Dakota Blues Box Set

by Lynne M Spreen

  The thought made me smile, in spite of my sadness.

  As much as Dad was a hardass, he loved me. Too bad I had to spend so much time outgrowing his bad temper and hurtful behavior, but still. He loved me the best he could.

  And Mom. God, what was there to say? In the soft focus of retrospect, Mom had become an incandescent being comprised of pure goodness. What I wouldn’t give to be able to hug her again.

  So there I sat, almost sixty years old, silent in the cold, and missing my mom and dad as badly as if I were still a school kid. I would never outgrow this particular form of dependency, although even as I felt their love emanating from the great beyond, I wondered if they’d kick my ass right now for lacking initiative. For feeling as if I were too old to change, yet again, just because somebody else wanted it, even if I loved that person as much as life itself.

  It was my call, and I’d try to make it up to Curt. We’d do another cruise, something shorter but exquisite. Maybe not the Polar Regions, though. North Dakota was cold enough.

  After a while, I had to get in the truck or freeze. I told Mom and Dad I loved them, turned my back and walked away, wondering if I was right. Wondering if I’d learned anything at.

  Chapter 29

  WHEN I GOT HOME, CURT was out in the RV garage, warming up the Roadtrek. He rolled down the window as I approached. He did not smile or greet me warmly.

  “Going to take it in and have Wilson look at it,” he said.

  “Why now? It’s only March.”

  His jaw, sexy with stubble, tightened. “Sun’s out. Might as well. We’ll want it to be in good shape this summer.” He rolled up the window, and I watched the wide back end of my travel van roll down the driveway and out to the street.

  I kicked my boots off in the mudroom and entered the warm sanctuary of my farmhouse. My heart ached over Curt’s disappointment, but the cruise offer was impractical. I’d do almost anything for him, but that was too much.

  I went around the house, picking things up and starting dinner. While I braised the roast, I told myself it was the right decision. We had many years ahead of us, and we could travel—although in much shorter increments—and see the world, as soon as I knew what was going to happen to Aunt Marie.

  I put the roast in a slow cooker and sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a gardening catalog. I ordered three dozen canning jars online. The washing machine buzzed, and I went to switch loads.

  I glanced at the clock and remembered Looney was still in the barn. Although it was nice and warm, she liked to be outside, but I’d been reluctant since she’d been jumping the fence. I would have to figure out what to do about that mare of mine. A very, very tall fence? But I couldn’t fence the entire paddock.

  After transferring the clothes to the dryer, I put on my outdoor gear and went to the barn with a couple of peppermints for Looney. She nickered when I rolled the door open, a sign that she was becoming more comfortable with me.

  Snapping the lead onto her hackamore, I took her outside to the corral and tied the lead to the feed bin. After mucking out the stall and replacing the old food and water, I brushed her, just for an excuse to touch her and develop familiarity. Meanwhile, Bob snuffled around the corral fence, curious about a family of sparrows fighting with each other.

  Looney yanked on the lead. She was tired of being in the barn, and wanted to run, but she’d been acting friendly around me and behaving herself. We were back to the special relationship we’d had before I left for California.

  But she needed exercise.

  I went in the barn for a bridle. She let me slip it into her mouth and over her ears, and I petted and praised her while she snuffled at my pockets for more candy. Retying the lead, I retrieved the saddle blanket and eased it up onto her back. When she didn’t object, I said a little prayer and went back for the saddle. The sun was out. The sky was blue. Life was settling down. If I was going to continue to own this horse, I needed to be able to ride her. Alice could. Why not me?

  Looney didn’t object when I put the saddle on her and cinched it tight. She turned her head and sniffed at the unfamiliar gear, but went back to eating. I stepped back to admire her. She looked like a regular horse, all ready for a ride. Surely, with her racehorse past, she’d been subjected to lots of different gear. All she had needed was time to become comfortable in her surroundings. I didn’t know what we were all so worried about.

