Taking the Reins

by Carolyn McSparren

  “See, she didn’t bite you.” Charlie said. “Try again. She’d be happy to stand here and let you feed her sugar cubes all day.”

  Mary Anne hunched her shoulders. This time she stretched her hand out without Charlie’s grip on her wrist, but she still pulled away the instant Annie vacuumed up the cube.

  Sean gave Charlie a thumbs-up sign. “We’ll work on her,” he said.

  Charlie left them to it and went across to the house. She heard Sarah talking to Vittorio in the kitchen, took the stairs two at a time and threw herself on her bed. Today, Jake had revealed he still reacted like a soldier. No thought, no decision. Action. What if it happened again? How could she head him off? She was glad Sarah hadn’t been there.

  In the meantime...she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a familiar number.

  Time to find a pony and cart for Mary Anne.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LUNCH WENT MUCH smoother than yesterday. Jake selected a sandwich and put his own mustard and mayo on the dark rye without asking Sean first.

  “Jake, come join us at the table,” Charlie said.

  “No, thank you,” he said, and went outside to eat in the glider on the patio.

  “Let him be, Charlie,” Sean said. “I’m working on him. You fight him every meal, he’ll starve and we’ll all have ulcers.”

  Or pitch a fit. She’d tackle him alone later.

  Outside Jake must have attacked the sandwich ravenously, because he quickly reappeared and chose another from the platter. He brought his dishes in and stacked them on the trolley, then sat by the window and stared out over the back pasture.

  “Okay, break time,” Charlie said. “Go take a siesta or read a book where it’s cool. I’ll see you at three.”

  She was dragging, and she was used to the work. Everyone else must be exhausted. She barely made it upstairs to her room before she collapsed on her bed.

  This afternoon, however, she couldn’t turn her mind off. She hadn’t expected to react physically when she felt Jake against her. Steve hadn’t been dead a year yet, though their marriage had been dead much longer.

  Until this morning, Jake had seemed so gentle, so calm.

  He could have done much more damage to that big jerk. She knew from her years growing up among soldiers and being married to a soldier that their reactions had to be completely automatic to be effective. They were trained to kill.

  Few of them were natural-born killers, though. Most couldn’t wait to get home to their families.

  Get a bunch of the guys together at the club, and like as not they’d keep everyone in stitches with all the stories about funny things that happened while they were deployed.

  Then you caught the glances between them and realized how much you would never know of what they had endured.

  Most settled back into the real world happy never to have to go to war again. But so many of them were on their fourth or fifth tours in Iraq or Afghanistan. Each time changed them a little more.

  Then there were a few, like Steve, who only felt alive when he was experiencing the excitement, the danger of living on the edge. He’d always been a fear junky. Drag racing on the streets, racing motorcycles. He’d done it all and survived. He’d never taken drugs and, until he came home the last time, seldom drank. Nothing to dull that exhilaration of cheating death one more time.

  Falling for Steve had been the ultimate rebellion against her father after her mother died. Her father had tried to talk her out of marrying him. He might have succeeded eventually, if she hadn’t gotten pregnant with Sarah.

  To Steve’s credit, he’d asked her to marry him the minute she told him about the baby. He adored his child long after he stopped loving his wife.

  What chance did they have to build a successful marriage when he was away from home more often than he was there? A backyard barbecue couldn’t compete with a night patrol.

  Steve had been gone most of two years the last time he came home. He’d expected things to have remained exactly the same as when he left.

  But Sarah had changed. And Charlie, too. Without Steve, she’d been forced to grow up, and found she liked it.

  She’d grown accustomed to making all the decisions, including the ones about automobile maintenance, cleaning the gutters, paying the bills, filing the income tax, unclogging the toilet....

  She replaced the belt on the riding lawn mower and drove it without killing herself or someone else, managed a teaching job, mastered technology that Steve didn’t understand and denigrated because he didn’t. He’d left a young wife who deferred to him for every decision. He came home to a grown woman who handled the logistics of life quite well without him.

  Steve hated that. Pretty soon he hated her.

  She was no longer in awe of him, but she grew afraid of him. He never hit her, but he came close in a couple of his rages. And close to hitting Sarah.

  Even Sarah got to the point where she avoided him.

  At the end, he hadn’t even tried to make the marriage work. He told her to divorce him, because he was volunteering to go back in-country ASAP. Being a garrison soldier was a bore and so was she.

  Two months later he was dead.

  And she was left to grieve the man she married. She didn’t even know the man who died.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHARLIE WAS SURPRISED to find Sarah and Mary Anne sitting on the worn leather couch in the common room. Sarah was sucking down some kind of purple smoothie. Mary Anne was finishing a diet soda. Sarah gave her a glance when Charlie went to get herself one from the small kitchen but spoke to Mary Anne, not to her mother.

  “Does your face still hurt, Mary Anne?”

  Charlie cringed. “Sarah!”

  “It’s okay, Charlie,” Mary Anne said over her shoulder. “No more freak-outs. Besides, she wants information, right, Sarah?”

  Sarah gave her mother a look that said, See?

