Blades of Bluegrass

by D. Jackson Leigh

  “No real soreness. It’s more like the relief of taking your shoes off after being on your feet all day.”

  “Pain?”

  “Still getting some phantom pain. It’s like an electric shock that leaves me throbbing, but the acetaminophen and the Tegretol are making it bearable.”

  This was good. Very good. Teddy rolled the sleeve of Britt’s T-shirt back down and openly studied her. “I appreciate your hard work and commitment to rehabbing.” She spoke softly, a little afraid her question could take them two steps back after this significant step forward. “Does this mean you’ve decided to be part of our digital-prostheses project?”

  Britt stood and put her denim shirt on again. She avoided Teddy’s gaze and went to the cupboard to pull down two coffee cups. “No.” She placed the cups on the counter and held up the carafe of fresh-brewed coffee. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The last part of their ritual was retreating to the porch rockers for an after-dinner cup of coffee to wind down the day. Neither was big on watching television, preferring to retire early with a good book.

  Teddy followed Britt to the porch. They rocked and sipped their coffee in silence, letting the night settle around them. The crickets’ rhythmic trill had grown louder as the nights became cooler, and they were in full voice. A snort from a horse, the hooting of an owl, or the howl of a coyote occasionally accented the chorus. But on the porch, the only sound was the creak of their rockers. Teddy finally broke their silence.

  “So, you haven’t decided, or you have decided that you don’t want to participate?”

  Britt let out an audible sigh. “The army should spend their money on someone like Rachel, who deserves the chance and wants to return to active duty.”

  Teddy watched Britt’s gaze travel over the stables laid out in neat rows downhill from the house. “It’s not set in stone, but Rachel is a top candidate for the project. Her injury is different. We need you, too, Britt. Tell me why you feel you don’t deserve to be part of the project.”

  Britt stood, drained her coffee cup, and placed it on the porch banister. “If you’re done with your coffee, I want to show you something.”

  Teddy set her cup beside Britt’s. “Okay.” She followed Britt down the stairs and around to the side of the house where they parked the golf cart that E.B. sometimes used to ride down to the stables. “Where are we going?”

  “To the hay barn,” Britt said. “Hop in. I’m driving.”

  The hay barn was a long, single-story building much like the stables, but the siding was some type of manufactured board. When Britt hit a switch by the sliding door, a row of overhead lights illuminated the inside. Bales of sweet-smelling hay were stacked in neat rows on top of wood pallets about a foot off the ground, a gap between each row.

  “I always thought hay was kept in lofts on top, but I guess your stables don’t have a second floor.”

  “Actually, the stables do have a partial upstairs, but you won’t find any hay there. The horses in our stables are very high-dollar. Overhead hay lofts are a fire hazard and create dust that’s not healthy for the horses to breathe.”

  “So, all the hay is kept here?”

  “And in another barn identical to this, located on the other side of the stables compound. These barns have fire-retardant siding, and the bales are stacked so air can circulate underneath and between rows.”

  “Is that important?”

  “Hay is very combustible. If it’s damp when it’s baled, too green or too high in nitrogen content, the bales can heat up inside and spontaneously combust. These bales are tested every couple of weeks to monitor their temperature.”

  She followed Britt down the center of the barn. “So, you wanted to show me the hay barn?”

  “I wanted to show you this.” Britt stopped, pulled a can of tuna from her pocket, and peeled back the pop-top to dump the contents into a saucer sitting in the middle of the aisle. “Come on out. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

  A petite gray tabby glided out from between two rows of hay and circled Britt’s legs, mewing her thanks. Then she hunkered down and dug into the tuna. Britt walked back a few rows and pulled two of the top bales down into the aisle. “Come have a seat,” she said, dragging the bales closer to the cat. She sat on one and indicated for Teddy to sit on the other. Then Britt put a finger to her lips in a signal for Teddy to remain quiet.

  After a moment, a tiny mewing came from the place where the cat had emerged. The cat answered, then went back to eating.

  “Wait for it,” Britt whispered, her eyes bright under the lights.

