Ride On

Chapter Eight

The day after that was humid, and it only continued to get worse. The stuffy hot air was desperate to rain, but seemingly held its breath. It's as if it was waiting for the perfect time. I wasn't sure if I should stick it out and hope it doesn't get too muddy, or snatch the opportunity and chance being rained on while riding.

Kicking my boots up on the table, I waited for my farmer's breakfast to be ready. One runny egg, two pieces of buttered toast, two pieces of bacon, and some ketchup. Along with my coffee, of course.

The enticing smell of the food wafted towards my nose and it was all I could do not to eat it as it was being prepared. The least I could to is to help, I thought, so I strode over to the toaster and snatched the bread as it popped out.

"Get out of my kitchen!" Pablo squealed, swatting me with his spatula.

"I'm trying to help!" I protested, dropping my toast.

"No, you're getting in my way. Sit down." He ordered me. I obeyed without another word, staring down at the floor as I went back to my chair.

After about two more minutes, it was ready. I skulked, as I knew it would have been cut down to just one if he'd let me help.

Then again, perhaps he had good reason; I could make cereal catch on fire if I didn't look where I was pouring.

When he finally placed my plate in front of me, I dug in like I hadn't been fed in weeks. Pablo whistled as he set to work making everyone else's eggs and bacon, as they weren't even up at 7:00 AM. What lazy people.

I headed out the door still chewing, swallowing as I led Trigger out to groom him. He seemed slightly annoyed to have not received any breakfast.

For a change, I decided to go down the road again. If I went by, about four miles to the left out of my driveway, I would come up on the Benson property. It was run down and poorly looked after, but had some big hills I could ride on.

The catch was - if someone caught me riding on their private property, I'd get tipped off to the police. And then Trigger would be impounded, until I fetch him and pay something like $300.

I've just been hoping it doesn't happen. So far, it's paid off. We don't have much for hills in Kansas, and theirs are clearly man-made, but they work and that's what matters.

I directed Trigger up to one and asked him to go up. They weren't huge, but definitely fun to ride. He chugged the whole way up without an issue. I was glad; his stitches checked out alright and he was given the OK to ride. When we stopped on the top I froze. I could've sworn I saw the door to the house swinging.

Not wanting to take any chances, I had him gallop down and away from the house. The fear that sparked up in my chest was enough to make me act impulsively.

Sweat glistened off of my brow and Trigger started to get damp, but I didn't allow him to slow his pace until we were a ways away.

The humidity didn't help. It made my usually tame hair mentionably frizzy, and caused Trigger to be irritable. He tossed his head and flicked his tail continuously, laboring in breath.

As soon as we got a quarter mile away from the house, I allowed him to lope another quarter mile and trot the next one. Then I was finally walking, and figured I was safe.

I still had a measurable amount of distance to walk, though. I asked him to gallop once more for less than two hundred feet before I was forced to execute a sliding stop.

They found me. I cursed a thousand times in my head, feeling my cheeks turning the hue of a ripe tomato. I calmly waited for the officer to approach me. He was in one of those police trucks with a trailer attached.

Without provocation, I started sweating even more.

After five minutes of standing, he made it over near Trigger's head. My face was creased in worry, but I remained silent.

"That's a good lookin' horse you got there." He commented, patting Trigger's shoulder. I smiled faintly.

"Thanks." I said, wiping my forehead with my left wrist. Both were wet and the action didn't provide the expected relief.

"Did you know that you were riding him on a closed property?" He asked, as if I was an idiot. I wondered if I could lie my way out of this, but immediately pinned the idea down and muffled it's panicked screams.

"Yes I did." I gulped, wiping the back of my neck.

"Can you dismount, please?" He asked sternly. I nodded and hopped off cleanly, awaiting his oncoming lecture and hoping he wouldn't take Trigger. "I know you're famous 'round here and all, but that doesn't give you any special treatment." He told me, raising his eyebrows. I kept my eyes trained on my feet. "I admire you too and I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'll need you to untack your horse." He ordered me. I sighed, wiping the already spilling tears away from my face.

I fumbled with his cinch as the officer replaced his bridle with a halter. Now I wondered why I ever had the bright idea to go there in the first place. Hopefully he wouldn't find out that I was a person of multiple offenses. I'd really be in the hole then.

Once the saddle was off, I put it in the back of his truck and hung my head as he trailered my horse. My horse. The horse that now the law had taken from me.

He returned to me after closing the trailer. Trigger snorted and whinnied, but I kept my head buried in my hands.

"He'll be located at the address on the card. You may reclaim him with a fine of $280," as I expected, "And I'll give you a lift home."

I was silent during the entire ride. The fact that this had happened to me was angering, saddening, and everything in between.