Page 10 of Hearts Etched in Glass (The Afton Adders #2)
Born to Be Wild, Steppenwolf
After the meeting I head to the stables. The stress immediately melts away as I change into my jeans, stable boots and white T-shirt that is riddled with holes. Over the past few months, I’ve decided to try and become a cowboy in my spare time.
To be honest, I should have done this sooner.
Especially when I thought Tilly had passed.
Maybe I wouldn’t be such a mess of a human.
I help Roger shovel horse shit and the other chores pertaining to the barn, then he helps me ride.
I’ve nearly been able to get my horse perfectly around a barrel, but he still needs some more coercing, for he is as stubborn as his rider.
Snatch is an Arabian that raced for us, and had won numerous events in his career, but when he was done with his life of racing, he sure as hell let us know.
He gave his non-verbal resignation letter by stopping mid-race and staring at the crowd in the stands.
His big brown eyes were full of murderous intent and I swear if he had fingers he would have flipped the middle one to everyone in the stands that day.
My mother wanted the horse to be put down, but luckily Everett told her to “get fucked.” Granted I’m the one laughing, since the horse is alive, training with me and she was put in the ground by my hands.
Well, by the adders I collectively placed in her luggage.
She was such a fucking cunt.
I spy Snatch’s long, black main and shiny onyx coat gleaming in the sunlight of the round corral as he comes trotting towards me.
His long, handsome face leans over the railing, sniffing my arms and neck to give me a quick greeting and search for any snacks.
I usually bring the spoiled bastard carrots or apples, but today I’ve brought sugar cubes.
I’ll be damned if today isn’t the day I get him round a barrel, then soon enough we will be racing around several barrels and kicking up dust.
“Hold on, you impatient bastard. I got them in my pocket.” As I pull out the small cubes, he gives me a whinny and stomps his front hoof.
Thank God this creature doesn’t talk because I believe he would be cursing me out, if not everyone he meets, like some cretin.
I’m surprised Baba hasn’t taken it upon herself to make him her familiar.
There is the sound of footsteps on the gravel near me, and I turn to find Roger.
He is a teenager that works with us. The bloke has been through hell and back, especially defending this farm after a rival gang tried to light everything on fire.
We had dubbed him a part of the Adder family and he even changed his last name to ours.
When I peer down to see the burned A on his forearm, a sense of pride washes over me.
He has his usual midnight combat boots on, a white shirt and black trousers with braces.
“How ya doing Rog?” I turn to give him a half-hug with one arm, as Snatch continues to lick my palm.
“I’m great, yourself? You take a look at the Bible I gave you?” Ever since Baba remarked that I needed a religion, I decided to inquire around town. Turns out there are more religions than I realized and some are pretty overwhelming.
The bookshop owners, John and Chala, practice Hinduism.
Which is a very interesting religion, full of life and many deities.
But much like the Norse mythology Baba follows, I can’t remember all those names.
Watch my dumb ass piss off a God and then get struck by lightning, syphilis, or my penis falls off.
I just can’t take that chance. My track record of pissing people off, let alone a deity, wouldn’t look too great.
Marcus’s mother owns the jewelry shop where I got Tilly’s engagement rings. She is catholic, but when I approached them about the religion they didn’t take me seriously.
When Roger heard about my attempts to research a religion, he came running up to me with a Bible in hand when I was visiting the stables. He was overjoyed that I would listen and learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ, and tried to dictate small Bible verses he thought I would enjoy.
A great example of the two I adore are Romans 12:19: Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.
Then , Joshua 1:9: Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
Granted, I hope to God he wasn’t with us the night Marcus, Tilly and I fooled around. Well, if he was, then he must not be that disappointed, for we’d probably be turned to stone. Or is it a burning bush? I forgot.
“I have thoroughly enjoyed reading about the different personalities of God. Hopefully, I don’t end up on his naughty list, since I’m such a sinner.” I smile at Roger, clapping my hand on his shoulder.
“Nah boss. God forgives; that’s why Jesus died. To save us from our sins. Ms. Tilly is kind of like Jesus. She rose from the dead, maybe longer than three days, but she is kind, giving, heals people at the hospital.” I stop him, snaking my hand from his shoulder and up to cup over his mouth.
