Rita @ MindSay

 

“You lookin’ for something son, or just hopin’ to get lucky?”  My dad was a full blood Lakota Sioux, and seldom said anything that he didn’t want to talk about.   Now that will sound funny to you, but it means he never made small talk. He spoke to be heard and to get answers, and took particular delight in ambushing me, one of his favorite games. Sons were made for a father’s entertainment and he’d waited till late in life for me, so I was constant moving target.

 

My dad’s point was to get me to figure out if I was just hoping for an opportunity, get lucky, or if I had planned out what it was I wanted and was working towards it, not counting on luck.  Then he’d say that it was a good thing to always work, keep working when you didn’t exactly know, but never forget to ask yourself what was it you really wanted to get out of it.

 

My mother, always, had leftovers, perfect for snacks, there in the refrigerator. Cold ham and biscuits, or cornbread and beans, sausage patties, jello, cobbler . . . something.  I was 10 or 11 at the time and I’d come in and walked straight to the refrigerator, opened the door and was staring.  My dad was sitting at our kitchen table with an afternoon cup of coffee. Our table was light green vinyl top, with white swirls, chrome edging and legs, matching chairs. Common in those days, and popular “retro” remakes now days.

 

“I’m hungry“ I answered.  I was still looking, but I was “letting the cold air out” and the clock was ticking. I wasn’t too hungry until I saw sausage patties and drop biscuits. Now I was hungry. Now I knew what I wanted. I was lucky.

 

 

Rita and I walked outside from the dance floor, she just followed on my arm to my truck. “Let me have your phone”  She walked a few feet away and from the softness of her voice, I could feel she was happy and was making an arrangement or two to come with me.  She got in on my side and snuggled up. I was just barely smart enough to keep my damn mouth shut, and just put my arm around her.

 

The weather was changing and a cold front moved in, there was rain off the ocean, causing fireplaces to be lit all along the coast.  She had me pull in to Ralph’s Grocery and gave me a quick list of food to buy while she went over to the pharmacy next door. She came back, smiled (I smile back, clueless) and looked to see what I had in the cart.  She took me back, put some of the things back, got different brands and then we went to the meat counter and bakery.  She put in our order. I stood there. She left and brought back wine and patted me on the shoulder as I took the wrapped meat and paid.

 

I put the truck in reverse and turned my head to back out. I got a kiss I’d been wanting and just left my foot on the brake half way out into the parking lot, damned, if I was going to move. I got a second one, she put her head on my shoulder and 5 minutes later we were home. She had me build a fire while she put the groceries up. She told me which wine to cork while she went into the bathroom with her purse. (Never understood why women always did that??) 

 

The weekend passed in one long wonderful moment and three rainy days. I don’t really remember breathing regular.  Monday morning, and I couldn’t figure out . . . what.  So I helped cook breakfast.

 

I don’t remember what happened after that. I was in the truck, pouring coffee and found myself “down the road”.  I picked up the schedule and just began at the top. Not an easy client, but okay.  Days off take a toll on me and I don’t like getting back to work. I break things down to simple components; “get in the truck and arrive at destination”. Like a good workout routine, I start with simple stuff, basics and move on. 

 

My dad was a professional trucker, and drove every rig ever made. Before he met my mom, when he didn’t have a home, he tried logging trucks, oilfield rigs, explosives, military, even an ice highway.  What others found a simple back-and-forth existence, to him it was an adventure where he could make money to live on and eat good. That was “two out of three” and later when he provided for his family, that was “three for three”.  Throughout my career I’ve sought out things that I found challenging, frustrating, and there were more than a few times I thought, hopeless. But always things that I wanted to try and enjoy doing. I was that much like my dad.  

 

The rides were a good mixture of work and reward and I drifted, disconnected and enjoyed myself.  It was early afternoon the next thing I knew. The wind changed, the cold air settled in and I looked up to see if the moon had risen before sunset. If the moon rises before sunset then the bright side points west all night and if the moon rises after sunset the bright side points east. I was distracting my thoughts. It was the end of the day, shower, dinner and my mind was on rainy days, giggles to jokes (on me) that I didn’t get and a tenderness I’d forgotten.  

 

I decided to ‘think about it’ and go for supper at the Maverick, and ‘just see, what’.   I had set at the restaurant, my truck parked where it was easily seen, looking for a refill and still looking at the menu I never ordered from.

 

“You lookin’ for something, or just hopin’ to get lucky Hon?”  Jeanne come up and had the coffee pot poised. Right then the door opened and the cold wet air carried the aroma over to me as she poured.

“I’m hungry . . .”   Then from the other side, long fingers snatched the menu from my hand and Rita ‘plopped’ down in the chair on my left and put her feet up, tossed her braid back over her shoulder and shook water everywhere. Mostly over me.

“While he’s thinking. I’ll have fish and chips large order well done. Put the fries on a large platter, and extra tartar sauce . . . a salad, blue cheese, and some shrimp. Do you have shrimp? An order of shrimp . . . calamari if you don’t have shrimp, but that’s what I want. Large platter of fries.  He’ll have the chicken fry, cream gravy and fries. He likes coleslaw, biscuits  . . . even if they’re from this morning instead of the rolls.  Two iced teas, and I’ll have the cobbler after. Do you have berry? Or what?  Anyway the cobbler and I’ll let you know about a la mode, maybe. Butter, he likes butter. OH!  Ketchup, in a bottle. My own bottle. Not those damn waste-all-my-time-packets! Okay. That's it. 