  A tiny, round head appeared, then a second. Teddy covered her mouth to suppress her gasp when a third kitten poked his head out, then bowled over the first two in his rush to get a share of the tuna. The others followed, and soon the little family was noisily snacking and making small mewing sounds of pleasure. Two gray tabbies like the mother, their tails curled around them, squatted around the saucer. The third, larger kitten was orange with a stump of a tail.

  “The little ginger kitten. Where’s his tail?”

  “His daddy must have been a Manx. They don’t usually have tails, or if they do, it’s only a stump.” Britt threw up her hand at Teddy’s warning glance. “Not a residual limb. It was never long.”

  “Stub of a tail, then.” Teddy shot Britt a satisfied glance. “A stump is a—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Britt looked to the ceiling and recited, “A stump is a sawed-off tree.”

  “Well, at least you’re learning something.” She returned her attention to the kittens, which were cleaning their paws and faces now that their meal was done. “They’re adorable.” Something, however, didn’t seem to fit. She never saw cats about in the stables during the day, even though she often spotted them darting between the barns at night, mostly shadows along the edges of the security lights. “Why don’t I see more cats around the stables during the day?”

  “We have a fairly large feral-cat population that a local nonprofit group maintains for the farm. Pop gives them a sizable donation each year to pay for food and vaccinations, and they come out to routinely feed and trap them to neuter and vaccinate the colony. And the colony keeps the mice population down in the fields and around the barns.”

  Teddy considered this information. “I’ve always wondered about those feral-cat people. You’d think that if the cats were all neutered, the colonies would eventually die out.”

  Britt shook her head. “It’s cats like this little mama that constantly add to the numbers. She’s not feral.” To prove her point, Britt held out her hand. The mama cat turned a suspicious eye on Teddy and avoided her as she slunk over to Britt. She loudly purred her thanks, brushing her cheek and then her body against Britt’s hand. “When people want to get rid of a cat and the shelters are too full to take any more, it’s not unusual for them to drive out to farm country and dump them. They wrongly figure that the animal will show up at a farmhouse and be taken in. We get stray dogs here all the time that their owners have dumped out.”

  Teddy was horrified. “That’s awful.”

  Britt shrugged. “People can be mean and cruel.” She picked up the mama cat, who settled in Britt’s lap and kneaded Britt’s thigh as she stroked her. Britt frowned, and the muscle in her jaw worked. “Dangerous, even.”

  Teddy stayed quiet, hoping Britt would finally reveal what was at the root of her reluctance to join the project. Teddy was sure it had something to do with the apparent rift between Britt and her father.

  “Anyway,” Britt said, “Mama Cat was probably dumped out here when her owner, who hadn’t bothered to have her neutered, realized the cat was pregnant. Jill found her hiding out here, probably terrorized by the territorial feral cats, and we’ve been feeding her. Turns out, she’s a pretty good mouser, but you can tell she’s not feral because she never eats them. She leaves them near the door for us to find.” Mama Cat playfully batted at Britt’s empty sleeve, and Britt’s grim exp
ression evaporated. “She’s barely more than a kitten herself.”

  “So, you’re going to let them stay in the barn?”

  “No. As soon as the kittens are about a month older, I’ll get Gail’s son—he does some small-animal work—to neuter Mama Cat, and we’ll find homes for the kittens so they don’t become feral. I’ve already talked Lynn into taking one for her household.”

  Teddy tentatively offered her hand for Mama Cat to sniff and was rewarded with a cheek rub. “What about her, after she’s neutered?”

  “My grandmother used to have a cat that was supposed to be hers, but it followed Pop everywhere. Grandma died, and then the cat died of old age the next year. Pop’s never brought another in the house since then. Lynn and I are conspiring to introduce Mama Cat into the house and try to make a match between her and Pop.”

  Teddy laughed. “I would have never pegged you for a romantic, Britt Story.”

  Britt smiled and tilted her head in acknowledgement. “I guess I’m a soft touch when it comes to animals and the people I love. Pop has always been here for me. Always.”

  Teddy felt a tug at her shoe. “Hey, those are my laces, you little rascal.”