“My dear boy please stop, for I do not want to picture Jesus every time I snog my fiancé. Please, I beg of you,” I state dramatically and Roger laughs underneath my palm, nodding his head. Then I remove my hand and go back to Snatch, rubbing his jaw.
“Ready to try again with the barrel? I got it set up.” Roger enters the corral and I see Snatch immediately gravitate to the young man.
Snatch had a hard time when he first came to the stables, leaving a nice scar on Roger and Biscuit’s bodies, but as time has passed, he has grown to love and protect Roger.
Hell, he would bite me anytime I stood too close to Roger, and neigh in my direction.
I enter the corral and begin to saddle Snatch.
He stands tall, his sinewy muscles making him look tough and formidable.
Clutching the leather reins, I caress his neck and give him a briefing on what I’d like to do within the corral.
I do this every time in the hope that one day Snatch will listen, but Roger just shakes his head in disbelief at my antics.
We begin galloping around the circle with warm up laps.
My thighs tense as I stay upright in the saddle, maintaining my balance.
As we gain speed, I get ready to pull the reins, urging Snatch to turn abruptly and possibly round the barrel, but instead he slows down and makes a wide turn.
I try another circle around the corral and instead of encircling anything, he runs forward towards the metal gate.
Then Snatch decides to not listen at all and begins serpentine motions in the corral.
Which would work great if he would do that in short, fast loops around a barrel, rather than mocking me.
I try several more times until I’m out of breath, then kick my heels at his sides forcing him to stop.
I abruptly jump off Snatch and stand beside him.
I grab his long snout and look him in the eye.
“Look, can we just round one bloody barrel. Once. That is all. So, I may feel like a cowboy for two seconds? I will give you these.” I pull out more sugar cubes in my pocket, and Snatch stomps and nods his head.
Alright, I think he agrees .
Mounting the saddle, we begin a running pace.
We’re gaining momentum, each pound of his hooves matching the beat of my heart when we make another circle.
I clutch the reins, readying to make the turn around the barrel as I hear Roger shouting and cheering behind us.
The anticipation is soaring in my veins.
We are going to do it !
The barrel is in view.
Finally, after so many moments practicing, the time has come.
It feels like I take flight for a moment as my body jolts forward, leaving the saddle.
Snatch has stopped abruptly, mid-run, launching me off his back and into the turned-up ground we’ve been riding in.
Everything is dark as my face is stuck in the sticky mud.
I can feel the loose ground within my palms as my hands are outstretched from the fall.
My knees are planted in the dirt as my rear-end is sky high.
I hear a bellow of laughter from two people outside the corral, and I can feel Snatch trot over to my side.
The bastard launched me so hard that the sugar cubes left my pocket and he is now at my side, snacking on them.
“Wanker,” I curse at the horse as I lift my shirt to wipe my face. Looking over to where the laughing individuals are, I spy Kenneth beside Roger.
“You feel like a cowboy yet?” Shaking my head at his words, I fling some mud in his direction, hoping it gets on his pompous suit. I wish Everett were here to scold him for wearing a suit and Oxfords to the stables, much like he used to do with me.
“I want to see you try that shit. Harder than it fucking looks, especially with this jackass.” I motion my thumb towards Snatch, and he comes up to nibble on my hair .
“Oi!” I shout at him, shooing him away with my arms. He probably didn’t like being called a jackass since he is an articulate, posh Arabian horse.
“At least you don’t have that blasted, dry, duck dick around your neck.” Kenneth remarks, crossing his arms over his chest.
Rolling my eyes at Kenneth I shout back, “It is a bloody bolo tie! You imbecile.”
“Either way, it makes you look like a bellend.” He retorts, as Roger nearly falls off the gate, laughing.
Trudging towards them I rest my arms up on the metal gate.
“We have to go out of town. Meeting with Brielle’s family to run some of the vehicle parts and weapons,” Kenneth explains, staring down at me, waiting for a protest.
“I’ve got to start taking things seriously, right? Everett wants us united.” His expression changes from an anticipating asshole to a slightly surprised shit head.