  Bob approached and sniffed at the saddle. He put his head down and bucked, crow-hopping across the corral as if I’d tried to saddle him, too.

  Looney watched, her skin quivering. I reached for her bridle and gently pulled her around until we were facing each other. She tossed her head, yanking my hand free. Shook her mane and blew raspberries at the world.

  Then she put her head in my hands. We stood, face to face, while I told her what a good girl she was, and what I was about to do, and asked her to let me.

  I took the reins in my left hand, put my foot in the stirrup, and grasped the saddle horn. Looney stepped away. She didn’t jump. Just moved off enough that I had to hop twice on my right leg before reclaiming my foot from the stirrup.

  But she stood still, her skin rippling under her coat. Keeping up a steady stream of reassuring words, I put my foot in the stirrup again, and before she could change her mind, launched myself into the saddle.

  Looney tossed her head but stood in place. I praised her as I settled in, making sure my boots had good purchase and getting myself seated. I gave her a knee and a cluck, and she started forward, just walking. Of course, I was nervous as hell, but with those long legs, she had a gait like an old rocking chair. Reassured, I had her circle the corral a couple of times, and walked her in figure eights, first one way and then the other. We got a sense of each other, what she understood, what she knew. I continually talked to her, thanking her, gentling her with my voice, patting her neck. Her ears flickered back, listening. Her head nodded up and down as we walked, a steady movement, nothing to worry about. I began to relax, feeling proud of myself. I wished Curt could see me. I wished Aunt Marie could see me.

  I wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Again, I clucked to Looney, and she moved up to a trot. With a breeze in my face and the sun on my shoulders, I was ready to switch gears again, and Looney seemed to have read my mind because she moved into a gentle canter. We loped around the corral, and I felt like a huntress, riding my beautiful steed and commanding the world. I felt so happy, so free. I almost wanted to close my eyes and let her carry me, but I wasn’t stupid. We’d had enough for one day, and I didn’t want to tempt fate.

  I gently tugged on the reins, but Looney shook her head. She didn’t want to stop. I pulled back again, and the damned horse grabbed the bit in her teeth and took off, going from canter to gallop in a few steps. She shot across the corral, straight for the fence. We were either going to smash into it or—I closed my eyes and leaned low over her neck, my fingers wrapped in her mane. Suddenly her body bunched under me, the sound of her hoofbeats stopped, and we rose into the air, sheer muscular power, lifting me up and carrying me with her as we sailed over the top rail of the fence. Looney didn’t care that I was astride her. I was a gnat on her back.

  I had the sense to lean back as she came down, and I almost fell out of the saddle but managed to hang on as she tore across the field.

  Looney had the bit. I was on top of a runaway.

  She treated me to a crazy thrill-ride, running full tilt across neighboring fields and leaping two more fences before she reached her intended destination. Alice’s farm, just like clockwork. Snorting and proud, Looney trotted through the back forty and toward the barn. My arms were like melting rubber, and I couldn’t control her. She went where she wanted, carrying me.

  Hearing hoofbeats, Alice came out of the barn to greet us. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “You’re riding her!”

  I shook my head, my mouth too dry to speak.

  Her smile turned to alarm as she realized the truth, and
she hurried over. Baby-talking to Looney Tunes, she reached for the bridle and clamped on. Looney stood still, her sides expanding and contracting like a bellows.

  “I have her.” She held Looney’s head while I slid down, hanging onto the saddle because my legs were so wobbly.

  “Are you okay? Wow, what a ride.” Alice had tear streaks on her cheeks. She turned her head. “If you can stand without her, I’ll put her in the corral.”

  “I think so.” I let go and angled toward the corral fence, propping myself up as Alice put Looney inside and tied the reins to a railing.

  “Let’s make some tea.” Alice let me lean on her shoulder as I crossed the yard and hobbled up her back steps.

  “Damn. I feel like a baby just learning to walk,” I said. My thighs felt permanently bowed, and I had to make sure my weight stayed centered on top of my pins or I would have toppled over. Whether from adrenaline, fear, or purely using my muscles to save my life, I was wrecked. I flopped into a wooden chair in the narrow kitchen while Alice went about heating water and setting out cups and condiments.

