by Ariel Tachna
“I’ve not been here that much. A few hours a couple times a week,” Gerald dismissed Brett’s claim. “But I would like to ride more,” he added. He finished distributing the flakes and returned to Brett’s side. “So now what?”
“Now we turn them out and get started shoveling manure,” Brett said with a mock scowl. “This is when I usually lose my volunteers.”
Gerald sort of grimaced. “I said I’d do it. Sooner we get started, the sooner it’s over. Then we can get lunch.”
“Grab a lead rope. We’ll take them out to the side paddock,” Brett instructed. “If we can get this aisle done, I’ll buy you lunch.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Gerald objected automatically as he led a horse out of a stall, carefully mimicking the way he led Tiny around.
“I know,” Brett replied, clipping halters and lead ropes on the next two horses and leading them toward the paddock, “but it’s a good excuse to treat myself too.”
“This is a round-the-clock, everyday operation, I’d imagine,” Gerald said as they entered the ring and released the horses. “How do you manage to get out, even for a date?” He glanced to Brett and his clean-shaven face and raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it takes pretty much all of my time, but mostly it’s nothing urgent. As long as the horses have food and water, everything else can wait a few hours. For a date or whatever.”
Gerald nodded as they walked back to the stalls for a few more horses. “Who all helps out here? Surely you have staff besides the teachers.”
“I have a couple of guys who work during the week, mucking stalls and stuff, and the other instructors, of course,” Brett replied, “but on the weekends, it’s just me and the volunteers.”
“You pretty much run this place by yourself?” Gerald gave Brett a look of newfound respect. “That’s dedication.”
“The farm’s been in the family for six generations,” Brett replied as if that were explanation enough. “I always knew I’d come back here when my parents were ready to retire. I’d like to expand, honestly, but that’ll have to wait a bit. I’ve got plans though.” He opened the gate and released the lead ropes, sending the horses out into the paddock. “Let’s get the rest.”
“I bet your parents are proud to know the farm is doing so well under your management,” Gerald said as he took another horse by the lead rope. He stumbled a bit when the horse bumped into him, and he turned an exasperated look on the animal.
“Don’t let Misfit push you around,” Brett warned lightly, patting the dapple gray mare on her white star. “She’s a bossy mare, but she’s a real trouper when it comes to putting up with the kids.”
Gerald harrumphed and started walking, turning narrowed eyes on the horse when she sidled up near him again. “Uppity female, aren’t you?” he muttered. He shook his head. She was still beautiful, and he had to give a silly smile and scratch just below her ear.
She tossed her head playfully and bumped him again, asking for more attention. “Careful,” Brett warned a second time, “or you’ll find yourself adopted.”
“I thought I was doing the adopting,” Gerald retorted, but he rubbed Misfit’s chest as he’d seen Brett do with other horses. “She has spirit. I’ve always thought horses should have personalities just like people.”
“Oh, they do,” Brett assured him. “And yes, you can adopt them, but I’ve seen them adopt people too. They take it into their heads that someone is their human, and that’s it. Turn her out. We’ve got more to get.”
Gerald unhooked the lead and gave Misfit’s shoulder a slight shove, but the horse bobbed her head and stayed put with a huff. Gerald put his hands on his hips. “Come on now. Don’t you want to visit with the other horses?” he asked her.
Misfit blew loudly and shook her head, rubbing her nose against his chest.
“Adopted,” Brett teased with a grin. He slapped Misfit’s rump, and she danced away a few steps, turning to glare at him accusingly before moving right back and thumping Gerald’s chest again.
Gerald looked between the mare and Brett. “Just like that? I didn’t do anything!”
Brett shrugged. “Don’t ask me. They have minds of their own. You can stay and get acquainted with her. I’ll turn the rest of the horses out.”
Gerald blinked a little stupidly as Brett walked off, only snapping out of it when Misfit snorted and bumped his shoulder with her nose. He turned to look at her, frowning a little. “Now what am I supposed to do with you?” he asked her. She bobbed her head up and down in reply, and Gerald chuckled, reaching to comb his fingers through her almost-black mane.