 

"Wait"

 

Have you eaten since breakfast this morning?  She looked at me. Jeanne looked at me. The guys at the next table looked at me.

“no”

“Uhhh, two no three soft boiled eggs then and bring them with the shrimp . . . do you have shrimp or not?  Bring that as an appetizer while the order is getting ready. Bring the biscuits and butter now too. But if you don’t have shrimp then bring the calamari now. K?

 

“Yes, we have shrimp, and, I’ll put a few calamari in with them in the basket. Extra tartar sauce and the eggs will be here right after. Jeanne and Rita shared a smile, Jeanne looked at me and shook her head and took the menu with her.

 

Rita smiled, her eyes glowed. She reached over and took my hand and leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “I love that confused look of yours. It’s so, natural.” And I got another kiss on the cheek. Then the food arrived.   

 

I sat there, unbelievably thankful. I didn’t have to ask, or explain or put my foot in my mouth.  I just wanted to get a notion of where things stood. Was it one time or was it the start of something. Rita had caught me ‘lookin’ in the refrigerator’.  I didn’t know until that weekend, hadn’t thought about it. But once I did, I was hungry. And then I'd been asking  myself all day, what was it I wanted?

“I want to see where this goes.”  I said, courageously, and shutting up.

She settled it, nodding and smiling, just as the shrimp and calamari showed up.

“I’m starving! I’ve got a few things to do tonight. Arrangements and stuff. Why don’t you pick me up tomorrow night? Oooh, I’m so sore . . .

 

I looked up and Jeanne was staring at me, the guys at the next table were staring at me.  Rita took big bites, smiled and raised her eyebrows at me. "What?"

 

I admired people who say they didn’t dwell on things, but I didn’t really believe them either.  It’s rare  that I can  just forget my troubles and what’s on  my mind. But  I  had been  fortunate and  gotten to get some work done and slip away without anyone bothering to notice.    I wanted to spend the rest of  the day disconnected, try not to think  so much, and going for a late morning, rest-of-the-day ride  with the Sorrel mare  was just the thing we needed.

 

I  pulled up next to  the stalls with as little fanfare as  possible, wanting to  tack  up and be distant if and when anyone noticed. My Lady was  in the  middle of  something important  by the  look she gave me, but she turned away from her attention, came to my  shoulder and then looked past me  as if to say,  “where are you  taking me today, or should I?” 

 

Horses are flight animals,  sensitive to changes in attitudes and emotions. In a herd, the dominate mare protects the young and leads the others when she senses danger.   On our rides,  the Sorrel mare and I switch leads. I may start something, but she'll respond, and may take  off  in another direction that we weren't  sure about,  or didn't even  see  just a  few minutes  before.  When I'm confident, and know e-x-a-c-t-l-y what I want, she'll settle in and, if I'm  lucky,  confident or not,  she'll give in, without too much effort,  and see where I'm taking  "us". 

 

It was dusky with a  full moon when I  left  her. She stood close  until  I got  her  stall ready for  her  and  said goodnight. Whatever my overall failings were, I’d done  good  today, as far as she was concerned and we'd spent the day together showing each other things of interest.  It  was  dark,  the highway was busy, there  was a sweet  coolness in the air and  my  Carhardt jacket  suddenly felt  awfully good,  driving with the  window  down, the  floor heater on as I headed over to  The Maverick.

 

Jeneane came by with a warm smile, warmer kiss on my cheek and hot hot coffee. "You know  me  too well my love. Get rid  of your old man yet?"    She laughed and I got another kiss. "Not until I make all the payments on that Harley, and he worships me twice a night like the sex goddess I am."  

"Thank  God for the credit union, huh?"  I asked. She  laughed again and nodded.  They'd met when she was 16, he was 30.  He rode up on a hog with a  suicide clutch, took one look at that pretty face, bustline, and long red hair . . . and promptly put her on the back. She finally gave up trying to keep her dress from  flying up and just hung on.  Since she couldn't marry him at 16, she just stayed . . . "under the  covers and under him" . . . she'd say, "my momma knew what was goin' on and just told my dad I was stayin' with her sister since I couldn't  mind at home. He was a driver and didn't get that I was shacked up  . . ."  

 

They'd been on their first date for 19 years, two sons . . . and a miscarriage that almost  killed her. He was Saved the next Sunday. He never said, and no one dared ask the deal he made. He told me about it on the truck when he found out that part of my  story.  She told me, she said her vows in  prayer and to him, he just said  he  loved her every single day since then.

 

Rick painted pictures and drove a  big Volvo VT880 with a condo and was very good, at both.   I met him when  he caught me admiring his rig in the Maverick's parking lot. I  could drive, asked  questions and had everything in a bag, he had recognized was like the one his son carried  on leave. We'd almost finished the half pint when  he showed me the picture ofJeneane at 16, and then his oldest in his first picture in his dress  blues . . .  "He sent that to  his  momma, so she would be the first to  see him as a real Marine.  You sent yours to your momma didn't ya?"  Since then he and I had taken a few loads to Flagstaff and spent a couple of perfect  days there  in a blizzard that gave way to sexy dirty phone calls home "to the baby's momma" . . .

