A Ten Pound Bag
Chapter 15: The Abigail Interlude

Copyright© 2020 by Emmeran

The next morning proceeded at a leisurely place, we had about a day’s worth of work here in Flagstaff and two days to complete it in. This trip wasn’t a race of some kind; now that I’d disappeared from easy tracking I could try to enjoy the journey within the boundaries of schedule and appointments.

Over dinner the night before we had reached the decision that renting a separate vehicle for Sonya at each destination would probably be a good idea. We were all spending a lot of time together so a little freedom and separation was probably a good idea. I knew that Sonya had a large family and a full life when she wasn’t at work; she had just spent weeks focusing only on me and she needed a break. We organized a rental pickup for her at each planned stop and it was decided that she would pick up our deliveries and she insisted that she wanted to handle the day-to-day shopping. Matilda sat with us and never said a word.

So off we went the next morning to pick-up the rental truck. During the short drive we reviewed our schedule for the day and Sonya handed me my credit card for the day. Now because one of the purposes of this trip was to avoid being easy to trace Traci had arranged a multitude of charge cards drawing on a myriad of shell companies and Sonya carried those cards in a pendaflex folder. I got a different card each and every day. Naturally this information was well-documented and was available to the authorities, I wasn’t trying to hide from the government just the leeches.

Sonya left the rental lot first to destinations unknown and I went to meet my first horse, “Abigail”. The horse ranch was easy to find and was clearly marked with a large sign proclaiming that this was the “Kincade Horse Farm” and the home of “Fine Morgan Horses”. That was the place I was seeking and that was the breed I wanted to specialize in, my plan was purebred Morgans and Rottweilers.

Gabe Kincade came out to meet me as I pulled up; he was a middled aged fellow of medium height and over-all fairly non-descript. However his eyes were energetic and full of life, particularly when he started talking about his Morgans. This was a man who had found his life calling.

He took me to meet Abigail, a fine chestnut mare standing almost fifteen and a half hands in height, she was a beautiful example of the breed. Abigail was friendly and well-mannered and willingly took to the tack when Gabe saddled her up for me. Twenty minutes around the paddock showed me she was well trained and neck reigned well; neck reining was important to me as to this day I dislike direct reigning a horse.

Trotting her back to Gabe I had a few last questions; one was answered when Gabe’s German Shepard showed up; Abigail merely sniffed the dog circling her feet and then promptly ignored it. I struck a deal with Gabe on the spot and managed to get him to throw in delivery and Abigail’s tack. The saddle was a little small for me but Abigail was comfortable with it, and I could make work until I got to a tack shop for a proper fitting.

We agreed on the price and shook on the deal, he led me to the office in his horse barn where we signed the contract and agreed on payment details; my credit rating – atrocious for years – was now stellar and cash in hand wasn’t required. On the way out he gave me the grand tour including his personal tack shop, I had a lot of questions when I was in that room and his answers made a lot of sense. He told me he had started out simply repairing the odd broken bridle or harness and now he actually made everything but his saddles. He even had full towing rigs for his horses so he could use them to move thing around the farm. We spent almost two full hours in his tack shop and I got a lot of good ideas. It suddenly became clear to me that if I planned on horseback hunting trips I’d need to be able to repair my own tack at the very minimum; it was time to add to that shopping list.

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