The Horse with a Ribbon in her Mane

The Horse with a Ribbon in her Mane 5

I got up, took a deep breath, and slipped on some clothes before heading to the door.

I glanced through the peephole and saw a tall, burly man with some papers in his hands. I sighed in relief, I knew him, he ran the auction.

I opened the door. "Hello, how may I help you?"

He cleared his throat. "Hello, my name is Mitch from the Liverspring Auction House. I'm here to hand over her current coggins and registration papers. Sorry for being early, I've got a busy schedule."

I nodded and took the papers, then turned around, reading the papers. Art, also known as Slick Cool Chick, was a registered thoroughbred mare who wasn't from the track. I sighed in relief, and went to sit at my desk to finish reading the papers.

I checked her coggins, then noticed another paper below her coggins. I pulled it out and began to read the mysterious note.

'If your reading this, then you must own my daughter's mare Constant. My wife, who is currently divorcing me, was heartbroken with our daughter's death. It appeared to me that my wife wrote a note on the red ribbon tied to her mane. Whatever my wife says, Constant would never kill anybody. Oops, my time is running out; better go. Thanks.'

I stared at the note, my mind clouded with disbelief. Running out of time? Constant? Daughter's death? Ex-wife? I shook my head. Whatever happened was the past. Right now, I had to worry about what was going on with Art/ 

I trotted along the road, cars occasionally slowing down and gingerly passing me, while some ignorant drivers sped by and honked their horns.

Suddenly, I pulled Art, or Constant, I hadn't decided which I wanted to call her, into a grass feild that ran along the road. I clucked her into a lope and sat deep on her bare back, sighing.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Such a good horse, and she's already bringing me some problems. I couldn't give her up, definitely not. She was so much better at jumping than Ticker or Apache, and had a sweeter personality too. She was the only horse who'd willingly do anything for me.

Two questions nagged my mind, though.

Why did I keep getting notes from these people? And why does it seem like somebody wants my mare back?

But it didn't matter, because she was legally mine and I had all rights to take her back if anyone tried to claim her.

Even if somebody stole her, I could take them to court and get her back. It was luxurious how a simple bill of sale could change everything. I grinned evilly.

Damn, the man who left the note with her coggins and registration papers didn't leave a name, but I had all proof to put a name to the anonymous writer.

Michael Vickson, wife to Ann Marie, and most of all, previous owner of Constant/Art.

I opened my eyes and found we were standing in the middle of the feild. I lay on her back, sighing. I didn't know what to do! I didn't know where this Michael Vikson liv- wait.

Michael Vickson?

I'd heard that name before.

Then it struck me.

Michael Vickson had been riding a tall thoroughbred gelding at that horse show, and we narrowly beat him by a few seconds.

The next morning I woke up to find my phone with an anonymous voicemail.

"Hello, Miss Kaylee. I see you own my daughter's wretched horse. I'm ashamed, she deserves to live in hell, but eh, at least she's gone. Anyways, I highly recommend you up your security. Because they're coming, not for you, but for the mare."

Her voice had a hint on canadian, and her tone was warning, almost a threat. I Knew I had to do something fast, and I did.

I dialed my ex-husband's number.

"Hello, this is Ken McLuke."

"Ken? Um, hi, it's Kaylee. Look I need-"

He hung up. I shook my fist and said, "Darn you, you wretched jerk."

So next I called my neighbor Vicki's number, and she answered right away. "Hello! This is Vickiii!"

"Hey Vicki, it's Kaylee! Look, I have this horse and I need to move her for a while, do you mind if I keep her over at your place for about a... week?"

"Oh, anyday, Kaylee! Come over whenever you wish!"

"Thanks!" I hung up and went to hitch the trailer to the van, then loaded Art/Constant and Ticker.

Ok, so I know your wondering why I loaded Ticker. Actually, it's good thinking. Anyone would think if they saw me pulling away with Art alone that I was moving her. But with Ticker and Art they'd think of a horse show because I do bring two horses occasionally.

I unloaded Art in Vicki's yard and put her inside a empty stall in the barn, then locked it. "See you later, baby." I said, before going out and driving home with Ticker. The poor black gelding had no clue why he wasn't unloaded, and Art was. He nickered nervously and stomped the trailer.

I just wish I'd seen the van following me.