She was really pretty, a dark grayish color, though he didn’t know what to call it. Not brown, like a lot of the other horses. “All right, then, Misfit. I guess I’m all yours.” The horse stamped one foot and nickered in apparent agreement, getting another laugh out of Gerald.
Brett shook his head in amused delight and went to finish emptying the stalls on the far side of the stable. He’d done it himself enough times. One more Sunday spent mucking stalls wouldn’t kill him. After sending the rest of the horses out to pasture, Brett grabbed a pitchfork and the manure wagon and started shoveling dirty straw into the cart to be composted for sale.
It was a little while later when Gerald came wandering around looking for him. “Hey, wasn’t I supposed to help?” he asked as he found Brett in the middle of the fragrant job.
“So go empty the cart for me.” Brett grinned. “You’ll see the big pile as soon as you go out the back door.”
Gerald took the cart by the handle and trundled it out there. Brett wasn’t kidding about the big pile. He frowned and tried to figure the best way to empty the cart and finally ended up turning it on its end, piling the straw on the side of the heap. It worked pretty well, and he headed back to Brett with the empty cart.
When Gerald came back, Brett offered him the pitchfork. “Your turn.” He stepped back to supervise.
“Don’t laugh if I fall on my ass,” Gerald warned as he took the pitchfork and started scooping straw into the cart. “At least I have a change of clothes in the car,” he muttered good-naturedly.
“You’re welcome to use my shower if you get too filthy,” Brett promised, grabbing a second pitchfork and getting to work in the next stall. The faster they got the manure cleared, the sooner they could eat lunch. He refused to let his eyes linger on the play of muscles beneath Gerald’s T-shirt. His date last night hadn’t been all that serious, but it didn’t matter anyway. Gerald was straight, so there was no use pining over what he couldn’t have.
On his part, Gerald figured the novelty would wear off really quickly, but he actually enjoyed the physical labor, if not the smell. It was much better than the dull monotonous habit of lifting weights in the gym. It only took them an hour, working together, and Brett was a lot quicker at it than he.
He stood leaning on the pitchfork as he waited for Brett to finish the last stall. “I think I need that shower, especially if we’re grabbing a bite to eat somewhere.”
“No problem,” Brett replied with a smile, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Grab your clean clothes, and we’ll get cleaned up. What tickles your fancy for lunch? There’s a Chinese takeout place or the usual fast food.”
“I like Chinese,” Gerald said as he took the pitchfork to the storage closet along with Brett. “Do I meet you at the big house or somewhere else?”
“The big house,” Brett replied. “I’ve got two bathrooms, so you can use one, and I’ll use the other, and we’ll be ready for lunch in no time.” He hung the pitchforks on their hooks and tipped the manure cart against the outside wall so it wouldn’t gather water if it rained.
“Okay.” Gerald headed toward his car, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he went. Once he was there, he popped open the trunk and started rummaging around for his gym bag, frowning because it had slid all the way to the back behind some of his Bankers Boxes.
Brett walked up to the house, pausing on th
e wraparound porch to wait for Gerald, toeing his boots off while he stood there. He smiled as he thought about the morning and about how enjoyable it had been to have someone working with him. He’d have to see about convincing Gerald to hang out more often. He’d grown up in the area, but he’d been gone for enough years that most of his high school friends had moved on, and he found himself lonely at odd times.
Gerald closed the trunk with a thump and walked toward the porch, whistling quietly as he went. It was a good morning as far as he was concerned, manure and all. He smiled, chuckling to himself. Who would ever have thought he’d be out in the country shoveling horse shit on a Sunday morning? He stopped at the stairs and looked up at Brett.
“Got what you need?” Brett verified. “Leave your boots here on the porch, and come on inside.”
