by Nancy M Bell
“What’s in Fort McLeod?” Coll settled deeper into the cushions and Laurel leaned against his shoulder.
“The meat packers.”
“You mean they’d send the wild horses to slaughter?” Coll raised both eyebrows. “That seems a bit extreme.”
“It’s the way things are.” Laurel frowned at the movie.
“Couldn’t they be gentled and broke to ride and stuff, I mean if they were caught young enough?”
“Sure, they could. Even some of the older ones. There’s a couple of groups that try to rehome them. They even go to the auctions and outbid the meat buyers. But they can’t save them all. I just hate it.” She ground her teeth. “Dad was saying Mr. Cullen, Carly’s dad, is wanting to round up Coal’s band and a bunch of others. I know I should respect my elders and all that,” she grimaced, “but honestly, the man is so pig headed it’s easy to see where Chance gets his attitude from.”
“What can you do about it?” Coll looked away from the action on the TV.
“Nothing, I guess. At least right now.”
“Let’s just watch the movie, then. Okay?”
“Okay.” She snuggled closer and pulled the fuzzy blanket over them, smiling when Coll slid his arm around her. It gave her a warm safe feeling and it was nice to just sit there and let the rest of the world look out for itself.
Chapter Three
Lying in bed later that night with the June moonlight throwing black and silver shadows across the room Laurel stared at the ceiling watching the shifting patterns of the leaves of the cottonwood trees blowing in the wind. She couldn’t seem to get to sleep no matter how hard she tried.
I wonder if Coll has seen Gramma Bella or Aisling’s Gwin Scawen. The little piskie freaked Coll out, even though he’d never admit it. It was unlikely the little brown man would seek him out. But…if he’d been out to Sarie’s he might well have gotten news of Gramma Bella and Vear Du.
She should have asked him sooner, but something held her back. Laurel couldn’t understand why she felt so wary of asking for news. It should have been one of the first things she did. Carly knew all about everything that happened in Cornwall even though Chance had no idea. He’d laugh himself silly at the mention of Cornish piskies and selkies…and probably tell everyone she knew she was loco. But…no more putting it off…first thing in the morning she’d ask Coll what he knew. Laurel rolled over with a huff and pulled the quilt up over her shoulders.
Through the open curtains the moonlight fell on a framed photo of a stocky black horse. His coat looked like polished ebony in the silvery light, and except for some lighter streaks in mane and tail the horse could have blended into the night.
“Coal,” she whispered. “What are they planning to do to you?”
The animal in the picture stared back at her. For a moment she shivered, the eyes seemed to follow her when she looked away a bit. Almost like that freaky painting in the Louvre in Paris, and for a painting everyone made such a fuss about, the woman wasn’t even that pretty. Go figure. But Coal…he was different, Laurel had just never noticed his eyes following her around before. Maybe she was just tired, and it was all in her imagination.
I’ll ask Carly what she knows at practice tomorrow. If Chance and his dad and some of the other neighbors are planning something she’ll tell me. Ignoring the photo Laurel gazed at the shifting shadows on the ceiling, the fluttering shapes danced and spun as the wind outside started to sing in the eaves of the house. Still watching them, Laurel slipped off into dreams of fairies and piskies dancing across her room.
A bright shaft of sunlight woke her in the morning. It was still early, she checked her phone and snuggled back into the covers. Only ten to six, she could stay in bed another ten minutes. Dad must be up because the rich scent of coffee enticed her to throw back the quilt and get up. Laurel had only recently acquired a taste for the stuff, but she had to admit after the initial choking on the strong brew, she now looked forward to her morning shot. But with cream and sugar, thank you.
Sighing, she gave in to the siren call of the coffee and got dressed. Dad made what he called cowboy coffee, said it wasn’t good unless you could stand a spoon up in it. That called for three lumps of sugar, Mom’s coffee wasn’t as strong and only required two lumps along with the cream from the dairy cow. She passed Coll’s door, hesitating for a moment to listen if there was any sign of movement, hearing only silence she decided to let him sleep and carried on to the kitchen.
