"Suffering Pines - The Beginning"

[Kryswyn]

Warning Frivilous thread!
Below are the first few paragraphs of a story that might get published (as Beet Pulp Fiction) if we can find a backer. The way it works is this: Read the paragraphs, add a few of your own. Bulletin Board rules most definitely apply! Anyone can contribute. If you have questions about the plot, where its going, email me please so the story can continue w/o breaks. When you want to break off, start a leading sentence, ie. “His eyes were…” “Then she said…” and let someone else take over.

General story arc is this: girl is left a fortune, girl buys horse, joins Big Name Trainer’s stable, meets poor boy, trials/tribulations ensue. Questions to answer: Will she stay with Big Name? Will True Love prevail? Will Poor Boy make good? And who is that man who’s always…watching…at ringside? For those who have not lived in Suffering Pines, make up places or use the ones previously mentioned. Suffering Pines folks, maybe you could start a “reference” thread for us? Characters may move around the country at will, but should not make 180 degree shifts from previously described behavior w/o a really good reason (Let’s avoid the Dallas shower scene okay?) Humor is good, personal attacks bad. Tasteful lust (smoldering looks, like in the original Harlequin romances) is okay, Smut is bad. If a kid can’t read it don’t write it! The setting is Moseby’s as Our Characters reflect on the events that brought them all together. Have fun!

SUFFERING PINES -the Beginning

Jackie entered Mosby’s on the Friday night of the Middleburg Classic. The place was packed but over in the corner she spied her friends. As she slid in beside Muffy, Savannah and Vanessa, a casual observer could be forgiven for thinking they were related. They all had that “horsey” look.

It was hard to talk over the music and laughter but the girls managed. They hadn’t been together as a foursome since Devon, and so much had happened since then…

Jackie was just glad to be a part of the group. For years she’d been the outsider looking in unable to afford the quality of horse necessary to compete at this level. She had worked the circuit as a braider and catch rode occasionally. Until that sweet old Suffering Pines matron with more money than sense left her a pile, with a cryptic bequest:

“To Jackie O, I leave the rest of my fortune with this stipulation. That you find true love and show everyone how good true love is.”

That had been some years ago, and amazingly, she still had some money left. Her first order of business had been to buy a horse. After years on the circuit, she knew what she wanted. Finding it had been harder and a story in itself. But find it she had, a horse little girls dreamed of, who looked like…

[Finzean]

Also watching the Fiona/Erik exchange with rapt attention was Carleton Phipps. He had worked for Fiona for almost 15 years; a trusted and loyal employee, he was only in Virginia for another day or so before returning to Ms. Ford’s farm in Southern Pines, a small town nestled among the longleaf pines in the sand hills of North Carolina. He was missing his usual evening trip to Finches, the local watering hole, and decided to give Moseby’s a try after having overheard Fiona’s stallion manager mention it. Carleton had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth that had quickly tarnished in a family full of abusive men and alcoholics that sqaundered his inheritance on worthless nags, the majority of which barely ever got out of the start gate. Like his grandfather, he had an eye for horses and Fiona recognized it right away. She set Carleton up at the smaller of her farms with a guest house, farm vehicle, and salary. He was quite able to provide for his 2 young boys after his wife left him for an Argentinian trainer who was working at a farm just down the fire lane. His life was taking care of his boys and taking care of Ms. Ford’s interests. And right now he was trying very hard to figure out just exactly what interest she might have in Erik Boothe. He was even more surprised that Diane Amos had joined them. It was apparent she’d enjoyed another visit to the plastic surgeon and hair dresser. Her nose was smaller, her cheek bones higher and her naturally mousey brown hair was a much longer and thicker black. So shiny and black it was almost blue. To the unknowing eye, she was beautiful; to those who knew her, she could never be beautiful regardless of the amount of cookie fortune money she spent on surgeons and the like. Carleton remembered well the day Diana had come tearing through the farm when Ms. Ford happened to be in residence. She had 3 labradors trailing behind her running through the flower beds and making a hige mess. The racket had set off one of Ms. Ford’s mares who was recovering from a trailering incident and knocked over the trash bins just outside the barn doors. Ms. Ford had stepped out of the house just as Diana was riding by and jumped out in front of her horse waving her hands. The horse spooked and reared depositing a furious Diana Amos onto the sandy earth. Holding the horse’s reins, Fiona proceeded to give Diana Amos a tongue lashing like no other for coming through the farm with her dogs. Everyone knew only hounds were allowed to pass through other people’s farms - your own dogs stayed home, no exceptions. The fray ended presently with a very indignant Diana Amos walking home leading her horse and by the next morning the story had made the rounds through Red’s Exxon, the local tack shop, the laundry mat, and Whiskey McNeils. That was a long time ago, but Carleton didn’t think time would change the mutual dislike the two women had for each other. He didn’t trust Diana Amos and from what he’d heard about Erik Boothe, he didn’t trust him either. he couldn’t for the life of him understand why a woman like Fiona Ford was wasting her time in a place like this with people like that. Wishing for the comfort of his own bed, Carelton paid his tab and headed for the door, preparing himself for the dark drive to Montpelier Station. He walked past the table where the unusual trio sat, and as he passed by unnoticed, he couldn’t help but overhear…

