Mindy scratched them on their chins. “Good morning. Good morning. I’m sorry I’m late.” As was routine, she fed them first. Each got a small can of cat food. She also replenished their dry cat food supply every morning. The container was kept tightly covered at night to deter wild critters such as opossum or raccoon from entering the barn. Once upon a time, years ago, Mindy fed the raccoons and the barn was practically overrun with them.
All of the feed was kept in plastic bins and they had plug-in sonic noise appliances in the hayloft that ran twenty-four hours a day to keep the mice at bay. The cats purred as they ate their canned food. Squiggly looked up at Mindy, licking her lips. Piggly never looked up until the last morsel of his food was eaten. These two cats were barely three or four weeks old when someone dropped them off. Bethann found them cold, wet, and shivering under the eave this side of the arena and had hesitated telling Mindy. They were so tiny and so undernourished, she feared neither cat would make it through the night.
Then Mindy appeared at her side as if by magic and that was that. “Oh, you poor little things.” They cradled them in their arms, carted them off to the vet, and raised them in the office in a crate until they were about six weeks old. Each day they crept out of the crate to run and play around the office and soon were exploring the observation area. If something frightened them, they would run back into the office and into their crate, then eventually just onto the couch, the desk, the tack trunk. Now, even though they had free run of all of Maple Dale, they stayed close and had chosen the feed room as their favorite place to sleep.
Malaki’s stall was directly across from the feed room, an arrangement she fully endorsed, and always - always – always had to be fed first of all the horses. She’d pitch a fit otherwise. The cats meandered outside as Mindy gave the horses their grain.
Mindy recalled a teenage boy that worked for them two summers ago, a horse whisperer, wannabe, who took it upon himself to feed Malaki last on purpose to teach her patience, to make her aware who the boss was, his space – her space, to teach her a lesson. This had been going on for a week before Mindy found out. She happened to arrive at the barn earlier than usual this one morning and Malaki was all upset.
“Why hasn’t she been fed?” The mare was circling her stall, kicking the wall, pawing and pawing, and had broken out in a sweat. “What’s going on?”
The boy was down at the end of the aisle, finishing up graining the last two horses there. “I’m teaching her she can’t always get her way.”
“Oh yeah,” Mindy said. “How that’s working?”
The boy didn’t pick up on her sarcasm and proceeded to answer. “Well, I’ve only been doing it for a week.”
“A week?” Mindy stormed down the aisleway and yanked the feed cart away from him. “I have a newsflash for you; she’s going to do it forever. That’s the kind of personality she has. With horses, you have to pick and choose your battles.”
The boy looked at her, all red in the face.
“What? You didn’t read that chapter in the book?” Mindy wheeled the feed cart back up the aisle and fed Malaki.
“You baby her,” the boy insisted, following her.
“Really? By feeding her first? Ooh, maybe that’s because her stall is first and that’s how it’s always done? Horses are creatures of habit.”
“You’ve taught her to carry on like that when she doesn’t get fed first. She should stand quiet and wait, no matter what order you feed her.”
Mindy’s eyes hardened. “Let me tell you something, you feed Malaki first. All right? And when it comes to McMillan, you don’t turn him out before you turn out Bijou. Oh wait, let me think. If we do it the other way around, we might teach McMillan to not run the fence and freak out waiting for Bijou. Now Bijou doesn’t care if he goes out first or last. Do you think we could figure out how to make him care? Oh, what about Red Baron? Do you think we can teach him a lesson about not rolling in the mud? Or….”
“All right.” The boy held up his hands. “You made your point. Okay?”
Mindy nodded. “Lesson number two. This isn’t about you and me.” When he lowered his eyes, almost identical to a horse in submission, Mindy added, “This is about my mare. Don’t ever mess with her again. I mean it.”
Mindy checked water buckets. They’d be pulled shortly and rinsed or scrubbed, depending on if they were dirty or not. Bleaching buckets was prohibited at Maple Dale. They got a good scrubbing every couple of days and that was it. Bethann’s rule!
With a casual glance an experienced horseperson knows how a horse spent the night by the condition of its stall. A nice amount of water drank, feed tub empty, a normal amount of manure, stall not torn up from a horse’s pacing or fretting. All the horses had had a good night.
For some reason, Mindy found herself thinking about her friend Hillary who was an animal psychic. Since it happened fairly often, she was not surprised to start out of the barn and almost run right into her. They gave each other a hug and laughed.
“What are you doing here?” Mindy asked.
“I need a favor.”
“Okaay…” Mindy said, dragging the word out with trepidation.
“It’s nothing major. Well, I guess maybe it is. I need you to let me hide a horse here.”
“What?”
“It’ll only be for a little while. But….”
“But what?”
“We can’t tell Bethann.”
“Why not?”
Hillary hesitated. “Because we’re going to have to snatch him.”
Mindy stared. “Snatch him?” Hillary and Mindy met their freshman year in high school when both were sent to the principal’s office for refusing to dissect a frog in biology class. The two didn’t have much in common but had a deep bond when it came to their love of animals, particularly horses. “When?”
“Well, as soon as possible. What time does Bethann usually get here?”