Dad was still in his stocking feet leaning on the counter cradling a steaming mug in his hands. “Morning, Princess. Coffee’s made. Your English friend still sleeping?”
“Morning, Dad. I knew you made the coffee, I could smell it all the way upstairs.” She laughed and moved to pour some for herself. “I didn’t hear anything stirring in Coll’s room when I went by, so I didn’t knock or anything. He’s probably got jet lag.” Laurel dropped in the sugar and added cream, stirring noisily before taking a huge mouthful. “That’s better.” She smiled at her dad over the rim of the cup. He lifted his mug in a salute of agreement. “Where’s Harry?”
“Got an early start. Said it was such a nice morning he was gonna go look at the fencing in the southwest quarter of the back section. He took the Ford and the two-horse trailer, so you’ll have to take the Dodge and the angle haul over to the rodeo grounds. Are you picking Carly up on the way?”
“Chance is gonna bring her. He’s unofficial coach of the team ropers for some reason, or thinks he is, anyway,” Laurel said.
“The boy is good at what he does, Laurel. The committee wouldn’t let him coach you younger kids if they didn’t think he knew his stuff. He was the Altie Rutledge winner last year, remember?”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “How could I forget? He reminds us of it every chance he gets. If you don’t do this, or that like I tell you, you’ll never have a shot at the hi-point award.” She stuck her finger down her throat and made gagging sounds.
Colt hid a grin behind his coffee mug.
“You must be talking about poor Chance,” Anna Rowan said from the kitchen doorway. The sunlight gilded her blonde hair in a nimbus around her face. “Morning, Colt.” She kissed his cheek on her way to the fridge to pull out the makings for breakfast. “I think I heard Coll stirring when I came down,” she said to Laurel. “I’ll make enough for him too, unless you think he might want to sleep longer.”
“I’m up, Mrs. Rowan…I mean Anna.” Coll wandered into the kitchen, blue eyes still a bit bloodshot, blond hair sticking up in spikes.
“Bacon, eggs, and pancakes okay with you?” Anna set strips of bacon in the cast iron fry pan.
“That sounds great, I’m starving. Can I do something to help?”
“Come help me hook up the trailer,” Laurel suggested. “By the time we’re done, breakfast will be ready.”
“Sure, I can do that.” Coll followed her out into the hall to collect a jacket and footwear. Coll shoved his feet into a pair of battered runners and Laurel tugged on her boots.
“We’ll have to get you some boots next time we go into town. You need something sturdier with a heel to ride in.” She snagged the truck keys from the hook by the back door and stepped out in the still cool Alberta morning.
Gravel crunched underfoot as they crossed the yard. Annoyed at being disturbed from their breakfast of dead gopher a swarm of magpies took off in a swirl of black and white feathers and loud raucous complaint.
“Stupid birds,” Laurel muttered as one swept by close to her head.
“What are they?” Coll stopped to watch the birds circle and then drop back to the ground to continue their interrupted feast.
“Magpies, they’re loud and annoying, especially when you’re trying to sleep in, but I kinda like them, too.” She grinned and opened the truck door. “Harry calls them sky coyotes, ’cause they’re smart and sneaky and they’ll eat anything.”
The rumble of the engine silenced the meadowlark and song birds for a moment. Laurel rolled the wi
ndow down. “The angle haul is the one over there, next to the red trailer. If you can just stand near the tongue so I can gauge where to aim for, it would help. This truck is so old it doesn’t have a rear-view camera. Pain in the butt, but it runs good.”
“Sure.” Coll moved toward the silver trailer she indicated. He positioned himself with the tongue next to his knee. “This good?” he called.
Laurel gave him a thumbs up and wheeled the big vehicle around, tires crunching over the loose gravel of the yard. He stood his ground as the truck backed toward him. “Let me know how close I am to lining up, would you? And how close I am to the ball?” she called out the window.
