Chapter 5: Horseshoes and Targets
I want to thank everyone who is keeping up with this story. Its about to get interesting.
The next few days pass in a blur for me. I have so much preparation to do. We are going to use my targets, so those have to be taken apart and loaded into the lorry. Uncle Greg and I are in charge of loading the targets while Daddy carefully winds up the twine that bind the large colorful placards to the wooden easels we will be using on the show grounds. The targets are attached to the easels and then the space behind the targets will be filled with straw to stop whichever projectiles will be fired into them. Behind the targets will be long stretches of land where no one is permitted to walk or ride.
Naturally, I am only going to be using my bow. Daddy's Browning did show back up, thanks to the postal service, but I am giving the topic a wide berth at the moment. He hasn't mentioned it again, so I will respect that and keep moving forward.
After loading the targets up and making sure everything is tied down securely, I head back to the barn to get Amber out of her stall. Her eyes calmly pick up every single movement that I make. This is what makes her such an amazing creature, she just takes everything in stride. I chuckle silently to myself when I think that she reminds me of Daddy. I go about getting her out and putting her in the cross-ties for a thorough grooming. I know its strange that at my age I still refer to my ex-soldier father as "Daddy" but its what he will always be to me. As many thousands of words that I have written and I have absolutely none to explain this particular phenomenon. Daddy told me it was months before I gave Papa a title and I did it all on my own. That thought makes me smile. I don't know if I will ever have children, but I can only hope to be half the parent they have been to me. I grab the lunge line hanging on the hook on her door and swing it over my arm.
I shake off the feeling of impending blues and concentrate on my curry comb. Amber has stamped one hoof and laid her eyes back. Yeah, I guess I've been too focused on one spot. I asked the grooms to give her a bath yesterday and she was in all night, so I know she's about as clean as she can get. I move to clean her hooves and get a little wicked foot pulled out of my hands for spite. I make a growling sound back in my throat and the foot comes back into my hands as-nice-as-you please. She's just reminding me that she has other things to do like sleep and munch on her hay.
Amber's hooves are good and clean and I've double checked her horseshoes to make sure they are all nice and snug. I figure she's got about another two weeks before they need to be done again, so she's really good to go for tomorrow. We walk out away from the barn and I clip the lunge line to her halter ring. I need to put her costume on and double-check it, but she's worn it before so I think its going to be okay. As she trots out for me, I think about how wonderful she looks in the purple satin. I stop her with a slight tug on the line and she turns to face me. With a click of my tongue, she turns the other direction and moves out, the black feathering around her feet moving gracefully. It always reminds me of flames for some reason.
After her workout, I roll the line partway up in my hand and we walk around for a bit. Amber crops at the grass and I marvel about how its been almost an entire morning since I thought of Michael. Maybe I am getting better. I take Amber back to her stall and head back to the house.
There are raised voices in the sitting room as I come through the back door. I open it cautiously and note my Papa standing toe-to-toe with Uncle Mikey. Its been a while since there's been an argument of this magnitude, so who can blame me if I stand there and watch? Uncle Mikey is only about about five centimeters shorter than Papa, but Papa's hair is wild today and makes it seem like much more. Papa's eyebrows are furrowed in anger but Uncle Mikey's face is blood red. He's leaning on his brolly that is planted on its point on the floor and Papa is leaning forward, crowding into his brother's space. I've no doubt that umbrella could be a weapon, but I'm hoping they both have the good sense to back off before something drastic (or more than usual anyway) happens between them.
Papa's voice is almost shaking the foundations. "I WILL not stop her, Mycroft. If we cannot trust YOUR security, then I will do it myself!" Papa's hands are clenched into fists. Wow, this is serious, then.
Uncle Mycroft opens his mouth to reply and then turns towards me, his teeth snapping together audibly. It amuses me when he notices things seconds before Papa, but I will never tell either one of them that. His face changes colors from beet to salmon. He grits his teeth and takes a step back, obviously fighting for control. His closed jaw moves forward a bit and he juts out his chin and slowly shakes his head. It all happens so quickly that I am sure an outsider would miss it. I'm no outsider. He takes a deep breath and turns his entire body my way.
"Sophie, good to see you. I need to ask your opinion..." he says to me, all smooth charm. The rage of a few seconds ago seems to have disappeared. I know better.
"No!" Papa yells and puts both arms out as if to shove Uncle Mikey. Just as quickly, I step between them and Papa freezes on the spot. I learned years ago that I'm the only other person besides Daddy who can do this to Papa without getting hurt. I love them both, I don't want this to go badly. Papa glares at me and then huffs. His hands are unclenched and so I grab one of them. I hold my other hand out towards Uncle Mikey's chest, fingers splayed in the universal sign of wait. They both take deep breaths, but they are still glaring at each other.
