"Brat?" Jake asked, walking into the tack room.
"What, Jakey?" Sam snapped, rinsing the bucket in her hands.
He leaned against the door, tomcat grin and all. "Wow, somebody has her cranky pants on tonight."
"I do not. It's just...so hot outside, and it's all stuffy, and..." She broke off, picking up another bucket to wash.
He seemed to be thinking. "Hm. Come with me."
"No. I have things to do." She didn't even look up from the last bucket.
He scoffed, "So, you're telling me you don't want to go see the wild horses?"
"Come on." She finished the bucket and turned off the water quickly.
"Thought so." He grabbed tack and exited the room, leaving her to grab hers and follow quickly.
They saddled up in the cooling evening, and headed out for the desert, towards War Drum Flats. Sam got it. They were heading out that way, for the lake. Perhaps the horses were watering themselves now that it was cooler. Jake spoke without prompting, "Saw them out this way couple of days ago."
"And you didn't tell me, why?" She demanded.
"Because" he sighed, "I knew you and Kenworthy would go on some wild goose chase, and there's something you need to see." He paused, "I wanted..." he began again, as if confessing something secret. "I wanted to see it with you."
As they reached the lake, or could see it in the distance, they stopped. Witch's ears pricked slightly, but she seemed calm, content to pull at the desert grasses with a ripping sound. Sam grinned as she only ripped them out for amusement, too much of a priss to eat anything but her freshly mixed grains and personally delivered hay. Ace wanted to go on, but Sam walked him in a circle, and watched as the Phatom's herd made their use of the lake after a long and hot day, even for the desert horses. Sam didn't know how long they sat there, watching, until something in the interactions between the Phantom and a lovely, liver chestnut mare clicked for her. She whispered, "He has a new lead mare..."
Her husband nodded, not even breaking his gaze to look in their direction. She whispered, very softly, "Oh, Zanzibar." She was moved by his happiness, his freedom. In those moments, she felt the tension ease away. She felt at peace, whole. It was like her very soul breathed deeply and relaxed, so marked was the difference in her mood.
Suddenly, even over the distance, the Phantom's ears flicked as though he'd heard her whisper, though it was impossible, and the herd rushed off, away from where Ace and Witch were watching. His path now free of other horses, Ace seemed excited as they walked down to the lake. Soon, he took one more step, then one more, and more, until Sam found herself standing in the middle of the lake, atop a swimming horse in a slippery saddle that was just barely keeping out of the mud. Not again, she thought.
Ace was having the time of his life, swimming and splashing water in a way that if he were verbal, would have screamed, "Play with me, Sammy!"
She would have let him have his way, if only her clothes weren't soaked, and her idiot husband wasn't on the shoreline, laughing uproariously at her predicament. "Oh, shut up" she called.
"Did I" he laughed anew "say anything, Brat?" He asked.
"No!" She snapped, trying valiantly to maintain her balance in the slippery saddle. Not knowing what else to do, she kept her hold on the reins as she kicked her feet free from the stirrups. Ace took that as though he was getting free rein, so to speak, and began to swim more quickly. Sam was unprepared to swim that quickly, lost her grip on the slippery reins, and tumbled into the water. There was no help for it now, she was drenched. When she broke to the surface, Ace was standing happily on the shore, watching her, eyes alight.
Jake was still smiling, turning a loose circle of rope lazily in his hand. Did he ever go anywhere without it? No, Sam realized, he didn't. The look in his eyes made her frown as she clambered to the shore, feeling the murky ground squelch under her feet. Her boots felt ruined. Ruined. She spoke, "You bad horse, Ace. Bad." Still, she kissed his velvety nose, and checked that he was alright, running her sopping wet hand up his legs, and checking his tack. As she moved around him, her boots squelched, and her clothes dripped. Her hand rose to her hair. It was stringy and wet and bare. She gasped, "My hat!" She turned to look up at Jake, "My hat!"