  While the two gray kittens were tussling on the floor a safe distance away from them, the ginger kitten had edged up to attack the laces on Teddy’s sneakers. He batted at the finger Teddy shook at him, then climbed up her leg to sit in her lap. She slowly reached up, careful not to scare him, and stroked his chest, then his cheek. He looked up at her with huge green eyes, then lifted his paw and touched her cheek. The pad of his foot was baby soft on her skin, and he was gentle, no claws extended.

  “Looks like another kitten has found his match.”

  Teddy smiled but shook her head, unable to tear her gaze away from his green eyes. “He’s a charmer, but I travel too much to have a pet.”

  “Cats take care of themselves, pretty much for several days at a time. They’re really low-maintenance. And you could always bring him back here if you get orders to deploy.”

  “The chances that I’ll deploy ever again are slim. Since getting my degree and certifications to specialize in amputee work, I’m sure I’ll serve out my career in the army’s larger hospitals.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Britt sounded relieved. Did she worry that Teddy could be sent back to the war zone? “You’ll make a great cat owner.”

  The kitten seemed to agree, patting Teddy’s cheek again before jumping down to run and pounce on his siblings.

  Teddy laughed at his antics, then stood when Britt did. Teddy called a good night to the cat family and slid one door forward while Britt pulled on the other to close them in the middle. As they climbed into the golf cart, Teddy wished they’d walked instead. The night was so cool and the stars so bright. She loved this sweet side of Britt that cuddled kittens. She wanted to loop her arm in Britt’s and lean against her as they strolled back to the house because they were friends. Just friends.

  Still, it hadn’t escaped Teddy’s notice that the kittens had been an effective diversion from her unanswered question. Why didn’t Britt want to be part of their digital-prosthesis program?

  Chapter Ten

  Teddy was surprised to find Lynn, rather than E.B., preparing breakfast. Lynn was removing a pan of fat biscuits from the oven, while country ham and chicken-fried steak cut in biscuit-sized squares sizzled on the stove.

  “What’s going on?” Teddy asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Where is everybody, and why are you here so early?”

  “Down at the yearling barn. Inspection day,” Lynn said, deftly turning the meats cooking in multiple frying pans. “Didn’t Britt tell you?”

  “She did mention something about an inspection this morning, but she neglected to say it’d happen at the crack of dawn.” Literally, because the first rays of sunlight were peeking over the mountains.

  “The inspectors won’t be here for another couple of hours,” Lynn said. “But there’s a lot of work to be done before they arrive.” She pointed to a huge platter covered with paper towels. “Can you hand me that. I need to let some of the grease drain from these steak pieces before I put them in a biscuit.”

  “Are these for the inspectors?”

  “No, for the staff.” Lynn shoveled steak squares onto the tray, then plopped a second round in the pans to fry. “We’ll feed the inspectors at lunchtime. My famous rotisserie chicken salad, some roast beef that’s slow cooking in the oven, and lamb wraps with cucumber sauce.” She gestured to two large pans of biscuits. “Can you cut those open for me? I’ll come behind you and insert the meat.”

  Teddy took the knife Lynn handed her and began slicing through the middle of each biscuit. “Wow. That sounds incredible. So, we’re planning to bribe the inspectors?”

  “Don’t let E.B. hear you say that. The inspector group that came four years ago had a young guy who’d never been here before. He saw the lunch spread and declared that he’d brought his own lunch because he couldn’t be bribed.” Lynn threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. “I wish I’d had a video camera. When E.B. stepped up to that young man, the other inspectors stepped back from the new guy like a crew abandoning ship. E.B. said, ‘Son, if you inflate your scores on my horses, I’ll make sure you never inspect in this state again. I’ve been breeding racehorses since before you were in diapers. If my yearlings aren’t scored accurately and a buyer pays too much for a horse that can’t reach his expectations, my reputation and my business will suffer.’” Lynn held up her hands, her fingers forming two large Os. “That boy’s eyes were this big. Then E.B. said, ‘You go right ahead and eat that peanut-butter sandwich you brought if you want, but the rest of us are going to dive into the best sandwiches you ever put in your mouth.’”

