Gene's Story or How I Gained a Cousin Chapter 8

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Gene's Story
or How I Gained a Cousin

A novel by Karen Lockhart


Copyright 2016
 



It's funny how things happen to change your life and the way you look at things



CHAPTER 8

We quickly drove through Vinnin Square to Route 107, through Peabody to Route 1 North, only stopping at a 'Dunkin Donuts' for a medium black for me and an iced regular for Ginny.

As the early fall foliage sped by our windows, Ginny remarked, ”It's really beautiful up here isn't it? I rarely had a chance to appreciate the scenery when I was driving the truck, too busy avoiding cars.”

“I couldn't live anywhere else. It's in my blood,” I remarked. “My whole family have always lived north of Boston on the Coast.”

We soon arrived at the stables, turned in, and parked facing the barn. “Ready for this?” I teased Ginny, “Hope you're not scared of horses.”

With that, I hopped out and walked to the door of the tack room, with Ginny right on my tail.

“I was worried you wouldn't make it today,” teased my riding instructor. “I was all set to go home early and watch the football game.”

I chuckled, “You have it recorded as usual, don't you? Oh, this my cousin, Virginia, she's going to be staying with me for a while. Ginny, this is Cathy Taurisi, my instructor.”

With that, I checked what horse I was assigned, and grabbed my saddle and her bridle from the rack of bridles, no two the same.

Ginny looked a little bewildered, and hung back.

“Go ahead into the barn, but watch where you step.” said Cathy with a grin, “Land mines.”

I had forgotten to mention to Ginny that when a horse feels the urge, they fertilize where ever they are. In the barn, we grab a shovel and pick it up quickly, tossing it into a large manure basket that gets emptied daily. Outdoors, we leave it alone, it quickly breaks down and makes the grass greener.

I was used to the natural aromas present in a stable, but not Ginny. She parked herself near the open door, gasping for clean air. To bad, she'll get used to it soon enough.
I went into Val's stall, snapped a lead on to her halter, and walked her into the aisle.

You should have seen the size of Ginny's eyes when that 1200 pound, 16 hand animal(a hand=4”) stood not five feet from her. Priceless! I got down to business, quickly removing her stall sheet, and picking up a brush. “Ginny, want to brush her?”

“Are you insane?” she shrieked, retreating further into the corner. “That thing's going to kill me.”

At this point Val snorted, probably in disgust, causing Ginny to be sprayed with a fine mist. That did it for Ginny, she scooted back into the tack room and closed the door.

I was finished with my brushing, and put the saddle and pad on her back, and tightening the girth. Picking up her bridle, I slipped of the halter, placed the bit in her mouth, and tightened the throat latch. Grabbing the reins I headed for the indoor arena.

“Where's your cousin?” asked Cathy.

“Hiding in the tack room, terrified,” I chortled “She's fine.”

The lesson went like clock-work, the horse and I worked like one, making Cathy thrilled.

“Keep this up and you are going showing next season. And not at starter shows.”

I don't know who was happier, me or Cathy. I brushed, blanketed and put Val away. Then called out to Ginny. “It's safe now, you can come out.”

Sheepishly, Ginny walked out into the aisle, “You're not scared of them? Not even a little?”

Cathy laughed at that, “Horses are like big kids, most love people, and the attention they get from us.”

I reached into my jacket pocket and grabbed a peppermint. “Here Ginny, give Val a treat.”

I showed her the way to hold the round mint, and Val took it gently off Ginny's hand with her rubbery lips. Ginny was amazed. “I hardly felt that.”

Thanking Cathy, Ginny and I got back in the SUV and headed home. “If we hurry, we'll catch the second half of the game, let's eat lunch at home.”

Thirty minutes later we pulled into my driveway.

After the game, Ginny brought up tomorrow, beating me to it.

“We need a plan,” she said, “How will we handle it if the owner shows up?”

“Yours or mine?” I teased, “Mine, I'll tell him you need a job and offered to help around the office. I can get him to hire you paying under the table. You know, no taxes, no unemployment, nothing.”

Ginny was uneasy with this.

“Ginny, you have no ID, and no Social Security card, unless you want to use Gene's.”

“I forgot,” she said.

“Look Ginny, I'll tell my boss you're collecting Unemployment, and just want to add to it because it's not very much. I've thought of this all last night; this will work, at least for a while. Don't worry.

“Tuesday we should get those breast forms, then it will be almost impossible to detect you are wearing falsies. Now, lets hit the hay, 4.30 comes around quickly.”

To be continued

Many thanks to Bronwen for fixing typos and punctuation

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Comments

I'm Not A Rider

joannebarbarella's picture

But I've been an owner, and those big lunks are big kids. They love a bit of carrot or apple.

Love horses. Got thrown off

Love horses. Got thrown off one, one time, when I eight and riding behind my Dad, but not by the horse.
Rather it was my Dad doing it as the horse was heading straight into a 6 strand barbed wire fence and trying to tear us off its back.
These types are known as a "fencer" at least in the area of Montana where this took place.
Just means they like to try and wipe the rider off by use of a fence, or a tree or what ever they can use to do so. Can really hurt you if they succeed.
The horse belonged to one of my Dad's brothers, and he had had many problems with the animal; to the point that the Vet he used strongly recommended the horse be put down before he hurt someone badly.
Very sad to later learn that it was my Uncle who got hurt and he did indeed have the horse put down.
99% of horses are, as mentioned, wonderful and easy to get along with as long as you respect them and their size at all times.
My all time favorite was an American White.
Sadly due to getting severe bouts of Vertigo, unannounced at times, I can no longer ride.

You have to

Renee_Heart2's picture

Have respect for horses but if your careful & gentle but firm with them they will learn what you want them to do & respect you back. (So I understand).

Now to Genny's problem.. being transgendered is one thing but being transgendered AND on the lam from the mob... HUGE problem how to get the treatment she needs without the mob finding out OR the Boston police (which the mob runs) it's going to get even more intresting then it already is.

Love Samantha Renee Heart