After eating, I asked if Mrs. Penn had been able to get some hay for Frey. She said that Mr. Beanie, who sold food for pets and livestock, had agreed to bring over a few bales later in the evening.
Officer Krugle, meanwhile, was discussing favorite foods with the boys. Both of them shouted out, “Candy.”
I smiled at that and continued conversing with Mrs. Penn. “I found a shed in the backyard that will be great for keeping Frey’s hay and my tack.”
“Officer Krugle.” I rather rudely interrupted his probing about what else the boys liked to eat. I hadn’t meant to. It had just slipped out the moment the thought hit me. “Sorry, but will you be able to bring over my saddle and bridle, or do you need me to go get them?”
“Sure,” he said, which left me confused. He clarified. “I’ll bring your tack. Right now it’s in my house, since I returned the buggy. I’ll be glad to get my couch back.”
I thanked him and returned to Mrs. Penn. “Do you think Mr. Beanie might have some kind of tub for Frey’s water? The one I’m using now is too shallow. In fact, I need to go out and check on him and fill up the basin again.”
Because I’d brought up Frey, the boys wanted to go out and see him. “Yes, but no more riding today.” When I explained that working with horses meant lots of baths, their smiles turned downward.
“We used to only take a bath once a month,” Frances said. “Dad said baths weren’t good for our skin.”
“But Mommy said that wasn’t true,” Carlo piped up. “Dad didn’t like that. He hit Mommy when she said that.”
The little boy’s face paled, remembering that maybe his dad had caused their mother’s death.
“Yeah, we had to be careful. Dad got mad a lot. We couldn’t make noise either,” Frances said, as he stretched out his hand to place it on his brother’s shoulder.
“Okay, let’s go check on Frey,” I said, forestalling any more dark tales. I knew that talking about such things might help the boys in the long run, but for the moment, I thought they’d had enough trauma. We needed to move in positive directions to help them get started with a happier life.
Mrs. Penn, watchful of our discussion, nodded. “Yes, I want to see that beautiful stallion again. He’s really quite magnificent. Where did you get him?”
I paused a moment to tell everyone about Frey’s beginnings, how nobody had wanted an orphan foal, and how I’d raised him, feeding him nightly bottles just like a baby.”
“And then when he grew up and turned out so well, the farmer wanted him back. I couldn’t do that. Frey was my best friend. I had to work for the man for an entire year so that I could keep Frey.”
“But that’s not fair. You did all the work raising the horse,” Frances said.
“Yeah. I thought it was unfair, too, but there’s a lot of unfairnesses in life. You just have to shrug and get on with making the best of it. Besides, I was willing to work hard to make up for having Frey in my life. He makes everything worthwhile.”
I left out the whole law suit thing and how the village had turned against me because of it. The fact that I’d won and the judge and said Mr. Harrington owed me for that year seemed unimportant. Since I’d never seen any of the money awarded me and had needed to flee the village, that was all back in my past now, to be forgotten, so that bitterness didn’t suck out my marrow, as Old Mother used to say.
But justice’s inequity was definitely too much for little boys to process, even though Frances nodded like he got it. Carlo was too busy taking a bite out of the apple he’d been given to feed Frey. Frances had a piece of bread, which wasn’t Frey’s favorite, but he’d happily take most goodies from someone offering him a treat.
I’d crammed a couple of carrot sticks in my pocket. We’d also had leftover asparagus, but I wasn’t sure Frey would eat that when cooked. Carrot sticks were always a sure thing.