Intent(11)
“You’ve got your hands full with this one,” I chuckle. Leaning down to River, I tap my finger lightly on her little button nose. “You stay close to Miss Rose so you won’t get hurt. Okay?”
“Otay, Waynie,” she nods.
“All set with the groceries.” Joey hands me the keys to the Jeep, and I thank him before saying good-bye. My mind has returned to that dark place, and I need to walk away before the tears start flowing in front of complete strangers.
Laynie. River has no idea Bobby used to call me that, but that name does me in just the same. As I drive away, a memory replays in my mind, a conversation that came up frequently in one variation or another.
“Bobby and Laynie. What should we name our baby? Blainie?” Bobby asked jokingly.
“No, we’re not naming our baby Blainie.” I laughed in reply. I was so happy that he was even talking about a baby with excitement in his voice. He joked about the name, but he’d started referring to when we had a baby more frequently. It gave me more confidence that we truly had a future together.
“What name, then? If it’s a boy, we can name him after me. If it’s a girl, we can name her after you.”
“I’m not sure I want to name our baby after either of us. A baby should have his or her own name, don’t you think? Besides, I don’t want anyone calling our son ‘Junior’ or ‘JR’—or anything else but his name.”
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something perfect, Laynie. Whatever the name is, our baby will be perfect, because it’ll come from you.”
“No, it won’t come from me. Your baby will come from Cyndi, my former best friend and your new f*ck buddy.”
Chapter Four
ACE
“Hey, Ace, can you bring Frankie up to the pen?” Justin asks.
“Sure, Justin. Be back as soon as I can get him.”
I close the gate behind me and head off into the pasture to find Frankie, a buckskin horse we rescued from horrible conditions. He was very skittish around people when we first rescued him, understandably, but we’ve slowly been building up his trust in us. Frankie is pastured when we’re not working with him so he can eat grass and hay until his big horse stomach is full. The problem with this is that he usually runs from me when he sees me coming, so I have to sneak up on him as much as possible.
The problem with that is it’s extremely hard to sneak up on a horse. It’s even harder to sneak up on one that’s already easily spooked and constantly on alert for any predator that may try to eat him. Never mind that he easily weighs over a thousand pounds and those thick hind legs would hurt worse than a sledgehammer if he kicked me with them. His favorite place to graze is along the edge of the river, so that’s where I usually begin my search for him.
As I top a small hill that overlooks the river valley below, I stop to scan the area for Frankie’s whereabouts. When I spot him, I can’t believe what’s happening right in front of my eyes. For the first time in my twenty-five years of being around horses, I’m not sure how I should handle this situation.
Walking briskly down the embankment, I approach the intruder and keep my voice low to avoid startling the horse. “What the hell do you think you’re doing in here? Are you completely stupid? Can you not read?”
Her eyes dart to meet mine and hold a mixture of anger and confusion. Her hands continue to stroke Frankie’s jawline, and she keeps her voice just as low and controlled when she replies. “You must be a complete moron to approach a stranger and immediately begin belittling and demeaning her. To answer your question, I guarantee I can read anything you can read and then run circles around you with all the things you can’t read.”
“There’s a sign on the fence that plainly says KEEP OUT. There’s one right underneath that one that says PRIVATE PROPERTY.” She pissed me off by being in this field. Then I found her petting Frankie, and that pissed me off. Now she’s insulted my reading abilities, when she’s the one in the wrong.
“There are two things wrong with your assumptions. First, there was no fence, and therefore, there were no signs. Secondly, signs don’t ‘say’ anything. If there had actually been any signs, they would’ve read ‘keep out’ and ‘private property.’ So, logic would suggest that you have a fence in need of repair—and an attitude that is in serious need of adjustment.”
“Do you always just walk up to horses you don’t know? You could’ve been hurt.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “But I’m not hurt. I’m just fine, so you need to chill out before you scare him.”
“I’m taking him with me. You need to go back to wherever you came from and stay out of this pasture. In fact, I’ll walk with you and check that fence myself.”
“Fine. Follow me.” She angrily snatches a leather notebook off the ground and whirls around to stomp off. She’s sure of herself and doesn’t hesitate for a second. For the first time in this conversation, I wonder if the fence is actually down.
After we’ve walked for a few minutes, I realize we’re heading in the direction of my house and there’s not much else out this way. “Hang on. Where are you going? I know you don’t live in this direction unless you walked a long damn way.”