Page 4 of Pigeon

Parking my battered truck next to the house, I sit quietly for a few moments. Knowing my brother Ted is most likely still awake, I take an extra minute to gear up my defenses. Ted and I have a difficult relationship, to say the least. I’m the younger sibling by several years and female, both being facts Ted sees as weaknesses. Add that to his drinking, the details of our grandparents will, and our relationship is the perfect storm.

Entering the house through the kitchen door, I cringe at the mess strewn about. When I left this afternoon, the kitchen was spotless. Now the stove is covered in grease, dirty dishes are in the sink, on the counter and table, and beer bottles are scattered everywhere. The only bright spot is my old cat, Tabitha, curled up in her bed in the corner.

I hang my backpack and jacket up on the hook by the door and walk to my faithful friend. Being hard of hearing, she doesn’t realize I’m home until I stroke her head. Lifting tired eyes to mine, she begins to purr. I continue petting her, knowing she’ll fall back to sleep soon. She’s sleeping more and more these days, and it hurts my heart knowing we don’t have many left together.

“Ivy! Bring us a few beers!” Ted shouts from the living room.

Straightening, I walk to the fridge and retrieve the beer bottles. Walking into the living room, I hand them off to Ted and our ranch foreman, Todd. Turning around without speaking to either, I head back to the kitchen and start cleaning. Sleep will have to wait because I can’t leave Nana’s kitchen looking like a disaster area.

When you work a job until 11pm, drive an hour home, and clean a kitchen before going to bed, 4:30am comes early and fast. Shutting off the alarm, I roll out of bed immediately. If I don’t move fast, I’ll fall back to sleep, and there are hungry mouths to feed. I shower quickly, once again promising myself I’ll actually have time to condition my hair next time and finish getting ready for the day. I pick up Tabitha off my bed, carry her downstairs and open the backdoor for her. While coffee’s brewing, I stand at the sink, eating a piece of toast while looking out over the barns and corrals. It’s still dark, but the familiar shapes show faintly. There’s comfort in seeing their outlines. They’re the images I’ve known throughout my childhood. I pull my eyes away and pour coffee into a travel mug, letting Tabitha in the door as I walk out.

Walking into the barn, I breathe the hay and horse smells in deeply. Tossing a few bales of hay into the bed of the side by side, I drive it outside to the corrals. Speaking softly to each of the horses, I get busy with the morning chores. After the horses are fed and watered, I drive back to the barn to get the tractor. There are many more mouths to feed before daylight hits.

I have several hours of work done before I see Ted and Todd standing outside one of the hay barns. I drive past without a glance, park the tractor, and walk toward my truck. Driving it to the tool shed, I load up the supplies I need to start repairing a section of fence. Cody, one of the ranch dogs, jumps into the bed of the truck. It’s not often one or more of the ranch dogs isn’t riding shotgun with me. Giving him a pat on the head, I try, once again, to get him to ride inside the truck instead. As usual, I fail, so I give up trying and resign myself to driving extra slow again. Putting the truck in drive, I aim it to the north pasture.

Arriving back at the tool shed hours later, I’m putting away the tools when I hear footsteps. Looking over my shoulder, I see Ted approaching. My stomach drops when I see the beer in his hand.

“Did you get the corrals cleaned out? The stalls?” he barks.

“Stalls, yes. Corrals, no. Feeding and watering are done. I fixed fence in the north pasture today.”

“Corrals before you leave, Ivy. I shouldn’t have to tell you this shit. If you can’t get your work done, then you’ll have to quit your job.”

“I’m not quitting FurEver Homes, Ted. It’s my only income since you control the money made by the ranch.”

“You’ll fucking do as you’re told,” he growls while taking a step toward me menacingly.

Involuntarily, I take a step back as Cody lets out his own growl. I place my hand on his back to reassure him before Ted takes his anger out on the dog instead.

“I do more than my share of the work around here. I can’t do it all, Ted. You and Todd don’t …” my voice trails off as he takes another step closer.

“Want to finish that sentence, Ivy?”

I made it to work on time today, but it was close. I broke several traffic laws to get here, but luckily, I wasn’t stopped by the police. Rushing into the rescue’s employee breakroom, I stow my backpack in my locker after pulling my lunch out of it. I didn’t have time to make a proper lunch, but what I grabbed on my way out the door is now in the fridge for later. Heading to the office, I greet Dale as he’s coming out.

Dale’s a nice enough guy but comes across as a little odd. I don’t mean odd in a bad way, just different. He’s always polite, good with the animals, and hardworking but has a bad habit of staring for uncomfortably long times. Even if you catch him and make eye contact, he’ll continue staring instead of looking away, as most people would do. It’s unnerving and happens often.

I say hi, squeeze past him and hurry to the time clock. I make it with less than a minute to spare. Turning around, I see Margie at her desk, frowning. Taking a seat, I wait for her to finish reading whatever has caused the frown. It’s not long before her eyes meet mine.

“Hi, Ivy. We had a few intakes today. A friendly little Corgi whose owner passed, and the family doesn’t want. He won’t be here long, I don’t think. It’s the other dog that came in that I wanted to speak with you about. Mixed breed but large and very scared. He’s obviously been mistreated and was possibly used as a bait dog for a dog fighting ring. Our vet checked him out, treated some older wounds, but his mental state is my biggest concern. A lady found him along a road with a choke collar on with a piece of broken chain hanging from it. Somehow, she coaxed him into the back of her car and came straight here. He’s cowering at the back of his kennel and is clearly terrified. Can you work your magic and see if you can get him to relax a little?”

“Of course. I’ll spend some extra time with him tonight. Has he shown signs of aggression?” I ask.

“Not yet, but he might if he feels pushed or threatened. Be careful. The vet’s going to come back on Monday and should have his blood work back by then. He’s going to wait until then to vaccinate and worm him.”

“Sounds like a plan. Anything else?”

“Well, the usual thing. Prissy has been voicing her displeasure at you not being here 24/7,” Margie states with a laugh.

I grin and stand. I can be dead on my feet, but Prissy can always make me smile.

“I’ll go check in with her before I start my rounds. If I don’t see you before you leave, have a great night, Margie.”

“You too, Ivy. Hope you enjoy your days off, and for God’s sake, get some sleep,” Margie orders with a kind smile when she catches me yawning.

Leaving the office, I aim myself to the aviary to make my apologies to a very bossy cockatoo namedPriscilla. Large birds like her are not always easy to find the perfect home for, so Prissy has been with us for several months now and quickly became attached to me. Cockatoos are demanding, loud attention whores that become depressed or destructive if not given enough attention. Priscilla happens to be a beautiful sulphur-crested cockatoo with a large vocabulary. All white body, with a bright yellow mohawk-looking crest, she came from a home in Savannah, Georgia, and speaks with a southern accent. Another case of an owner passing, Prissy bounced through a few homes before being dropped off here. The bright spot in her life was her original owner, who clearly spent a lot of time with her. Prissy’s very intelligent but mischievous and demanding. She gets down with being destructive if left to her own devices too often. She feels superior to all the other birds and berates them often. Dale is somewhat afraid of her, and she loves intimidating him through posturing when he’s close to her. When he backs away, she laughs a tinkling little laugh, just like a proper lady. She’s not mean at all, just a beautiful brat that I would love to adopt but can’t because of Ted.

“Hey!” Prissy screeches from her perch when I enter the aviary.

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