Tumbleweed

by Heather Huffman

  Copyright 2012 Heather Huffman-Bodendieck

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: info@booktrope.com

  Cover Design by Emily Stoltz

  Edited by Lindsay Morrison

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  ISBN 978-1-935961-42-0

  DISCOUNTS OR CUSTOMIZED EDITIONS MAY BE AVAILABLE FOR EDUCATIONAL AND OTHER GROUPS BASED ON BULK PURCHASE.

  For further information please contact info@libertary.com

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012933611

  Dedication

  For Jack Rollins, my favorite cowboy.

  Your Quarter Horses are the most amazing animals I've ever laid eyes on. Thank you for sharing them, for opening your home as a place of peace, and for letting us become part of your barn family.

  You are now and forever in my heart.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Bonus: Excerpt from RING OF FIRE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  About the Author

  More Great Reads from Booktrope Editions

  Chapter One

  Somehow, when I envisioned meeting my new boss, I hadn't quite pictured landing in his lap right off the bat. Yet that's exactly where I found myself, thanks to my son's Blue Tick Coonhound bolting past me, dragging his 11-year-old human behind.

  “Sorry! We didn't mean to bring the dog, but Blue got loose when I was walking him and we were already running late,” Aaron tried to explain as he stumbled to keep up with the lumbering beast.

  “It's kind of a long story,” I righted myself as gracefully as possible. My boss, at least I hoped he was still my boss, rose from the picnic table where he'd been getting ready to enjoy his lunch before my unceremonious greeting.

  “Ethan Johnston. Pleased to finally meet you in person. You're just in time to join us for lunch.” A grin tugged the corner of his mouth. I couldn't blame him. I'd laugh at this too if it wasn't me. Heck, I probably would anyway, just not today.

  “Hailey Brandt. It's so nice to meet you, and I'm really sorry about the dog,” I offered my hand, trying to salvage the meeting. Truth was, I desperately wanted this job – and it was more than the desire to get out of my tiny house in the city, more than the little-girl love of horses that had never gone away.

  From the moment we'd rounded the first bend in the dirt road leading to Mountain View Ranch, a feeling of home had settled over me like a warm blanket. Prairie grass danced in the breeze on gently rolling hills. There was something about the colors and the graceful bend of the blade, the deep green topped off by frothy white seed heads, that made it appear the plants really were dancing in the wind. It was late enough in the summer that some of the heads were turning and patches of brown seeds were peeking through. It had been so long since I'd been home to the Ozarks; I'd almost forgotten how pretty it was. The landscape was dotted with horses of all colors grazing peacefully. A few of the younger foals were actually frolicking.

  “Wow,” I'd breathed a sigh.

  “You said it,” Aaron had muttered, drinking it all in. I'd filled his head with country living since he was born, but aside from the little county park we used to frequent with a couple of aging horses and a handful of goats and cows, he had never really been on a farm. As we had rounded one last bend, a house came into view. Just past it sat a stable, a hay barn and several other outbuildings.

  “Wow,” we'd both muttered that time.

  Now, I silently kissed the job and the warm fuzzy feelings goodbye.

  The kind man smiled reassuringly and motioned to a fifty-something woman still sitting at the table, eyeing me skeptically. “This here is Sue O'Donnell. She does most of the cooking around here and takes care of the house while the boss is away.”

  “So nice to meet you.” I tried giving her my most winning smile as I shook her hand. She scowled slightly and looked as if she wasn't so sure she wanted to actually touch me.

  They say you only get one chance to make a first impression. I was pretty sure these people were going to remember mine.

  Since my good impression was already blown, I figured there was no harm in asking where the bathroom was. I was dancing a little by this time because I'd opted not to stop at a bathroom when we'd gotten off the highway; we'd already been running too far behind from the Blue fiasco.

  I grudgingly played the part of a decent mother and let Aaron go before me. While I was waiting my turn, I tried to shift my focus on to anything besides my bladder. After showing me the way, Sue had left me to my thoughts as she busied herself about the kitchen.

  She seemed nice enough. Perhaps a bit wary of me, though. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I was pretty sure she wasn't absolutely crazy about my presence here. Of course, my entrance probably solidified any reservations she'd held that I had no business being on a ranch. The more I thought about it, the more I tended to agree with her. It had been a long time since I had stepped foot on a farm.

  Thinking about how long was starting to make me even more nervous. Truth be told, my family's land had degraded into a hobby farm by the time I came along. I had no clue how to manage a barn. What was I thinking?

  “Mom,” Aaron rolled his eyes and tapped me on the forehead. “Wake up. It's your turn.”

  “I knew that,” I huffed and hurried into the bathroom. At least I wasn't fixated on my bladder anymore. Instead, I was in a full-blown panic attack. As I washed my hands, I frowned at my reflection. I could do one of two things. I could slink out of this room, round up my son and his goofy dog, and drive fast as I could back to St. Louis to tell my family they were right all along. Or, I could clean myself up a bit and go have lunch with these people and see just how desperate they were.

