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~ Chapter 1: Unclouded Foggy ~

Ruth attempted to shrug off the day’s crushing humidity as she crossed the driveway from the barn to the house, brushing a strand of charcoal colored hair from her face. She was still discovering how much more intense the heat in Missouri was compared to Wisconsin, where she previously lived.

She wondered when her father was going to see the horses they had tested the other day. The sound of crunching gravel contrasted the peaceful country sounds as the vehicle of Emmett, the hunk of a farmhand who had just been fired for lying, deplorable behavior, headed out of the driveway.

As he drove out of sight she saw grandpa Malachi’s green, beat-up pickup pulling up the drive with his two-horse trailer bouncing behind. She paused on the front porch, waiting to see if he had anything in the trailer.

Grandpa pulled around the driveway loop and stopped in front of the house. The sunlight glis-

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tened on his almost white hair as he got out of the truck. “Hello, Ruthie,” he said as he slammed his driver door shut.

‘Ruthie? Since when is my name Ruthie?’ “Hello Grandpa,” she responded. “What’s the trailer for?”

“Horses.” He approached the front porch at a leisurely pace.

Ruth rolled her eyes. “I figured that, but what horses? Whose horses?”

“Yours and your father’s I suppose. Your dad told me to bring the trailer just in case you decided to bring any of them home with you today.” He had reached the porch and he climbed the front steps with deliberation.

“So you think he’ll buy a horse today?” Ruth couldn’t contain the grin that spread across her face.

“Apparently he thinks he might.” He gave her a quick hug; the periwinkle eyes that matched hers twinkled pleasantly. “Why don’t we head inside and see if he is ready to leave?”

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‘I hope we bring home Embera,’ Ruth wished silently as she followed her grandfather inside. The red-tinted, part-Arabian mare had quickly stolen her heart.

Her dad sat at the dining room table, light shining on the black hair atop his slightly tilted head as he typed on his laptop. Peter glanced up as the two of them walked in. His gaze returned to his computer for a few moments, he typed something, clicked, and then closed the laptop. His light blue eyes were expectant. “Alright, are we ready to go?”

“For sure,” Ruth responded eagerly.

“Well, let’s go then.” Her father stood up, pushing his chair back from the table.

The three of them headed outside and crammed into her grandfather’s truck.

“Humid today,” Grandpa observed as he started the engine.

“That’s an understatement,” Ruth groaned. “I feel like an ice cube in a bowl of boiling soup.”

Her grandfather sniggered. “It’s still early afternoon. Wait until three or four today, then you

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will find out what humid really is.” He pulled out of the drive and followed the directions dictated by Peter.

“Don’t even tell me that.” Ruth let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to die young from heat shock.”

“Heat shock?” Her father nudged her playfully in the shoulder. “Pretty sure you mean heat exhaustion.”

She shook her head and said ruefully, “No, heat shock. I’m going to die from the shock that it can actually get this hot on planet Earth.”

This got a laugh from both her father and grandfather. Her grandfather’s laugh was a little more obnoxious and drawn out than Ruth thought quite appropriate for her comment. He coughed slightly after he finished laughing as if he had some difficulty getting his breath. “I don’t know, I think heat shock is a thing, but not what you said.” He paused for a moment. “Girlie, you ain’t seen anything yet. Wait until late July and August. It feels

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like the flesh is melting off your bones when you step outside.”

“I’m officially terrified,” Ruth gave a mock shudder. “Maybe I’ll carry a fan with me everywhere I go, or a personal battery powered air conditioner. Do they make those?”

“I don’t think so,” her father answered.

“I think so,” her grandfather inputted.

“They should if they don’t, or maybe I should invent them and make millions of dollars from my genius.”

Her father chuckled at her. “Feel free to try, sweetheart.”

She grinned at her father. “So, what horse are we going to see first?”

“Right now we are heading up to see Foggy,” her dad informed her.

“Oh, okay,” she tried not to sound disappointed. She did think the little gray Shetland was cute but Embera was the horse she was looking forward to seeing.

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“You want to go see Embera, don’t you?” Her father questioned.

“Well… yeah.” Ruth squirmed a bit, feeling uncomfortable at the notion her father might be reading her mind. “She’s just so beautiful and I think she has a sweet heart.”

“Nothing wrong with that. We’ll see her, too.”

Ruth flashed him a heartened smile. “Foggy is cute though.”

A few short minutes later they pulled into the drive of Foggy’s owner. They all piled out of the truck and headed to the front door; Grandpa Malachi knocked.

The same middle-aged brunette from yesterday answered. She didn’t conceal her surprise at seeing them, she didn’t even bother to hide a glimmer of annoyance in her brown eyes. Apparently she didn’t think they would really swing by unannounced. “He-hello,” she stammered, “are you here to see Foggy again?” Her eyes flicked past Peter’s shoulder. “Oh, I see you brought your trailer, do you want to go ahead and settle the payment first?”

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Ruth’s father shook his head. “No, we’d like to try him out one more time. As I mentioned, I never buy a horse without trying it out at least twice first.”

She wrung her hands as he talked, forcing a smile. “Well, okay. Let me get something quickly and then we will head out.” She shut the front door and was gone for several minutes.

Ruth looked over at her father, questioning him with her eyes.

“Well, that was awkward,” he said.

“Agreed, something smells fishy,” her grandfather said.

The woman reappeared at the door with another forced smile. “Sorry about that, why don’t you follow me?”

They moved aside, letting her through to lead them out to the pasture. Foggy was grazing casually in the pasture next to the painted Mustang the lady also owned. Foggy had a halter on and the woman was carrying a lead rope. She went out to retrieve Foggy while everyone else hung back and waited.

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Yesterday she had easily caught the Shetland, as he barely seemed to notice her when she had gone into the pasture. Today, however, he continually edged away from her, just out of reach.

“That’s not a good sign,” her father muttered.

“Could just be the pony, Shetlands are kind of moody. Don’t make a decision yet.” Her grandfather moved forward as if to lean on the fence railing. Then, seeming to realize it was electric wire and not a wooden fence, he stepped back instead.

Ruth couldn’t help but picture what might have happened if he hadn’t noticed the fence was electric. She briefly saw him in her mind’s eye, hair standing on end, squawking in shock, and jumping back with wide eyes. She suppressed a giggle and let her attention travel back to the woman playing tag with Foggy.

After several minutes of chasing the pony around, the lady ducked back into the barn. She emerged with a bucket of grain that she shook as she approached the pony. This time the grain rattling enticed him to stay still long enough that she