Waiting on Sarah Grace

A Stolen Moment and a Memory Cherished

After talking with Tank, my pres and my brothers, Grit and Greaser, who's also her half-brother, we have a plan in place.  Tank is going to take Grit and go talk to the local mc, never figured it out but somehow New Orleans was neutral territory and Tank still has some connections from before he left for Florida.  Greaser is going to talk to the police, he has a knack for making things happen smoothly.  We need to know what happened at the scene.  When a car is t-boned on the driver's and passenger side and there are no drivers with those cars, well it's obvious this was a deliberate attack on the president of the Prophets daughter and ex-wife.  Her aunt was sent to the funeral home to start the arrangements for the services and the burial.  I don't know if Sarah Grace will be able to go or not, but I think her aunt is going to have the priest come visit her.  And I, well, I get to steal a moment with my baby.  Tank knew I would guard her with my life and the few weapons I keep hidden on me at all times.  My heart aches for her.  She's lost so much in just a few days and on top of that, her little body is broken on the left side.  Arm, ribs, and leg, not to mention all the bruises and cuts on her face, she's so different now from the sixteen-year-old I fell in love with two years ago. Sitting here carefully holding her hand, I let the memory take over and take me back in time two years.

Damn!! I can't believe I'm stuck in the backseat of this hummer for the next four hours.  Shit! I sat in enough hummers when I was in Afghanistan.  Thankfully, this one is a lot more comfortable than those.  And the fact that it is black with a bunch of chrome, definitely not the desert camouflage of my sniper days.  Why am I even going to a horse show, of all things?  I'm from Texas, my family owns a ranch there in hill country.  I've seen horses before, this is not a novelty.  This girl obviously has Tank and Greaser wrapped around her finger, I bet she's a spoiled brat.  I overheard some of the guys talking about her dropping out of that expensive Catholic school.

"Shooter?"

"Yeah, Tank?"

"You're my sergeant at arms.  I need you to have me back, boy."  The fact he just called me boy doesn't bother me.  He's Irish; anyone else and I'd beat their ass.

"I know Tank."

"My girl is coming back with us for a month.  I need all the extra protection for her I can get.  And between you and Greaser, I'm thinking it can get done best."

"I know Tank.  Someone could use her to get at you and a sixteen-year-old girl shouldn't be dragged into the middle of a club war."

"Glad you get it."

Leaning my head against the window, I relax, nothing ese to do, I could use a three-hour nap.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel has me waking up slowly.  Looking around, reminds me of my days as a kid growing up and going to rodeos all over Texas.  The gleaming coats of the horses, sunlight reflecting off chrome from trucks and horse trailers that are nicer than my apartment, but the reminders end there.  People in riding pants, tall shiny black boots, velvet helmets, and tailored jackets; it seems way over the top to me.  I know the thrill that comes from riding a thousand-pound animal and imagining yourself in control, but all this dressing up, waste of time.  Just climb on and enjoy the ride.

Greaser has a big stupid grin on his face while he's looking at me, he knows what I'm thinking. I've been with these guys the past three years, ever since I retired from the army.   This is my family now; these are my brothers and he knows what I'm thinking.  On the upside, maybe I could find some chic high on winning and get a quickie.  I can always look and see.  I'm still observing my surroundings when Tank takes off to the barns, with his eye on a stunning brunette, she couldn't be much older than me.

"LIZZIE!  How are you love?"

In a more refined voice, she says she's good and Sarah Grace is riding soon.  She insists we need to get to somewhere she can open her computer and get online.  I don't get that; my mother would have been focused only on my ride.  Her only daughter is about to ride, and she wants to go shopping, shaking my head in disappointment at her.  We find a place in the stadium, with Tank sitting between Greaser and myself with a MacBook in his lap, while Lizzie hovers over his shoulder.  Looking at the screen I'm surprised at what I'm looking at.  It looks like some virtual reality shit and I'm climbing on the horse.  Damn! How does she get on that tall horse with nothing to grab onto and pull up, not to mention, how high her foot has to reach up for the stirrup?  The next thing I know, we are all sitting smoothly on top of a very tall horse, gathering up the reins and walking towards a gate.  I guess Lizzie noticed the look on my face, because she begins to explain this is cross country and they had arrived two days early to give the horse time to relax and so she could pace off the course.  She actually has to count the strides leading up to the jump.  Now I'm interested.  She obviously has some skills and not just one of those people who lets a trainer do all the work and then only get on at the show to reap benefits of someone else's hard work.  The horn just went off and she has the horse start in a smooth canter, talking to the big animal the whole time.  Her voice, has me intrigued.  Watching for the next nine and a half minutes, I'm riveted to this computer screen and find myself holding my breath before each jump.  Watching through the GoPro camera, I feel like I took each jump with her.