 

Jeneane looked me over . . . "Porterhouse, more rare than medium, two pads of butter on top, fries . . . Uh,  have you eaten today baby?"

"maybe . . . coffee and biscuits this  . . ."

" fries, two eggs and biscuits . . . large milk,  or you want iced  tea?"

"uhhh. . . "

" . . . large milk .  . . biscuits . . . gravy if there's any  left . . .  You want a shot?" She refilled the coffee and raised an eyebrow at me.  I  nodded.

"JD  or  Te-kill-ya?  . . . . I'm bringin' JD . . . you were drinking Te-kill-ya that night,  if I remember . . ."

"I gotta  start goin'  someplace else" I sipped  my coffee,  she walked  behind  the bar and set a heavy four ounce  shot glass  down, poured a little over half. She  smiled  took a sip, and handed  it to me.

"You go someplace else?  WHO would  have you? You cause trouble. Just sittin' there.  I've  seen  it."

"Be nice to me,  please?"

"You've been riding today. You're little mare?"

 

I didn't have a chance to defend  myself, when   .  . .

"Let me guess . .  . porterhouse steak, kinda rare with butter on top,  grilled onions or eggs?"  Rita used her Native-American-Feminine-sneak and came up without me  noticing. "Uhhh .  . . eggs,  he didn't say anything about grilled onions tonight. Maybe he's got  a  hot date?  Do you baby . . .?  Hmmm?"  Jeneane smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, then  . . . fries, biscuits and gravy .  .  . uhhh . . . . milk,  he  drinks gallons  of it!!    and  hot-hot coffee. How's that?"  Rita smiled  and they both  laughed at me.

"I gotta start goin' someplace else"  

"Who would have you?"  Rita said.  Then they both laughed at me. Rita picked up the whiskey  "He needs nother . .  . I'll take the porterhouse, extra butter and  just put  the fries  on a big  platter . . . lots of fries . . . do you have any pie? Put that on HIS tab"   She ducked under the brim of my hat and looked me in the eyes . . . "okay hon? I'm hungry . .  . damn . . . didn't bring my purse!"  I held up the empty  whiskey glass and sipped the coffee.

"You think you know  me so damn well"

"You've  been  riding your "little mare"  all day. I can smell her on you."

"I gotta start going someplace  else"

"Don't  make us come  lookin' for you. You know, you'd  just start trouble  again."  Another laugh at  my expense.

"The Sheriff was sittin  there, right  there"  Jeneane pointed to a barstool . . .  and Rita blushed when she said it.

 

I got a big smile I-told-you-so smile from Jeneane and she refilled the whiskey and  poured coffee  for Rita as she drained  my  icewater glass. She pushed the empty glass  for  more  water and picked up the whiskey again and sipped it. "Don't you have to TELL him about  those  steaks or is  he a psychic?"  Rita gave a look in the direction  of the  kitchen. Jeneane laughed and turned  in the order  and  patted  my face. "You better  feed  her.  She's a  real bitch when she's hungry . . . and she's always a hungry little  thang . . ." Rita made a face.

 

Rita took off her hat  and straightend the  thick braid down her  back and sat on the barstool next to me. "Get that table  by  the  fire. I got a chill. I'm going to wash my face  and I'll be back. Buy me dinner?"   I was about  to speak . . . she  got up and leaned over and gave me  a quick  kiss. The first one .  .  . ever. I was stunned and knew to keep my damn  mouth shut.  I looked  over . . . Jeneane saw it and smiled. "I guess things have changed.  You know, you  caused a lot  of trouble with that. Sheriff was sittin' there, then . . . I couldn't believe it . . . " 

 

She  was  referring  to my last Saturday night, about 3 weeks ago, but that's another story. "You'd  had a  couple, it was a bad day  and a man doesn't need an excuse past that.  Rick  thought you just  might kill  that guy. You  made your point, you walked off . .  . pretty fuckin' romantic. Rick got lucky that  night. You didn't though. Jeneane  brought me  another.

"Okay, that's  what I needed to  hear. Can we change  the subject please?" I sipped the whiskey before Rita  got  back.

 That was about 3 weeks right?  That means she's . . . hmmm?  Jeneane smiled to herself.

 

Rita came back, moved her hat out  of the chair and plopped  down in  the one next to me instead of across  from me. "How's  your mare?  I bet you cleaned her stall, fluffed  her  pillow while she was feeding"

"You think you know so much"

"That mare has your number. You do anything she wants."

"Do not"

"She's a dominant  mare, and would lead a stallion around by his dick.  You're  not much of a challenge. But you drive her crazy sometimes."

"Huh?"

"Sometimes you just have to have THINGS EXPLAINED  to you,  cause you don't have a clue  . . . YOU REFUSE to listen to any male-person unless he's a blood brother . . .  YOU DO NOT take hints well at all. NOT at  all. Or advice.  You HATE  being told what to do. You DON'T LISTEN to anyone . . ."

"I gotta start going somewhere elese."