She scrambled towards the lake, desperate to find her hat, not even caring that Jake sighed and dismounted, following behind her to scan the fading light to find her beloved hat. She scanned the area more intently, and turned on her heel, crashing into Jake, knocking him over with just enough force that he himself tumbled into the shallow water, loosing his grip on her beloved hat. Her hat floated away as he stood. She arched an eyebrow. "Well?"
"Well, what, Brat?" He snapped.
She pointed. to the center of the lake, towards where her hat was moving away from them. "Go get it."
"What am I, a dog?" He shook his head, "You go get it!"
"I'm soaked, and not going in there again." She moved to stomp her foot, but couldn't because her boots were waterlogged. "Besides, you're closest."
He moved toward Witch slightly. "We're just going to leave it."
"Stop bluffing and go." She demanded, crying, "It's out to the middle already!" He stood resolutely.
She exclaimed, "Fine!" She began to tramp out, and the smirked, thinking of an idea. Sam turned around fast, too fast, and slipped. Jake reached out to grab her, afraid she'd hit hard on the rocky bottom in the shallow water, and ended up falling over himself.
Cursing, he swam out to get the hat, and frowned as Sam swam after him. In the middle of the lake, he mashed her hat on her head and frowned anew. She laughed, kicking her legs underneath her, and threw her arms about him, knocking his own hat into the water, and nearly dunking them both with her enthusiasm.
Ace seemed to be wondering why he couldn't play, and Witch just sipped daintily at the water's edge, clearly implying her disdain for human foolishness and the tussle that was taking place in the water before her.
Back in the barn, Sam certainly felt foolish, though pushing his head under the water that one time had been fun. Her clothes were starting to dry from the skin out, leaving her feeling like a snake that needed to shed. She knew, though, that a good rider takes care of her horse first. They worked silently, getting the horses settled, and then turned to look at the tack. Jake's tack was fine, his horse was a lady. It was a bit damp from where he'd sat, but it was nothing a good application of Effax wouldn't cure after it dried in the tack room overnight.
Ace's saddle was a mess. His blanket was sopping, and Sam was disheartened. How was she to clean all that? She knew the first step was to dry it out properly, in a place that wasn't too humid, and not next to any heat source. The blanket would be washed, she supposed, after she did her best to wring it out, but what if she got mold on her saddle or something? They couldn't afford a new saddle, and she hated feeling so irresponsible. She needed to exert more authority over Ace, but he was such a good boy. He hadn't meant any harm. He'd only wanted to play. Next time they went to the lake, she was going bareback. That way, her baby could have all the swimming fun he wanted.
"Good luck, Brat." Jake spoke, finishing rubbing down his own saddle, so as to leave it to dry without watermarks.
"Good luck?" She screeched.
He stood, making his way to the door. She called, "Uh uh! No sir! Not going to happen."
"What's not going to happen?" He asked, putting away the towel into the dirty bin.
"You are not going to leave me here with this saddle, not when my clothes feel like ants are crawling all over me!" She gasped, "Oh God, what if there are bugs under my clothes?"
He answered, "There aren't." Grinning, he added, "Well, I'll try to leave you some hot water."
She gasped in horror. "You...you...Jerk!"
He laughed, whistling a tune as he started to walk away. She thought fast. Where could she leave the saddle to dry, and still make sure she got hot water? She grinned wickedly. It was pretty gutsy, but if she put the saddle in the laundry room, she could simply turn down the temperature on the water heater. Yes, that would work, that would work quite well.
At that second, Jake returned, a dampened towel in hand. "You going to ask for help, yet?"
"I don't need help. I know just what to do!" Her hands flew to her hips.
"Hm." He seemed to want her to elaborate.
"First, I gotta find a place for this to dry, and then, tomorrow, I'll check on it." She declared confidently.
He clicked his tongue in that annoying cowboy way, like he was going to put on that silly accent. Thankfully, he didn't. "You missed the first step, Brat."
Had she? "Which is?" She asked.
"Wrapping it in a damp towel." He said normally. Then, he adopted that silly accent. "Else you'll get spots." At least he left off the little lady.
"I just forgot to tell you!" Sam defended.
"Yeah, sure, Brat. Next you'll be telling me that Darrell's giving up his dirt bike."