Gerald sat on the porch swing and started unlacing the old hiking boots, tucking them underneath and out of the way. He stood up in his sock feet. “I’m ready for a shower,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Come on then,” Brett said, opening the screen door and leading Gerald inside. “The bathroom’s right there,” he added, pointing to a door off the hallway that led from the old-fashioned parlor toward the back of the house. “Take your time. There’s plenty of hot water. That was the first improvement I made when I moved home!”
Gerald laughed and nodded. “All right.” He got into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning back against it and sighing. What a weird situation. He almost wished he’d stayed as oblivious about Brett as he’d obviously been the past several weeks.
When the door shut in front of Gerald, Brett climbed the stairs to his bedroom and pulled out clean clothes before going into the connecting bathroom for his own shower. The hot water felt good, loosening muscles still not completely used to the renewed demands of this lifestyle. He wasn’t sixteen anymore, able to muck stalls all day every day and not think anything of it. Usually he lingered in the shower, but today he found himself eager to rejoin Gerald, to see what new delights he’d discover through the other man’s eyes.
GERALD finger-combed his hair, easy to do with it so short, and rolled up his dirty clothes to stuff into his small gym bag. He grabbed his cross trainers and opened the door to walk out into what he figured was the living room.
“Feeling better?” Brett asked when Gerald joined him.
“I smell better,” Gerald joked. “Yeah, I feel fine. Hungry.” He ran his hand through his hair again. It was a nervous habit.
“Well, let’s go then,” Brett said, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his wallet and keys. “I’m getting hungry too.”
“I’ll just throw this in my car,” Gerald said, lifting the bag. “And my boots.”
“No need to stink your car up,” Brett said. “Leave the boots. You can get them when you come back out the next time. Besides, you might want to put them on when you go bring Misfit back in after lunch before you go home.”
Gerald actually brightened at that thought and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that’ll work.” He dumped his bag in the floorboard of his car and walked after Brett, who was opening the door of an older Chevy truck.
When Gerald was settled next to him on the bench seat, Brett put the truck in gear and drove off the farm and down the road toward the Chinese buffet. “It’s all you can eat,” Brett said. “They lose money every time I go in.”
“Eh, it all evens out. Besides, working like you do, you can eat whatever you want, I bet. I have to be careful,” Gerald said with an irritated wave of his hand.
“Stick with me,” Brett offered with a chuckle. “You’ll be able to eat whatever you want in a matter of weeks.”
“Lord. I don’t even know what I’d want, it’s been so long. I stick to salad, vegetables, chicken.” He shrugged. “Occasionally ice cream, but that’s rare.”
Brett laughed. “Get the beef. It’s wonderful and well worth the indulgence. You worked hard this morning.”
“I’m not sure I know what beef tastes like anymore,” Gerald muttered. “Being Chinese, it’s going to be covered in sauce anyway. Is it a place you can order from the menu or is it just a buffet place?” He felt a little disconcerted, knowing it was physical work like what he did today that Brett faced every day. It put his own daily work into perspective. He wrinkled his nose as he decided he didn’t quite match up.
“It’s just a buffet, but it’s huge, like six hot tables and several cold ones, so you can get whatever you want,” Brett replied. “But the beef’s my favorite.” He parked the truck. It hadn’t even taken them five minutes to get there. “Come on; see what catches your fancy.”
Gerald looked at the bright red-and-green-painted pagoda-shaped building as he climbed out of the car. “Well, I’m certainly hungry enough to get my money’s worth.”
“Good.” Brett shut his door. “Let’s go eat.”
Once settled in the restaurant with plates full of food, Gerald surveyed his choices. “I feel like I’m overindulging,” he admitted as he dug in. “But it’s really good. I think I’ll take your advice and assume I’m calorie-negative today.” He offered Brett a grin.
“Calorie-negative,” Brett said with a chuckle. “Listen to you. So tell me, what does Gerald Saunders do when he isn’t hanging around my stables? Are you a nutritionist?”
Gerald raised an eyebrow as he swallowed his mouthful. “No, I’m an accountant,” he said. “Thus the exercise. I sit at a desk all day.”
