OurLot Pub

The mare stumbled down the rocky, sandy track towards the lake.  Annie’s guard was up.  Baby Face had to be around here someplace; she didn’t want to be hijacked, not now when she was so close.  Her Tee shirt stuck to her back.  She had not noticed her nervousness before, but she was now feeling clammy, her heart beating loud enough to hear.  Closer to the glittering water they went, mare and mistress united in their uncertainty.  Whatever was down here needed to be challenged and she was, despite her nerves, the woman for the job.

The horse dropped her head and began to drink long, noisy draughts of cool water.  Annie was envious.  She had water in her bottle but it was warm now.  She slowly dismounted, watching all around for the tell tale signs of the errant mule train and Ruby’s biscuits.  Far away in the trees she spied a hawk launching itself out to forage.  Ground squirrels dropped silently down into their holes to inform family of what danger lurked overhead.  But the hawk was no threat to Annie.  For her, something darker and more terrifying was lurking.  No sign visible to the horror awaiting her in the dark tree lined edge of the lake just up the bank from her.  Not for her the flash of wings and merciful quick end as talons brought the little animal’s life to an end.  For her the way ahead spelled entrapment, torture and who knows what?

Ruby was angry, very angry.  She had busied herself back in the pub.  If truth be told, she was a little cross that Sparky had sent Annie out on the hunt for the missing Bourbons, and had not thought to send her too.  Admittedly Ruby hadn’t actually ridden a horse since that fateful day in 1967 when she had accepted her Dad’s dare to climb up on one on the beach at their holiday at Blackpool.  She hadn’t wanted to go.  Most years they had a caravan at Minehead where the tide went out over a mile and by the time that they had walked to the water’s edge it was time to come back or be drowned by the incoming tide.  It was there that Ruby had had her first kiss with the son of a pickled onion seller from Cleethorpes.  He had wooed her with fish and chips, mushy peas and free onions.  How could she resist.  His kisses had been vinegary and not a little salty too.  But she put this down to his living in close proximity to the pickle factory and his undeniable love of Britain’s favourite fast food.  He had been fascinated by this pale Wiltshire girl.  His futile fumblings with her wire reinforced underthings had caused them both annoyance.  her mother had told her that boys would take every opportunity to get at her “bits” and that, as a nice girl, she should resist any untoward advances by wearing a line of not very fashionable, but undeniably fortress tight foundation garments.  The Blackpool horse, well pony really, had been made of the same type of reinforced obstinance as Ruby’s underwear.  A gaudy red saddle embellished with steel rivets forming the word “Blackpool Fun” waited for Ruby, along with matching reins.  An elderly, sour looking man had responded to Ruby’s dad’s jocular “ I bet you’ve been here a long time” with a laconic look and a drawn out “No.  Only since 9 o’clock”.  Dad handed over the 1/6d and Ruby started her first, and only equine adventure until now.  About a quarter mile down the beach the man let go of the halter and said “Bring him back in 45 minutes or you’ll pay extra”.  With that he turned and started to trudge back to where they had come from.  Ruby was alone.  For a moment she allowed the momentous realisation that she now had sole command over this pony to sink in.  Then she panicked.  Without thinking she dug her heels into the sides of her mount.  This hadn’t happened in a long time.  Deep in the recesses of the pony’s mind he remembered his days a a riding school mount.  Endless circuits of the indoor school with little girls all dreaming that they were at The Horse of the Year Show and had just made a clear round.  The thump in the ribcage meant only one thing to her sturdy steed.  Speed!

With an unexpected increase in his gait he broke into a trot and then a canter, and finally, a moment of glory to him, his first gallop in years.  Ruby had hung on for her life.  She found the trot interesting as her mount appeared to turn into a jack hammer, and then settled down low in the saddle as he strode out speeding down the beach scattering corpulent, sun burnt, lobster pink holiday makers in his wake, their windbreaks and picnics flying about the beach.  On they went until at last the pony ran into the edge of one of the little known spots of quicksand that lurk at the far end of the beach.  At this point, the pony, being sensitive to such things stopped dead still.  Ruby, being less aware kept on going.  Soon she was sprawled about two feet in front of the horse’s nose.  She could hear his snorting behind her.  Although slightly disorientated she felt fine.  Nothing appeared to be broken, but she was experiencing a floating and slightly sinking sensation.  “Don’t move”.  She heard a shout from the dunes.  “We’ll have you out in a jiffy”.  She had no idea what this deranged person meant.  All she had to do was stand up.  Ah Ha.  Easier said than done.  Then she screamed....

“Sparky.  I want to go after Annie”.  Ruby had entered the Mayor’s office without ceremony.  “They are my biscuits she’s risking her life for and I need to help get them back”.  Sparky was becoming used to unscheduled arrivals in her office.  Since the folk at the pub had arrived she had had to put up with a lot of unexpected interruptions.  Rosekitty had been in demanding black paint for the dungeon room and Nova, the fiery red headed sex kitten had stood on the little rug that lay in front of Sparky’s desk and announced that she wanted to open a chicken ranch.  The village was awash with chickens.  Why on earth would they want yet another intensive chicken breeding facility?  “Never been to Nevada huh?” Nova had said.  Sparky had to concede that she hadn’t but that one time that she went to Las Vegas and; well somethings you just don’t tell.  But when Nova told her what she really wanted and meant by chicken ranch Sparky was frankly quite shocked.  She meant to say “Ah yes.  I know what you mean.  No way Nova”.  Instead she just got the “Ah yes...” out when they were interrupted by the sight of Mad Meg chased by yet another farmer whose livestock she had stolen.  She rushed to her door and as she did so she heard Nova saying as she departed in a little ball of dust “Gee thanks babydoll.  I knew you would see it as a benefit.  We’ll pull the boys in from all around.  You see if we don’t”.  “Nova.  Wait” she called aftyer her.  But too late.  Mad Meg was climbing her step, a lamb under each arm.  “Hi Mayor she wheezed through whisky sodden teeth.  Meet Baa and Saloon Baa”.  Sparky had temporarily given up and collapsed into her chair.