Jolene was too excited about her new life to worry about college right now. "What about my pups…my dogs?"
"Of course they are coming with you. I'll just drive you home now and we will get them and anything else you want to take with you."
"Oh that would be so splendid. Let's go." She stopped and looked at him dead in the eye. "But you promise no funny stuff like? I mean, you won't be wanting anything from me will you? I mean, at least you smell good…Travis smells awful."
He laughed softly, his eyes filled with regret for human beings, especially men and their need to take advantage of the young for their own selfish desires. "Thank you, I think…Jolene. Little Red, I promise you that I won't be trying to touch you or hurt you. Does that make yer feel better?"
"Just so that I work so I earn my keep. That is what my mamma and daddy would say I should always do. They would say you never take charity." She looked at him with earnest green eyes. "I ain't taking nothing for free."
"You will have to work very hard Jolene. You know nothing comes free on a big farm, everybody has to work very hard."
"I'm ready." She smiled big showing pretty white teeth. "And I always work hard."
"Red…I want to ask you something." Patrick stopped and looked at her with those amazing dark blue eyes. "I need you to settle something for me. Why did you come to see Storm every day?"
"Because Storm belonged to me, my parents owned the farm." She jotted away a tear before it could get too far down her face. "I saw all of them die together in the barn. Dancer's Dream, all the horses and momma and daddy."
Patrick felt the pain hit his gut like a body blow. "Oh my God Little Red."
Jolene dashed away more tears.
Didn't one's eyes ever dry up if they cried too much?
"That white house was our home and it was the only thing left after the storm...but I don't talk about it. I never ever want to talk about it. So let us not talk about it anymore."
Patrick shook the cries from his heart and swallowed the hard lump in his throat. "Alright then Little Red, come on home then."
Chapter 4
Paris is home to Xalapa and Claiborne Farms, prominent thoroughbred race horse breeding operations. Triple Crown winner Secretariat retired to Claiborne Farm and is buried there, as is Buckpasser.
Although the Mary Todd Lincoln House is located in nearby Lexington, Mary Todd was born in Paris and remained there until age 14. The Todd family moved to the more widely known Lexington house in 1832. In 1842, Mary became the wife of future U.S. President Abraham Lincoln, and upon his inauguration in 1861 she became the seventeenth First Lady of the United States.
Jolene refused to look at Patrick as they drove up to Aunt Paula's battered, unkempt house in the early evening.
Equally battered and rusted cars were already pulling up for the party that was gearing up. Finnegan and Oliver watched the activities with their typical suspicion from under their favorite big oak tree. The latest rap tunes were already blaring from inside the house, filtering out through the torn screened door and windows.
Patrick had taken her to eat fried chicken and they talked about what he would expect her to do at the farm with the horses. They picked up Bernie. Bernie had brought his M-16 and a .45 in a body holster "in case there was trouble."
She was riding on magic wings before she saw the horrible house again.
Shame was not an even good enough word to illustrate how she felt in that moment.
And there was the odor of course that drifted out into the afternoon air.
Could she just die right now?
She would settle for hiding under the plush fresh carpet in Patrick's brand new red Ford 250. It had the name of his farm painted on the side and his coat of arms. Jolene knew what a coat of arms was from her teen romance books about the medieval times.
McCabe Horse Farm.
In utter humiliation she sat there on the dove grey leather seats that still smelled brand new looking out his pristine windshield at all the trash that was on the porch in bags with holes.
She knew she had the red patches all over her skin. She could feel the prickly heat that came with them. She got them when she was embarrassed…or had done something bad.
Mortified.
She had read that word in a book and looked it up in the dictionary….but it was still not a good enough word to describe how she felt in that moment.
What must Patrick think of her to live here? He didn't just smell really good…why his fingernails were even clean. She had tried to hide her own bitten-down nails. She couldn't help it. When she was nervous she bit her nails and twisted her hair.
But his hands…so clean and nice ... gripping the steering wheel mad her heart tickle.
