toward Bean this morning. There’s no excuse for what I did and it was a disgraceful example for me to set.”

Jimmy spoke up. “I see what you’re saying, Joan, but will you teach me that move? You were somethin’ else. Kinda sexy with that whip, too.”

Almost everyone laughed, but cautiously, nervously.

Joan looked around and registered quiet surprise. “Have we come to this, you guys? You’re afraid to laugh out loud at one of Jimmy’s remarks because I might go off again? How depressing.”

That comment and the light returning to Joan’s eyes broke the tension in the tiny room that was rapidly filling with body heat.

“Okay, let’s drop this.” She leaned to step from the doorway then paused. “But one more thing first. If the stewards question any of you about what happened, do not cover up for me. Tell the truth. That’s what I intend to do, and you’ll only jeopardize your own license by getting caught lying to the stewards.” Then she cleared the doorway.

After she’d done up the last of Bean’s horses, Joan headed for the office but was hailed from inside DotCom’s stall as she passed.

“Joan, how are you holding up?”

Knowing Brie and Cailen were both in that stall, Joan sighed inwardly, thinking she might as well face Cailen sooner than later. Joining them, she said, “How am I feeling? Hoping my self-respect returns soon.”

“Before it does, Cailen and I want to take you out for Tex-Mex and margaritas this afternoon.” This was the first Cailen had heard of it, and her darting glance at Brie, which was only surprise, Joan interpreted as disapproval.

“That’s sweet of you both, but I think I’ll take a rain check. Today I’d like to go home and relax. Besides, you hate Tex-Mex, Brisada.”

“Not if I keep my mind off the idea that it’s supposed to be Mexican food, which it is not. Anyway, emphasis was on the margaritas.” Brie wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity pass by. And she might have to kill Cailen if she didn’t speak up to encourage Joan.

Joan smiled, but shook her head. “Thanks again, but I’m a bit tired. Brie, you’ve been scolding for days about how worn out I look. Well, I’m going to go home and get that rest you keep prescribing for me.”

Cailen’s low, smooth voice nearly frightened her, and then came that sexual ping it never failed to deliver to Joan. Just what she needed.

Cailen said, “If you’ll agree to go, you two can drink your tequila, and I’ll drive. One beer early on, then just coffee.” Cailen studied Joan’s face. “How about it? We’ll have you home early. I have to get back here to Penny before too late anyway.”

Brie thought, That’s my good girl, Cailen, and urged, “Come on Joan, I promise you it’ll be fun.”

Joan pushed a lock of hair from her forehead and said, “I’d have to be made of steel to resist.”

Brie’s dimples made their adorable appearance preceding a satisfied smile. Since the moment she’d noticed Cailen’s hasty escape from the sight of her holding onto Joan earlier, Brie knew this afternoon’s plan would be to evoke more of that type of response. Brie had firmly decided that Cailen must be pushed, gently if possible, into waking up.

“Last time I checked, you almost are made of steel.” Brie squeezed Joan’s bicep the way she’d done several mornings before. “Like I said, you feel mighty fine.”

Joan shook her head slowly and responded without smiling, “The better to beat people up, my dear.”

“We’re going to fix you, don’t worry. Right Cailen?”

Cailen really hated feeling so jealous every time Brie playfully touched Joan. “Sure. Good as new.”

“Okay, then. My homework’s in good shape and it’s not a class night or a feed afternoon. How about we meet here at two?”

When it was settled that two o’clock worked for everyone, Cailen excused herself to go home for a shower.

Joan stayed behind with Brie for a few more minutes. “We are going to leave these cares behind this afternoon, but there’s something I’d like to discuss with you first.”

Brie stopped straightening her shedrow to yield full attention to Joan’s serious tone. Cautiously, she said, “Go ahead.”

“Brie, it’s impossible to predict what might happen as a result of my actions toward Bean. I have to prepare for the worst case, which would be a suspension of my license. If that’s how this plays out, and I think it’s a remote possibility, Car will handle the training, but he’ll have his hands full. If that happens, may I count on you to take over the barn’s management?”