  Door number one wouldn't do much for helping me get vivacious back, and I wasn't ready to settle for the person I'd been seeing in the mirror lately. It would, however, completely demolish any self esteem I had left. Door number two could lead to absolute disaster, and I could forever destroy my son's life. But he seemed pretty excited about it, and wasn't there a lesson to be learned for him here, too? Follow your dreams and all that.

  Okay, truth be told – I would rather be dragged naked over broken glass through the town square than go back and admit to my family that I couldn't do it. The failure would always be there, hanging over my head along with every other misguided adventure I had ever dreamed up. So, I did the best I could to tidy my hair with my hands and hurried out the door. I followed the sound of Aaron's voice to find the rest of the group.

  “After the accident, Mom had to stop wearing high
heels. She says her ankle never did heal up right. They tried therapy and surgery and all kinds of stuff. Well, actually she still wears heels but she's not supposed to because her ankle gives out and she falls. Of course, she wasn't wearing heels today and she still fell….”

  “Let me get this straight, your mom permanently ruined her ankle doing step aerobics?” Ethan's expression was one of concentration; I could tell he was trying to figure out just how I managed that feat of grace.

  “And her knee,” my traitorous son blithely confirmed. I groaned inwardly. Oh well, these people knew I was a flighty, dusty, clumsy mess with a goofy dog and a talkative kid. If they still let me start next week, there probably wasn't much more I could do to shock them.

  Ethan was nice enough to at least try to suppress his grin when I came into view. They were seated at a picnic table bursting with food: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, salad, cookies, fruit, and sweet tea. In this neck of the woods, it goes without saying that the tea will be sweet. I nearly moaned with delight when I sat down next to Aaron. The sparkle in his eyes told me he felt the same way. Whatever else happened on this day – we would not go home hungry.

  “So tell me about yourself.” Ethan gave me an easy smile that almost calmed my nerves.

  “Anything in particular you want to know?” I cocked my head and smiled back.

  “Why here?” He shrugged around a mouthful of potatoes.

  “I've always thought of Booger County as home. I mean, I can barely remember actually living down here – mostly visited on breaks and stuff – but it always felt right. I know St. Louis isn't the place for me. I guess I'm just trying to figure out where I fit.”

  “Booger County?” Aaron choked. “You never told me this place was called Booger County.”

  “Does that make it really cool or really gross?” I wondered.

  “I don't know,” he answered honestly.

  “Booger County is just the nickname, if it helps,” I offered.

  “You really are a native, aren't you?” Ethan smiled again and reached for more chicken.

  Come to think of it, I have no idea why people from the area call it Booger County. I made a mental note to ask Daddy the next time I saw him, or maybe Mama. She was the history buff.

  “My roots certainly are here, even if I haven't been for a while,” I acknowledged.

  “What does your husband think about moving?” Sue pursed her lips and studied me.

  “I haven't seen my ex-husband in nearly six years now.” I met her gaze as steadily as I could. “It's just Aaron and me.”

  “And Blue,” Aaron added.

  “And Blue,” I agreed with a smile. “Heaven forbid we forget Blue….”

  “Are you picking on my dog?” Aaron playfully demanded, but I had already switched gears so he didn't get a response.

  “So you're still okay with me starting next week – meeting me in person hasn't changed your mind?” I asked Ethan, trying to sound lighthearted while bracing for the worst.

  “Just as soon as you could get down here,” he answered. “Like I said on the phone, we need someone who is able and willing to do it all, from administrative work to preparing financial forecasts. We'll need accounting, information systems, project management… a little bit of everything, I guess. We need to grow, or at least change, if we're going to survive. I have enough going on without trying to keep track of the business end, too.”

  “I can definitely do that,” I assured him. Aha! Being a flake who'd tried her hand at just about everything was finally going to pay off.

  “Wanna see the place?” He stood and stretched lazily.

  “We'd love to!” Aaron jumped up excitedly.

  “Can I help clear the dishes first?” I stood and fought the urge to stretch as Ethan had. It didn't seem ladylike, and I was still trying to salvage their impression of me.

  “Nonsense,” Sue shooed me away but smiled slightly. “I got this. You go on.”

  I was glad I offered because it seemed to soften Sue's attitude towards me, but I was even happier when she said no because I was dying to see the place. As Ethan walked us around, he rattled off facts about hay fields and pasture acreage and ponds and trails, but it all kind of bounced off of me as I soaked up the beauty of the place.

  Good thing Aaron seemed to be paying attention. I was just too busy enjoying the smell of the horses – that thick, sweet scent that's all outdoors and leather. I was caught up in the sounds of the dogs baying in the distance and the horses nickering their hellos as we neared. Ethan produced some apple treats and we stopped to admire the girls that had lined up expectantly, obviously aware of what Ethan carried in his pockets.