  “What’d the guy do?”

  “He put his lunchbox back in the truck and lined up for a sandwich with the rest of them.”

  They laughed together as they filled and stacked biscuits into two huge baskets. When the baskets were full, Lynn covered them with red-and-white checked cloths.

  “Do you mind taking these down? The yearling barn is the second one you’ll come to.”

  “Sure. Whatever I can do to help.”

  “Thanks. Set them on the desk next to the coffee pot, and tell them I’ll be down with a second round in about ten minutes.”

  * * *

  Teddy had almost reached the first stable when Lynn stepped out onto the porch and rang the old dinner bell. Men and women swarmed out of the other two barns to converge on the breakfast. By the time she reached the office in the yearling barn, an orderly line had formed. Britt was waiting and took one of the baskets from her, while E.B. stood at the barn entrance to address everyone.

  “For those of you who are new, we have ham biscuits and steak biscuits. Take only one so everybody can get served right away. For those who want a second, Lynn will be down…” He looked to Teddy.

  “Ten minutes,” Teddy said to him.

  “…in about ten minutes with a second round. There’s juice in the ice chest and coffee in the big urn. Sorry, no decaf. Ernie, I won’t tell your wife if you don’t.” Everybody laughed. “We’re a bit ahead of schedule, so don’t rush. If the judges are slow, it might be a long time before lunch is served, and this will be a long day.”

  Everyone started to talk and step closer to the person in front of them in anticipation of Lynn’s fluffy biscuits.

  “One more thing,” E.B. shouted, and the crowd quieted. “We’ve got the best crop of yearlings this farm has seen in years, and a lot of the credit goes to your care and careful handling of each and every baby.”

  A man standing in line near Teddy groaned and muttered under his breath. “Come on. We’re hungry.”

  An older man standing next to him elbowed the complainer in the ribs. “Show some respect. You know the boss man likes to make speeches.”

  Teddy suppressed a smile and returned her attention to E.B.

  “Whether you were the perso
n who made sure their stalls were clean or the person assigned to one of my babies as a primary groom, you are all just as important in making this year a success. If we do as well as I think at the auction next week, you’ll each see something extra in your pay checks.”

  A cheer went up.

  “Now let’s eat,” Britt yelled over the cheers.

  The line went quickly, and Lynn showed up with another huge tray of biscuits. Teddy was astonished that by the time everyone was back working with the horses, every last biscuit was gone. She was lucky she’d grabbed one of the steak biscuits, wrapped it in a napkin, and put it in her pocket while she kept the line moving by filling paper cups with coffee and fishing juice drinks from the ice chest for people.

  Now, she stood at the end of the yearling barn that let out to the paddocks, nibbling her biscuit, sipping her coffee, and trying to keep out of the way. Yearlings were housed in one stable, but the wash stalls in all four barns were being used. Horses were led back and forth, shampooed, dried, then brushed until their coats gleamed. Hooves were trimmed and polished, manes were shortened and ears trimmed. Even their teeth were brushed, then examined by the veterinarian, Gail. She could hear the mood of expectation in the voices of the stable workers as they prepared their animals. The horses seemed to pick up on the excitement of the day, too, moving restlessly in their stalls, ears forward and heads high.

  Teddy nearly spilled her coffee when needle-like claws pierced her jeans and traveled up her leg and back. She was glad for the thick jean jacket she wore over her T-shirt when the orange furball came to perch on her shoulder. “What the heck? Why are you up here at the stables?”

  The kitten extended a paw toward the biscuit Teddy held near her mouth.

  “Hungry, huh?” She laughed and took another bite of her biscuit, careful to leave a last bit in the napkin, which she held up for the kitten to devour. “You’d better stay up here so you don’t get stepped on.”

  Britt came out of the office, ducking into several stalls, then reappearing as she worked her way toward where Teddy stood. Britt smiled as she came to stand beside her. “Argh, matey. Where’d you get that fine-looking parrot on your shoulder?”