It only took two attempts before the truck and trailer aligned and Laurel dropped the tongue unto the Reese hitch, locked it, hooked up the chains and plugged in the electrical. “There all done. Thanks, Coll. Makes it easier with someone back there. Let’s go see if Mom has breakfast ready yet.” They walked through the bright sunlit yard toward the house, her hand in Coll’s. Was it possible to be any happier, she wondered? The day was a perfect blue-sky morning, the prairie rolled away in shades of greens and tawny browns, the lilacs in the wind break by the house were in bloom, Coll was here—it was a perfect day—now if only Chance didn’t find a way to ruin it.
* * *
Once breakfast was finished, Laurel was grateful her mom insisted she could take care of the washing up by herself. She threw on her jacket and went out to catch Sam. Coll collected her tack from the barn and stowed it in the trailer while she brushed the big chestnut gelding.
“Do you want me to bring a horse for you?” She rested the dandy brush on Sam’s back when Coll came to stand by his head.
“What for? I don’t know anything about roping. I’d look a fool in front of all your friends.” He frowned at her.
“I didn’t mean you’d have to do any team roping. There’s an outdoor ring that’s nice and dry, you could ride in there instead of being bored watching Chance yell at us.”
“Where are you going to ride?” One hand straightened Sam’s forelock.
“They’ve got it set up in the arena. At least that was the plan last I heard. You’d have the outdoor ring to yourself I think. Anyway, if you don’t want to…” She shrugged and went around to groom Sam’s thick flaxen tail.
“If you’re sure it’d be okay, I’d like to ride. I miss being out at Sarie’s all the time. Seems with school and all it’s getting harder and harder to find the time.”
The mention of Sarie prodded Laurel into bringing up the subject she’d been avoiding. “Coll…have you heard from Gramma Bella? Has Sarie mentioned her at all?” She concentrated on the wind knots in the gelding’s tail.
“Not in a long while. About six months ago, near the winter solstice, Alban Authuran she called it, Sarie said she saw your gramma at the Men an Tol.”
“How was she?” Laurel quit brushing and rested a hand on Sam’s broad rump, knuckles white where she held the brush.
“Sarie didn’t say much, not about what they talked about or anything, but she did say your gramma was happy and while she missed being able to see you she was enjoying life with Vear Du very much. Sarie grumbled a bit about how Bella looked so much younger and how Sarie was like an old dish rag beside her.” Coll grinned.
“Really? I’m so glad she’s okay and happy. Not regretting going to live with Vear Du in that parallel dimension or whatever that place is. I miss her though, and it’s not like I can email her or even write her a letter.”
“That’s rough, but at least you know she’s okay and happy.”
“I guess.” Laurel switched topics. “Do you want me to go catch Jewel for you? There’s some trails around the community centre if you’d rather not use the ring.”
“Please, like I said before we started talking about your gramma, I’d like to go for a ride. As long as no one expects me to rope anything. I can go get her myself.”
“Deal. There’s a spare lead shank in the trailer, just stand at the gate and yell, they’ll come running. Just make sure the gate is closed good when you’re done.”
“Sure.” Coll collected the thick cotton lead and disappeared toward the pasture behind the machine shed. He came back a few minutes later with Jewel walking at his shoulder. The pretty little buckskin stepped daintily across the gravel, her golden-tan coat glistening in the sun.
“Tie her to the trailer and you can use my brushes.” Laurel tossed him a curry comb. “I’ll go get the tack.” Sam stood hipshot, half asleep while Laurel went to gather up Jewel’s equipment. She came back with the saddle under her arm and the bridle slung over one shoulder. With practiced ease she slipped the bridle onto one of the hooks on the open tack compartment door of the trailer and shoved the saddle onto the rack next to hers. “Be right back, I gotta get the pads.” She trotted back to the barn while Coll finished grooming the buckskin mare. She set the pads on top of the saddle and handed Coll a hoof pick. “I’ll stow this stuff away if you can check their feet for me.” Laurel gave the brushes a cursory clean and shoved them into her grooming box. By the time she was done, Coll had picked both horses’ feet and handed her the pick. She slid it into her back pocket.
