When You Fall...

by Robinson, Ruthie

  #

  Friday

  Lunchtime found Carter in her kitchen, making a hot dog. She was hungry. These days, she was always hungry. She spent yesterday and today with Rafael’s tractor. She had finished cutting the grass. She laughed, thinking about the damage she could have done to his tractor had she not caught herself in time. She’d been smoothly cutting grass until her mind wandered off to her most recent time spent with him on her back porch—and later in bed.

  She stayed in that fantasy far longer than she should have, just managing to swing around that tree that popped up in front of her. It had come from out of nowhere. Rafael would have killed her if she’d harmed that tractor.

  Maybe she should take tomorrow off, go into town, and enjoy the 4th of July fireworks. Maybe she could drag Rafael with her, and then talk him into creating a different kind of fireworks later.

  She heard the doorbell and headed to the front door.

  A white dude stood on the other side, baggy jeans resting on his hips—not hip-hop baggie, but saggy cowboy baggy. A beaten-up brown cowboy hat rested on his head, his beard covered his lower face.

  “Can I help you?” Carter asked, glancing quickly over at her umbrella in the stand next to the door.

  “I’m looking for Jack Shine,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, he no longer works here,” Carter said.

  The man’s face registered surprise. “I was supposed to pick up a horse that I purchased from him. We agreed. I was to stop by on my way down south,” he said, his voice going from friendly to defensive.

  “I have a horse.”

  “He must be mine. Grey’s his name. Show me the way and I’ll just take him off your hands then,” he said, stepping back from the door. She stepped outside onto the porch and noticed a horse trailer parked in the drive.

  “Is that your trailer?” she asked.

  “It is.”

  “How do I know he’s yours?” she asked.

  “I have a bill of sale for him in the truck.”

  “I want to see it. Where are you taking him anyway?” she asked.

  “Don’t get nosy,” he said, backing away from Carter.

  “How much did you pay for him?” Carter asked, trailing along behind him now as he started walking back to his truck.

  He stopped at the passenger side of his truck, opened the door, and then the glove compartment. He started digging though the contents.

  “Dammit,” he said, beneath his breath, digging still. “That bill of sale must be in the trailer. No, here it is,” he said, handing an envelope to Carter. She pulled out the content, and read and yes it was a bill of sale for Grey. Saggy pants walked away. She followed him, checking out the trailer as she walked behind him. She could see two pairs of eyes—two horses, she thought. Their eyes met hers. She took in the Mexican license plates attached to the truck.

  “Are you from Mexico?” she asked.

  “It’s none of your concern where I’m from. I travel back and forth, not that it’s any of your business. I used to live there. It’s not against the law,” he said, inserting a key into the lock that secured the trailer’s back door.

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  He seemed nervous all of a sudden, his eyes darting between her and his trailer.

  “What are you going to do with them? Are you taking them to Mexico?” she asked.

  “What?” he said, his hands lifted now in fake affront.

  “I’ll buy them from you. I’ll pay you what you paid Jack for Grey plus something for the other two you have in here,” Carter said, pointing to his trailer, her request instinctive and impulsive.

  “How much would you pay for them?” he said, eyes gleaming with interest now.

  “Let me see the ones inside first.”

  “No can do, lady. Take them as is. Give me $500 dollars and you can have them all, including Grey.”

  “All three? Grey plus the two you have inside your trailer?” she said, seeking confirmation.

  He nodded.

  “Five hundred dollars. That’s a lot of money. And you won’t let me take a look at them, so I really don’t know what kind of condition they are in.”

  “That’s the offer. Take it or leave it.”

  “I don’t have that kind of money on me,” Carter said.

  “Too bad then,” he said, removing the lock from the trailer door. He stuck his hand inside and pulled out a halter and rope. He closed the trailer door and was walking away from her now.

  “Wait,” she said, falling into step beside him. “Where are you going?”

  “Going to get my horse,” he said.

  “Okay, fine. I could write you a check. Will you take a check? As I’ve said, I don’t have that kind of cash on me.”

  “Give me the check and I’ll take it into town and cash it.”

  “Hell no. You might not come back”

  “I’ll leave my truck and trailer. It’s worth more than $500 and I’ll cash your check and come back to pick it up. Deal?”

  “How are you going to get there?”

  “I have a friend following me,” he said, pointing to a small black truck, parked on the road, several feet away. She hadn’t noticed it.

  Carter stood there for a second and not coming up with anything better, agreed.

  She went inside her home, found her checkbook, wrote him a check and placed it in his hand.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” he said, accepting it from her. He walked over and hopped in the truck. Carter watched as they pulled away, and then turned around, headed back in the direction of town.

  Carter. What are you doing here? You are supposed to be getting rid of horses, not purchasing more. “Yes, I know, ” she said out loud, answering herself. She could not leave those two, plus Grey, to that man. She walked over to the trailer to try and get a better look at the occupants inside.

  “Hey,” she said, peeking in. An eye stared back at her.