  Mary Anne turned to Sarah. “The colonel says I should talk about it, distance it. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Right after it happened, they kept me doped up, but they couldn’t keep doing that forever without turning me into a drug addict. Skin grafts are the worst. They have to break up the scar tissue with healthy skin or it’ll get so tight I won’t be able to flex my arm.”

  Sarah’s eyes grew wide.

  Mary Anne shook her head. “You do not want to know the details. It’s really going to be fun when they sew on my new ear in a couple of months.”

  “Ew,” Sarah said. “I’d be scared stiff.”

  Mary Anne went to the refrigerator and came back with another can of diet soda. “I needed a break. That’s why I lied to everybody about how much I like horses.”

  She curled up on the sofa alongside Sarah again, popped the top and took a hefty swallow. “Can’t believe I’m still thirsty. It’s a whole lot hotter in the desert. I’m actually a truck mechanic. Diesel engines don’t bite.”

  Charlie thought, No, they explode and burn you alive.

  Mary Anne laughed when she saw the surprise in Sarah’s eyes. “You don’t have to be that big to handle an impact wrench, and I can climb into places under the hood that the moose-size guys can’t reach.”

  “You can actually do stuff like that?”

  “Show me a truck or a tractor that needs fixing, give me the tools, and I’ll lay you odds I can fix it.” Her face clouded. “Or I could when I had two good arms.”

  Charlie stood at the kitchen counter and watched the two sitting side by side on the scratched leather sofa. There couldn’t be that much difference in their ages, and Sarah was already five inches taller than Mary Anne.

  She’d be eighteen in four short years. Eligible to enlist without anyone’s permission. Her baby! Charlie shuddered. Please God, she’d go to college. Ple
ase God, there wouldn’t be any wars after she graduated.

  Please God, she’d never see her child wounded. So much worse than being in pain herself.

  “Did you get bombed?” Sarah asked.

  “You could say that,” Mary Anne said. She stared out the window. Her right arm lay along the back of the sofa, and Charlie saw her scarred fingers flex.

  She wondered if she should interrupt but couldn’t bring herself to intrude. Instead, she stood quietly behind the kitchen counter, afraid to breathe.

  “I was driving back to base in an APC—that’s an Armored Personnel Carrier. It had busted a belt, and I’d gone out to change it and volunteered to ride back with the driver in case it didn’t hold.”

  “First rule,” Sarah said. “Never volunteer. My daddy taught me that.”

  “Yeah. Your daddy was right. We triggered a roadside bomb. I got blown out the right side. You go deaf, you know? I just had the breath knocked out of me, but the truck was listing to the right and smoking. The driver was stuck.”

  “Was he a friend of yours?” Sarah asked.

  Mary Anne shook her head. “Never met him. I thought I had time to get him out before the cab caught or the gas tank blew, so I ran around the rear end and managed to pull his door open. I didn’t even know I was hurt. All that adrenaline, you know?”

  “Did you get him out?” Sarah whispered.

  Mary Anne looked into the distance. “Yeah, I actually did. He lost a leg, but his face is okay. Sometimes I’d be willing to swap.”

  “Can they fix you?”

  “Most of me. Eventually. My new ear will probably look like they stole it from a goat.”

  “What are you gonna do in the meantime?”

  Mary Anne shrugged. “Unless I’m among friends like now, long sleeves and scarves. What else?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Uh-uh. When we were stationed in Tacoma a couple of years ago, my BFF Keira got alopecia. You know what that is?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “It’s genetic. Her sister has it, too. You lose all your hair—I mean all. Eyebrows, eyelashes, even the down on her arms.”

  “Must have been tough for a teenager.”

  “At first, she covered up and hid out. But she had to go to school, and she was an acolyte at the Episcopal Church. Her mother bought her a couple of cheap wigs that looked like they belonged on a yak. Then she decided to go commando. Came to school bald as a billiard ball. After a couple of hours, nobody even noticed, much less said anything. Like you, today.”

  “Oh, I think people notice me.”

  “The thing is, Keira’s learned to do a super job with makeup, and her mother finally bought her two really nice real hair wigs she wears for church and parties and stuff.”

  “Not exactly like my case.”

  “Sure it is,” Sarah said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean, like I could help you.” Sarah swung around and pulled her legs up under her so that she was kneeling on the sofa.

  This was the first time Charlie had seen Sarah enthusiastic since she’d told her they were moving down to Tennessee. Sarah wanted to help someone else. If she hadn’t been afraid to break the spell, Charlie would have hugged her.

  “I’m really good with makeup, and you could get a nice wig that curls around your face.”

  “It’s a great idea, but good wigs cost a fortune.”

  “I’ll bet the army would pay. I can check the net for bargains.”

  “Slow down, honey,” Charlie said. The light went out of Sarah’s eyes when she looked at her mother. “It’s up to Mary Anne.”

  “I was just trying to help.” Sarah flung herself off the sofa and started for the door.

  “Sarah, I know you want to help....” More guilt. You, too, can rain on your daughter’s parade.

  “Yeah, Sarah, come on back,” Mary Anne said. “She’s not pushing me, Charlie. Let me think about it.”

