Shama:
The three of us (plus Frey, of course,) enjoyed our time together. After the pancake feeding, we played a couple of games of hide and seek and a sort of musical chairs in which the “chair” was lost if the winner couldn’t do the addition problem. Of course, little Carlo got problems adding ones and Francis received higher sums. But it was all in fun, and anytime Carlo looked stumped, Francis helped his brother out, then gave up the chair, saying he’d spoken out of turn. Honestly, the way the brothers treated each other was something to watch. It really offered hope for the future.
Frey got in the way during some of our play, but the boys were confident enough to order him away (nicely) or push his head side-ways. Frey knew what that meant. But the stallion was usually more intent on what I was doing than what the boys were doing.
And then there was the kitten, Willow, who was growing sleek and beautiful rather than cute and cuddly. She and Frey were great friends, so Willow, who often liked to spring out from behind a semi-hidden object so she could startle someone (often me,) was most often located on Frey’s broad back.
The boys and I were just about to go inside for what we called “school time” when Martha came outside. She made her way over to the picnic table and sat down gingerly.
“You know what?” Martha said, as we all watched the wiggle and give in the decrepit, old bench as she sat down. The picnic table of late had started giving off squeaks and groans, as if it were complaining of achy joints. I guess that might have been funny if it weren’t so worrisome that it would collapse one day.
Martha had our attention. The boys stopped chasing each other and came to stand beside her. I paused my rubbing of Frey’s forehead so I could listen better.
“A few weeks back, I ordered us a brand new picnic table,” Martha continued. “One of the teenagers who does odd jobs for Mr. Beanie brought me a note saying that Herbie would be delivering the new table in his wagon this afternoon. What do you think about that?”
The boys started jumping up and down. I just smiled. That would be one less worry. Plus we could do school lessons on a new table, a reliable one.
“Herbie is bringing a load of hay and some grain and carrots, too,” Martha added.
“But I didn’t order any,” I said, puzzling over the order. “Frey still has some hay left. The grain is running low, and Frey finished the last of the carrots last Thursday. But . . .”
“Your fiancé ordered it and paid for it,” Martha said, giving me one of her looks that said I was missing the boat ignoring such a fine catch of a man.
I shook my head, not at all pleased by Frank’s interference. I absolutely refused to be rushed into any decision about out relationship. I was still unsure about Frank’s reliability. It had only been a couple of weeks since the man had believed that I might be a horse thief. That would take a lot of forgiving.