  “What are you doing?” she said out loud to herself again. She stood there, guarding her soon-to-be charges, having no idea what she was purchasing, shaking her head at her behavior. She needed a keeper, someone to guard her. She clearly was living with the Crazy Carter part of herself, just welcoming her in now with open arms.

  Thirty minutes later, saggy pants was back with a smile on his face, which he deserved for talking her out of her hard-earned money for two horses that were probably beyond saving. No point in revisiting that decision now.

  “It took us longer than I expected. My friend there had to stop for gas,” he said, grinning. He was all friendliness now, showing off his smile, all neat brown and missing a few teeth.

  “Where do you want your purchases?” he asked.

  “The barn,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. “I’ll take one. You take the other,” she said.

  “No problem. Whatever the customer wants,” he said, showing off that smile again.

  He opened the door, and Carter smiled as she caught sight of the first horse. He was a beauty—brown-red with a white spot on his face.

  “He’s a thoroughbred,” saggy pants told her with pride in his voice. “He ain’t much of a winner on the track. Hurt his ankle and his owner sold him to me. Not everyone can be a winner,” he said. Didn’t she know it.

  “How old?”

  “Three years, “ he said, handing the lead rope to Carter.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Racer’s Dream,” he said before he walked back in and emerged with a twin for Augustus.

  “He’s an old one. The family didn’t want to part with him, said he’s been in the family for years,” he said, pulling him off the trailer. “You may have to put him down.” He stood there for a second, considering something, but Carter had no idea what that might be.

  “You know what? Since you’re an animal lover, like myself. I’ve got two donkeys left. It ain’t worth taking them, not without these three. I bought them for $20. I’ll throw them in for free, ‘cause this on
e is on his last leg,” he said, magnanimous in his victory.

  “Thanks,” Carter said, leading Racer’s Dream toward her stable.

  She put both Racer’s Dream and Sandy—that was the old gelding’s name—into a stall. She headed back out to get her donkeys.

  Both of them looked God-awful. No other way to say it. Just plain awful. She put them into stalls, found water for them all, and gave them some of her expensive Purina feed. That would keep them until Doc Bailey could get here, hopefully this evening.

  She made her way inside, found the vet’s number and called. Doc Bailey agreed to stop on the way home.

  #

  Twelve

  Saturday afternoon

  Carter stood on her back porch watching Rafael. He was bent over doing something in his fields, working alongside one of his workers. He was something special that one, she thought, and not for the first time.

  She hadn’t talked to him since that time on her back porch and later in her bed. The memory of that had the ability to make her soft. Throw in him listening so attentively to her dreams before; was that belief in her she felt from him? He offered up none of what she’d come to expect from people hearing her old dream of starting a B&B. It was enough to make her what? Give consideration to his list?

  Maybe he was busy, she thought again. She was itching to tell him about her new boarders. She should stop by later and not interrupt him in the middle of his work. She should wait until the end of the day she decided. Screw it. She was going over now.

  It took her a few minutes to walk from the back porch to the fence separating her family’s property from the street that lay between her land and his. The street dead-ended a few yards past his house. His land from that point on butted up against hers.

  She couldn’t hop over the fence like he’d done so often so effortlessly. She’d had to climb up and then down the other side instead. Thankfully, it was made of metal and not wire. She crossed the road, walked around a few chickens that had made the front yard home and over to the field where Rafael stood under the leaf of a large plant.

  He looked up and smiled. Wow, was he handsome. It never failed to catch her by surprise. He would make someone a good husband—hard working, good looking, nice guy, even with his stupid list. He had this nice, loose smile, way sexy, and it was slow getting from start to its ultimate bright finish. His hair, wet from perspiration, clung to his head, and his shirt, wet too, clung tightly to his chest. She loved him wet. Images of him, sweaty, wild and hot, or slow and simmering, flashed before her eyes. It had been all she could do to keep up. Sometimes she hadn’t, just hung on as he took her from one climax to the next. He had some type of bag slung over his shoulder now—a cotton-style messenger bag.

  “What’s up?” he said, standing up, his hands filled with okra.

  “Nothing. I’ve got some new occupants in my stable,” she said, and told him about her deal with saggy pants, her call to Doc Bailey, and the accompanying vet instructions. He continued to work as she followed along behind him.

  “I thought you were trying to get rid of your animals,” he said when she’d finished talking.

  “I couldn’t let that man leave with them. Not knowing what he had intended for those horses,” she said, still following Rafael as he moved down the next row. “These are really tall plants,” she said, trying to find him under a leaf. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “I meant, how are you doing it? I can help. You know, talk and help you at the same time,” she said.

  He looked at her for a second, thinking what she hadn’t a clue. “I’m picking okra—more cutting it from the stems with these,” he said, showing her his shears.

  “I can do that,” she said.

  “It’s okay. I can talk and work.”

  “I’d like to help,” she said. He looked at her for a moment and again, she couldn’t read him.

