Tumbleweed (2 page)

“I can definitely do that,” I assured him. Aha! Being a flake who'd tried her hand at just about everything was finally going to pay off.

“Wanna see the place?” He stood and stretched lazily.

“We'd love to!” Aaron jumped up excitedly.

“Can I help clear the dishes first?” I stood and fought the urge to stretch as Ethan had. It didn't seem ladylike, and I was still trying to salvage their impression of me.

“Nonsense,” Sue shooed me away but smiled slightly. “I got this. You go on.”

I was glad I offered because it seemed to soften Sue's attitude towards me, but I was even happier when she said no because I was dying to see the place. As Ethan walked us around, he rattled off facts about hay fields and pasture acreage and ponds and trails, but it all kind of bounced off of me as I soaked up the beauty of the place.

Good thing Aaron seemed to be paying attention. I was just too busy enjoying the smell of the horses – that thick, sweet scent that's all outdoors and leather. I was caught up in the sounds of the dogs baying in the distance and the horses nickering their hellos as we neared. Ethan produced some apple treats and we stopped to admire the girls that had lined up expectantly, obviously aware of what Ethan carried in his pockets.

The thing about Fox Trotters – not some fancy Walker but a real Missouri Fox Trotter – is that their surefootedness and their gait are the only things they really seem to have in common. Most horses have a unique look to them. Arabians have that curvy, small, dished head. Foundation Quarter horses have strong jowls and massive hindquarters. Thoroughbreds have long legs and long, refined heads.

With Missouri Fox Trotters, or rather MFTs, it isn't about the looks so much as the way they move. Get yourself on the back of a gaited MFT and you'll never want to ride anything else ever again, or so they say in Booger County. These animals had their own way of moving, and they were darn near a religion in this part of the country. Pictures never seem to do them justice, though. Their intelligent and unassuming nature just didn't come through a camera lens.

The mares nickering at the fence now were flashier than was typical of the breed – there are lots of brown and chestnut MFTs out there. But this was a veritable rainbow of the horse world. I've always been a sucker for unusually colored horses, so I was in love.

“Our stallion is a cremello, Zane's Diamond,” Ethan pointed to an empty stall. I tried to hide my disappointment. I'd love to see an ivory-colored, blue-eyed horse in person.

“Ooh, I bet he makes pretty babies with these girls,” I couldn't resist reaching out to scratch the nearest horse on the nose. It had first been thought that the cremello gene was a fault in horses, until pioneers in the field proved the horses were healthy as any other
animal and would virtually guarantee flashy colors when added to a herd. Breed a cremello with a black, you get a smoky gray. Breed a cremello with a chestnut or bay, you get a palomino or buckskin. Pretty much any color will be smokier, creamier.

“He does. Except with Jezebel here. Well, they're good foals, but almost always a gray. Even if they start out with the crème gene, they gray out.”

“It's that gray gene from Zane Grey in his bloodline,” I nodded. “At least you know what you're getting.”

“So you know breeding, too,” Ethan smiled approvingly.

“Well, horse breeding anyway,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. At least I skidded to a halt before adding that I was pretty out of practice in the human breeding arena.

If Ethan had picked up on my meaning, he was kind enough not to acknowledge it. He seemed inclined to stay only long enough for a brief hello and I wasn't too keen on making a fool of myself in front of someone who actually knew what he was doing around horses, so I contented myself to sneak wishful looks at the mares while I was supposed to be concentrating on my tour of the stables. Aaron was lucky – he got to stay and pet the horses.

“A lot of the big operations are breaking up and selling off into smaller parcels of land,” Ethan explained and I tore my gaze away from the mares to try to focus my brain on what he was saying. “The cities are expanding outward. We're seeing a real influx of hobby farmers with the Internet allowing people to telecommute. That bumped up land prices and with it property taxes – they've gone through the roof. Throw in a drought and a late frost and you're seeing farmers go under left and right. With the economy tightening up, locals just aren't spending money on horses like they used to. People are unloading stock like crazy. Registered horses are selling at auction for less than $100 because their owners can't afford to feed them. We're losing our middle class market and people with the money tend to flock to flashier breeds.”

