As Scott exited the hotel lobby, the tense muscles in his jaw were joined by those in his neck. Turning left toward the livery stable, the tightness in his jaw and neck requested the presence of his shoulders. With his destination in view, the tension extended its invitation to his spine. By the time he entered the stable, Scott’s posture would have earned high praise from the most critical military general. Spotting their two wagon horses, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d mentally wagered a month’s pay that one of them would be missing.
“Need help?” Scott’s abrupt about-face in response to the unexpected voice startled the source. “Whoa! Didn’t mean to spook ya , young fella. What can I do ya fer?”
Standing before Scott was an older gentleman with a jack-o-lantern smile. “Well…” His eyes darting about - he wasn’t certain where to start. “I was hoping to find my cousin here but it appears I missed her.”
“A little lady was here earlier. No taller than a spit in a bucket. Funny first name…let me think...”
“Kinsey.”
“Yep. That’s it. KIN-seeee. She talked a little funny too.” The older man lowered his voice. “I don’t think she’s from around these parts.”
In spite of his mood, playfulness prevailed. Cautiously glancing over his shoulder, Scott leaned in to whisper. “ She’s from Australia.” The expression on the livery owner’s face suggested he didn’t know the exact location of Australia but was positive the town wasn’t in California.
“Nice young lady - polite and all. Had on her ridin’ clothes and asked if I had a horse available for the day. Say, you wouldn’t be Scott now, would ya?”
Scott’s grim smile accompanied his nod. “I am indeed Scott.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so! Your cousin left here...oh, I’d say...let’s see...about…”
Scott patiently finished the sentence. “An hour ago.”
“That’s a right good guess! Said she wanted to take a ride down the road...on out a ways...to visit…”
“The Westcott’s.”
“Yep. You done guessed right again! She said you’d be wantin’ to travel out that way too so I got your horse all saddled up and waitin’.” Confused, Scott looked over at their wagon horses still in the stalls. “Not one of those you brought in, young fella. One of mine.” Scott's eyes gradually followed the old man’s gesture to his right to view his designated ride. “Meet Old Blue.”
Scott squinted. “Old Blue? That’s more of a dog’s name.”
“Ain’t got a dog.”
Satisfied with the reasoning, Scott nodded with approval. “Old Blue.”
“Now don’t let his name fool ya. He ain’t ready for the glue factory just yet. He’ll get you where you need to go in a timely fashion. Just not at a full gallop. I told the little lady Old Blue might be more suited for her but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted my more spirited horse.”
“What’s his name? Lightning?”
The owner flashed his picket fence smile. “You’re a darn good guesser, young fella.”
“So I’ve been told.” Sighing, Scott pushed back his hat on his head and placed his hands on his hips. He looked left at the two horses from the ranch. He could saddle one of them and ride like hell trying to catch up with Kinsey. And then do what? ‘Lectures have a limited effect - so does a good bottom warming - that leaves strangulation.’
This same horse would be ridden back to town, hitched up to their wagon and have to make the trip to Lancer. Didn’t seem very fair. It wasn’t the horse’s fault Scott’s cousin was a disobedient little fugitive. His gaze settled on the option to his right - Old Blue. Loyal, devoted, not-ready-for-the-glue-factory, Old Blue. Kinsey evidently embraced the concept of life being a game of chess and now managed to be one move ahead of him this morning...so far. He shook his head, stared at the floor and smiled. ‘Damn.’ His little brother’s words echoed in his thoughts. ‘Boston, she’s like a dog with a bone.’ “She certainly is Johnny.”
“Pardon there, young fella? Didn’t quite catch that.”
Reaching down in his pocket, Scott inquired. “How much do I owe you for the privilege of riding that fine steed of yours today?”
“Nothin’. The young lady paid me for both horses before she left. Said you might not be at your best when comin’ in and askin’ for money could be a bit difficult. Thought that was right kind of her. You must be mighty proud callin’ her your cousin.”