  “Okay then. Here, take these,” he said, handing the pair of shears he held in his hands over to her, then removing his bag from his shoulder and placed it around hers. “I’ll go get another pair,” he said.

  “I’ll wait for you,” she said. It took another five minutes before he returned and then showed her what to look for and how to clip them at the stem.

  “Where are these going?” she asked.

  “To the farmer’s market in Buda. I also deliver them to this new-age restaurant called The Fusion. Have you ever heard of it?”

  “No.”

  “It’s new. It’s five-star, small, and pricey. I supply them with vegetables and organic chickens.”

  “Oh.”

  “What did you think I did?” he asked, smiling, starting to work again.

  “I didn’t think, really,” she said, stopping to looking over his fields. “Why farming?” she asked.

  “Love it. I worked as a migrant worker in California mostly. Here some too. Actually, I mostly trailed behind my grandfather. I was very young and my parents were always busy, making a life here for my brothers and me. I grew to love being outside, working in dirt, working with plants,” he said.

  “I’ve heard that it’s hard to make a living at farming,” she said.

  “That’s true. Unlike you, I’m not looking to get rich. It’s the kind of life I want—the pace, the ownership.”

  “That’s enough for you, and I’m not looking to get rich either. I want to work with horses, remember?” she said.

  “I remember. Believe it or not, it’s more than enough for me. I love it here,” he said, smiling at her look of disbelief. “I am working to make this farm self-sustaining, at least to generate enough income to cover the expenses. Hopefully that will increase as we grow.”

  “How?”

  “I’m organically certified. I sell my vegetables and fruit at the local farmer’s markets. Some I sell to the larger grocery chains those that are starting to purchase locally. I have chickens for laying and some for their organic meat. I sell to a few small restaurants and I sell my organic eggs to another restaurant in Austin—Omelets Inc.”

  “I’ve heard of them. I’ve never eaten there, though,” she said.

  “Yep, well the last year or so they’ve been using my eggs exclusively.”

  “That must make you proud,” she said.

  “It does,” he said, and his head dipped a little at her praise.

  “No way are you shy,” she said.

  He laughed. “It’s the life I want, Carter. The life that I’ve dreamed of.”

  She stood and looked around, taking in his farm seriously for the first time; the rows of plants, the barn, the people working in it.

  “The chickens are behind the house and I’ve even gotten some goats,” he said, smiling, it giving way to a grin.

  “Goats,” she repeated.

  He laughed. “See why I have a list of things I look for in a woman? It will take a special woman to forego all the riches of town life and live on a farm with Rafael, the Latino owner of chickens and goats.”

  She laughed too, and went back to picking, telling him about her trip to town and how expensive her animals were becoming.

  Two hours later, she’d had enough.

  “I’m out of here. I’m hungry. I can’t keep up with you. How much more ‘til you’re done?”

  “Not much longer. It’s manageable. Don’t worry,” he said, walking over to stand close to her. He kissed her, moved his hands to her breast, glided softly over them and then around her back, pulling her tightly into him and kissing her again. “Thanks for helping.”

  She laughed, looked around, and laughed again. “Not a problem. It was fun talking to you. And thanks for listening to me again,” she said.

  His eyes were twinkling. He hadn’t let her go, and was still holding her tightly to him with that look in his eyes.

  “I’m not making out in a field of okra,” she said.

  “I bet I could talk you into it,” he said, kissing her again, moving
his mouth to her ear. “You can have your dreams, too.—the ones you spoke of the other night. I can tell what this place means to you. Tell your father, your sisters. Ask them not to sell it,” he whispered into her ear, serious now.

  “It won’t happen,” she said.

  “How do you know if you don’t try?” he asked.

  She shrugged, wiggling to set herself free from his arms. “It’s no use. You think my stepsisters don’t like me now. They would kill me then.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “My stepsisters hate I could take, but not my dad’s. That would be a hard one for me. We are all that’s left of the original crew, original family. I’d better let you finish up here. I’ve taken up enough of your time,” she said, as she leaned up and kissed him again.

  “So you’re going to give up without a fight?”

  “I just told you there is no fighting with my father. Talk to you soon,” she said, walking back the way she’d come.

  He watched her leave, and was still watching her when she turned back one final time and waved before she’d climbed back over the fence.

  He’d watched her all the time now when she hadn’t known he’d been around. He saw her outside in the pastures, talking to her horses, working with Grey and that new horse. He’d known about the new horses and donkeys before she’d even told him.

  There was starting to be something about her, something to this churning that had started to grow larger in his chest. He wanted her near him now, whenever he could. Hell, he was even kissing her in his okra patch. He hadn’t put a name to this feeling, but whatever this was, it was a first for him.

  You could love this one, he said to himself, giving a tentative name to the feeling in his chest, the source of all his churning that wouldn’t leave. He’d gotten pulled into the vulnerable woman that had cried into his shoulder and the one that worked so hard on the ranch. He’d gotten caught up with the woman that jumped into this with barrels blazing and the panther that had joined him in bed.