It was beyond embarrassing that he, the enemy who stole her farm, should see how she low she had become after what he had done.
Her eye caught the rusted 1973 Chevy on cinder blocks.
Had it ever had wheels or was it always just sitting there with rusted pegs that should have held tires?
Then there was the burn pit containing not just other inappropriate items to burn, but was topped with a stained, worn and faded carpet from when boyfriend Luke had a go on linoleum and failed…unfortunately no one could figure out how to put the torn old carpet back…
Could she just die right now?
"Get out and get your stuff and the dogs," he said quietly. She didn't turn to him. She simply could not look at him. Would he change his mind about letting her stay with him because of seeing all of this? She just pulled the door handle and slid out. "Hurry yourself now. I don't think you'll be needing much here."
"Maybe we better go with her." Bernie offered from the back seat.
"Not with you and your guns and a house full of drunk men."
"Unless it becomes necessary." Bernie said quietly, eyeing the scene outside the truck as if it was a potential battlefield.
Jolene knew it was in fact a battlefield, but not like the ones that Bernie saw in Iraq.
As soon as she stepped out Finnegan and Oliver bounded over with pumping tails and short barks to welcome her and nip her like a lamb that had gone missing.
Patrick and Bernie got out and went around to pet them. "Hum, and who might these handsome devils be?"
Finn and Oliver immediately knew friends when they saw them and turned their wet-nosed nudges to Patrick and Bernie to battle for pets from these new people. "That is Finnegan and Oliver."
Patrick stood and held the door open. "Up, up then, we've a new home for yer."
With a shocking lack of concern of Patrick's intentions and without question, the pups jumped right into the truck and immediately made themselves comfortable. Finnegan rubbed his head along the leather seat as if he understood completely about luxury and felt that he finally had his due.
Patrick shut the door. She could feel his eyes on her but refused to look at him. She just couldn't face the ridicule, or in the least, the pity she was certain was in those all-seeing eyes of his. "Hurry Little Red."
The screen door burst open and Aunt Paula walked out with her hands on her hips eyeing Bernie and Patrick. She was already all "dolled-up" as she called it. Her lacy tank top did nothing to hide her sagging boobs.
No bra as usual. Oh gosh this was so obnoxiously humiliating. Would Patrick notice her jiggling globes topped with puckered nipples?
"Where the hell have you been and who are these people?"
Aunt Paula's eyes went dewy when they fell on Patrick. Jolene moved forward to head off Aunt Paula before she reached the truck and Patrick. "This is a man I met at the races."
Paula's painted red lips lifted in a slow grin. "Is he? Well, maybe he has come back for a bit more." She assessed Patrick with hard green eyes and a speculative tilt to her head. "Well, it will cost you more this time but I'll throw in the room."
"She is coming with me." His voice was sharp and hard with disgust.
Aunt Paula turned to Jolene, her painted brows arched and
her lips thin. "What is the meaning of this young lady?"
Jolene gathered her courage, her heart beating like hummingbird wings. "I am leaving." Jolene was brave within Patrick's sure shadow. "Me, Finn and Ollie are all leaving right now. Mr. Patrick has offered me a place to live and work. So, I am going and taking my dogs with me."
Aunt Paula's eyes widened and her brows went up near her hairline. In a fly wing's second her face twisted and she stomped toward Patrick. "Just who do you think you are? You think you are going to keep my niece like some whore?"
Some of the men from the party were filtering outside while others who stood around their vehicles watched with curiosity while scratching their chests under cut-off tee shirts. Bernie's hand hovered over his gun holster and his eyes darted everywhere keeping track of each person.
Patrick turned his morning-glory eyes to take in the scene with his nose slightly tilted up with arrogance that even Jolene recognized. "And what were yer trying to do to her sending her to the Derby like that?"
Aunt Paula's eyes narrowed to slits. "Like what?"
"With painted lips and black all around her baby eyes."
