“Because there’s a breeding mare up for sale for a good price. Great confirmation, calm temperament, proven broodmare.Black and white pinto.” Jesse gave me a look to which I nodded vigorously.
“Also, there’s a bookshop in Tuttle that has a set of Thomas Moore works. Lovely set. Good in boards. They’re holding it for me on an offer of a hundred dollars which, as we all know, is a marvelous price for a hardcover vintage collection! I get all swoony over ‘Love’s Young Dream’ every time I read it.”
“I knew that was a good price. Didn’t you, Hoyt?” Jesse asked as we left Chance in the rearview. I caught the glimmer of mischief in his eye.
“Funny you should say that. I was just saying to Gunner the other day I’d give my eyetooth for a collection of Thomas Moore poems in a hundred dollar collection.”
“You two are being goobers.” I played at being upset then laughed as I looked right at Hoyt. “You told me the other night when I read some of his romantic works to you in bed that his words made your?—”
“Yeah, we don’t need to go into details with my baby brother in the truck.” Hoyt was quick to cut that conversation down.
Which opened things up to get away from the fib and start chatting about something else. There were a million topics to discuss with these two fine gents. I’d even closed the shop—first time ever on a Saturday, my best sales day—to come on this trip to reunite two old friends. I’d come prepared for the journey. Snacks, drinks, hand wipes, and points of conversation to last us all the way to Oklahoma and back.
I’d not been a scout as a young boy for nothing.
We arrivedin the town of Jolly’s Creek in beautiful Oklahoma at five in the afternoon exhausted beyond belief.
Why sitting in a vehicle wears a person out so badly I can’t say but it does. The long-legged cowboys were even more stiff and surly than I, as I could at least tuck my feet under my ass. I’d done my level best to keep them hydrated, fed, and entertained. Much like one does children on a long road trip. I kept that thought to myself even when they were super cranky towards the end of the drive. They bickered back and forth then would tease, laugh, poke more fun, and bicker. It was fascinating as an only child to sit between the two siblings—half-brothers as well as being estranged for years—and listen to their banter. They picked at each other yes but deep down you could feel the love they held for the other. That affection was easy to see and growing each day. The heavy toxic boot of Abel had been lifted from their throats. They could breathe. They could be who they were. And it had freed them in ways I was sure they didn’t even realize. It was heartwarming, even when the bickering had a little bite to it.
“Christ, my back is tied into knots,” Jesse moaned as we neared Red Horizons Ranch. I knew we were close because Jesse had given me a wink and a chin wag toward a signpost signaling the ranch was coming up as Hoyt had been burrowing about in my survival bag for another packet of toaster pastries. They’d gone through two boxes so far on top of a speedy rush through a fast food drive-thru at lunchtime. I was nibbling on some cold chicken nugs at dinner time, guarding them like a dog does a bone from the starving cowpokes on either side of me. Stopping to piddle had happened once. Once! And we all checked the tires then were hurried back into the truck. Jesse’s foreman nature came to the fore a few times but that pee break was the man in charge cracking the whip. The turnoff for the ranch appeared on the left, Jesse spying it first then glancing at me.
“See if you can find a packet of those little yogurt coated raisins, would you?” I asked my man ever so sweetly.
“Okay,” Hoyt mumbled, bent forward with his head resting on the dented glovebox. We found the drive, and the hand-painted sign just as Jesse hit a pothole. Hoyt cussed vibrantly. “Think you can try to miss a few of them? The suspension on this old girl ain’t great.”
“No shit,” Jesse countered, rolling his shoulders forward as we turned off a two lane blacktop into a thin dirt driveway.
Hoyt sat up, silver packet in hand, to toss his brother a flat look. “If you would have let me drive to break up how long you were behind the wheel your back wouldn’t be so tight.”
“You don’t know the way,” Jesse argued.
“I know how to use Google Maps,” Hoyt replied with fire.
Thankfully, we’d reached our destination. Even the most loving sibling got testy after twelve hours in a hot truck cab.
“Oh, so you do know how to use a cell phone. Noted.”
My lips flattened. Hoyt tossed the toaster pastries at his brother. I watched the throw go wide and the last package of sustenance fly out the window. The look Jesse gave Hoyt could have peeled the rust off the horse trailer jangling along behind us.
“Great. Now we’ll starve,” Jesse huffed as we rolled around a sharp bend that ended like right now. We hit the brakes in front of a splendid log cabin home with barns and horses everywhere one glanced. So many horses!
“I’ll buy more snacks for the ride home tomorrow. I promise no one will starve as long as Aubrey is in charge of food and?—”
“This ain’t an auction barn,” Hoyt barked, fatigue showing through as he rolled his left shoulder while glowering at his brother. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“I’m kidnapping you. Yep, that’s right. I’ve driven you and your boyfriend to Oklahoma where we’re going to set up shop as horse poets.” I couldn’t help it. I had to giggle. Hoyt, who I now knew had a twelve-hour threshold of car travel, was not asamused as I was. “Aubrey here will be reading poems as we clean hooves and trim tails.”
“You’re not the least bit funny,” Hoyt mumbled then unbuckled his seat belt to exit the truck. He hit the ground with athud. I watched as he stretched back slightly to unkink his spine, then turned left and right, his gaze moving along the handsome layout before settling on a fenced-in paddock to our left. I scurried over empty water bottles, Pop Tart wrappers, and several CD cases, to stand at his side as he began to walk slowly to the white fence as if pulled by some magical force. “Where the hell are we?”
“Look!” I shouted then glanced at Jesse joining us at the fence. “A red horse. Hoyt, call to it!”
I heard the crunch of boots on gravel behind us but couldn’t take my eyes off my boyfriend. He climbed over the fence quick as a cat, his gaze locked on the red roan grazing with several other horses. The winds shifted. The red roan’s head jerked up from the lush green grass, nostrils flared, eyes scanning the pasture until he saw Hoyt standing at the fence. Adobe whinnied in joy, tossing his beautiful dark cinnamon mane then charging at Hoyt with such speed the other horses started. Tears trickled down my cheeks. Hoyt looked back at us, and the man who now stood beside me, eyes welling.
“What the hell have you two done?” Hoyt asked thickly.
We didn’t have time to reply properly because Adobe arrived then, nudging Hoyt’s belly, nickering softly as his best friend draped his arms over the horse’s neck. Hoyt wept openly into Adobe’s dusty mane. I cried, oh how I cried. Jesse was silent, smiling, his eyes damp, and the stranger beside me, who must be Ken Langdon, grinned widely.
It took Hoyt several minutes to gather himself. We gently introduced ourselves to the man who had eagerly sold Adobe back to us, whispering to allow horse and cowboy to re-bond.Given how both animal and man were loving on each other that bond had never wavered. Ken was a personable fellow, a retired rider, and a horse enthusiast.
