Page 41 of Night Blind

“Mustang comes home twice a year,” he said, “and hopefully, things won’t be awkward for any of us moving forward.”

Helen cut her eyes at him. “Every tub must rest on its own bottom and in each shot, the aim must be true.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he answered.

“It is what it is, Michael. He and I shared a moment that I asked to have, I initiated, and I wanted,” she told him. “As he said, he always comes through.”

“Hmmph,” he said as Cherry came to the back door holding his Technician phone. In her hand, she also held her own.

Michael took the phone from her hand, looking at the second device resting in Cherry’s palm. This was unusual. Technicians didn’t get phone calls.

He answered using his handle, “Slow’s down.”

There was a quiet in between the deep breaths he took, looking at Helen. Reluctantly, he answered. “The training hasn’t officially begun. Her survival instincts are at a seven. Mustang evaluated her in the field and can attest to her holding her own. I have not worked beside her as of yet to make a formal assessment.”

Slow nodded his head and ended the call. The second he hung up, Cherry’s Technician phone rang. She answered using her handle, “The Cherry on Top.”

The quiet returned as she listened to the voice on the line. “I can travel but will have to be driven. Yes. Yes. Shawnee Township. Tomorrow at eight.”

The call ended, and all eyes went to Helen. She asked, “What?”

Cherry’s lips were tight as she told her, “We have a come to Jesús meeting tomorrow.”

Slow’s eyes grew wide. “I’ve never met him; have you?”

Cherry shook her head no as she said, “I’ve never met him either.”

Helen’s eyes grew wide and she asked, “Is he going to kill me?”

“No,” they both said at the same time. “This should be interesting.”

The conversation went no further as the sound of vehicles arriving drew all of their attention. Slow lead the way through the home from the back porch deck to the front porch to see the arrival of four separate vehicles.

“What in the truck nuts is happening here,” he said, waiting at the edge of the porch for the vehicles to come to a stop.

The driver of the first vehicle was the one to emerge first. On the back of his truck were two additional vehicles, a Chevy Colorado in deep green and a Subaru Forester 4 x4 SUV also in forest green. Helen’s hand went to her breast. Green was her favorite color. She didn’t remember mentioning that to Mustang, but he’d heard her words.

“Got a delivery here for Helen McDaniel,” the driver said.

“For me?” she asked, coming off the porch.

The second driver of the next vehicle brought with him a metal carport. He too climbed down and walked over to meet Helen. Offering a wide smile and a lascivious grin, he gave her an inappropriate once-over before chiming in, “Hey, I guess what I have on the back of my rig is the carport for those two vehicles. Let me know where you want me to set it up to house your cars.”

“And like wow,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Follow me. I know exactly where that should go.”

As she walked around the side of the house, Slow and Cherry were busy looking at the remaining two vehicles. One had a partially put-together small building of some sort. The last vehicle had his cousin Bleu Neary in the driver’s seat with his ward Jacob on the passenger side. Jacob took care of Bleu Neary’s horses over at his farmhouse on the other side of Louisville.

“Bleu, is that a pony?” Slow shouted as his cousin.

“Yes, yes, it is,” Bleu said, climbing out of the truck. “Jacob, unload Ms. Sprinkles.”

“No, no, and no,” Slow said to him.

“Yes, yes, and sorry, but Ms. Sprinkles is bought and paid for by your brother, and I have orders to deliver this pony to one Ms. Naomi Ruth Neary,” Bleu said, trying not to laugh. He looked at Cherry, tipping the bib of his hat. Thinking better of it, he’d never met his cousin’s wife and corrected the error immediately.

“Good morning, Ms. Abigail. I regret not coming to meet you before now, but as I understand it, the past few months have been insane,” he said, offering his hand.

“What is shameful is you showing up before eight a.m. at my house with a got-damned pony,” Slow mumbled through gritted teeth.

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