  For a while we sat in silence, me bent over the cup, blowing on the hot liquid.

  “I can’t believe you stayed on,” said Alice.

  I looked up. “I did, didn’t I? God, it was amazing. It was like she knew exactly what she was doing, and that she could do it with me aboard and it didn’t even matter. She never hesitated. She was so confident.”

  “You rode her over the fences?” Alice’s eyebrows rose over the top of her glasses. She had perfect skin and a dimple in her left cheek.

  “What choice did I have? I was like a fly.” I smiled, thinking about how I’d simply held on for dear life while this crazy horse went wherever she went, and the terror of the ride turning to joy, and how all the stupid animal wanted was to be with Alice, and I began laughing, and Alice joined me, and we couldn’t stop for a long time. When I could finally breathe and talk again, I blurted, “Would you like a new horse?”

  “You mean Looney?”

  “She’s yours in spirit already. If I kept her, she’d just keep getting out. You could have the colt, too.”

  Alice got quiet. “I would, but I can’t afford them. Actually, I think I’ll be moving. Selling the place.” She gazed around the kitchen, as if recording it in her memory for later.

  The room was clean, but badly in need of maintenance. The farm sink was chipped, the linoleum floor was worn through in places, and the windows were still the old single-pane kind that let all the cold air in. Alice had inherited the house when her parents were killed in a car accident. She lived alone. Her two siblings, quite a bit older than her, resided in distant towns.

  “Don’t you like living here?”

  “I love it, but it’s too much house and land for me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She nodded, and her eyes welled up. “You came just as I was going over the books.”

  I leaned forward. “How about boarding them for me?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Looney wants to be here anyway. Why don’t you keep them both, and I’ll pay you boarding fees, as well as whatever they need for their upkeep. Would that help?”

  “It would.” Alice nodded.

  “Randy, my nephew, just got his veterinary degree. I’ll give you his number. Call him if you need anything and let him bill me. He’ll get you in touch with a trainer for Bob, too.”

  The girl was smiling now. “You can come over and ride Looney every day if you want.”

  “I think I’ll leave the exercising to you.” I stood up, groaning. “Can you give me a ride back?”

  When Alice dropped me off at home, Curt was outside, repairing a hinge on the barn door. I sat on a nearby hay bale to watch.

  He finished up and put away his tools before joining me. I loved to watch that man walk. He had this slow, easy stride, and his long legs looked so good in Levis. He stopped in front of me, thumbs hooked in his pockets, hat tilted low over his eyes. I let mine travel upward until our eyes met.

  He sat beside me. “Is the Loon at Alice’s?”

  “Yes, permanently.”

  He pushed the Stetson back on his head and studied me for signs of mental illness since I’d fought so hard to own that crazy mare. “What’s happening?”

  I told him.

  “Good. She likes Alice better than us, anyway.” He rested his elbows on his knees and stared off into the distance. “Wilson says the Roadtrek’s in great shape. No problem taking it south for your friends’ camping trip this summer.”

  “Thanks for doing that.”

  “I might pass, though.” His voice was flat.

  “Why? It won’t be as much fun without you there.”

  “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of the ladies. You go. I’ve got plenty to occupy me around here.”

  Summer seemed a long way distant, and the glory of today wouldn’t allow in anything negative. “Curt, I rode her. I rode Looney.”

  He turned to look at me, probably thinking I was losing my mind. “You’re kidding. In the corral?”

  I grabbed his arm. “We started there, but she took me over the fence. Three of them. She ran all the way to Alice’s with me on her back.”

  “Holy Christ. Are you okay? Nothing broken?”

  “It was fantastic! The most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. I still can’t believe it. Have you ever jumped a horse? It’s the most ethereal and scary thing you can imagine. It’s like, pure adrenaline. I was flying.”

  He smiled. “You’re all lit up.”