“She had her baby yesterday. If all goes well with the little guy’s procedure this morning they’ll be discharged later today. What are you going to do with the horse? What condition is he in?”
Hillary was involved in rescuing horses and in some cases she was the horse’s last chance. “He’s actually in very good condition. That’s the problem. He’s hog fat and the owner doesn’t want him anymore. She placed him on Craigslist and….”
Mrs. Butchling pulled into the driveway and parked. “I wonder why she’s here so early,” Mindy muttered.
The woman got out of her car and walked toward them. “Just checking to see if you need anything. Your cellphone just kept ringing and ringing.”
Mindy pulled it out of her pocket. The battery was dead.
“Hillary,” Mrs. Butchling said in greeting.
Hillary smiled, but it was a worrisome smile, a disconnected smile, a distant smile. “Oh God,” Mrs. Butchling said. “I don’t even want to know.” She turned to Mindy. “How are Bethann and the baby?”
“Good. Everyone’s good. They’ll probably be coming home today. Benjamin stopped by the house this morning. He said David is as cute as a button.”
Mrs. Butchling smiled, recalling the birth of her own son, now gone. “Well, if everything’s okay.” She walked to her car. “Charge your phone. All right?”
Mindy nodded and glanced at Hillary. Her friend suddenly appeared anxious about something. “What?”
“I think we need her help, or at the very least her trailer.”
When Hillary pleaded with her eyes, Mindy sighed. “Um, Mrs. Butchling…?” There was no way she was going to steal a horse and a trailer.
The woman looked back at first one then the other and ultimately just shook her head. The girls approached her. “It’s like this,” Hillary said. “This person, I won’t give names.”
“Do you mean we know her?” Mindy asked.
Mrs. Butchling looked at her.
“What? I’m hearing this for the first time too,” Mindy said.
“You probably don’t
know her, but you might know of her or know someone that knows her, so….”
Mrs. Butchling rolled her eyes.
“This girl, I mean this person, is either mean or an idiot. The guy she’s dating doesn’t like horses, so she told him she’d sell the horse and she needs the money because she’s going to go to Sturgis with him. He has the motorcycle and she’d have the money then, so….”
Mrs. Butchling frowned. “Sturgis.”
“A big motorcycle rally. It’s irrelevant.”
Mrs. Butchling crossed her arms. “Well thank you for doing my thinking for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Hillary said, blushing. “I just…it’s just that we have so little time, I didn’t want to get bogged down with explanations.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Apparently, the person is coming at eleven o’clock this morning for the horse and bringing cash.”
“Cash?” Mrs. Butchling motioned. “Wait a minute. Back up and start over.”
Hillary drew a breath and sighed.
Mrs. Butchling glanced at Mindy.
“Like I said, I don’t know any more than you do.”
They both looked at Hillary. She’d grown quiet and was staring into the aisleway of the barn. “Is there some way we could just bring him here for a couple of hours?”
Mindy thought about how upset Bethann had gotten the last time she and Hillary had done something like this, at least in the beginning. Malaki nickered.
“See,” Hillary said. “Malaki thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Oh great. Resort to using Malaki,” Mindy said.
Hillary smiled. “She knows us doing this is the only chance this horse has.”
“But we don’t have any empty stalls.”
“We can put him in the lower arena,” Mrs. Butchling suggested. “I’ll say he’s a clinic horse. Is he ridable? Hunter? Jumper? Dressage?”
“Western.”
Mrs. Butchling scowled. “Well, I guess we can forgive him that. What’s the plan?”
“We get there before the guy is supposed to come, leave the cash and load the horse up and get outta there quick.”
“What if he won’t load?”
“He’ll load,” Hillary said. “I’m more worried about the possibility of the guy pitching a fit.”
“What guy?”
“The guy that’s supposed to be buying him. I suspect he’s a…a broker.” All three understood the fact that the term broker meant “killer” buyer. They didn’t like to even think about the word let alone say it. Also understood between the three of them was the hell horses went through at the “broker” auctions, the fear they experience, packed together in stock trailers, horses formerly loved, cared for, some even pampered, and now this, scared and hungry…
“All right, let’s do it,” Mrs. Butchling said.
“Don’t you have to go to work?” Mindy asked.
“I’ll call off. How are we paying for this horse?”
“I got the money from Veronica,” Hillary said. “She really needs to stay out of this though. Chances are someone at the barn would know her. That’s why we can’t use their trailer or take him right straight there.”
Veronica and her partner Karen owned and operated Shifting Gears Thoroughbred Rescue. Thanks to the recent newspaper articles and much-deserved recognition for the tireless work they did to rehab and rehome Thoroughbred racehorses, most certainly one or the other would be recognized.
“Where did they get the money?”
“A private donor.”
“Okay, so we’re going to go get him, bring him here, and then what?” Mindy asked.
“Well, we lay low for a...a couple of hours, a couple of days….”
“Days.”
“Probably not. We first just need to get the horse. We can figure the rest out later.”
The three went to work hitching up Mrs. Butchling’s trailer to her SUV, piled in, and headed up the road and down over the hill. When traffic slowed ahead of them, they crept along, had to stop entirely, and then were waved on by a road worker. Mindy turned as they passed the young man. It was Shane. The cowboy.
