Page 9 of Hoofin’ It

In a few hundred years, she’d start showing signs of old age, and I’d just be a dim memory among many.

Sally stuck her head out from beneath the blanket and snorted.

Grabbing her lead line, I clipped it to her halter. “Come on, girl. Why don’t we take a stroll? If I stay cooped up here, I’ll become as crazy as my parents.”

I wasn’t sure if she understood me or if she knew the lead line meant we were going somewhere, but she got off the couch willingly and stood still while I folded Mom’s blanket and returned it to its proper place. Within ten minutes, I’d locked the house, released Hopper and Skunk so they could enjoy the morning in the pasture, and grabbed the keys for the van. The rental place was two miles away, which would make for a decent walk home. If I needed a vehicle, I’d steal Dad’s car from the garage.

I’m sure he’d appreciate me packing Sally in his Corvette and taking her for a ride. One day, I might understand why most folks in the area had a Corvette of some sort hidden away in their garage or barn. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t.

As expected, the rental place charged an extra fee for cleaning Sally’s fleece out of their van. I got most of my deposit back when the vehicle passed inspection since there was no evidence of despoiling by an adorable alpaca. Bringing Sally had earned me points with the young woman at the counter, although I ended up staying an extra half hour.

“You’re popular,” I informed Sally.

Sally rubbed her head against me and stared at me with big dark eyes, which earned her another round of petting from me. In the few years I’d been living in Chicago, new faces had appeared in town, although I still recognized many others.

Old Harold, who ran the tiny gas station across the street, ambushed me before I’d even left the rental place’s parking lot. “Hot damn, boy, you’re going to end up as big as your daddy at the rate you’re growin’. Didn’t you learn you’re supposed to stop adding inches after puberty?”

Good Old Harold. He was almost as bad as Mom about opening his mouth and saying exactly what was on his mind. “I’m still six inches shy on my toes, old man.”

“Didn’t hear you were comin’ back to town.”

“I rescued an alpaca and needed a place to keep her for a bit. I volunteered my parents’ place. So, I’m in town for a while until I find a place to board her in the future.” I glanced in the direction of Old Harold’s gas station. “How’s business been?”

“Better than normal. Lotsa folks comin’ round these parts nowadays. They’re done developin’ along the way. Lotsa strangers come livin’ ‘ere now. Where’s your old man? Didn’t he bring his truck on down to give you a lift back to the house?”

“They’re working. It’s a nice day, so we’re hoofin’ it back to the house. Sally needs the exercise, too.”

“Sally’s a whatsit now?”

“Alpaca.”

“A whatsit?”

I sighed. “Miniature llama.”

“She spit?”

“If you corner her or piss her off she will.”

“She bite?”

“Maybe.”

Instead of heeding my warning he could become Sally’s chew toy, Old Harold dug his fingers into her fleece and gave her a good rubbing. His eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be, she’s right soft.”

I kept a close eye on Sally, taking hold of her halter in case she got any ideas. “Mom’s already laid claim to her fleece, but maybe you can talk her out of some yarn for the missus if you’re lucky.”

“The missus don’t be needin’ any more yarn,” the old man grumbled.

Laughing, I bobbed my head in agreement with the sentiment. “They get a little unreasonable about their yarn, don’t they?”

“Don’t they ever. You sure you don’t need a lift over to the house, son?”

“Thanks, but I’m sure. We could both use the exercise.”

Old Harold gave a nod, his eyes locked on my scar. “That healed up right nice. You done did us all proud, you know.”

The last thing I wanted to talk about was the car accident, but I bucked up, fixed a grim smile in place, and flicked the old man a salute, the one response I could make without insulting him. It was as much an acceptance of his compliment as a signal I’d rather not talk about it.