 

We ate everything that was set in front  of us and sipped  one glass  of whiskey and the same cup of coffee, as the fire soaked us and I listened to Rita's day and  we talked horses, and trucks. 

"Better?"  She  asked as she raked the last dozen french fried into her plate. She was tiny, beautiful bustline, narrow hipped . . .  and ate more than I  did.

"No business or troubles  tonight. Agreed?"   She smiled and finished the last sip  of  whiskey and looked around with that "wonder-what-kind-of-pie-do-they-have-and-WHEN-are-they-coming-or-do-I-have-to-do-it-myself" look".

 

We usually enjoyed  our own company  and didn't  have to talk, but could sit quietly. Seemed  like  there was  someone playing  a lot  of Brooks & Dunn. I got my very own idea and looked  over at Rita. She was  looking at me . . . stood up and reached for my  hand and  headed for the  dance floor.   We only danced a couple  of  times before,  and once  when she was pissed  at  me . . . still, to this day, don't  know why for . . .

 

" . . . She's about as lonely as I'm gonna let  her  get . . ."  the Brooks & Dunn's  duet set a perfect two step and as we  hit the edge  of the dance floor.  I spun her with only her  finger tips and caught  her close to  me. I looked down to  that thick braid going down her back, and her hips . . . she put  her  arm around  my waist and put  her  face  close to my chest.  If I couldn't dance without thinking  about it, I wouldn't have known what to do. She fit in my arms like I'd  imagined she might, and  for a second  I didn't know what to think.  I thought I'd see  if my luck for the day was holding out . . . and held her  a  little  tighter . . . she laid her head  on my  chest.

"Right  there"  She whispered  and looked up and smiled at me.

 

The song ended  and we  didn't  move. Another played and another, slower . . .  and we danced to the darker corner of the floor, near our table.  We were moving slowly together,  more than we  were dancing.  A little bit  of light went  a long way and I looked down to her blouse and just reached down and unbuttoned the  second button.  She  had her arm around my waist and put her other one on my shoulder when I did.   I unbuttoned  two more and slid my hand past, and more than filled it caressing her breasts.  She raised her face and  tilted her head for  a kiss.  She put her knee against my thigh as I felt her nipples rise against the soft thin fabric of her bra.

 

"Someone should otta put a 'nother song on,  so you two have something to  dance to . . . " Jeneane walked by, bringing two large pieces of pie to the table . . .  and giggled as Rita left  my  hand where it was, hid her hand between  my thighs and pressed against  me,  for any little bit of modesty she could save.

 

"We're dancing the Two Step Tango . .  ."  I said, in defense  of My Lady's honor. Rita squeeled softly and whispered. I looked down,  and there was that look I'd seen earlier  from  my Sorrel mare . . .  "Okay, you got the idea . . .  now where  are you taking us?"

 

{For Jamie}

 

“WHY is it . . . that you show up right when  . . .”

“When you’re so confused?”  Rita smiled at me and leaned on the top rail while I was trying (in the process of . . .) catching one of “The Boys”.  They had abandoned their original tactic of divide and avoid, and now they were staying together and trotting off. The effect is that it’s harder to stop two horses than it is one. They were about half right.

“When I am implementing a new . . . “

“Technique?” She was enjoying the staring contest I was having with the two geldings.

“Yes . . . technique . . .” 

“Well maybe you’re just confused a lot, and not just when I happen to show up.”  I had left myself open for that and she was now really beginning to enjoy herself.

 

“Aren’t you afraid of hurting my feelings?”

“No.  Why?”

 

I had the two geldings together on one area of the corral and closed the distance gradually, cut them off when they tried to run past, and got my lead rope over the neck of the one closest to my side. His buddy was on the inside against the rail, and he was to my side. He didn’t protest too much after the lead was around his neck, but he still waited a second or two when I held the halter for him . . .  His buddy wasn’t far off and didn’t give me any problems.

 

The Boys were doing better, but had figured out this new technique when they saw their old strategy was failing them. They were good to work with, once you got them caught and they were enjoyable to ride. More so as Jennifer and Dan were becoming more confident with them.

 

I wanted a chance to work with the geldings before they rode this weekend and was in the process of dealing with them when Rita showed up.

 

”I knew you were coming so I thought I’d be courteous”

“Yeah? . . . Uhh huh . . .  Nice of you to do that.”  She walked off and opened up the tool box on her truck, brought the tool and handed it to me.

“Tell you what. You . . . since you’re here and you KNEW I was coming . . . pull the shoes and we’ll get this done quicker . . . and you . . .  Oh?  Are you going riding after this? . . .”

 

I thought to myself “Not now!  Sounds like something better may be  . . .”

 

“No. I’m going to call it a day after this . . .”

“I’m going to get something to eat over at the joint.”

“Want some company?”

“I thought I might . . .”

 

I had been busy trying to keep up with a full schedule between my regular business and my horse clients. Jennifer and Dan began talking of what they wanted, we sat down and I’d made a list and taken notes, like I do with my jobsites . . . showed them the list so we were all on the same page. The thing was, the list and notes was about a “page” long, and like everything else the past week . . . had taken more time and more follow up than I thought it would. They had given me a lot to do, and I had jumped at the chance. Although I spent a lot of time, thinking things through and following up, I never regretted jumping into the deep end.