Once the temperature goes down in the room, I walk toward Papa, effectively pushing him away from myself. He moves backwards and drops onto the sofa. Uncle Mikey, quick on the uptake, sits down in one of the squashy armchairs in front of the cool fireplace. I stand between them. We have played this game before. I wonder, for just an instant, where Daddy has gotten to. This is usually his job.
"Alright." Its funny how my voice comes out as a squeak. "Alright. There is something happening and it involves me. I want to know." My voice sounds oddly alien to my own ears. There's sputtering from the couch but silence from the chair. I look over and Uncle Mikey's eyebrows have shot up into his hairline. Oddly, I consider how much thinner that hairline has become in recent years.
I turn my head to take it both of them, but I don't move. I'm not very intimidating, but I try. "Papa, what's going on?" He opens his mouth and then shuts it. I want to laugh, but I don't. Must be serious to render him speechless. He holds out one hand towards Uncle Mikey. Fine. Someone's going to tell me.
"Sophie, you may want to sit down." He nods towards the other chair.
Nope, I am not playing this game. I hold my ground.
He sighs. "Fine. There are some bad guys..."
For God's sake. "Uncle Mikey, I know it's hard to believe, but I really am not twelve years old anymore. I know what happens in the big, bad world out there, so will you just lay it out already?" I can feel the aggravation that Papa often has with the simpleminded boiling in my veins. I turn my head towards him and he is looking at me with a mix of pride and surprise. Finally, I've done something right.
Uncle Mikey purses his lips into a straight line. He says simply "They threatened to kidnap you at the exhibition tomorrow. Is that straight forward enough?"
Yep. And what the hell is this, he wants to argue with me now? I have had enough. Everything from the past few weeks has just worn me down. I am no longer in the denial and guilt phase of grief, now I'm just pissed.
"What the hell, Mycroft?" I put the snarky spin on his name that I've heard Daddy use. I don't mean to rise to the bait, I really don't. It's just that I do not need anything else right now. Uncle Mikey, whom I have always gotten along with and whom I've always felt affection for, is staring me down like I just threatened to overthrow some tiny little government somewhere without asking his permission first. In the back of my mind, I hear Papa snicker. I am also aware that he has stood up and is studying the proceedings gleefully.
Uncle Mikey slowly rises from his chair. For a second, I actually think he's going to verbally take me on. Instead he just looks at me. That's even worse than an argument. In that instant I am a teenager again. I'm angry and I'm tired of being protected. This thing between these two will go on until the sun stops shining. I should never have tried to get into the middle of it. I miss my best friend, I miss the calm, quiet afternoons passed in the library, I miss...just everything. I don't care that someone has threatened me. Daddy and Papa are like superheroes and they have never let anything happen to me, I'm sure there's been threats before. I want to go to the show tomorrow and I want to shoot at inanimate objects and nothing is going to take that away from me. I am so tired.
I know that I have now laid all my cards on the table. I know that Uncle Mikey can see the guilt I feel over my friend's death written all over my face. I did not want to share that with him, I barely wanted Papa to know.
I turn my back on them, Uncle Mikey clears his throat to say something and honestly, I can't make myself care. I don't care. I can feel that Papa has moved toward me, maybe to embrace me but I can't stand it anymore. Things are just never going to be right. I'm just so tired.
I open the door that I came through a few minutes ago. I hear myself telling them that I just don't care. I have never lived in my fathers' shadows and I'm not about to start doing it now. I thought I had put all this pain behind me, but it is still as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Daddy is going to be so disappointed in me. Papa will be...I don't even know.
My bare feet carry me back down the the stables and without thinking, I open Amber's door. Once she's out I hop up onto her back and head out towards the woods. I lean down on her neck, using my things to guide her. I'm not dressed for this, but I need to move. I need to shut my brain off for a while, I need to make all the pictures that I have seen everyday in my head disappear. I'm not sure about anything anymore. I must be the worst daughter to just run out on them again, but I can't take it. All this pressure. It's selfish, I know. I've never felt like this before and I feel like I'm going to explode. I'm half tempted to grab my bow and quiver out of the already-packed truck and just shoot at whatever as we go by. It's a fleeting thought that I do not respond to.
Amber has picked up speed underneath me and soon we are streaming across the practice fields. We crash through the woods and come out into another large field on the other side. I've been down here before, its where the grooms from our stable and several neighboring ones used to get together and race. Daddy says he even joined them a couple of times. I lean down even lower on Amber's neck and feel the rush of the wind against my face. Her hoof beats are steady and I can feel myself coming back down to earth. Then she is stopping and I am flipping over the neck I was so comfortably leaning over a few seconds ago.
There's pain down my side and the report of a gunshot and the world goes black.