“Well, sir, I can honestly say there’s been more than one occasion her actions have moved me beyond words.”
As he traveled the road that would lead him to the Westcott vineyards and Kinsey, Scott realized he missed Johnny. Some of their best conversations had taken place when they were riding together. He wished his little brother was here now. Johnny’s interesting perspective always shed a new light on situations.
“You a good listener, Blue?” Since they’d be spending the day together why not skip the formalities and use their first names? However, addressing his new friend as “Old” didn’t seem respectful so Scott stuck with just “Blue.”
“Well, I suppose you’re wondering what this is all about. Since I’m a good guesser, I'm guessing you’d be happier back at the stable eating apples. I’ll let you in on a secret - so would I. What’s that? You’re curious to hear the tale? Did anyone ever tell you what curiosity can do?” Scott slowed the horse’s gait. Being in hurry was no longer important. A few miles down the road he continued the story.
“Murdoch. It was him. It all started with my father writing a letter which invited my cousin for a visit and then signing my name to said letter. My cousin is from Melbourne.” Scott thought for a moment and, so there would be no confusion, added, “Australia. I only mention this because she talks a bit funny. When you meet her, try not to stare.”
El Pinal’s vineyard came into view on his right. Scott’s thoughts rested on fireflies, good cigars and the momentary feeling of contentment.
“Now, one would think - what daughter’s parents would permit her to board a steamer and travel thousands of miles with no escort? Ha! Kinsey Rose Furlong’s parents had no problem with it. And right there, Blue, should have been an indication of what would be in store for my fairly organized existence. Murdoch said she’d only be staying a week. Five days. What could possibly happen in five days?” The horse whined. “My words exactly. And let me tell you - the reaming out my father gave me would curl your mane.”
Scott once again admired the beauty of the San Joaquin Valley. The vineyards provided a different view than that of the ranch but still...what would Kinsey say? “She’d say extraordinary.”
“Permit me Blue, if you will, to skip over her near plummet off a cliff, being stuck in the mud and organizing an ostrich race. It was the poker game which eventually brought us here today. My cousin is a little card-shark - a discovery I made after losing a very significant bet. Next thing I know, I’m escorting her across the country to visit her estranged grandfather in Philadelphia whom she had never met. And I find out far too late, the man had no idea we were coming.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “What’s that you say? This makes no sense?” Scott readjusted his backside in the saddle and pulled his hat further down on his brow to block out the sun. “No truer words were spoken by a horse. I commend you, sir.”
Scott noticed the land had changed. ‘No doubt the underdeveloped portions of the Westcott acreage.’ Blue’s sidestep signaled he was waiting for more of the story.
“Well, Fletcher Garrett wasn’t the most likeable of men.” The horse shook his head. “Wasn’t? That’s correct. The man died. Left everything to his granddaughter. An excellent time for me to also mention Fletcher had changed his will a month before he passed. His brother - my grandfather - was no longer executor of his estate - it was now me.” Scott grinned and nodded. “Ah, the plot thickens as the great authors say. Straight from the horse’s mouth, my friend - please forgive the pun.”
An endless lines of grape vines planted in neat rows came into view before the two traveling companions. “Well, let me guess. The Westcott Vineyards.” Blue agreed with a slight hitch in his gait.
“I’m not going to bore you with other details such as Kinsey’s brief incarceration in the Green River jail, her assault on the town’s sheriff and mayor, the skinny-dipping in Martin’s Lake, destroying any kitchen she enters, her tantrums, her statements of convenience, her stubborn grasp on being independent…oh, and let’s not forget during these last few months my younger brother fell in love with her.” Scott sighed. “I watched it happen and did very little to stop it.”
He pulled up on the horse’s reins to stare at a small sign near a lane - Westcott Winery and Vineyards. “Blue, what the hell are we doing here?” The horse offered no response. “Ah, not giving an opinion. Well, the way I see it,” -- Scott turned the horse to travel up the lane. “it’s because I give a damn.”
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