The sun had almost finished rising. However, it was still early, about seven in the morning. The morning dew rested on the windowsill, making the chopped paint and old wood gently toss the light of the sun into the bedroom. Mickey groaned as rubbed his hand on his face. He threw the sheet down past his knees then blindly slid his hand across the desk beside the table. Feeling the cold glass screen of his phone he held it above his head. 7:04 shined into his unprepared eyes.
"Ah" he dropped his phone and turned his head quick as he could. The corner hit him in the ear, "Screw me. Come on!" Having started his day in the best possible way, Mickey tossed his phone back onto the desk and trudged out of bed. He got ready lazily and went into the kitchen to cook some breakfast.
He grabbed some eggs from a bowl on the counter and some ham from the fridge. He grabbed some cut peppers from the fridge he had prepped the night before and tossed them in. The aroma filled the air as Mic put the food on two plates at the table. "I'm starvin', Mic. Thanks for helpin' with breakfast kiddo. I got lots to do today."
"It's the least I could do Pa. Plus you wrung me out for sleeping in." Mickey chuckled with a wry smile on his face, 'Good times,' he thought to himself sarcastically.
"Hey now, I know what yur thinkin'. You know that city life don't fly on the farm. Stayin up late and sleepin late means nothing gets done. I done gave you a whole week to adjust you self. You know bein' diligent is gonna help you." Mickey's father went on as he grabbed a fork and sat at his plate of food.
"I know, Pa." Mic sat down beside him at the table and started eating. When a ringtone sounded they both lightly jumped in surprise. Mic's face went from surprise to excitement with a wide smile and expectant eyes as he pulled out his phone as quick as he could.
"Really? Why you playin on yur phone at the table? It can wait, cain't it? Got the whole day ahead you." He shoved a big bite into his mouth.
"It ain't my phone," Mickey set his phone down face up. The screen was blank but the ringing continued. "Your popular Pa."
"Goodness, who'd be callin' me at this hour." He slowly pulled out his phone. He raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw the screen. "Hold on one second, Dale. You caught me eatin breakfast. Imma put you on speaker real quick." He pulled the phone from his ear and squinted while searching the screen. He mumbled under his breath "Where's that button?"
Pa set the phone down then spoke a little too loud for indoors, but not quite yelling. "Talk to me Dale. What's going on?"
"Dammit Rick! My chickens got killed, Rick! I ain't even hear it last night. I come out this morning to 12 dead chickens layin' in the coop. The other 9, poor babies, they ain't actin' right. Must be more scared than deer in headlights, chickens don't know what to do." Dale.... wasn't happy. Mic thought he heard wind, but figured it might be Dale on speaker too, waving his phone around.
"Whaddya mean they ain't actin' right? Chickens are simple animals Dale." Pa smirked then took a big bite of his breakfast. He had a satisfied grin on his face while he chewed.
"The chickens are layin' down. On their backs. They walkin' into things, bumping each other. You know they don't normally do that, now do they, Rick? That ain't even the weird bit, man."
"What you mean that ain't even the weird bit?" Pa set his knife and fork down, then scooted to the edge of his seat and leaned towards the phone.
"Well I said I gots 12 dead chickens, and 9 strange ones. Thing is Rick, I only got 21 chickens. No missing chickens. But it gets weirder." Dale started to breath heavily, catching his breath from all his yelling, his pause of a few seconds stretched the tension to a snapping point. "The chickens are dry, Rick. The coyote sucked 'em dry."
"They dry? What you mean they dry? Coyotes don't suck nothin'!" Pa was quick to shut Dale down.
"The chickens are dryer than beef jerky, and I ain't got enough blood in the coop here to even fill a shot glass, Rick. No blood. They dry I tell you."
"Well enjoy your chicken jerky then. How nice of the coyotes to do you a favor and make a treat like that." Pa laughed and smacked his knee.
'Does Pa really think he's that funny?' Mic thought to himself. 'But coyotes usually tear chickens up, take them with them too...'
"I ain't got time for your crap, Rick! I was wondering if you could give me a hand, is all. I gotta fix the fence and clean up this mess. I'd like to take my chickens to lady doc in town too. Few of da dumb ones are bleedin'. Can ya spare some time for me, pal?"
Dale was probably really struggling with the wild situation at his house. "Dammit. I gotta check my fence. I already got a few spots I been waitin' to patch up. Plus the big animals need lots o' helpin' this time of year. You know that." Pa scrunched his brow and even bit his chapped lower lip. His brain must've been going on overdrive.
'Never enough hours in the day for any of us.' Mic thought. "Why don't I go lend Dale a hand, Pa? He still has all of his regular chores. I can give you a little hand later if you didn't get everything done."
"Is that Mic! Woo!" Dale cheered through the phone.
"Trying ta get outta work boy? Well, I guess you ain't seen Dale yet since you got here." Pa huffed out a deep sigh, "well, get to it. Better work hard. I ain't raise no slacker. Get your stuff and load up Buttercup."
"Buttercup? Really?" A wide smile almost reached from one ear to the other on Mic's face. 'It's been so long since me and Buttercup went out for a ride.' Mic laughed. "I won't wear the old horse out going to hard, will I?"