"As a matter of fact..." She teased.
He looked at her askance, and she laughed. They set to work, comparably.
Sam was not so happy a time later. They were standing on the front porch. The laundry room was at the other side of the house, towards the back. "Our boots, Jake." Sam cried.
"A little newspaper and cat litter, it'll be fine. They're leather." He soothed.
"No, the mud, the floors. The noise." She glanced around. The house was dormant. Everyone was in their rooms, if not asleep already. "I don't want to inconvenience anybody."
"Brat. It's our home. If we make a bit of noise..." He shrugged. She froze, frowned, and followed him. He didn't make any pretense of trying to be quiet. He stepped on a creaky floorboard.
"Shhh!" Sam whispered, frantically.
He looked at her, sort of funny, but continued on, towards the stairs. They made it to the bathroom and Sam stopped the door as it began to close, and closed it softly. Sam asked, as Jake turned on the water, "Who's going first?"
That funny look was on his face again. "What do you mean?" Wait, it wasn't so funny. She got that look. He was confused. In Vegas, water conservation was just as important as it was here. Shared showers sometimes meant they used less water overall.
"Do you want to shower first, or can I?" She asked.
He nodded, "Get in."
She did, and let the water cascade over her for a few seconds. The grime from the natural lake was washing away, and she felt a gust of colder air as Jake got in behind her. "Hey!" She hissed.
He frowned, "What?"
She wiped some beading water off her eyes, and spluttered, "You can't..."
He cut her off, "I'll tell you what you can't do, you can't hog the spray. Move over." At least he was acting normally.
"But...but.." Her gaze flicked towards the door as she turned away from him, and stepped forward slightly. His body filled the space she'd just vacated, and they both got some of the hot water. She wasn't about to kick him out, it was fine with her that he was where he was, but what if it wasn't so fine with...
Her thoughts were cut off when he spoke. "Sam." He reached for the shampoo, sniffed it, and poured twice the usual amount on his head. Lathering it, he glanced at his wife, who was standing under the spray with an incredulous look on her face. "I won't touch you if you don't want it. You're acting like a cat caught in a room full of rocking chairs."
She frowned over her shoulder, tossing the soap she'd just used at him. At least it didn't smell girly. "I am not."
He set the soap down, knowing he would wash after he conditioned. The stuff made his skin feel slimy. Finding her shampoo in the caddy, he poured some on her head, and washed her hair. Because he could, because he liked to, and because he needed to touch her. Why was she so tense? "You are, Brat."
She frowned, her expression contrasting with arching her back towards him as he continued working the shampoo in her hair. "I just...it's nothing."
He knew it was something. This was as close as he'd gotten to her in ages. She was constantly tense, constantly running around, doing something. A week ago, he'd written it off as how strange she often got during her cycle, but that was over, and she was still jumpy, like some high-strung Arabian. She said he never stood still, but at least he wasn't up to his eyes in nervous energy. What was she nervous about? He knew that the doctor's visit not too long ago had upset her. He knew his wife, and he knew she had wanted a different outcome to that test, even though she'd said she expected the one they got.
Was she scared that he disagreed? He didn't. Jake wanted what she wanted. He wanted the love he felt for her to be literally visible in another person. He wanted to know if the light in her eyes when she held her brother would be any different when she held their child. He wanted a daughter with her mother's eyes to teach to ride, and to fish, and to play tea with. Mostly though, he just wanted to watch his own daughter as Wyatt watched Sam, as though she was perfection personified, even when she pulled crazy stunts, because, he snorted, any daughter of his would be equally her mother's daughter.
He knew, too, that they had a lot of progress to make in their lives before they could actually be the parents a girl with her mother's heart deserved. They agreed on that. He just didn't see how having another person along for the ride would make in any harder. Different, yes, but harder? Well, they'd faced challenges before. He just didn't want Sam to not have her needs met. It was his job to support her as she made her dreams come true. He was just glad he had an active role to play in the dream they shared. The soap rinsed down the drain, and she turned around to face him. She began to speak.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Sam flinched, and pulled herself away, glancing at the door with wide, horrified, eyes. He frowned as Quinn began, "Jake! Can I come in?"
