Page 71 of Trickster King

Laughing, she gave me a pen and pulled out a roll of paper towels so I could clean off my hands enough to sign without leaving muddy prints everywhere. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We appreciate what you’re doing for these animals, and we’re honored to help.”

If only everyone in the world felt the same way about animals and people alike. “You’re welcome. I’ll go make use of the hose, and you can talk to Randy about how best to get in touch with me about her care. Has she had a bath yet?”

“She has. She’s a chestnut quarter horse, and she looks to be around eight years old.”

“Bred?”

“She has not been bred, but there is evidence she recently weaned a foal.”

I breathed a relieved sigh. “Excellent, thank you. Randy?”

“I’ll handle any payments and give the paperwork to the accountants,” my RPS agent promised. “Eddie? Help him get hosed off, and don’t let him escape from the other agents.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best, but this is Dad we’re talking about. He might see a horse in the recovery pasture and visit.”

I would, too. “I am known to boost morale of horses stuck in the hospital, so I should pay all the current residents a visit.”

“I’ll make the arrangements. Just try to get somewhat clean. I’ll recruit a flameweaver to dry you off.”

As we hadn’t gotten around to replacing my dead phone yet, I handed over the fried device so Randy could take care of it. My wallet went next, and I considered handing over my gold before changing my mind.

The RPS agents already carried enough of my gains, which I’d plucked from the ground with enthusiasm. While Eddie had found a few small nuggets, I held responsibility for the vast majority of the haul.

The RPS agents had hesitated to spoil my fun, although they had all taken a turn getting muddy to acquire a prize of their own at my encouragement.

The rest of the RPS had not been pleased with the state of our clothes upon our return. They’d been less pleased with my insistence on walking off the discomfort in my ankle from my tumble.

Once my pockets lacked anything else that could be further ruined, I gave Eddie control over the hose, and we played a game where I dodged and he did his best to clean me off in record time. Every now and then, I stole the hose and gave the boy a rinse. In record time, we made a mess of the yard along the hospital. As several of the other agents shared our muddy fate, I gave them the choice to remove their tech or ruin their tech, hosing them off so we’d look wet but almost respectable.

To my amusement, someone must have called the media as a reporter took pictures of me assaulting Randy with the hose upon his return.

“Dad, they’re here,” Eddie complained.

“Your mom probably tipped them off about the abused horses. If they want to get a few pictures of us hosing off, I don’t care. It’s good for the kingdom to see that their king isn’t afraid of a little water or mud.”

“A little?” Randy asked, taking the hose from me and going to work getting the mud out of his hair. “They have shots of you coming in completely covered—and there are photographs of the mare as she was brought in. I was told by the reporters who beat us here that they feel good deeds deserve rewards, so they’re going to spin your heroism. Again.”

The disgust in the agent’s tone made me laugh. “Invite them to the barn to get photographs of the rescues and make sure they know that’s after the basic emergency care has been done.”

“Jerrod already issued the invitation as he suspected you wanted to do outreach about them. He had conferred with us first, and we approved it. They staged a shoot with the filly and Eddie’s gelding.”

“Can I name him Black Sand, Dad?” Eddie asked, tugging on my sleeve. “Isn’t that what you look for when panning for gold? Black sand in the creek?”

I marveled at the boy’s basic knowledge, and I made a mental note to thank the school for cultivating his desire to learn. “You can name him whatever you want, Eddie. He’s your horse now. Black Sand is a good name, especially if you want to show the world that horse has heart and can compete.”

The boy nodded. “He’s basically a baby still, too.”

That he was. “Once we’re done here and go to a phone store, we’ll go visit Black Sand and see how he’s doing. I can’t promise he’ll want to compete or be good at any discipline, but there’s something to be said for an excellent ranch horse. I’ll help teach you how to determine what a horse is good at and likes to do. For the moment, you should spend the time in the barn teaching him that you’re his friend.”

“I can do that.”

I had no doubt of it, and I ruffled his damp hair before turning my attention to Randy. “Has the wife been warned?”

“Not yet.”

I left Randy to finish his cleanup and went to the agents on guard, holding out my hand. “I need a phone to warn the wife about the reporters.”

Every agent offered theirs, and laughing, I grabbed the nearest one and dialed my wife’s number from memory.

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