I was lucky enough to find a job with a tourist business that gave stagecoach rides through the summer season. I knew how to handle horses, of course, and I suppose my derrière was an additional asset from the driver’s seat — I wasn’t deluded. It was fun, though, and I could dress in the clothes I loved best and in the evenings, I visited Carlos and took care of him. The season was only just beginning and there were long periods when no one wanted to ride. During these times, I drove the coach around town and a bit toward the highway where people speeding by might be lured to stop and give it a try.
It was a late morning and I was returning to town. The coach was empty and the skies were darkening in the distance as they did most afternoons on this side of the mountain. I came upon a Lexus that appeared to be broken down alongside the road. There were a pair of long, male legs extending from beneath it, clad in a pair of what looked to be expensive trousers. As I approached, he was struggling to push out from beneath the car and as he stood, I could tell he was quite tall. I slowed and nodded as he began to flail his arms to catch my attention.
“Trouble?” I asked as I reined in the team and stopped.
“I’ll say. I was hoping for a car to pass by but there isn’t much traffic on this road. I never expected a stagecoach, though,” he said, smiling. There was a rumble from the approaching storm.
“I don’t have my cell with me, but I’ll be glad to give you a lift into town or send someone out when I get in. Lightning scissored the sky and the thunder was immediate, causing us both to start a bit and the horses jumped as well. They wanted to get back to their stables and could not care less whether there was a disabled traveler at stake.
“You know, if you don’t mind, I’ll ride with you but I’d like to ride up front on the seat with you. Is that permitted? I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to handle a team.”
I thought about it, chewing my bottom lip. “Well, it’s not in the rulebook but if you promise to jump down and climb into the coach just as we hit town, I won’t tell. You like horses?” I asked, scooting a bit so he could heft himself up to the seat.
“Oh, yes, although Arabs are more my breed,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “Ben Trax is my name… and you are?”
“You can call me Auggie,” I said, shaking his hand. “We’d better get started.” As another streak of lightning brightened the sky, I slapped the reins.
“Mind if I take the reins a minute?” he asked.
“Okay, but the horses are antsy from that storm coming in and it’s against the rules. You wouldn’t want me to get fired, would you?” I asked, grinning.
“Just once and for a moment,” he pleaded and I handed them over.
It was as if a magic spell descended over the team. Their ears relaxed and they fell into step as if choreographed. A lightning bolt struck a tree about a half mile ahead and the thunder was loud enough to break a nearby eardrum, but the horses hardly flinched.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” I asked him, amazed. “You’re a natural.”
“Never. I do seem to have a way with horses, though. Have all my life. Wish I were as good with cars… and with women,” he added and turned to wink at me.
How long had it been since I’d seen a man smile at me? I felt a pang for Worth, but I knew he was a figure who belonged in my past.
We weren’t far from town so I nudged him and took back the reins. “I’m going to stop now and you need to scramble into the back. Where can I drop you?” I asked him.
“A service station would be a good start,” he said and winked again.
I nodded and reined in the horses long enough for him to jump down and get into the coach. I took a side street where I’d seen a service station and pulled up.
Ben climbed out and held up a twenty. “No, no,” I said. “You didn’t get the whole tour. Go on in there and they’ll take care of you, I’m sure. Nice to meet you, Ben.” I grinned and snapped the reins, leaving him standing there with his hand still outstretched.
I returned the coach and horses and was brushing them down when I heard steps behind me. Thinking it was my employer, I didn’t turn but said, “Hand me the hoof pick, would you? I think we picked up a stone.”
A tanned hand with an expensive wristwatch appeared at my side, a hoof pick extended. I turned and there stood Ben Trax. I was surprised, to say the least. “Hello…?” I ventured.
“I’m sorry, I know this is kind of weird, but you’re the only person I’ve met in town, except for Shorty at the repair shop. He tells me he can’t tow it in until the storm passes and it will be tomorrow until he can take a look at it. I’m a stranger here, as you know, and wondered if I could trade you a dinner for a guided tour of the town. I have no idea where to stay or eat, for that matter.”
I stood upright and considered him. There was no doubt he seemed friendly and honest, but I was alone and there was no one looking out for me. It paid to be cautious. He sensed my hesitation. “Please?” he repeated.
I nodded and turned back to my work. “Take a seat where you can find one and I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I said, but instead, he came up and got between the horse and me, put his shoulder against the animal and lifted its leg so as to hold the hoof.
“Hand me the pick,” he said. I did so without thinking and he quickly removed the stone, patted the horse’s leg and then its flank. “There, that should do it,” he said, handing me the lead.
“You seemed to know what you were doing,” I commented.
“I’m a vet,” he said succinctly.
Now, having grown up in the equine industry in Kentucky, we were more impressed by large animal vets than human neurosurgeons. The better vets were impossible to get to and we considered them gods.
I finished up with the horses and showed Ben out to my car. I’d lost all anxiety about him strangely and felt a kinship.
He got in. “Nice car, Kentucky plates,” he observed. “Want to talk about it?”
I looked at him sideways, a lock of his sandy-colored hair had fallen down into his eyes, giving him a very boyish look in a man’s lanky body.
“About what?” I asked as innocently as I could.
“Come on, Auggie. It’s all over you. Your name is short for Augusta. Hardly a name you find at Wal-Mart. Your hair has never been colored or permed, you walk with the kind of assurance that says you’re well-bred, wear little makeup so you’re not trying to impress anyone and you know your way around horses, which is not a poor man’s hobby. We won’t even talk about the fact that you’re working for a tourist trap and driving an eighty-thousand-dollar car. How’s that for starters?” he finished. “Judging by that new hitch on the back, I guess you’ve got a horse and trailer parked around here somewhere, too.”
My mouth was hanging open. “How did you know all that?”
He laughed, a sound that was deep and musical. “Told you, I have a way with creatures. They sense who they can trust and you have to read them well to earn that trust,” he explained. “Have I read you well?”
I sat there, the car still in park. “Astoundingly well,” I said.
“I’m going to hazard a guess and say Louisville or Lexington, although you probably went to UK.”
“God, are you some kind of a psychic?”