"No!" He snapped, as he saw the horrified look on Sam's face. What was she worried about? He wasn't about to let his skeeve of a brother anywhere near here. Not when she was in here.
"Come on, I need to pee." Quinn begged.
"Give u..." he cut off at Sam's frantic shake of her head, "me ten minutes."
"Ten minutes! Jeez." He knocked again, "Have you seen Sam? Where'd she go?"
He muttered, but spoke, spitting the words. "Quinn. Jesus. Go away."
Quinn agreed with a huff. "Fine, but if you see her, tell her Jen called earlier."
"Want to tell me why you freaked out, Brat?" Jake looked at Sam as Quinn's heavy footsteps moved away.
She quickly soaped her body, skipping conditioner. "I didn't."
He corrected her. "You did. This is our home, Sam. If we damn well want to use the shower after lights out, then we will, and Quinn can wait."
She rinsed off, rushing, "Stop saying that. This is your home, Jake, not mine." She stepped out of the tub, threw a towel around her still slightly soapy body, and exited the bathroom with speed, if not grace.
Standing under the spray of the rapidly cooling water, he blinked in confusion. What did she mean, Three Ponies wasn't her home? If it wasn't her home, than it wasn't his. And it was his, therefore, it was hers. What did she mean? He finished quickly, not even caring, and found her sitting on their bed, working the knots out of her riot of curls with a wide comb and a grimace. He threw on sleep pants and sat down behind her, and took the comb from her. He hated what he was about to say as he took over her task. "Brat..." he began, "we oughta talk."
"Yeah." He knew that tone. It was the patented Sam Forester "I'm-going-to-pretend-I-don't-care-or-you'll-think -I'm-a-brat" tone.
"Sam." He pleaded, as her shower wet, silky hair wrapped around his fingers.
"What do want me to say, Jake? That I'm unhappy?" She said, crossly.
"If you are, yeah, a little head's up might be nice." He advised, deftly working through a knot.
"I can't talk about it." She decided.
This was new. There wasn't much she withheld from him. He liked that, even though he often said he didn't, because he rarely had to go fishing for information or play games like some guys had to, with their wives or whatever. She was completely open with him, often to the point of teasing and aggravation, or all the times she'd missed a good chance to be quiet. But now, now he'd give anything for her to talk to him. He didn't care what she said. Heck, if she said she was leaving, he'd just say okay, and ask where she wanted to go.
"You mean you won't." He declared, softly.
"It'll be fine. When we go back to Vegas. Thing's'll be fine." She sounded like she was praying, and promising herself.
"What will? Sam..." he confessed, "I don't like playing poker with half a deck."
"You really want to know, then?" She demanded. At his nod, she continued, "And you can't do anything, or say anything, or even think about doing or saying anything."
If those were her terms. He'd meet her there, right now. Then, if he needed to, he'd bring the whole thing up again when such promises didn't hold. Besides, he figured, his promises to love, honor, and protect her took prescience. "Okay..."
She turned around, after he finished the loose braid in her hair, and threw her body around his. She buried her face in his shoulder, and began. "I want...so much, to be the mother of our children, Jake, but I won't."
His hands trembled a little. From day one, she'd wanted children, and now she was saying she wouldn't. Wouldn't. Would. Not. Was that, like, a can't, never will be able to, wouldn't, or an actual will not, wouldn't? It was her choice, obviously, but it was one he hadn't expected. What had happened in the last two days, when she'd whispered to him that their children would be the most stubborn creatures on the planet after they'd argued about something or other. "You won't...?"
"No." She whispered, as though the word ripped through her. "Not while...while we're guests in your mother's house. I can't even cook spaghetti-o's without her knowing a better way," He got it. Mom had just been herself. But he could see where they were rubbing each other the wrong way. Sam continued, unaware of his thoughts. She whispered desperately, "Jake, and how do you think I'm going to feel when it turns into a Grandma knows best thing, Jake?"
He frowned, "It wouldn't."