“I’ll do anything you ask me to, you know that. But they aren’t going to suspend you over that little jerk.”

“Thanks, Brie. It’ll mean hiring someone to groom your horses, even Jade. Can you accept that?”

“As long as I’m near them and have final say-so where they’re concerned, I can deal with it.”
“You’ll be barn manager, make whatever decisions you see fit.”

“Yeah, but like I said, the stewards won’t touch your license.”

“Consider this talk an indulgence of my overactive need for control, then. And thanks again.” Joan willed herself to smile. “Guess I’ll get a shower too, before our party. See you at two sharp.”

Resuming her shedrow cleanup, Brie said, “Two, and hey?”

Joan had already stepped away, but came back. ”Yes?”

“Will you do me the small favor of wearing your black shirt? The older one that has the tiny frayed place on the collar?”

Joan squinted at her. “Why?”

As if it were no big deal, Brie shrugged. “I like that shirt. You know I always say how much I like that shirt when you wear it.”

“Would you like to have it? I’ll be happy to give it to you.”

“No, if you wear it, I get to look at it more. If I wear it, I won’t see it.”

“You are an unusual person, Brisada. A little scary. Sure, I’ll wear it if it’s clean.”

“Great. See you at two.”

As Brie finished getting Jade done up, she gloried in the beauty of her plan and in the execution of it so far, confident that Cailen was in for quite an assault. Joan's blue eyes burning between that black shirt and her slightly blacker hoodlum hair, would surely drive Cailen wild, maybe wild enough to lay aside her crazy determination to dissolve those illusory bonds in Chicago before allowing herself a life.

© 2006 Margo Moon

Left wing-nuts

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 14:30:00 +0000

My latest piece over at A World of Progress Teamzine was a blast to write.

I hope it's fun to read, too.

Sunday Go To Meetin' Clothes

margomoon@hotmail.com (Margo Moon) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 00:22:00 +0000

My best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) came sauntering in this afternoon with that one look on her face. The one where you just know she's about to grab the reins and take the horses in a whole 'nother direction.

She waited until Jodie got back from the kitchen before telling us her news. Seems there's a church just south of here planning on having what they're calling an "Open Carry" church service this weekend. Yep, that's exactly what it sounds like - a church full of gun-totin' religious people.

Starr Ann even had a flyer, which I highly recommend clicking on to enjoy the full effect of the chamber artistically overlaid on the parchmenty copy of The United States Constitution:

Anyway, Jodie, Starr Ann and I were having a good, cynical laugh over the whole thing when Starr Ann's laugh kinda wound down far enough for her to say, "We're definitely going to attend."

Jodie got real serious, real fast and objected, "Honey, Darlin', this is going to involve many rednecks, with guns, in an enclosed space. Our goal should be to remain outside that space. See?"

Poor Jodie. She's only been Starr Ann's sweetheart for a year and a half, so while she's great at picking up on the nuances of Starr Ann's disposition, she hasn't quite mastered the sub-nuances yet, which is exactly why as Starr Ann's lifelong best friend, I grasped before Jodie did that there was absolutely nothing on the Goddess's green earth gonna stop Starr Ann from going to church with those scary Second Amendment people.

Naturally, we couldn't allow her to go alone, so we finally said okay.

Starr Ann's reply was a huge smile and a hug for both of us, followed by, "Now, let's saddle up the horses and head on over to the toy store."

From the smiles on our faces, she realized right away we'd taken her wrong, and she amended that to, "The one where they sell children's toys."

Dang. Talk about two disappointed cowgirls.

Turns out, Starr Ann not only wants us to show up in all our lesbian cowgirl glory, she wants us to be packing. Guns. Toy guns.

Once Jodie and I just gave ourselves up to the whole idea, we kinda started having fun with it. Jodie went with a traditional fake-leather holster, the kind that ties around the thigh, and shiny silver six-shooters. I decided on a bright pink water pistol that I'm not sure what yet, but I think maybe I'm gonna load it with something a little more original than plain water. Of course, Starr Ann just had to have the most authentic looking toy AK-47 anybody ever saw in their life.

So, we're all set for church on Saturday. Wish us luck.