Ride On

Chapter Ten

I woke up at six thirty that morning, although my eyes wouldn't open. They had crusted shut from me crying myself to sleep. I hope to the high heavens that nobody heard me.

Trying to rip them open caused me immense pain, so I sat in bed and picked at them for five minutes. I could see out the corner of my left eye, enough to take me to the bathroom and wash the icky off.

I emptied my purse of everything except my identification, dumped my pile of pennies inside, and lugged them downstairs. 280,000 small pieces of copper are actually quite heavy.

I huffed when I saw that I'd have to fend for myself that morning. Pablo was late. I didn't have time for breakfast if he wasn't here, so I raced out to my old red truck and impaled it with the key.

Unfortunately for me, the engine refused to start. It was about time I got her fixed up. She was due for an oil change a while back, but I never had the time.

I quickly wrote a note to my father, explaining how I'd be stealing his truck, and to call someone to fix mine. But the psychic Chris apparently found a way to leave his spare keys on the counter. I ignored him once again.

Dad's truck wasn't that nice either; barely a step up from mine. It was silver, but had less miles. Mine was probably pushing 200,000. His halved that. Anyway, it started just fine and I pulled out. Looks like Chris forgot that if he was offering his truck to me, it would have to be here for me to use it. Maybe I'm overestimating his dedication?

Although...what does it matter to me? I'm supposed to be trying to ignore him. The bruises would heal, and as matter of fact were less black and purple, and more blue and green. They still hurt to touch, but I could move my wrist more freely.

I rocketed halfway down my road when I realized the trailer wasn't behind me. I turned straight back, mumbling and grumbling to myself all the while. Pulling back in, I backed the truck up to the trailer and furiously hitched it on.

At that point my trip could finally begin with purpose. I made a mental checklist of things I needed, and was sure to mark them all off before I left this time.

But then I realized that I left my purse on the counter. It was 7:15 when I got back inside, where Pablo offered me a biscuit. I was literally about to pull my hair out when I left for the second time.

When I found out that I forgot his halter and lead rope I was out for murder. Some unlucky ranch hand who's name escapes me because I didn't care who it was got punched in the face. If only I hadn't been so forgetful that morning, we could've avoided that.

I sighed as I tried to concentrate on the road. Some old granny in front of me was going 30 on a county road, where the limit is usually 50 mph. Realizing I was tailgating her, I tried to ignore my road rage and flashed my lights. When that didn't create the desired reaction, I honked.

Maybe she was deaf as well. Either way I was having none of that anymore, so I waited until the solid yellow line became broken and moved to pass her.

That's when I found out that I was ignoring an entire funeral procession in front of me. There was no way I could get past them. Twelve cars and three hearses all going as slow as possible, right when I wasn't in the mood for it. They're lucky I am self aware and didn't plow right through them.

Luckily, the divine seemed to finally smile upon me when they turned right at the upcoming intersection. I should've gone right as well, but instead skipped it and went around, hoping to avoid them as long as they were there.

Glancing down to read the address for clarification, I looked up and shouted curses. I forgot the card that had the location on it.

This time I brushed it aside, though, for I knew where every police station and humane society in Barley were. By heart. I'd just stop by the place I was already headed to and ask where they kept their confiscated horses.

I pulled into the station and asked the lady at the desk that very question, to which she replied, "Honey, you came the wrong way. You've got to go back west," she explained, as if I was a child. "We keep them at the shelter on seventy first-" she hadn't even finished by the time I 'thanked' her and left. I say 'thanked' because it was more of a 'whatever bye' sort of thing. I was mentally done at that point.

It took all I had to keep my speed under control as I drove the half hour back the way I came. When I pulled into the place, I only had eyes for their stable. It looked poorly kept. Why did I have to be so stupid?

I asked about Trigger at their desk and poured my pennies on the surface. As the unfortunate man who was designated to count them got to work, I proved my identity and followed an employee out to the stable.

It was completely barren, although their stalls seemed pretty roomy. They had me wondering what kind of idiot would put him in the very last stall, fifty yards away, when the first one was empty.

When I saw him, he looked depressed. His coat was ragged and his bedding was upturned as if he'd been pacing. The sides of the wood paneling had been scraped like he was chewing on them, raking his teeth over and over out of boredom. As soon as he saw me, his whole demeanor lit up. Mom! I thought you'd never come back! And for the thousandth time, I cried into his neck. But these weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of joy.

I quickly loaded him up and drove off, happy to finally get him home. My anger was under control, and I didn't feel the need to constantly drive above the speed limit. The roads were barren of people and as I finally pulled into the driveway, I smiled for the first time that day as Trigger let out a shrill whinny.

The entire herd galloped up to the fence and replied, trotting around as they anxiously waited for him to be home. He looked like they hadn't even fed him, those monsters. I pulled the keys out far enough to have the truck turned off and made my way to the back.

Trigger was pawing already as I unlatched the back, and he was practically trotting in place when I untied him. Surprisingly, he followed behind me like a gentleman to the gate.

It was extremely nerve racking to attempt to get him inside without letting the others out. They all wanted their turn to say hello to their recently missing comrade, and he wanted to return the favor. They practically charged me as soon as I stepped foot inside.

"Get back!" I shouted, trying to push them away. They all nickered loudly, as if to usher me to free him of his halter quicker and get out so that they could reunite in peace.

My fingers stumbled as I made to undo his halter, but the weariness had left my body like it never existed. That was one less thing I had to worry about; and you won't ever catch me on the Benson property ever again.

I carefully closed the gate and watched them greet each other. Trigger started with the more bossy gals, eventually getting to Dusty who was eager as ever to see her father figure once more. She playfully nipped his mane, and for once he didn't mind. They all went into the barn after that, waiting for me to serve breakfast.

I started to throw hay over the fence. Trigger put his head down and came up chewing on something other than hay, although I figured he was just grinding his teeth.

He happily dug into his breakfast after that.

I wiped the dust off of my hands and backed the trailer into its usual spot, easily taking it off and pulling dad's truck into the garage. An unwelcome sight greeted me as I entered the house, though.

A challenging, purple nosed face.

That's right. I punched someone this morning; though I hadn't cared to see who.

Chris was furious. "WHAT THE HECK, EVE?"