"You done lost your mind if you think Buttercup gonna go and get tired first. You know that horse is stronger than you ever was and ever will be. Her age just makes her smarter." Pa chuckled.
"Buttercup don't know she old boys. She'll get you here as fast as you can go while still stickin' in the saddle. Get a move on, Mic. We gots things to do!" Dale hollered through the phone again.
Mic stuffed the rest of his breakfast in his mouth and took off to his room. He threw on a belt and started loading the saddle bag. "Knife, rope, snacks for me, snacks for Buttercup. General junk, be prepared but not gay. I'll need to put the frickin boots on if I'm gonna ride...."
"Mickey, take Ol' Billy with you too." Mickey's dad handed him a sawed off .22 rifle. "Just put her in the holster and if you see coyote, do us all a favor." Mic took the gun and replied with a simple head nod.
He put some spare ammo in the bag, and stuck the gun in too. 'Didn't the same Bill who modified this gun make the holster in the bag too?' Mic thought to himself. Half the stock stuck out of the bag but inside the bag it was strapped in an internal holster design and secure. Mic threw the bag over his shoulder and went out towards the barn.
He was excited to ride again, "This I've missed!" Mic mumbled between short breaths as he dashed straight to Buttercup ignoring everything else. He stopped once he was inside and glared down at his boots.
When Mic raised his head again, a few of the animals were all looking his way. The face he was happiest to see though, was Buttercup's. The other animals went about their simple barnyard lives, doing whatever it is they do. Buttercup kept her attention focused on Mic though.
Her gaze followed him and she whinnied that beautiful horse sound that made Mic happy he got up at 7 this morning. "Hey girl, you missed me too?"
Mic ran his hand down her shiny coat and began prepping her to ride. She listened to each order and the saddle was on her after almost no time at all. "We didn't forget how to do this, huh? I know Pa probably doesn't ride you much. I'll keep you in shape this summer though, don't you worry a hair on your head." Mic laughed and gave her a treat before taking her out of the barn and mounting.
"I'm off, Pa!" were Mic's last words before putting Buttercup into motion. He went down the driveway and up the road a bit before coming to the path he was looking for. "This old riding path should still come right to the back of Dale's property." With the warmup completed, and having finally arrived at the track, it was time to let loose. "Hyah!" and with a short yell they took off.
Mic kept his legs tense. The stirrup rested in the space of the boot's heel, and with his flexed legs, it was like he was standing. Sitting isn't an option though. Sitting in a saddle at this speed is like using nature's jackhammer to change genders.
When some branches or a piece of overgrowth was in the way, Buttercup would make a small hop. She took the turns and avoided obstacles with class and experience. She had found her rhythm, between the pounding of four hooves and her breathing.
Mic worked with her. He ducked under or to the side of the low hanging tree limbs. He kept his eyes on the path in front of him, and further ahead. He helped subtly guide Buttercup, so that she would be ready to handle the next obstacle. He matched his breathing to hers. They reached the halfway point and slowed to a stop.
"Oh wow," they both breathed heavily. "That was intense. We got a little too excited, huh?" Mic said as he patted Buttercup. They walked along slowly and Mic decided to take a drink of his water. He grinned as he wet the back of his throat and heard the water slosh in the canteen.
Buttercup came to a stop abruptly. Her head swiveled back and forth and she neighed softly. She tried to stomp lightly but her hooves just slapped through the mud as she turned herself. Mic began to shush her and rub her neck in an effort to calm her down. Then the sound started.
Buttercup had sensed it, with those keen animal instincts that nature instills in every beast. Mic couldn't process it until the sound started though. A soft, but clear rattling. Mic turned toward the sound and tried to focus on the snake. It was hard to spot in the mud and grass and everything that fell to the ground in the woods. However, the shaking tail draws attention from the eyes as much as it does from the ears.
The rattlesnake was in their path. They needed to go past it. "Screw me." Mic said softly. With a groan, he got down from Buttercup. He walked toward the rattlesnake and then stuck his boot out. He scooted closer, and closer. With little shake of his foot and a tap on the ground, the snake couldn't wait any longer. It lunged and bit into the boot with full force.
Mic stepped his foot onto the ground, applying pressure to the snake, it had no other choice but to latch on and pump venom. Mic reached down and grabbed the rattle, then lifted the snake into the air. It wiggled but couldn't reach him. He breathed in and lifted the snake a little higher, then as he breathed out Mic snapped the snake like a whip.
After the light crunch sound, Mic looked down and could see the blood dripping out of it's mouth. "Dead." He checked his boots, he couldn't see a hole in them. "Darwin sucks, huh?" He said looking back at the snake.
Mic coiled the snake up and hid it behind his back before approaching Buttercup. He didn't want to scare her with the snake in hand. He pulled out a spare shirt from the saddlebag and wrapped the front of the snake in it. "That'll taste good later, hopefully."
"Are you alright, Buttercup? Did the big bad snake scare you? Don't worry, you're safe with me." Mic mounted Buttercup again, starting the tail half of his trip.