 

I hadn’t seen Rita in over a week and when I went into the tack shop not really needing anything . . . Ron visited with me, caught me up on “what’s happening”, then smiled and said she’d asked about me. Then he told me she came in and one of the stops she was going to make was to shod “The Boys”.

 

We finished with The Boys in good time and it was late afternoon and would have been a good time to go for a ride. She didn’t say much and squared away her truck  and I followed her to the little diner on the Pear Blossom Highway. I washed my hands and face, freshened up and she’d found a booth and was ignoring the menu. I scooted in where we both could stretch our legs out without tangling boots and she threw her hat next to mine. 

 

I didn’t say anything, caught her eye for a second and then fiddled with the menu. The waitress, Anna, came over and Rita ordered . . .

 

“Don’t get the same thing. You usually get the same thing.”

“What do I want then?”

“Get  . . . . the . . . . here! . . . Get the large chicken fry, the platter . . . and I’ll get the chicken strips, the basket . . . and we can mix and match . . .  You get gravy with the chicken fry, we both get biscuits . . . “

 

“Okay, I’ll have  . . . “

“AND . . . tell her . . . Here!  He’ll have the chicken fry, platter . . . fries instead of mashed, bowl of gravy on the side . . . we’ll both have the biscuits and need honey and extra butter . . . I’ll have the chicken strips, fries  . . . he can have my coleslaw . . . and . . . side order of fries . . . OR? Would you rather have onion rings?”

 

“I think I’ll . . .”

 

“ . . .Onion rings . . . I’ll let you know about the side order of fries . . . no, go ahead and bring the fries . . . Ranch dipping sauce for the chicken strips . . . Did I tell you LARGE order of strips?? . . . and Blue Cheese salad dressing . . . “I’ll take your salad for my coleslaw” . . . . Instead of the salad that comes with the platter . . . make it a dinner salad . . . I’ll let you know about dessert . . . What do you want to drink?”

 

“I’ll have . . .”

 

“Just bring us two large Cokes . . .”  Anna smiled at me . . . no further questions and walked off.

 

“THERE!!! That was easy”. Rita smiled and pulled her braid back and was already looking around for something to snack on.

 

“I didn’t know I was so hungry. But it all sounds good actually.”  I had hoped for a cup of coffee but given up on the idea.

 

"I know what I'm doing. You're more hungry than you know" Rita smiled and kept looking for something to eat. “Would you bring my salad now so I can have something until our order is ready? Thank you!”  Anna smiled, she knew Rita and said she would bring it “right now” . . . “I only have two hands” . . . She brought the salad, extra dressing, and since I had my Coke, with my coffee . . . she brought my coleslaw as well.

 

I watched as Rita, oblivious to me . . . carefully spread the salad dressing and mixed it and filled her fork with a big bite. No sooner than she was enjoying the mouthful of salad, she started looking at the table again . . . and the waitress came over and sat the basket down full of biscuits wrapped in a linen napkin . . . hot and steaming when Rita split it open.  She took a full pad of butter and plopped one on each half . . . another big bite of salad and most of the biscuit half disappeared . . .

 

“How’s your coleslaw?”

“It’s very good. You were right, I do love coleslaw . . . and hot biscuits”   Rita was happily chewing away and smiled when I said she was right. She was holding the other half of the biscuit, waiting for room to put it in with another bite of salad, and I reached into the basket, buttered another one . . . with a little honey . . . and set it on the edge of her salad plate . . .

 

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u . . . “ She smiled sheepishly and motioned with her fork for me to start eating . . . I finished the coleslaw about the time Rita finished the salad . . . she looked towards the counter and reached and buttered another biscuit, and offered me one. 

 

It took two trips for Anna to bring the order . . . She would set everything down . . . Rita rearranged it, according to ease of reach and how often it would be reached for . . . the biscuits were set to the side with the honey and butter, the fries and onion rings were in the center, Coke to the right . . . then the biscuits were moved to the edge, and she motioned for a re-fill . . . The empty salad bowls were set to the edge to give us room to spread out.

 

I cut the big chicken fried steak in half and motioned for Rita to hold her plate over for me. She did quickly and gave me several of the chicken strips (none of the dipping sauce) and reached for the gravy to thickly cover the chicken fry. Ketchup was poured on the side and fries and onion rings were disappearing as she poured gravy and opened dipping sauce . . . and buttered the last biscuit.

 

I'd been here with Rita before and we didn't usually say much during dinner, although she would occasionally make a point that I "needed to listen to" and she'd emphasize the point with her fork. Once we got started and the first few bites were consumed . . . it didn't take long to work our way through all of the food. She was right, there wasn't anything left and the last few french fries were traded for the last onion ring. I looked up and there was a light in her eyes and a big happy well-fed smile . . .

 

"Anne?  Can you bring  . . . him some coffee and me hot tea?" I nodded and she smiled, very pleased with herself and I caught her looking the pastry case over.

"You've been busy. Ron keeps me informed"  She smiled and looked again at the pastry case.

"Ron keeps everyone informed. That's how I knew you were going to be out today. But I was headed there anyway. I had hoped to have them caught before you got there so I could be the one leaning on the top rail"

 

She smiled and sipped her tea, "Those two will be thinking of ways tonight to avoid us. They give me problems too if it makes you feel any better".