Paula jabbed her hands on her hips, moved closer to Patrick and sniffed. "What puddle of shit is this? Baby eyes, my ass…she's old enough...in fact, far past old enough. If her head wasn't in those damned books, she'd been laid a long time before now and have a nice boyfriend."
"She is just an infant, with eyes the color of green grass that has never been trod upon."
Paula cackled. "Oh, I see the way of things now. You took a fancy to her then did you?"
Patrick regarded Paula with cold purple eyes, his hard jaw clinching. "That sort of comment does not deserve an answer."
Then he turned to Jolene. "Now go on Little Red, get yer stuff; and hurry while I have a final word with your Aunt."
Jolene ran as fast as she could, pushing past Aunt Paula's leering boyfriends who stood with beer cans in hand. Two of them had tried to corner her in the backyard a time or two in recent months but she had been able to skillfully escape.
The screen door slammed behind her and she heard her dogs frantically barking from inside of Patrick's truck as if they understood and believed all of Aunt Paula's threats to send them away had come to pass. And they should be so happy to go…why after all his seats were real leather and Patrick would have lots of food for them. But still they yapped just the way Collies did when they were upset. She could picture his windows now as a big foggy mess. Their barks called for her to hurry and come back.
But Jolene hesitated watching through the screen door when she heard her Aunt talking mad-talk. "I know what you are up to, coming here, all smelling-money and turning Jolene's head."
Patrick leaned against his truck apparently unconcerned about Aunt Paula's boyfriends inching closer to him with their brawl-scowls and flexing flabby nonexistent muscles. Bernie moved forward, standing with his legs spread and his expression battle-ready.
Patrick reached into his back pocket for his wallet. "How much do you want?"
Jolene could not see Aunt Paula's face, but she imagined that Paula would grin, as she always did when she got money. "Well now, that is what I am talking about." Jolene knew that purr. "How much ya got in cash?"
Jolene sobbed a single sob of humiliation, turned and ran for her mother's small cedar chest. It had been kept in the basement with the most important family photos and papers. It was heavy, but Jolene was strong in her determination and the notion of freedom that was unbelievably within her grasp. She stuffed in her few pair of jeans and tee shirts and heaved up the heavy chest.
She huffed as she lugged the chest to the door in small steps.
The few party goers still inside the house well into their distractions and oblivious to the drama unfolding outside merely glanced at her sympathetically and shrugged to each other as she struggled to get to the door.
When she got to the door she lunged through. By then, all was quiet outside.
Travis had returned from a beer run. "What is the meaning of this...Bernie...is that you? Big war hero packing heat? Well now....."
Patrick strode past Aunt Paula, Travis and the other men with a menacing glare and took the chest from Jolene's hands. Bernie followed at a slower pace. "Yep, it is old Bernie and you can bet I am a good shot Travis and not afraid to use a weapon."
Travis stepped back from Bernie, fear lighting his eyes. "Crazy vet, you probably would shoot me in cold blood."
Bernie smiled large. "Care to test me?"
Jolene followed Patrick back to the truck.
When no one took the challenge Bernie backed cautiously to the truck.
"Jump in," Patrick said quietly while he placed the chest carefully in the back of the truck. Bernie jumped into the bed of the truck perching himself on the edge and keenly watching the people standing around Aunt Paula's porch while rubbing his left thigh as if he was in pain. Travis was cussing and then turned to yell at Aunt Paula.
Jolene got in next to her dogs who licked her and pumped their long tails with elation. Jolene hugged their long narrow heads. "Don't worry pups, this is a new life for us. Everything is going to be different now. We are all going home."
Chapter 5
Abraham Lincoln was born February 12, 1809, the second child of Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Lincoln (née Hanks), in a one-room log cabin on the Sinking Spring Farm in Hardin County, Kentucky,(now LaRue County). Lincoln's paternal grandfather and namesake, Abraham, had moved his family from Virginia to Jefferson County, Kentucky where he was ambushed and killed in an Indian raid in 1786, with his children, including Lincoln's father Thomas, looking on. Thomas was left to make his own way on the frontier.