[Kryswyn]

Carleton Phipps had tried, lord knows he’d tried. He’d stopped himself from calling Jackie at least twice a day for weeks now. On very flimsy excuses he’d rung the barn a few times hoping she’d answer. Once a brusk woman who’d announced “Highborne Farm, Security Officer Trask speaking,” had answered. He’d hung up and hoped they didn’t have caller i.d. (they did). Another time Heath had answered and here, Carleton was hopeful he’d be able to get some concrete information about Jackie. But Heath’d been busy, too, and had only said,“Powerball gumdrop, buzzy” and hung up.

But after what Carleton had heard this afternoon at the Cabin Branch Tack Shoppe couldn’t be ignored. Jackie just had to know. He’d gone in hoping Sam Bozick could find time to repair his favorite 1/2 holed stirrup leathers while he waited. Leaving Sam in the basement, Carleton was perusing the bridles when the bell jingled and who should walk in but…

[Anne]

He was perfection brought to life. The horse’s classic lines bespoke the centuries of breeding which had produced him. Destiny invited comparison to the horses of Stubbs’ paintings. He stepped alertly off the van, of course wearing shipping wraps and a bumper. He lifted his sheepskin-haltered head, looked around, and sighed deeply at Jackie, who was holding the other end of the brass and leather shank. Destiny stood quietly for Erik’s appraisal.

“Frankly, Jackie, I don’t know where you found him, but I wish I could find another. And he goes as good as he looks?”

Jackie’s answer was to lead the horse in a circle. Erik noticed the massive overstep even at the walk.

“Yes. He’s a Kentucky-bred, a Keeneland July yearling, race trained, but he never started. He’s not made up over fences, but he’s smart, has an auto change, and he’s already bailed me out a time or two. He’s going to be the perfect amateur owner horse.”

“We’ll see about that,” Erik answered. "He’s too pretty not to do the conformation divisions too, and I know just the professional. . . "

[This message has been edited by Anne (edited 08-08-2000).]

[Kryswyn]

…“True Love” as Jackie walked by…

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” Erik, Jackie and Carleton all exclaimed in unison.

Taken aback, Kelly Cutler, said hesitantly, “True…Love?” Suddenly everyone was talking at once.

“Oh my God I found him - and my birthday’s next week!” screamed Jackie.
“How can it be?” asked Erik, “Who gave him to you?”
“It can’t be” pointed out Carleton. “He’s still a stallion.”

Jackie rounded on Carleton, “But it fits! He belonged to Mrs. Evers-Oftinhead, he looks like the others. Maybe you only thought True Love was gelded.”

Carleton shook his head, “Nope, I was there, and I help the vet do all the colts being gelded every year.”

The stallion who was the subject of this frenzied discussion was not liking the vibrations he was receiving at all. Talk about gelding always unnerved him. Scenting other horses on a slight gust of wind, he let out a long stallion trumpet announcing his presence (and his magnificence) to the world. From the barn came answering calls, one of which tickled a faint memory…

[This message has been edited by Kryswyn (edited 08-17-2000).]

