Breeding Ground Read Online Free PDF Page B

Calumet Farms. Her sister’s over to the fabric shop in Versailles.”
    â€œI think so. Why?”
    â€œWell, she and me, I’m gunna tell ya the whole truth here, we had to get married, and she’s six months along. She’s working at the 7-11, but she cain’t too much longer. We’re havin’ twins, and it’s gittin’ hard for her to stand that long. I was working over to a real good barn in Paris, stable hand, some groomin’, some hot walkin’, and like I say, I’m gunna tell ya the whole thing here, I got to drinking last Friday night, and I showed up late to work on Saturday, and Mr.—”
    â€œHow late?”
    â€œLittle over an hour. Six-fifteen ’stead a five, and the barn manager let me go. It was the second time I done it in a year, but the manager, him and me, we never got along real good, and he let me go. Can’t say I blame him. I had it comin’, I know that. Horses gotta eat on time. ’Specially ones in training.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWe was livin’ in a tenant house there, and we’re over to her folks now, but we gotta find a new place. I thought maybe you folks could use some help, and maybe there was a tenant house we could move into. I’ll work real hard. I will. I—”
    â€œI don’t know, Buddy. We don’t hire much help. I’d have to—”
    â€œI learned my lesson good. I swear to you I have. I took my last drink. I walked up front Sunday, and I meant it. I got babies comin’, and I wantta be somebody they can be proud of. I wantta take care of Becky too. And there ain’t nothin’ else I ever wanted to do but work with horses. I been doing it my whole life, you know that. You remember when we was kids.”
    â€œLet me think about it. I’m not promising anything. I don’t think Uncle Toss needs help right now. He’s got somebody part time at night already, during foaling. But I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Don’t you get your hopes up though, you hear?”
    â€œI do. And I thank you, Jo, for even thinkin’ about it.”
    â€œGive me a number where I can call you.”
    â€œWhatcha gunna do with the puppy?”
    â€œKeep her for now till I find her a home. Though Toss may want her. I lost my dog in the fall. But I’m leaving town in a week or two, and won’t be around to raise her.”
    The puppy was asleep in a nest of towels in a cardboard box under the dining room table when the storm hit hardest two hours later, the wind and rain tearing across that high ridge, tossing the trees like ferns in a gale, while lightening lit the night sky from one end to the other.
    It made Jo flinch, as she sat beside the puppy, choosing architecture books to take on her trip – when she heard something else in the storm that might’ve been a knock on her door.
    She stood up and listened, past the lashing of the wind and rain, and heard the same muffled thud, louder this time and more insistent.
    Jo walked through the archway into the front hall across wide heart-pine floors, then turned on the porch lights, and opened the left side of the white double doors.
    A stranger stood there, thin, pale, drenched and shivering, cuts on one hand that were bleeding, a half-grey six-inch beard dripping on his flannel shirt, on a shapeless canvas jacket too, his hair plastered slick on his head, an army pack on one shoulder.
    Jo closed the door part way, while she asked how she could help.
    The man tried to smile, but coughed instead, before he said, “Don’t you know me, Josie?”
    Jo looked at him harder, and still didn’t recognize him.
    â€œTom brought me. During training. Christmas of ’45 too.” He coughed again, harder and louder.
    And Jo said, “You look familiar, but I… Come on in and get warmed up.”
    â€œJack. Freeman. I taught you some French.”
    â€œOh! Yes, of course.”
    Jack Freeman