  I leaned into him. “I am. I’ll never forget it.”

  “Do you want to get another horse? Something gentler that you can actually ride?”

  “No.” I laced my fingers through his.

  “Done with horses?”

  “I think so. It was actually pretty scary.”

  We sat there for a few minutes.

  “It’ll be weird not having them here, though. The barn empty.” He gave me a crooked smile. “The farmer’s version of empty nest syndrome.”

  We chuckled, but I knew what he was saying. I’d never been blessed with children, and Curt’s daughter was grown, so here we were, old enough to be grandparents, with an empty barn and the dark of evening settling over the winter plains.

  It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t enough.

  I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Darling.”

  “Hmmm? You never call me that.”

  I smiled to myself, though, vowing to say it more often. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed about the National Geo trip.”

  He shrugged. “It was a lot to ask. Would’ve disrupted our routine and all. I guess I knew it wasn’t that practical. So when you balked, it made sense.”

  “You probably hated my guts.”

  “Only for about ten minutes. Then it passed.” He looked toward the farmhouse. “Pretty cold out here. Want to go in?”

  I squeezed his hand. “Do you think you could tell them you changed your mind?”

  “What are you saying?”

  I jumped up and began pacing in front of him. “I rode Looney!” I said, gesturing wildly. “I jumped fences! I stayed on! I loved it, and I feel like a kid again.” I sat back down beside him, groaning with the pain. “Well, sort of. Anyway, before that, I talked to Aunt Marie, and she said I needed to tend my garden.”

  He was grinning at me, completely confused.

  “My life. I need to tend my life.”

  “And so?”

  “So, if you can still get that gig, I’d like us to go on the cruise.”

  His eyes widened with joy but then narrowed. “Let’s be practical. What about the high seas and small quarters and boredom and expense? What about all that?”

  “Screw it. Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “And what about Aunt Marie?”

  “I’ll see her before I go. I’ll say goodbye, just in case.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And cross my fingers she m
akes it another year.”

  He pulled me to my feet and kissed me. We stood there for a long time, our arms wrapped around each other. Then we walked into the house and went upstairs.

  You know. To plan.

  Chapter 30 – Epilogue

  “I’M REALLY HUNGRY, Babe.” Curt hovered over my shoulder as I checked my email one last time before breakfast.

  “I know. Hang on. This’ll only take a second, assuming I can get a signal.” We’d docked in Barrow, Alaska, late last night. I hadn’t had internet for a week, but the captain assured us we’d be good until at least this afternoon when we cast off for Greenland. I needed to reach out to my family, to assure myself Aunt Marie was recovering from a recent tumble down her front steps. She hadn’t broken anything, but she was so fragile these days, you just never knew.

  Curt turned around and walked over to the balcony slider. There wasn’t much to see. Two other ships, a tanker and a freighter, no doubt heading the same direction as us. Climate change had opened up new shipping lanes, and traffic was increasing along the route.

  Curt stayed inside. The sky was cloudless and bright, but the air was as cold as you’d expect at the North Pole, even in June.

  My laptop, the latest and most expensive Mac product, was an early birthday present from Curt. I think he meant it as a consolation prize after renting our farmhouse and selling or giving away almost everything else we owned. We’d had a barn sale—like a California yard sale, only the April-in-North Dakota version—to get rid of whatever possessions weren’t sentimental or otherwise irreplaceable. The rest we’d stuck in a storage facility the size of a one-car garage. Yes, it was that small.

  Like most middle-aged people, I’d played with the idea of downsizing and clearing out the clutter. To offset my anxiety of leaving our North Dakota life, I’d chosen to see it as an opportunity to lighten my material load.

  It was uplifting. I felt as if I’d dropped twenty pounds and ten years off my age. All I needed with me was a couple suitcases of clothing, one of personal items, and one of my electronic toys and gear. Curt needed even less. We’d moved into a small suite on the Patrice, one of the fleets of National Geo ships capable of navigating through icy waters.