“True,” I nodded as I thought of my brother Jonathan and his wife. They had recently bought into a Paso Fino operation with hopes of retiring there when the children were out of school. Now
that
was a flashy breed of horse. “So have these mares and the
cremello stallion been selected in hopes of widening the appeal of the Missouri Fox Trotter?”

“Very observant.” Ethan nodded slightly and grinned wryly. “But you don't have to say it like I'm a traitor to the breed. Just trying to survive.”

“Is it working?”

“Slowly, yeah. But costs are rising faster than sales, and we've got to do something else to keep this place alive. That's why I'm bringing you in. Your resume seemed a little… unorthodox. I thought you might have a fresh way of looking at things.”

“Unorthodox. That's new,” I shook my head. “You'll have to share that one with my family; they're running out of good adjectives.” Ethan chuckled, and I chewed my lip in thought for a moment. “So what options have you considered so far?”

“Everything from scaling back the horse operation so we can run cattle to becoming a long-term housing facility for Mustangs for the grant money from the Bureau of Land Management.” Ethan heaved a sigh and ambled out of the stable to survey the fields absent-mindedly. “We thought about opening up the two pastures on the east side to boarders. Sue's daughter and her husband own the land adjacent to ours. She's been offering riding lessons from here two days a week, so that kind of opens the doors to becoming a full-service facility.”

“Do you train just these horses or do you offer your services to others?”

“Both. We do house horses here short term while they're being trained,” he explained.

“Is there a vet that comes out?”

“Nah, I do most stuff on my own.” He went into a long list of what he did for the horses. I could have listened for hours. I wanted to learn it all. I didn't want the feeling to end, either. I knew in the back of my mind that Aaron and I would pile in the car at the end of our day, breathless from the exhilaration of simply being here, only to receive blank stares from my family when we tried to share our experience with them. They wouldn't get it. I was tired of people not getting it.

“Don't get him started or you'll never get out of here.” Ethan's windy explanation was cut short by a fatherly man who had ambled down from what looked to be the main house. My keen sense of deductive reasoning told me this was the owner of the property. He wasn't quite the trendy jet-setter I had pictured when Ethan had first explained that the owner of the property split his time between Missouri and California. Instead, he looked a lot more like the affable owner of the general store on the town square or something. “Jim Stevenson. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hailey Brandt. Pleased as well.” I shook his hand and smiled what I hoped was a charming smile. I really wanted this job. We made small talk for a while, and I had to admit that my assumptions about him had been wrong. He seemed like a good guy who lived a simple enough life. Not that it was any of my business anyway. I have this tendency to sit in judgment of people whom I am in reality jealous of. Horrible failing, I know, but we all have them.

“When will you be moving down?” Jim asked me with a look of interest. “Ethan here seems to think the sooner we get you settled in the better.”

“Thank you…. Well, I'm in my last week of notice at my current job. And I've got to find a place to live,” I knew I sounded flighty even as I said it. My oldest sister, Rebecca, had been quick to point out that a sane person would have secured housing by now. She had a point, but that didn't make the input chafe any less.

“You could always stay here,” Ethan rushed in and then paused. “I mean, we have a cabin on the place that's not being used, and I don't think Jim here would mind since we're not offering much pay.”

“Not at all.” Jim smiled broadly. “It'd be good to see the old house get some use. But I warn you it's pretty rough and it ain't big.”

“Does it have a roof?” I was only half-joking.

“Oh yeah, it has a roof,” Ethan chuckled.

“Then it sounds like heaven to me. I can start Saturday.”

“How about you move in Saturday, and start on Monday?” Ethan countered.

“Sold,” I beamed. I was really going to live here. Aaron would absolutely die when he found out.

Chapter Two

My dad offered
to help us move. Part of me wanted to say “no thanks” – seeing as I was an independent woman setting out on a grand adventure and all. To do it alone added to the sense of separation and purpose.

My brothers definitely did not offer to help me move. Maybe it was their way of protesting; maybe they were just busy. Either way it ticked me off. As tempting as it was to sell all of my furniture just to make things easier, the mother in me remembered that Aaron needed a bed if nothing else. And a couch would be nice.