"Yeah it does"

"So? How are you working all this out? You're getting new clients, people are going to call you . . . I talked to Ron too! So? How's all this working out?" 

"You are looking to see if I'm confused . . . "

"Yeah . . . maybe"  She laughed and looked at me again to answer the question.

 

"The thing I like about my day job is that after I take care of all the, problems I didn't figure on, the follow ups . . . the little things to get the jobsite ready, deal with the clients . . . figure out how I'm going to do the work . . . then I love putting it all together and seeing the job done. Big jobs or little jobs, it doesn't matter. Although, if I take a big mess or project and see it through and have to figure it out, then its very satisfying coming back to my clients and showing them the finished work. Sometimes its relief, sometimes joy and enthusiasm  . . . I get handshakes, hugs sometimes . . . a toast or just a nod of the head. But I like the work, doing it and showing off just a bit for the clients. I've got great clients as a rule.

 

With the riding, I didn't expect it to grow and when it did I didn't know what to do next. After I thought about it I realized that I enjoyed more than I expected to, and that I wanted to do more and learn more I just didn't know exactly how to go about it. I went through the same thing in learning how to new work in business. I take classes, read books, practice and take time to make sure that I work out all the kinks . . . however long it takes me, until I figure it out . . . They are both a lot alike, problem solving, new things to learn . . . being the best and a little better at the same job every time. But in this case, the riding . . . that's the payoff . . . getting to enjoy riding. I figured out that it would be okay if I just kept learning how to be a better rider and enjoy it more . . . "

 

I looked up and she was smiling . . . holding her tea cup, braced with her elbows on the table. She smiled again and nodded. "You got it all worked out.  I think you'll do well, and I think you'll get all the clients you can handle"

 

"I'm going to use a guy or two to help me with the other business, so I can have more time to ride and the business won't suffer. I'm going to do a DBA and the tack, clinics, classes  . . . all of that will be part of it. Got to think of a name for it."

 

"I don't see that confused look now. But I bet I do from time to time . . . Anne? How about a couple of brownies? The ones with the icing"  She looked at me smiling and nodding  . . .

"I don't know  . . . " I couldn't believe she was still hungry enough for two brownies . . . and icing.

"Oh? You want one too?"  Rita looked at me with a guilty smile. Anne shook her head then looked at me.

"I was thinking the apple pie . . . heated up with a slice of cheddar cheese"

"Mmmm . . . that does sound good. No . . . I'll keep the brownies, just one though . . . A - La - Mode!"

 

 

 

"Sit and have a cup if you don't have to go anywhere . . .Gonna rain anyway." Ron had been loafing, just as I blew in from outside.

"I will"

"Can't ride in the rain. Too early to go home."

"No. Good excuse for being a bum 'round here."

"Hell . . . you don't need no excuse . . . now do ya?" 

 

I didn't feel that cold . . .  until I got inside where it was toasty warm and that coffee-smell hit me. I picked out a chair against the same wall the door was on, so if anyone else came in the wind wouldn't hit me and ruin being cozy . . . I scooted a box over where I could put my feet up . . . I slouched just a bit, unzipped my jacket down between the first and second shirt button, and let out a breath. In the air was the aroma of the coffee, fresh leather of the saddles and tack, and the feed sacks from the next room. I was grateful that the radio was off, quiet enough to hear the rain outside and the wind gusts.

 

"Here, just made it."  Ron laughed at me getting situated, handed me a comfortable mug . . . thick and heavy, with a handle that fit two fingers and my thumb, just right. The thick mug warms your hands as you surround it with your palms . . . helping to shake off the cold as sips of the H-O-T coffee soaks through you. 

 

This was the third rainy, and cold, day in a row. I had two jobsites that would have to wait until the rain left . . . I couldn't ride so I got caught up on cleaning and caring for the tack, checking the horses and spending some time with my clients answering questions and talking shop. It's good to have a day or an afternoon where you sit, put things on paper and see how they look. The "horse business" was growing and I had been trying to figure out how to organize all I had to do. There were a total of five horses with that many more planned on in the next few weeks. I looked at my list . . . repairs and changes to be made in a couple of the stables, accompanying clients to look at new horses and helping them pick out tack . . . six or seven items. I wrote things down as I thought about them and then broke that down into steps and priorities . . . ideas and questions.

 

I looked at the couple of pages of notes I had and there was a lot there to do, but it didn't feel like work and I was inwardly very happy with myself, thankful, that I had been able to remember what I'd been taught and think my way through the responsibilities I'd been given. I was enjoying myself, not only with the riding which was the big pay off, but I was learning something, reacquiring a skill  . . . as well as recalling the memories of my dad that I hadn't thought about in so long. It was so much more than what I started out to do, and it surprised me how much more fun riding was since I was more involved. The coffee was warming me up and I unzipped my jacket and slid my cap back and held the mug with both hands feeling the heat making it almost too hot to hold as Ron refilled it and I got more settled in . . . cozy.  

 

"I hear things are working out for you."

"They are. Thank you. I was just thinking it through, all there is to do."
"You're welcome. There's always a little something to do for someone who don't mind the effort. I have people coming in now actually enjoying themselves. Before they were unhappy."