[creseida]

Vanessa saunters off towards the Tahoe, with just a bit of a smirk on her face, thinking to herself, “I tried to warn you, but would anybody listen to little ole me??? Nooooooo.”

As she walks across the manicured lawn, she uses the butt of her cigarette to light up a new one. Dropping the spent fag in the clover, she grinds it in with the heel of her French Calf Dehner Paddock Shoe, leaving a dark smudge on the otherwise perfect landscape of Highbourne Farm.

As she takes a deep drag off her Menthol, her thoughts continue, “No one ever takes Little Vanny seriously. Well, one of these days, they’ll wish they’d paid more attention to me. They will regret treating me this way…”

[This message has been edited by creseida (edited 08-09-2000).]

[This message has been edited by creseida (edited 08-09-2000).]

[Maria]

OK, this commercial break has lasted long enough.

You guys get your imagination in gear and your thinking caps back on.

I am chomping at the bit for the next addition. I am not imaginative enough to add to the mayham.

[EquiMom]

As the sultry days of summer gave way to the passing of the seasons, Jackie’s life gradually began to take shape. At the center of her world, as always, was Destiny. With him happily ensconced at Highborne, everything else just fell into place. She developed a solid working relationship with Erik, became thoroughly at ease with the soft-spoken Heath, learned to tolerate the egocentric and petulent Maribeth–and took up “digs” with her ever-present friends.

The last came about as a logical progression after Savannah decided to move–horses, tack and attitude–into the training board barn at Highborne. Muffy and Vanessa soon followed. They decreed themselves the “Fabulous Foursome” and reveled in their combined presence being an obvious source of consternation to the maven of malcontent, Maribeth! Even more a thorn in her side was the fact that Savannah’s Old-Money-Southern-Pedigree out-gentrified her own! And not all the foot-stomping, primadonna-posturing, prerogative-protesting, pouting and presumptiveness could change that. Savannah simply had her out-classed.

They came to preside at Mosby’s as the most scintillating group among the regulars–and even persuaded the affectionately referenced “Hermit of Highborne” to join them. It hadn’t been easy to convince Heath that he should show his face in public–but when Jackie urged him, personally, to accompany her…

[This message has been edited by EquiMom (edited 08-09-2000).]

[Paige]

Carleton coasted down the driveway, pulled in, and parked the Ford dually. All four travelers climb out, intrigued to see the condition of the farm. Before they can get even close enough to the barn to see anything but the remaining brick shell, they are surrounded by various people who have already reach the farm. Fiona comes sobbing up to Erik and the FBI agent pulls Carleton off to the side. Jackie has the biggest surprise, though. She’s pulled off to the side by someone she doesn’t not want to talk to…the infamous DC report and kissing bandit, Mutch Brazeer

[Kryswyn]

Carleton Phipps knelt at her side. “What happened?” Jackie demanded to know.

He looked up at Jackie and said, “I don’t know, I came out from the Gents, and bumped into the woman who screamed.”

With that there was a faint moan from the floor and Vanessa’s eyelids fluttered,
“Ohhhh, Erik,” she said stupidly, “I know it’s not approved but I just wouldn’t be caught dead in a bubble helmet”

“I’m Carleton, not Erik, and you don’t have to wear a helmet in Mosby’s, well, not usually. What happened to you, do you remember?”

Vanessa took the towel that was offered to her and pressed it to her scalp. “I was coming down to the oxer…”

“You mean the bar”

“NO, the single is after the oxer”

Carleton looked confused, “You mean you were getting a malt whiskey?”

Now Vanessa looked confused,“What are you talking about? Were you hit on the head? I was visualizing my course, duh, and I was coming down to the oxer when someone whispered something and then BAM.”

“What did they say Vannie?” Jackie touched Van’s arm.

But suddenly, Vanessa’s eyes grew vague. “I don’t remember, I’m not sure, my head hurts. OOoohh! Look at the cute EMT!”

Muffy said to Savannah sotto voce, “Nothing to badly damaged if she’s still noticing the guys.”

Carleton looked at Jackie. His eyes caught hers and the feeling of deja vu intensified. Yes, it had been the last time he’d been here. She’d made him start thinking of things he thought he’d put behind him.

