“We’re going to Blue Ribbon Stables,” I said. “It’s the closest place to rent a horse.”
“Why?” Desandra asked.
“Because I can’t keep up with you on foot,” I said.
“And she runs like a rhino,” Derek added. “You can hear her a mile away.”
Traitor. “I thought you had my back?”
“I do,” Derek said. “The rhino running is nice. Makes it easy to keep track of you. If I ever lose you, I just have to listen and there you are.”
“Yes,” Desandra agreed. “It’s convenient.”
I laughed.
“Are you always this casual?” Robert asked.
“Derek and I worked together for a long time,” I told him. “He’s allowed some leeway.”
“What about Desandra?”
“She only bothers with protocol when she wants something. The rest of the time it’s lewd jokes and descriptions of plums.”
Desandra snickered.
Robert’s eyebrows crept up. “Plums?”
I waved my hand. “Don’t ask.”
Ten minutes later the wooded path spat us out into Troll’s Ferry Road, and fifteen minutes later we stopped next to the fence near the gate leading to Blue Ribbon Stables. Half an hour gone. We didn’t have much time.
“You better go in by yourself,” Desandra said. “Or they might get scared that Derek and I intend to blow their house down.”
“If there is an issue,” Robert said, “we’re only a few feet away.”
I heard a low guttural sound and I realized it was Derek laughing. Well, at least his sense of humor was coming back. Thank the Universe for small favors.
I jogged to the door and knocked. The door swung open and an elderly black man leveled a crossbow at me. I held up my hands. “Mr. Walton? I need a horse. I called you yesterday and asked you to hold one for me.”
Mr. Walton squinted at me. “About that . . .”
“Yes?”
“I’ve done rented them all.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. “You said you had one and would hold it for me. I sent one of my people here and he told me you took the money.”
“I did say that and I did take it. But you know. Money is a funny thing. The more of it, the prettier it looks. You said you might need a horse and it wasn’t a sure thing.”
Argh.
“You want a refund?”
“I want a horse.”
“I’m all out of horses for this week, but I’ve got a mammoth jenny.”
“A what?”
“Come, I’ll show you.”
He led me to the stable. Inside in the third stall something large moved. It looked like a horse, about sixteen hands or so tall. The man raised a feylantern. A long face with two-foot-long ears looked at me with big blue eyes. A donkey, except it stood about eight feet tall, hoof to ear. Big white spots painted its black shaggy hide.
“What is this?”
“That right there is a mammoth jenny. A female American Mammoth donkey.”
“Is she magic?”
“Nahh. They developed them in the early twentieth century, primarily for mule breeding. She’s a good mount. Good on a trail. She’ll give you a twenty-mile-per-hour gallop in a pinch, but not for long. One thing, though. Most of her kind are sweet. She’s what we call in the business a freak of nature. Smart, stubborn, and ornery.”
“What’s her name?”
“Cuddles.”
Perfect. “I’ll take her.”
The moment I walked Cuddles out of her stall, she turned to face me, stood erect, and put her ears forward. Okay. When a horse was ready to be aggressive, she typically put her ears back. This, I didn’t know. Donkeys were a new territory for me.
“What do the ears mean?”
Mr. Walton shrugged. “Means she isn’t sure about you. Donkeys are stoic animals. They’re not horses with long ears, you know.”
Okay. If Cuddles were a horse, I’d wave the lead at her to make her take a step back. In horse dominance games, whoever moved first lost face. Something told me it wouldn’t work here. “Do you have any carrots?”
Mr. Walton crossed the stable to the front and brought me a large carrot.
“Thanks.” I took one, bit into the top, and made loud chewing noises. “Mmm, yummy carrot.”
Cuddles opened her eyes a little wider.
“Mmm, delicious.”
Cuddles took a step forward. I turned sideways and tried to chew louder. Cuddles clopped toward me and nudged my shoulder with her nose. I held the carrot in front of her and petted her cheek. She ate the carrot and looked at me.
“Very nice,” Mr. Walton approved. “You’re a donkey whisperer.”
“You got more carrots?”
Two minutes later I packed three pounds of carrots into Cuddles’s saddlebags. He let me have them for free “on account of Cuddles isn’t a horse and I did rent your mare out from under you.” If a herd of giant donkeys crossed our path and needed to be subdued, I had it covered.
I rode out of the stables on top of an eight-foot-tall donkey that looked like she had robbed a Holstein cow and was now wearing the stolen clothes. Robert gaped at me. Desandra made a weird face: her right eyebrow crept up, her left went down, and her mouth got stuck somewhere between surprise and the beginning of the word “what.” Derek’s mouth opened and didn’t close until we came to a halt next to him.
“What the hell is this?” Desandra asked.
“This is Cuddles. She’s a mammoth donkey.”
Derek grinned, leaning on the fence. “Do you have any self-respect left?”
“Nope.”
“I think she’s cute.” Desandra reached out.
Cuddles promptly tried to bite her. Desandra jerked her hand away and bared her teeth. “Donkey, you don’t know who you’re messing with. I’ll eat you for breakfast.”
“Where to now?” I asked.
“Hold on,” Robert said. “I’m still . . . coming to terms with your mode of transportation.”
“Take your time.” I nudged Cuddles, turning her to give him a better view. Cuddles flicked her ears, lifted her feet, and pranced. Oh dear God.
Derek put his head down on the fence and made a moaning noise. Desandra chortled.
“Okay,” Robert said. “I think I’ve absorbed. I am ready for strategy planning now. Could you please stop prancing?”
“She isn’t done.”