"That's nice to hear."

"I was going to ask you the next time I saw you. I started to put you down on the account list. What do you call your business? Are you going to call this a business? That's quite a list you have there, and, I know a couple of more that are going to give you a call."

 

It was a good question and I didn't have a clue. I'd been putting the money I made in my pocket, but I needed to get liability insurance, Michelle and Evan had made a position for me that I was going to have to call it a business.

 

"How bout 'Horse Business Inc.'?  I don't know, really."  Ron looked at me and shook his head.

"Your clients are upscale. You need an upscale name, nothing too cowboy"
"Horse . . .  horse . . . horse what?"  I held up my coffee mug and got a refill and resumed my comfy slouch. The door opened up and there went my theory that I was in the best place to stay out of the draft. The wind went to right where I was all nice and warm . . . I quickly set the coffee down and zipped my jacket. Why is it that when you're all toasty that the least bit of cool air disrupts all that warm? It's like being cozy in bed . . . just right . . . and having the covers lifted . . . it's just short of painful. I looked up to frown at whoever let the cold air in . . . but thought twice when I looked up and met a bigger frown.

 

"I should have known!  I'M out working . . . I'M frozen . . . I'M hungry . . . I'M soaked . . . I'M froze . . ."

"You said that twice"

"YOU'RE sittin' there sippin' HOT coffee and I said WHAT twice? Why don't YOU try and . . . "

 

Ron reached for another mug the instant Rita's truck pulled up, filled it with hot water and instant hot chocolate . . . and didn't say a word to me!  Comfy no more . . . I was up and offering my warm seat. I glanced at Ron and he was enjoying not being the target and letting me know correcting a twice frozen, soaked-through-to-the-skin-woman was probably the dumbest thing I could do . . . and make him take back calling me smart and competent from while ago.

 

"I don't want you're ol'seat!  Thank you  . . . R-o-n . . . "  She pulled a chair at an angle to mine, put her feet up where I just had mine and gave her sweetest smile to "R-O-N" for the hot chocolate. I got "the look".

"I've been working!"  I said. She looked me over to see if I was soaked . . . or muddy . . . or had goose bumps from being out in the weather since early that morning.

 

"But not nearly as hard as you . . . " I reached for a nearby saddle blanket and put it over her shoulders.

"That's better!"  She slid the blanket down off her shoulders and took off the wet denim jacket and put it on the back of my chair and wrapped up in the saddle blanket again. She shivered and I could see water dripping off her braid and goosebumps as she held the heavy mug with both hands . . . letting the heat warm her fingers and hands. She'd been out since about 7:00 a.m. hoping to keep her schedule and figured it was going to be muddy, and a mess, either way.

 

"I got the Equestrian center done first. It didn't let up, so I did two that I couldn't get done inside. Then I quit for today. I would have bet you were here or somewhere . . . nice-and-dry . . ."  As she warmed up I wasn't getting as hard of looks, but Ron was getting all the ladylike behavior as he refilled the instant hot chocolate. We tried to explain to her our ideas, or lack there of, for naming the business. That actually broke the cold spell in her . . . she laughed and rolled her eyes.

 

"Equine . . . instead of horse."

"Equine Business Inc.?"

"NO! . . . Ron's right. Our clients are upscale and they like cowboys, but they are "Equestrians".

"O-u-r clients?"

"Yes!  I have the same ones, thank-you-very-much . . . and a couple of others, and they're "Equestrians" not cowboy. Ron's right."

"Equine . . . something. How about Equine  . . . Management?" I got two nods of almost-approval . . .

"How about a warm up . . . p-l-e-a-s-e . . . and t-h-a-n-k y-o-u?"  Lovely Rita was starting to thaw . . . a bit and Ron had the hot chocolate ready. I held up my mug for some attention too and got a "look" . . . but more coffee and I started getting comfy again and slouching. Rita made room for my feet on the box.

 

"Advanced  . . . Equine Management?"  Rita and Ron looked at each other . . . and then raised their mugs.

"To Advanced Equine Management!"  We toasted.

 

"Ahhh, there's that look!"   I smiled from behind my cup looking at Rita.

"SO? I'm hungry. . .  I don't want to get up . . . or go out . . . I'm tired . . . hungry and tired . . . hungry . . . tired . . ."

 

Ron produced several menus from behind the counter and she brightened up immediately. I could-not-believe what I was seeing. Ron looked at me and rolled his eyes. He'd been through this once or twice apparently.

 

"Okay, let's call here. They'll deliver . . . unless, YOU . . . want to go and get it?"  She looked at me.

"No. But I'll buy . . . it'll be my first "business lunch" . . ." Rita had a big smile at that and I'm pretty sure she mentally added extras to the order.

 

She was my first, and even though I'm away a lot, she's often on my mind, and I find myself thinking, "I should tell her this, she would love to see this, or I wonder what she'd do if she was here?" With all the good things being said about me, all the things I'd been enjoying lately, the things I am now looking forward to, what I was the most thankful for, just between her and I, was that because of her I got off to a good start.

 

I saw her look me over when I drove up and saw it in her eyes. She looked around and sized everything up . . . then she stepped away rather than face me and stood with only her shoulder towards me. I'd have to step up and give her some attention to bring her around. She was mine, but she wasn't about to throw herself at me.

