Page 13 of Dragon Her Heels

THREE

Those who left serviceable cartons received eggs another day.

My first decision as someone gainfully employed by the Devil was to decide that until a castle popped up from the depths of Lake Hancock, dragons were not real, the whole mess was a myth, and the neighbors were crazier than I believed possible.

If Lucifer wanted to pay me ridiculous amounts of money to stay off the general job market, so be it.

I worried the nasty piece up the way, the older woman who lived in the first house nearest the main street leading towards town, might catch wind the Devil had come calling, insist the dragon was real, and decide to give me a piece of her mind. Unlike Susie Marie, Donna Leanne Abraham liked exactly nobody and wasn’t even considered to be part of the neighborhood because of it.

As the limo had inevitably drawn attention, I visited the chickens, discovered the hens had been busy laying while I’d been occupied securing work for myself, and gathered everything, planning to leave presents for everyone down the street. I wouldn’t lie to them, but I’d dodge unwanted questions for all I was worth.

I packed the eggs into cartons of six, retrieved my little wagon, and visited the orchard, making sure to grab a few pieces of fruit for everyone, including the nasty old woman I loved to hate.

I wouldn’t knock on her door, but I’d leave her some of my bounty as a gesture of goodwill, especially as she left the empty cartons on her step for me to pick up the next morning.

Those who left serviceable cartons received eggs another day.

With the storm clouds rolling in, I headed down the street to make my rounds, dropping off eggs and fruit before ringing doorbells or knocking and heading off to commit additional random acts of kindness. Most of the time, I escaped without having to deal with any of the neighbors; most were at work or running errands.

Unfortunately for my sanity, Susie Marie and Donna Leanne were engaging in a powwow at Susie Marie’s mailbox. Bracing for the worst, I strolled up with my wagon in tow and said, “I checked on the chickens before the storm, and the brats went on a laying spree since this morning.” I offered Susie Marie the first carton of eggs with a pair of apples and an orange on top. Grateful I’d gathered enough for the bane of Fox Hunt Drive, I offered the old woman a carton of eggs, a peach, a lemon, and a grapefruit. With luck, she wouldn’t realize I implied she was a touchy sourpuss until after she made it home.

“I heard you had some rich people comin’ by your place this morning,” Donna Leanne commented while accepting my gift. “Thank you. It’s mighty kind of you to share your bounty.”

When zucchini season came, nobody would be thanking me. We’d be drowning in the green and yellow crop. When the vines had begun to flower, I’d understood I’d made mistakes. Worse, using my magic had done a good job of making certain I’d have a strong harvest.

We would be eating zucchini, tomatoes, and cucumbers for all eternity.

The truth served me best—and the truth would shut up some of the gossips for a while if all went well. “The one gentleman is my new employer, and he came over to work on finalizing the proposal for my hire. It went well, so he wasn’t here for long.”

Donna Leanne raised a brow, and she looked me over, focusing on her general points of contention, which involved my black hair, which I’d dyed the day after I’d finished signing all the papers. I’d gotten double piercings on both ears as I liked the stud and chain styles of earrings. As riding a horse and dangling earrings didn’t mix, I wore plain studs in all my piercings. “You can’t help your green eyes, of course, but perhaps you should have worn those fancy gemstone cuff earrings. That way, those extra holes at least appear elegant.”

Somedays, I questioned what I had done to deserve Donna Leanne in my life. Rather than call her out for being the street’s living nightmare, I smiled. “I was working with Alligator Bait, and his visit was unscheduled. As such, he didn’t mind.”

While I suspected the woman hated my guts, she loved Alligator Bait; my filly had won her a pretty penny when she’d gambled on me, the long odd. “And are you going to be racing that beauty again? Maybe you don’t have the right look for those rich folks, but you sure can ride a horse. I worried something fierce you’d take a nasty fall, but no, you went on to show those boys who the real boss of the track is.”

I had no idea which divine had intervened, but I accepted the out from the unpleasantries with gratitude. “I will be. I should have the racing schedule in the next few days, and I’ll leave a copy with your next batch of eggs.”

“Good girl. You run along now. Just make sure you take care when that dragon shows up. He isn’t going to like you having employment with anyone. That property is his domain, and he is not shy about making it clear that is the case.”

I engaged the woman in a staring contest, and once confident she wouldn’t be looking away, I offered her my best smile. “You better make yourself a tall glass of lemonade then, and I’ll even provide the lemons, because not even a dragon is going to ruin my paradise.”

“Oh, this is going to be a treat. Just bring over a basket of lemons when he comes calling, and if you bring over some cherries and peaches, I’ll make you a pie you’ll be writing home about.”

As nobody except Isaac could safely bake on our street, I worried I’d be writing home about the pie from my death bed in a hospital due to food poisoning. Rather than vocalize my fear, I smiled, nodded, and promised I’d do just that before making my excuses to finish my deliveries and skitter on home before the afternoon rains came calling.

* * *

I made it all of two steps inside before the skies opened, thunder boomed, and the weather decided to dish out a storm worthy of Miami. For the most part, my slice of Florida tended to stick to rain, but every rare now and again, the clouds opted to put on a show. Heading upstairs, I went to my reading room, which featured a window niche filled with comfy pillows and a blanket so I could relax. Rather than indulge, I made use of my laptop and began reading about the requirements to take Alligator Bait to the Triple Crown. At age two, we had limited time to take her the distance.

The nomination process would be troublesome. However, as she was yet to turn three, I had a chance of getting her the wins needed to qualify her.

Only three year olds could run the spring finale races, and qualifications happened while the horses were two or three.

Typically, colts ran the race, as the fillies were deemed too slow and not as athletic as the male horses.

Maybe Alligator Bait wouldn’t be able to win, but I’d sure as hell try. If she wanted to race, we’d race.

My horse lived to race, and she’d give me a hard time when I rode her tomorrow, as she’d want to breeze her heart out. She’d been bred to run, and she wanted to chase the wind with every fiber of her being.