Lincoln's mother, Nancy, was the daughter of Lucy Hanks, and was born in what is now Mineral County, West Virginia, then part of Virginia. Lucy moved with Nancy to Kentucky. Nancy Hanks married Thomas, who became a respected citizen. He bought and sold several farms, including Knob Creek Farm. The family attended a Separate Baptists church, which had high moral standards and opposed alcohol, dancing, and slavery. Thomas enjoyed considerable status in Kentucky—where he sat on juries, appraised estates, served on country slave patrols, and guarded prisoners. By the time his son Abraham was born, Thomas owned two 600-acre (240 ha) farms, several town lots, livestock, and horses. He was among the richest men in the county. However, in 1816, Thomas lost all of his land in court cases because of faulty property titles. Wikipedia - July 23, 2012.
Jolene opened the hen house door and watched the squawking Rhode Island Red hens run flapping out to the grass as if they were chased from the pen by a dozen fox. Foghorn the rooster who had been waiting for the hens' release since the crack of dawn, immediately went to work on courting and chasing the hens down. He pretended to find a worm. He danced and clucked to bring a hen over for his imaginary present then jumped her bare back when she got close enough to investigate.
Now Jolene knew why their back and head feathers were missing.
True to his word, Patrick had moved her into her old family home. The house had been kept almost the same as it was the day Jolene last saw it. Some furniture that Aunt Paula sold was missing, but Patrick had taken her to the big furniture store on New Circle and got new mattresses, a sofa and a new kitchen table.
From there they had completed her home with bedding and towels for the kitchen and bathrooms.
Jolene, in turn, immediately started working at the barn helping to take care of the horses. She took care of Storm since Bernie had such problems with him.
"Hey, that is my job!" A tiny girl with light brown hair in pigtails, pink flowered rubber boots and a printed cotton dress with bright orange tights ran from the creek toward Jolene. A taller girl with chestnut colored hair and big brown eyes trailed the little girl wearing a long purple plaid shirt and jeans with her own tall purple rubber boots. "Who are you?"
They stopped and stared up at Jolene. "My name is Jolene. And what are your names?"
The
taller girl poked her chest, grinned and pushed back a lock of her thick shiny hair over her shoulder. "I am Bea and this is my sister Lacy."
The little girl jumped up and down. "Her name is really Beatrix, but we call her Bea."
Bea crouched down to pet one of the hens. "Why did you let them out before we got here?"
Jolene bent down also. "They are usually out when I come outside but they were not today. I felt sorry for them because they were calling to me as I walked by."
The smaller girl grinned, revealing missing front teeth. "That's because we always let them out, but we were late because Bea stayed up too late reading last night and slept in."
The taller girl scowled down at the little one. "It is your fault Lacy, because you had a tummy ache and couldn't sleep…besides you were reading too and you got us both into trouble with your big mouth!"
"I don't have a big mouth! It is smaller than yours!" Lacy turned on her booted foot popping her nose in the air and stomped away to chase the chickens. "You are the one with the big flashlight that you didn't turn off in time afor mamma got to the door."
Losing interest in the argument Bea went to investigate a loose hinge on the hen house door. "Did you feed them yet?"
Jolene had not gotten that far yet. "Well, actually no."
"How about collecting the eggs, did you do that part?"
Jolene peered through the henhouse door. "Um, no."
Bea pulled a small screwdriver out of a leather pack hitched around her waist and tightened a screw into the hinge. "The chicken feed is in the garden shed over there."
Lacy gave up chasing the hens and started running toward the little yellow wooden shed. It was painted with flowers on the shudders just like the chicken house. "I'll get the food!"
Jolene had noticed the cute shed and wondered about its origins. It, nor the chicken house, were there when she lived on the farm. The chicken house her father had built had been destroyed in the storm along with the barn. "Did you paint the house?"
Once Upon a Misty Bluegrass Hill Page 5