  The thing about Fox Trotters – not some fancy Walker but a real Missouri Fox Trotter – is that their surefootedness and their gait are the only things they really seem to have in common. Most horses have a unique look to them. Arabians have that curvy, small, dished head. Foundation Quarter horses have strong jowls and massive hindquarters. Thoroughbreds have long legs and long, refined heads.

  With Missouri Fox Trotters, or rather MFTs, it isn't about the looks so much as the way they move. Get yourself on the back of a gaited MFT and you'll never want to ride anything else ever again, or so they say in Booger County. These animals had their own way of moving, and they were darn near a religion in this part of the country. Pictures never seem to do them justice, though. Their intelligent and unassuming nature just didn't come through a camera lens.

  The mares nickering at the fence now were flashier than was typical of the breed – there are lots of brown and chestnut MFTs out there. But this was a veritable rainbow of the horse world. I've always been a sucker for unusually colored horses, so I was in love.

  “Our stallion is a cremello, Zane's Diamond,” Ethan pointed to an empty stall. I tried to hide my disappointment. I'd love to see an ivory-colored, blue-eyed horse in person.

  “Ooh, I bet he makes pretty babies with these girls,” I couldn't resist reaching out to scratch the nearest horse on the nose. It had first been thought that the cremello gene was a fault in horses, until pioneers in the field proved the horses were healthy as any other animal and would virtually guarantee flashy colors when added to a herd. Breed a cremello with a black, you get a smoky gray. Breed a cremello with a chestnut or bay, you get a palomino or buckskin. Pretty much any color will be smokier, creamier.

  “He does. Except with Jezebel here. Well, they're good foals, but almost always a gray. Even if they start out with the crème gene, they gray out.”

  “It's that gray gene from Zane Grey in his bloodline,” I nodded. “At least you know what you're getting.”

  “So you know breeding, too,” Ethan smiled approvingly.

  “Well, horse breeding anyway,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. At least I skidded to a halt before adding that I was pretty out of practice in the human breeding arena.

  If Ethan had picked up on my meaning, he was kind enough not to acknowledge it. He seemed inclined to stay only long enough for a brief hello and I wasn't too keen on making a fool of myself in front of someone who actually knew what he was doing around horses, so I contented myself to sneak wishful looks at the mares while I was supposed to be concentrating on my tour of the stables. Aaron was lucky – he got to stay and pet the horses.

  “A lot of the big operations are breaking up and selling off into smaller parcels of land,” Ethan explained and I tore my gaze away from the mares to try to focus my brain on what he was saying. “The cities are expanding outward. We're seeing a real influx of hobby farmers with the Internet allowing people to telecommute. That bumped up land prices and with it property taxes – they've gone through the roof. Throw in a drought and a late frost and you're seeing farmers go under left and right. With the economy tightening up, locals just aren't spending money on horses like they used to. People are unloading stock like crazy. Registered horses are selling at auction for less than $100 because their owners can't afford to feed them. W
e're losing our middle class market and people with the money tend to flock to flashier breeds.”

  “True,” I nodded as I thought of my brother Jonathan and his wife. They had recently bought into a Paso Fino operation with hopes of retiring there when the children were out of school. Now that was a flashy breed of horse. “So have these mares and the cremello stallion been selected in hopes of widening the appeal of the Missouri Fox Trotter?”

  “Very observant.” Ethan nodded slightly and grinned wryly. “But you don't have to say it like I'm a traitor to the breed. Just trying to survive.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Slowly, yeah. But costs are rising faster than sales, and we've got to do something else to keep this place alive. That's why I'm bringing you in. Your resume seemed a little… unorthodox. I thought you might have a fresh way of looking at things.”

  “Unorthodox. That's new,” I shook my head. “You'll have to share that one with my family; they're running out of good adjectives.” Ethan chuckled, and I chewed my lip in thought for a moment. “So what options have you considered so far?”

  “Everything from scaling back the horse operation so we can run cattle to becoming a long-term housing facility for Mustangs for the grant money from the Bureau of Land Management.” Ethan heaved a sigh and ambled out of the stable to survey the fields absent-mindedly. “We thought about opening up the two pastures on the east side to boarders. Sue's daughter and her husband own the land adjacent to ours. She's been offering riding lessons from here two days a week, so that kind of opens the doors to becoming a full-service facility.”

  “Do you train just these horses or do you offer your services to others?”

  “Both. We do house horses here short term while they're being trained,” he explained.

  “Is there a vet that comes out?”

  “Nah, I do most stuff on my own.” He went into a long list of what he did for the horses. I could have listened for hours. I wanted to learn it all. I didn't want the feeling to end, either. I knew in the back of my mind that Aaron and I would pile in the car at the end of our day, breathless from the exhilaration of simply being here, only to receive blank stares from my family when we tried to share our experience with them. They wouldn't get it. I was tired of people not getting it.