“I’ll put Sam in first and then you can bring Jewel.” Laurel yanked the end of the quick release knot and folded the shank across her palm. “C’mon, son.” She led the big chestnut up the short step-up into the trailer. His hooves echoed hollowly on the floor and the trailer swayed a bit. She threw the shank over Sam’s back and fastened the trailer tie. Stepping back, she released the padded divider and swung it into place. It locked with a crash that made Coll jump. Laurel stepped down from the trailer. “Your turn. She’ll just follow you. The trailer tie is right there and just throw the lead over her back. I’ll get the divider for you.”
She stood back while Coll led the mare up beside Sam and fumbled a bit with the unfamiliar catch on the tie. Laurel followed him into the trailer and released the divider which she shoved into place once he stepped away from the mare’s head. The two horses stood side by side on a forty-five-degree angle from straight, the dividers giving them something to brace against during turns and keeping a safe distance between them.
“That’s pretty slick.” Coll indicated the configuration of the trailer. “I’ve only seen single or two horse straight hauls. Or the big horse vans.”
Laurel and Coll moved out of the trailer and Laurel secured the back doors. “Dad says the angle haul is easier on the horses in a long haul and they travel better with less moving around. I like it ’cause it makes loading and unloading so much easier. Especially with problem horses. Okay, let’s get going.” She swung up into the driver’s seat, she’d left the keys in the ignition after hooking the trailer, so she just needed to put the clutch in and start it. Coll clambered in beside her. “All set?” At his nod she put the truck in gear and rolled out onto the lane.
“Bye, Mom.” Laurel called out the open window as they passed the house. Anna stood on the front porch waving a cooler bag and Laurel braked to a stop.
“You forgot your lunch!” Anna came lightly down the steps and handed Coll the bag through the window. “Sandwiches and pop, some cookies and granola bars. Have fun and drive safe.” She stepped away from the truck.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Ta, Mrs. Rowan.”
“Anna,” she called after them, an amused look on her face.
“I can’t get used to calling your mom by her given name,” Coll confessed. “It just feels weird.”
Laurel glanced at him. “Call her mom then. She won’t mind, and she’d probably like it. Carly and Chance used to call her Momma Anna when they were little.”
“That might be easier. If you don’t think she’ll mind me calling her mom. Or your dad…”
“Dad won’t care as long as you’re polite.” The truck and trailer rattled down the long lane to the main road. Laurel stopped and flicked the indicator on, looking carefully before pulling out. “Idiots drive way to
o fast sometimes.” She moved onto the pavement and changed gears as their speed increased. She loved the feel of the transmission responding to her hand on the long gear shift. It was almost like riding or dancing, the balance between clutch, accelerator and shifter. The big truck picked up speed on the long downslope toward town. “I love this view.” She nodded at the wide sweep of prairie shimmering in the late June sunshine. Wild flowers lent splashes of colour to the hills and the mountains loomed misty and pale blue blushed with pink in the distance. When she arrived at the junction of 507 and 785 she jogged over to Highway 6 and skirted the main part of Pincher, when the highway turned north she carried on past the interchange on what became 507 again.
“It’s kind of the long way around, but I hate driving through town with the rig and this is really the best way with the least amount of stops and twists and turns,” Laurel explained. “We pretty much circle around the whole town. Carly hates it ’cause Chance insists on going through town.” The truck leaned around a long bend and jumped a bit as she geared down to third. “Oops, I always get that wrong.” She slowed more as they approached a side road. Signalling and waiting for oncoming traffic to clear, Laurel turned onto Beaver Drive and then Canyon Drive. “Almost there.” She grinned at Coll.
Laurel turned into the large parking lot, crowded with other trailers, and maneuvered the rig so she could drive out again without jockeying around backing up. “I hate backing up,” she grinned at Coll, “Dad says I’m challenged when it comes to backing up. The only thing I can back up without too much trouble is the fifth wheel, but that’s way too big and a waste of fuel for two horses.” She killed the ignition and cranked the parking brake. “We’re right beside Cullen’s, so they beat us here.” Laurel hopped out of the truck. “Let’s go see what’s up before we unload the horses.” Coll joined her, and they walked toward the long white building. Laurel called greetings to people as they passed. She halted inside the arena to let her eyes adjust after the brightness outside.