She rolled the window down and leaned out. “You are not going to frack Maple Dale! Do you hear me, Shane?”
“Mindy!” Mrs. Butchling said, reaching for her and yanking her back inside.
“I said do you hear me?”
“I think the whole world hears you,” Hillary said.
“You can take your fracking somewhere else!”
The young man stared at her. The girl was pretty and all, but what was her problem? At the last second, before the trailer obscured his view he recognized her.
“DO YOU HEAR ME?” she shouted one last time, hanging out the window again.
“I hear ya.” He laughed to himself. “Oh yeah, I hear ya.”
Chapter Six
The farm where the rescue horse was stabled was a little over a half hour drive away. As they turned off the highway and onto the road leading to the barn, Hillary had Mrs. Butchling stop at the house. “You should probably go pay them,” she said. “You’re older.”
“Thank you for pointing that out. Less prison time should we get caught.”
“They’re expecting a guy.”
“Shall I lower my voice?”
Hillary smiled. She didn’t know Mrs. Butchling all that well, but had tremendous respect for the woman. She loved horses and the horses loved her. Mrs. Butchling took the envelope holding the money and got out of the SUV and walked to the door.
A young woman inside peered through the screen. “Yes?”
“We’re here to pick up a horse, uh, he was on Craigslist. I was told to come pay you and….”
“I’ll get the receipt.” The young woman took the envelope, counted the money and handed Mrs. Butchling the receipt, already made out and signed. “He’s in the paddock. Janey said good-bye to him already.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Butchling pointed to a large bay horse pacing the fence in what looked like a stud paddock. The fence was six rails high. “Is that him?”
“Yes. Do you need help loading him?”
“Uh, no. I hear he loads well. Thank you.”
“He’ll be fine. Good luck with him. He could be a nice horse, you know.”
Mrs. Butchling glanced back. Something about the way the girl said that made her wonder. She climbed in behind the wheel and drove the trailer down past the paddock, turned the rig around and faced the road. She and Hillary and Mindy got out, lowered the ramp and opened the trailer doors. The horse nickered anxiously to them.
“It’s all right, buddy,” Hillary said. “You’re going to a good home.”
The horse stopped pacing and just looked at her.
Hillary sighed. “All right, so it’s a little white lie. You don’t have a home yet, but we’ll find you one. I promise.”
The horse pricked his ears and snorted.
Hillary opened the gate and Mindy put a lead shank on the horse and led him to the trailer. They let him stand for a moment, sniffing the inside, then encouraged him to walk up the ramp. He refused.
Mrs. Butchling got behind the horse and clicked to him. Still he refused.
Hillary rubbed his face with the palm of her hand. “No. We’re not the people you heard about. We’ve come to save you from those people.”
Mrs. Butchling stood in awe. She’d never believed in Horse Communicators because the ones she knew about pretty much all said the same thing. “Your horse loves you. He wasn’t always happy. He worries. He thinks you’re going to stop loving him some day.” When she met Hillary, she changed her opinion.
Hillary rubbed the horse’s face again and again. “Yes. I told you I promise, and I never break a promise.”
Off in the distance they heard a truck slow and turned as it pulled into the drive, towing a big rickety old stock-horse trailer.
“Let’s go,” Hillary said to the horse. “We have to leave now. You have to trust us.”
&n
bsp; The horse just stood there, eyeing the inside of the trailer.
Mindy stood at his off side.
The horse looked at all three of them, made full eye contact.
“They promise too,” Hillary said. “Don’t you?”
Mindy nodded. “Yes.” The horse was frightened.
Mrs. Butchling nodded. “Yes.” The horse was shaking.
“Come on,” Hillary said. “We’re going to take you home.”
With that the horse lowered his head, sniffed the mat on the ramp, and walked right up and into the trailer. Mindy snapped the rear chain behind him, stepped down, and she and Mrs. Butchling closed the back door and quickly raised the ramp.
The truck and trailer rattled to a stop outside the farmhouse.
Hillary snapped the horse’s halter to the tie down and climbed out the exit door at the front of the trailer.
Mrs. Butchling hurried the two girls along. “Come on, let’s go.”
They piled into the SUV and crept up past the other truck and trailer. She told the girls to hide and they both slid way down in their seats. The man was standing at the screen door with his back to them. When he turned with a look of utter confusion on his face as he walked down the steps, Mrs. Butchling put the window down and pointed at him. She didn’t say a word. She just pointed.
By the time the man maneuvered his truck and trailer around, they were a good half mile down the road. He followed them for at least two miles, ran a stop sign, then caught a light, and they were gone.
~ * ~
As planned, when the threesome arrived back at Maple Dale, they unloaded the horse and led him down to the lower arena. Mrs. Butchling and Hillary stayed with him while Mindy went up to get him some hay. He ran back and forth from one end of the arena to the other, bucking and playing and came flying up to the fence and stopped just at the last second.
“Whoa!” Mrs. Butchling put her hands up. “Settle down. Settle down.”
Maple Dale ~ My Forever Home (Maple Dale Series) Page 4