The tiny cottage we were moving into wouldn't have room for much more than that. Okay, there was another reason to tell my dad I didn't need help. Did I really want him to see where I would be living?

Sure, Aaron and I were in love with the place, but we were choosing a way of life Daddy had walked away from years before. My family already thought I was a little loony. This probably wouldn't help that image much.

On the other hand, my couch was heavy and Daddy had always helped me move before. Who would fix the leaky sink and make sure the door locks worked if I went down alone? Don't get me wrong, I
can
do those things, there's just a certain comfort in not having to.

Maybe it's a dad thing. I can throw towels down around the leak in the toilet line for months. My dad can't even get through dinner at my house without running to the hardware store to get the stuff to fix it. Come to think of it, maybe that's why Mama and Daddy don't really come to dinner anymore.

At any rate, the weight of the couch won. In the blink of an eye moving day came, and I was helping Daddy tie the last strap around my worldly possessions. Aaron loaded Blue into my car and we bid our little house in the city a fond farewell. It held some good memories, so I left quickly before I could get emotional.

My dad drove the truck and I followed in my car. It was a painfully long drive with Aaron and me watching intently to be sure our things wouldn't fly off the back of the truck and hit the highway. I'm always amazed by how much my dad can cram into a pick-up. It's a gift.

“Here we are,” I announced a little nervously as we stretched our legs at the end of the journey. “Home sweet home.”

Daddy just cracked a smile and shook his head.

“It is a little cozy,” I shrugged sheepishly. “But it's just until we get a feel for the area.”

“Grandpa, you have got to see the horses.” Aaron grabbed Daddy's arm and tugged him along. “The stuff on the truck can wait.”

My dad shot me a beleaguered look and followed Aaron. I chuckled and strolled along after them both. Aaron was my ambassador, always paving the way for peace talks with my family. It was hard for them to stay angry with me in light of his enthusiasm. If I was totally honest, I'd admit I probably counted on that a little too often. We came to the fence and were instantly greeted by the ladies.

“These are good-looking horses,” Daddy noticed immediately. “Wonder what kind of stallion they have.”

“Cremello,” I answered quickly. “I haven't seen him yet, though.”

“I'd like to see him,” Daddy mused. “You know, I never did like riding Missouri Fox Trotters. I just can't get used to the gait.”

“You better not say that too loud round these parts, Daddy; they'll reinstate hangings on the town square.”

“You sure this is what you want, baby girl?” His eyes grew serious as he offered the slightest hint of his opinion for the first time since the move came up.

“Yep, I'm sure.” I met his gaze.

“It's a lot of work, living on a farm. And you can't just run to the store if you need something; you've got to plan your trips. And the cute shoes won't get much use.”

“Then I'll get a pair of really cute boots.” I gave him what I hoped was a winning smile.

“Hailey!” Ethan appeared from the barn, grinning from ear to ear. I half expected to see a halo streaming light over his head as a chorus sang “hallelujah” I was so relieved to see him.

“Ethan. It's great to see you.” I took his outstretched hand. Surely his exuberance wouldn't be lost on Daddy. “This is my father, Gene Brandt.”

“Good to meet you.” He shook Daddy's hand firmly as he turned to wink at Aaron.

I could tell the gesture wasn't lost on Daddy. The handshake and the kindness to his grandson were enough to solidify the good impression.

“This is a fine place you have here.”

“Thank you, sir. Care to see the rest? Then we'll unload that truck and see if we can get Sue to feed us some dinner.”

“Sounds like a fine plan to me. You know, I sure would like to see that stallion of yours while I'm here, too.”

“I just want to take a look around the house.” I could have saved my breath. They were off in their own world. Daddy slid so easily back into this life it made me wonder if perhaps he missed it just a little. I watched him and Ethan deep in conversation with Aaron tagging along behind, soaking up every syllable, for a second more before turning to go check out my new home.

It seemed so tiny, smaller than I remembered, but that didn't really matter right now. I tested the door; it opened easily enough, and I slowly poked my head inside.