 

"Hi Honey"  I walked up and put my hand on her shoulder. She let out a breath. Then after a well timed pause, she turned and looked at me with those big brown eyes that said  . . . "Hi Honey yourself!"

 

The sorrel mare acted like she hadn't noticed me until just then, slowly turned her head to me, mumbled something, and then pushed her head at me looking for her halter. I wasn't quite forgiven yet, but no need to stand on principle too long, it was only mid-morning on a cool clear day, breezes and she wanted desperately to get back and see if the world was like she left it. She fidgeted as I tacked her up and once I was mounted, she bowed her neck, wanting me to get-the-hell settled so we could go. She asked for some slack so I relaxed the rein and she stepped out on a trot, hitting the canter when the path opened up. No tactician could read a landscape better. She was off the bridle path shortly, turned sharply onto a switchback, up an incline and we were headed out looking for higher ridges.

 

With the sorrel mare there were no behavior problems to overcome, nothing to teach her. The rides were fun and pleasurable, and that's what everyone wants when they think about horse riding. That was exactly the point that Rita had made earlier, when we talked about taking on more clients. As we sat and talked, I made notes, she broke apart a Hershey's milk chocolate bar with almonds, sipped a Coke. I don't have that much of a sweet tooth, but every time I watch her work over a Hershey's bar, I get this sudden urge that I ought to have one.

 

"Let me see" Rita held out her hand to read what I'd been writing down. She read each item while her hand reached for another piece of the chocolate bar, or her Coke. "Okay, you're starting to get it all sorted out."

"Well thank you"

"You want be able to ride a horse safely and enjoy it. So . . . either the horse will need some training, or . . . the clients will need to know how to handle a horse, or both. That's it."  She was very happy, explaining it to me, until she realized she was out of chocolate.

"Then I'll  . . . "

"Then . . . you can keep up with basic health care, nutrition . . . I can show you a thing or two about feet. I need to introduce you to the Vet . . .  She was looking to see if there was any stray chocolate she'd missed . . . but you get the idea."

"Yeah, I thought about it and started a list . . . "

"Good idea . . . things like loading and trailering . . . well, you know." She was happy that I was sorting it all out. "What about a schedule for clients? You're going to have some riding, some training."

 

"I thought about that. Michelle's pool guy and I were talking and he sets his clients on a once a week, or twice a week schedule, then if there's something special to do he schedules it between regular visits. If I schedule the riding like that, then the ones I need to spend more time with, I work with in between, it works out.

 

"Perfect. See, I told you, you'd sort it out  . . . "   She said, and smiled at me that things were going so well.

 

It was a couple of hours, and two very high vistas later that I coaxed the mare back towards the stable. She compromised and we took an indirect route back that brought us to a ledge that we could see all the way back. She has a habit of going right to the edge to look and I have mixed feelings whether or not she's doing that just to feel my knees tighten. I gave her a minute or two and then without any further coaxing she turned and we came down and finally back to the bridle path and home.

 

"I can always tell when she's been out on a date with you."   Karen walked up to the corral as I dismounted and held the mare for a short drink of water.

"Out on a date?"

"Oh yeah. We don't take her out like you two go, and when you've been here, she's all frisky, she's not so stubborn or set in her ways."

"Hmmm."

"Women are like that when they get a little attention . . . or rode hard . . . " She laughed. "I think it'd break her heart if you didn't show up. Any white truck that pulls up here she comes over to see if it's you. I've never seen anything like it . . . What do you think? Can she go again, just around the path, maybe up that far hill?"

"Sure. She didn't really want to come in just yet. Just use my tack, and give her a few minutes to cool off and get a drink."

"You go visit with Paul, we'll have dinner later. I think it's time we got another one. This was what we had in mind, enjoying just riding, and we want to ride together."

 

My mom was a natural problem solver and nothing frustrated her more than when I was a kid and I'd just shrug my shoulders . . . She'd ask me how I was going to figure things out and I didn't think, just shrug my shoulders. She made it perfectly clear that wasn't going be good enough. If I didn't know, fine, but I had to figure out a way. Take my time, but figure it out, and she'd show me how to take what I knew, or how to think it through and come up with maybe not the answer, but a way to work one out.

 

My dad was different, in that he learned by doing and seeing what worked, until something did. Once he figured it out, then it became a tool he would rely on to apply to the next problem. He taught me what he knew worked, and worked best for the things and situations he had been through. But he wasn't the analytical thinker my mom was. I think she adored him for that. That he didn't know what to do sometimes, he'd get stuck. But he was faithful and he had heart and kept at it.

 

While Karen got ready to go riding. I slipped the bit out of the sorrel mare's mouth, and rubbed her muzzle while she took sips of water, and we talked a little nonsense. Karen returned, and without any help from me, adjusted the tack and expertly slipped the bit into her mouth and mounted.

 

"See Ranny, I know what to do now, and, the right way to do it, instead of just keeping after it until we're all done . . . or all done-in . . . It helps to be able to see something and know if it's right or wrong doesn't it?"

 

Karen took the slack out of the rein and turned through the gate. Just before she picked up to the trot, the sorrel mare stretched out her neck and swung her head around to me and looked.