“I can’t imagine,” Brett said with a shake of his head. “I’d go crazy stuck at a desk all day. It’s bad enough having to do the accounts for the farm once a week. Having to do it every day would drive me batty. Surely you’ve got something going on outside of work? Or am I really taking all your free time?”
Gerald tipped his head to one side as he poked through some sauce for a chunk of broccoli. “I tend to pick something to do every once in a while other than going to the gym. I learned to ski last year, but you actually have to go up into the mountains. I like this because I don’t have to go far at all. And I love the horses.” He shrugged a little. “Other than that, I’m really boring.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Brett laughed. “But I’ll let you off for now. So you ski? It’s the wrong season for it now, but I’ve got a cousin with a cabin up in the mountains. He lets me use it from time to time in the winter when I need a break from the city.”
“I like skiing. I was pretty good at it,” Gerald said, nodding. “These types of things are what I do instead of taking vacations. Kind of spreading the fun out.”
“I can see that. A different kind of stress release.” Brett finished his plate. “I’m going back for more. You want anything?”
Gerald pushed his mostly empty plate away. “I think I’ll get some salad,” he said, sliding out of the booth.
Brett shook his head. “You need more than rabbit food,” he teased. “Unless you’re done for the day.”
Gerald followed along and perused the hot tables again. “Do you need more help? I’d like to see Misfit again before I go home.”
“There’s always more work to do,” Brett replied honestly, “but I’m used to handling it myself on the weekends. You’ve already put me a good hour ahead of where I’d have been by myself, so don’t feel obliged to stay. On the other hand, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to stay. It occasionally gets lonely with just the horses for company.”
“I’m used to the quiet,” Gerald admitted as he picked some rice noodles and stir-fry vegetables. “But I’d be happy to stick around.”
“You’d think I’d be used to it too,” Brett replied, heading back to the table with his plate full again. “But when I lived here before, as a kid, my parents and sister were always around, and when I was away, I almost always shared an apartment with somebody as a way to save money. It’s been an adjustment being back out on the cove by myself.”
“My parents are great, but we all like our space,” Gerald said when they started eating again.
“I talk to them pretty often, and we have dinner about once a week. Other than that, it’s work and my own thing.” He looked up and grinned. “But now I have Misfit.”
“You certainly do,” Brett agreed with an answering grin as he kept working on his plate. “And she’ll take all the time you’re willing to give her and more. But it’s worth it.”
“I can’t believe I’m so tickled over a horse,” Gerald muttered as his cheeks flushed a little. “You’d think I was a teenage girl instead of acting my age.”
Brett laughed. “You ever watched the Kentucky Derby? Or the Olympic equestrian events? Those are no teenagers rooting for their favorites, I promise. They’re men our age and older with large wallets and big cars. This isn’t a poor man’s hobby.”
“Olympics, yeah,” Gerald admitted. “And the Belmont. Not the Derby. I’m not worried about the money. I’m not rich, by any means, but I’m comfortable.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Brett apologized. “I just meant you shouldn’t compare yourself to a teenage girl just because you’re interested in horses. And as much time as you’re about to spend with Misfit, you won’t be paying for many lessons. You’ll earn them all in volunteer hours.” He set his chopsticks aside. “Are you ready to head back?”
“After I get my fortune cookie,” Gerald said as he snatched one up off the check. “I still feel a little silly about being so excited.” Then he shrugged and laughed. “But I don’t care.”
“You’ll get over it,” Brett promised, snagging the other fortune cookie and dropping some cash on the bill. “Come on; Misfit’s waiting for you.”
“HEY, Brett. Jimmy said you were looking for me?” Gerald asked as he stopped outside the corral and started pulling off his gloves.
“Morning, Gerry,” Brett said with a smile. “I’ve got a class of five-year-olds starting this morning, and I could use another pair of hands. Feel like being promoted?”
“Uh, sure,” Gerald said, surprised by the use of a nickname and a bit slow to answer because of it. “I can deal with kids.”