  “Great!” Sarah said. “How about you come up to my room after dinner and we can fool around with some stuff.” She wrinkled her nose at her mother in a “so there” expression.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “My room’s kind of a mess, but I’ve stashed plenty of samples from the mall in Kansas, and I’ll bet I can find great stuff on the net. See you after dinner.” She ran out and let the door slam behind her.

  She actually sounded happy!

  But Charlie felt she had to offer Mary Anne an out. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “I want to. Could a wig work? Without looking phony? Maybe I should just shave my head.” She chuckled. “Go commando like Sarah’s friend.”

  “If you’re serious, we can drive the truck into town tomorrow afternoon and try on a couple.” Charlie grinned. “Preferably not made to fit a yak. And I’ll ask the colonel if the army will pay. If not, we’ll work something out.”

  “I don’t want to take you away from the rest of the class,” Mary Anne said.

  “Are you nuts? We’re talking actual shopping here.”

  * * *

  LATE IN THE afternoon the temperature hadn’t gone down much, but the sun was no longer scalding.

  “Okay, people, time for your first carriage ride,” Charlie said. “Come on, Sean, Jake. You two can bring out the marathon carriage. Mickey, you can go with them and check out the disabled carriage.” She led the three men through the exit at the far end of the barn and into another building that looked like a warehouse. “This is our carriage storage area. Back there is the shed where we keep the tractors and the farm equipment.” She pulled the wide doors open and tripped the light switch. “Voilà.”

  “Ah, right!” Mickey said.

  “That one on the left is set up for your wheelchair,” she said. “We roll it up the ramp, lock it down to the floor of the carriage, raise the ramp, and you’re good to go.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t do it alone,” he said.

  “That, Mickey, me bucko, is what grooms are for. Right, Charlie?” Sean said.

  “Until Maurice and DeMarcus get back, that means the rest of you. Now, here’s the carriage we’re going to use most of the time. It can be driven single or to a pair, but you’ll be limited to a single horse for a while.”

  Jake had wandered down to the far end.

  “Hey, earth to Jake. We need you to pull one of the shafts,” Charlie said.

  “When can we drive the victoria?” he asked.

  Charlie turned on the overhead fluorescent lights.

  “Hey, man, that’s a beast!” Mickey said, and powered off down the aisle. At the far end sat an elegant carriage that looked as though it had been transported from the mid-nineteenth century. It was painted black with yellow striping on the tires and had bright yellow leather seats facing each other. The tall box where the driver sat was edged with gold bullion fringe, as was the canopy that could be raised in a rainstorm to cover the passengers.

  “It’s actually a vis-à-vis,” Charlie said. “The passengers sit facing one another while the coachman drives high up in front.” She pointed to another carriage, this one painted bright red. “That’s a victoria.”

  “Where’s the pumpkin coach for Cinderella?” Mickey asked.

  “We don’t have one,” Charlie said. “I think they’re tacky.”

  “Aw, where’s the romance in your soul?” he asked with a big grin.

  “Try dragging one of those things into a big horse van to transport to a wedding, and then talk to me about romance.”

  “I’m excused from the dragging part,” Mickey said. “No can do, remember?”

  “Yet,” Jake said. He’d been staring so quietly at the vis-à-vis that the others had supposed he wasn’t listening.

  “Huh?” Mickey aske
d.

  Jake turned. Charlie had been expecting a sweet smile. Instead, he gave Mickey a stern look as he came toward them. “I said, you are not walking yet.”

  “Heck, yeah, I’m walking, if you count three steps and then fall on my face.”

  “You will be,” Jake said, and grabbed the end of one of the shafts on the carriage.

  Sean raised an eyebrow at Charlie and grabbed the other shaft. “Comin’ through. Out of the way, kid.”

  Charlie spent an hour instructing her students on the way to put the harness on the Percheron. It was heavy and complicated from the big horse collar to the steel hames, to the bridle, back to the crupper that buckled under his tail.

  “Make sure you keep the tail hairs out of the crupper,” Charlie continued. “It’s like having your own hair pulled. Horses don’t like it and can kick the stew out of you. Sean and Jake, raise the shafts high over the horse’s when you bring the carriage up. Horses take exception to being poked in the butt by the ends of carriage shafts.”

  “How come he’s got those flat leather pieces that stick out beside his eyes?” Mickey asked.

  “They’re blinders,” Jake said. “The horses don’t like seeing the carriage behind them. They can feel it’s there, but if they can see it, some of them react as though it’s chasing them and try to get away from it.”

  “And you know this how?” Hank said with narrowed eyes.

  “I read a lot.”

  “Jake has driven before,” Charlie said. “But not for a long time, right, Jake?”

  “Do I have to get up there?” Mary Anne asked Charlie, pointing to the tall seats in the front. She was leaning against Sean, who had dropped a protective arm across her shoulders.

  “I’ll be in front in the driver’s seat,” Charlie said. “The really high one on the right. Hank will sit beside me for the first drive, then you can swap places. The rear seats are for the navigator and groom. You can step up on that low step, slide in, sit down and hang on to the metal struts. When we stop, Sean or Jake will help you down. I promise I’ll put you down before we trot. You and Mickey can watch us.”