California Schemin' - Kate George [15]
A sea of dogs jumped on the car as we drove into the farm at Windstorm Valley. It was a big rambling farmhouse, painted white with black shutters. Meg’s dogs, my dogs, and Beau’s Chihuahua surged around us on the porch, Beans jumping higher and squeaking as loud as he could to make himself noticed in the pack.
Beau wasn’t really a Chihuahua kind of guy. Jim had attempted to bribe me with Beans, but being high-minded and damn smart, I refused him. Beau took the baby in because he knew I hated to see the puppy go back to the breeder. In a way, Beans was mine, too, although I never once said it out loud. The minute I did that Beans would be living with me full time.
I ate lunch with Meg’s family and then loaded the dogs in the car and headed up the hill towards home. It was difficult driving. My dogs had missed me and were taking turns trying to slide under the steering wheel into my lap. I compromised by driving with my left hand and rubbing ears with my right. When I unloaded them they were so overjoyed by the smells of home that they left me completely alone.
My house is smaller than Meg's and has more than the normal number of windows. I’d inherited the farm from my Grandmother. The little money I had inherited with it I put into windows and insulation so that the house was warm and full of light. It was painted the same yellow it had been when my Gram had lived there, with lots of charcoal grey shutters that I’d added with the windows.
I stepped up onto the porch, through the glass paned door into the kitchen and was overwhelmed by the smell of cat litter. Jeremy was supposed to be taking care of Annabelle, but apparently he hadn’t taken his responsibilities too seriously. Granted, there was lots of food and water, but the state of the cat box was dismal. I dumped the contents of the box into a trash bag and took both the bag and the box outside. The dirty litter I happily dumped into the trash. The box I took over to the barn and rinsed it out in the big porcelain sink in the tack room. The sink drained via hose onto the ground at the rear of the barn, so I didn’t have to worry about the litter clogging the septic. The thing smelled much better after a good cleaning, and I let it drip in the sink while I went to see my elderly pony.
Lucky turned his back the minute he saw me.
“Hey, buddy. I’m home.”
I slid back the bolt and pushed open the door to his stall. He stood stubbornly with his head in the corner pretending to ignore me. I walked up to his rump and put a hand out to scratch above his tail, a tactic that had always worked in the past. A rear hoof whizzed past my leg, barely missing my knee. I grinned. I knew if he’d wanted to connect, he would have.
“Okay, I get it. You don’t like it when I go away.” I spoke quietly, working my fingers up his spine through his shaggy winter coat. “But I’m back now, and I’m sure Max took good care of you while I was gone.” I went on talking nonsense and assuring him there was no better pony in the world until he relented and turned his head to me, resting his muzzle in my palm. I scratched between his eyes and around his ears. He puffed through his nose, giving me what I’d always thought of as a pony kiss, before I threw him some hay and went to check on the other animals.
All seemed right with the world in the barn. I closed up and took the cat box back to the house. I refilled the litter and went in search of Annabelle. I gave up when she didn’t come to her name. She’d come out when she figured I’d been adequately punished, but I kept an eye out for her as I climbed the stairs, thinking I could coax her out if I knew where she was.
The smell hit me half way down the hall to my room. Normally my room was my favorite spot in the house. It was filled with light and little else besides the bed and dresser. I looked through the open