"It would, Jake. It would. And maybe she does know better, Jake. She raised us. I know that, and I love her. But, we fight over you. Or we would, I think, if I didn't keep quiet. And I won't be forced to assert myself as mother to my children as I have to assert myself to her as your wife. I won't do that to them, and I won't do it to us."
He smoothed down her hair. He could tell that she'd thought over her words a million times, that she'd planned this conversation. Maybe she'd even rehearsed those words. He hadn't, though. He hadn't expected this. Yeah, he'd assumed that she was feeling a little crowed, that maybe she'd needed some alone time. That's why he'd drug her out to see the horses, knowing that where they were, there wasn't another person for miles. "What are you saying here, Brat?"
"I'm saying that I'm sorry." She sighed, looking him in the eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm not like Brynna, or your mom, or Mom. I can't do the whole..."
He supplied the term, "multi-generational family thing?"
"Yeah. And I know that's how it's done, but I can't." She sighed.
"Brat." He almost smiled.
She looked at him, cautiously. "What?"
He grinned. "Just remining us both, Brat" he stressed the word, "that I know you." He was silent, continuing after a second. "I know you're not like them. You're a brat."
"Hey!" She cried.
"You're a controlling, bratty, know it all, with ideas and opinions about everything from peanut butter to the construction of those new windbreaks. Hell, Sam..." He paused, "and you don't think I know you need your own home? This from the girl who hoards her own personal secret valley in the middle of the range."
"I feel like you're calling me stupid, Jake. I don't need that." She scolded.
"Just sayin'" he drew a breath. This talking thing was more than he'd signed on for. "that this isn't a forever situation. Most likely by Winter Break." She didn't need to know that their weeks in this house could be counted on one hand. He wasn't going to spoil the surprise, or show the little house to her unfinished. Better to overestimate and keep her on her toes. Besides, they'd really be settled in by then, at the new apartment. "I think you'd kill mom if we lived here full-time. She's so glad to have another female in the house that she forgets you're you, and not like, Gina or something."
"That's mean." She laughed. Though, she did it in such a way that he could tell that she was going to dig for information about the little house. He needed to stall her. Stall, or distract her.
"It's the truth." He grinned. "But, Sam. You know, if you're feeling a little assertive, you're welcome assert yourself as my wife anytime you like."
She burst out laughing. "Oh my God. That's the worst come on I've ever heard."
"I thought it was alright." He shrugged sheepishly. After a second, he arched an eyebrow. "I'm guessing that's a no, then?"
"We'll wake Quinn." She worried her lower lip. "The man can hear a bug crawl from two miles away."
"No, he can't." Jake disagreed.
Sam arched an eyebrow. Quinn's hearing was as vaulted as Jake's tracking skills. And was he really forgetting that one awful night not too long ago that Quinn had actually knocked on their door and told them he could hear everything? And they'd been quiet as church mice, or so Sam had thought. She'd not wanted to leave the room in the morning, even though they'd stopped the second Quinn had started slamming his hand on the door.
"Not if somebody suggested he have a little Valerian tea after dinner..." Jake trailed off. Quinn often drank it, he was something of an insomniac, but...
"You didn't!" She exclaimed. What kind of brother drugged his brother with a harmless, bot potent, herbal sleep aid for the express purpose of getting him out of the way so said brother could...?
"Naw, 'course not." He looked taken aback that she would suggest it, the faker. "Dad did."
Now that he thought about it, that was just gross, and he didn't want to think about why that was or why his parents weren't around when they'd snuck back in the house. He shuddered, much like a horse shaking off water, and frowned.
Sam grinned, and nodded crisply. At least this attempt was marginally more original than the time he'd stood in living room in Vegas and began his proposition with, "Your mission, should you choose to accept it..." Later, she'd found out he'd been watching TV with some people on the track team. He'd gotten points for being such an idiot. As he would again, simply because he was her idiot.
Two chapters today.
I'm posting early because I think I might be otherwise occupied tomorrow night.
Please review with your thoughts of the chapter/story overall/characterization/awful spelling errors I didn't catch/or whatever else you can think of.
