10 Pound Bag Ch. 011-015

Sonya climbed into the front with me; she had taken the long way back around the rig doing one last visual check and had missed the entire event. I looked into the back seat and saw the cat was back in the bag again and calmness had returned. If anything both Matilda and Mila looked relieved. I merely put the truck in gear, doubled checked on my gauges and slowly pulled away. It was going to be about an eight-hour drive to the placed we had secured just outside Flagstaff.

As soon as we settled in on the interstate I gave Sonya the rundown on what she'd missed; she bubbled forth with questions and I merely replied, "Ask Matilda". Which of course got her nowhere.

After a short internal debate, I had decided to follow Mila's lead and ignore the cat -- it was Matilda's problem. I was on my way to Flagstaff to pick up my first horse, and that was a happy enough thought to make me forget about the cat in the bag.

Sonya set up her travel desk and we got down to work. The first order of business was to confirm our booking in Flagstaff. Finding a spot for a rig this size with horses and dogs had proved impossible at first, but we thought our way around it and started contacting Agricultural Real Estate agents. We were able to locate several empty homesteads at each destination that we could rent for a few days, especially if we were just camping in the pasture. In Flagstaff we got extremely lucky and the breeder I was buying from knew of a place we could rent just a mile or two down the road. I planned two days' rest when we got there; we all needed it.

Flagstaff in the spring can be a very pretty place after the winter rains have passed. We were staying just west of the city itself, parked in the pull-through driveway of a vacant house with a two-acre fenced lot. It wasn't luxurious but it was private and there was ample space. We set up camp, had a tasty dinner and retired to our respective bedrooms for the night. Which is to say: Matilda and the cat thing into the truck, me into my tent and Sonya and Mila into the camper.

I dreamt of that stupid cat that night, what a waste of a good dream.

**** Chapter Fifteen -- The Abigail Interlude ****

The next morning proceeded at a leisurely place, we had about a day's worth of work here in Flagstaff and two days to complete it in. This trip wasn't a race of some kind; now that I'd disappeared from easy tracking I could try to enjoy the journey within the boundaries of schedule and appointments.

Over dinner the night before we had reached the decision that renting a separate vehicle for Sonya at each destination would probably be a good idea. We were all spending a lot of time together so a little freedom and separation was probably a good idea. I knew that Sonya had a large family and a full life when she wasn't at work; she had just spent weeks focusing only on me and she needed a break. We organized a rental pickup for her at each planned stop and it was decided that she would pick up our deliveries and she insisted that she wanted to handle the day-to-day shopping. Matilda sat with us and never said a word.

So off we went the next morning to pick-up the rental truck. During the short drive we reviewed our schedule for the day and Sonya handed me my credit card for the day. Now because one of the purposes of this trip was to avoid being easy to trace Traci had arranged a multitude of charge cards drawing on a myriad of shell companies and Sonya carried those cards in a pendaflex folder. I got a different card each and every day. Naturally this information was well-documented and was available to the authorities, I wasn't trying to hide from the government just the leeches.

Sonya left the rental lot first to destinations unknown and I went to meet my first horse, "Abigail". The horse ranch was easy to find and was clearly marked with a large sign proclaiming that this was the "Kincade Horse Farm" and the home of "Fine Morgan Horses". That was the place I was seeking and that was the breed I wanted to specialize in, my plan was purebred Morgans and Rottweilers.

Gabe Kincade came out to meet me as I pulled up; he was a middled aged fellow of medium height and over-all fairly non-descript. However his eyes were energetic and full of life, particularly when he started talking about his Morgans. This was a man who had found his life calling.

He took me to meet Abigail, a fine chestnut mare standing almost fifteen and a half hands in height, she was a beautiful example of the breed. Abigail was friendly and well-mannered and willingly took to the tack when Gabe saddled her up for me. Twenty minutes around the paddock showed me she was well trained and neck reigned well; neck reining was important to me as to this day I dislike direct reigning a horse.

Trotting her back to Gabe I had a few last questions; one was answered when Gabe's German Shepard showed up; Abigail merely sniffed the dog circling her feet and then promptly ignored it. I struck a deal with Gabe on the spot and managed to get him to throw in delivery and Abigail's tack. The saddle was a little small for me but Abigail was comfortable with it, and I could make work until I got to a tack shop for a proper fitting.

We agreed on the price and shook on the deal, he led me to the office in his horse barn where we signed the contract and agreed on payment details; my credit rating -- atrocious for years -- was now stellar and cash in hand wasn't required. On the way out he gave me the grand tour including his personal tack shop, I had a lot of questions when I was in that room and his answers made a lot of sense. He told me he had started out simply repairing the odd broken bridle or harness and now he actually made everything but his saddles. He even had full towing rigs for his horses so he could use them to move thing around the farm. We spent almost two full hours in his tack shop and I got a lot of good ideas. It suddenly became clear to me that if I planned on horseback hunting trips I'd need to be able to repair my own tack at the very minimum; it was time to add to that shopping list.

With the delivery of Abigail confirmed I returned to the campsite to find only Matilda and Mila were there. I made myself a sandwich in the kitchen, grabbed a beer and sat down at the table with my laptop to work on my shopping list while I waited for Sonya to show up. After a while Matilda joined me with her own sandwich and beer. As she ate I looked up at her and said, "I'm ordering, is there anything you want?"

Matilda took a sip from her beer and simply said, "Masa".

As with any Matilda conversation that was the end of it, I simply added two five-gallon buckets of Masa to my list and continued to shop. Matilda finished her lunch and then tidied up our dishes and finally Sonya showed up in the rental truck with bed was full of boxes.

Most of what had showed up was the dry goods that I had ordered specifically for the rig, these were five-gallon buckets of items like flour, sugar, beans, rice and other such staples. These went into cold storage underneath the game rail, they wouldn't be hurt by the cold and would be out of the way. The rest were either tools headed for the storage room or household goods for the camper. When it was all unpacked and unpackaged the pile of trash was larger than the pile of actual goods; thank you internet shopping.

The trash went into the bed of the rental truck and we made short work of storing the items, in the end we still hadn't used even a quarter of the storage room. However, I was starting to regret not having ordered a built-in tool chest.

The most important items that arrived that day were the components for Matilda's bedroom; she had the same setup I did and I walked her through setting it up then left her and Sonya to get it organized. Now everyone had their own private place - Matilda and I tented and Sonya glamped in the camper.

Gabe showed up shortly thereafter towing a two-horse trailer; I performed the expected introductions which included Mila who was as happy as ever. That dog was a treasure. I gave Gabe the grand tour of the rig and he was suitably impressed, he asked after the builder so I gave him Sam's info and made sure to impress on him that Sam did very nice smaller rigs at a much better price. Gabe didn't inquire after price and I didn't offer.

We stowed Abigail's tack in the tack room and then Gabe backed her out of the trailer, Abigail was rightfully nervous but Gabe calmed her and made the introductions all around. Mila was ecstatic and Matilda was reserved, Sonya merely nervous. I took Abigail by the halter and led her into the fenced portion of the yard that would serve as her temporary paddock. Gabe followed me with a bale of alfalfa and tossed about a third of it in for her. Abigail would be fine for the evening.

As I walked Gabe back to his truck I stopped and asked Sonya to grab one of the big black watering buckets that had arrived that day and place it in the fenced part of the yard under the garden spigot available. While Sonya watered Abigail, I made my farewells to Gabe.

The biggest part of the Flagstaff business was complete and I had my first mare.