For her part, Jackie felt like a doe caught between headlights on the left and a spotting light on the right. Now Carleton was looking at Heath, and Heath was closing down, she could feel him drawing away. Damn@! she needed to ask him some questions!

[This message has been edited by Kryswyn (edited 08-09-2000).]

[Ben_and_Me]

<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>[/B]Where was Savannah anyways? Jackie really needed to talk to her…
[/B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

{please forgive me if any of this about Culpepper is incorrect! I’ve never been! )
Jackie and Vannie turned a corner and walked into a long stable row. About halfway down was a banner hunter green and tan banner announcing that Fox’s Lair Stables were housed here. The farm where Muffy kept all her horses.

Vannie murmered, “Muffy should be here somewhere.”

“There she is,” whispered Jackie, as Muffy walked out of the tack stall carrying her schooling tack-a Beval Natural, Edgewood with Elevator and draw reins, and black polo’s. “Act natural Vannie.”

“Muffy!” shrieked Vannie! “Its been too long! And look who I found! She’s showing Destiny this weekend! You know, the one of three bay g…”

“Its nice to see you again,” interrupted Jackie hastily, as she gave Vannie a descrete pinch on the arm. “Who’re you showing this weekend Muff?”

Muffy didn’t reply, just continued striding towards a chestnut gelding standing in cross ties. “Sorry, I’m in a rush. Jackie I think we need to talk. Vannie, I will deal with you later.”

“I think thats our cue to leave Vannie,” whispered Jackie. They turned around and hastily walked out of the barn. “Where’s Savannah, Vannie?”

“She rides with Danny now right? I think they’re in this barn over here.”

The two women walked off towards the barn Vannie had pointed out. Each was thoroughly engrossed in her own thoughts, although Jackie’s were much deeper than Vannie’s. Vannie was just trying to memorize her Medal round for tomorrow.

“White oxer, green single…”

“What was that Vannie? Oh look here we are.”

The two women walked into the barn and found Danny, Savannah’s trainer, sitting on a maroon Warner trunk.

“Danny, have you seen Savannah?” asked Jackie.

“Oh hey girls. Yes, I just have. She should be in her new jumper’s stall tacking up. She has a lesson in 15 minutes. His stall is just down the aisle. I’ll walk down there with you. She’s been in there for quite a while.”

The three walked down the aisle to the stall where Savannah’s stallion was kept. Jackie peaked in the stall and whistled.

“Oh my God!” screamed Vannie.

“What the hell!!” yelled Danny!

“What’re you doing in there Muffy,” asked Jackie calmly. “And it would also be nice to know why Savannah is crumpled on the floor. Vannie, call the police.”

[Ben_and_Me]

Meanwhile, the real Destiny was still trapped in his cave somewhere in the rolling hills of the North Carolina piedmont. He had lost his show ring appearance, dropping a lot of weight and the glowing luster of his coat. He wounds he had obtained during his rough trailer ride had not been cared for, and his legs were covered in scabs. No longer would he be a conformation champion.

Destiny had, in fact, lost his will to live. Each day he was eating less and less of the damp, dirty hay thrown to him in the early morning. His eyes lost their spark and his feet were being eaten away by thrush.

If he wasn’t discovered soon…

[Trixie]

begs

[Inverness]

Gerhard Roessel was, first and foremost, an animal lover. This fact only, explained why, at 5 a.m., Roessel left an abrupt message with his pilot that he was cancelling long-held plans to return to Brussels that morning. Instead, Roessel hurriedly pulled on his Royal Robbins and a pair of hiking boots and set out after the unfamiliar horse he had seen wandering in his back fields only moments earlier…

[Inverness]

. . . As if by primordial design, Savannah began to regain consciousness just as the inky darkness began fading to grey.

At first, the pain was merely a suggestion. As Savannah’s mind began to clear, however, the pain became punishingly real. Turgid and roiling, the pain rushed from her ribs to her head and then back again in a sickening spiral. Savannah knew the ribs on her left side were broken - the sensation was menacingly familiar. Before, when she had fallen in the hunt field, help had been only seconds away. Now, however, she was hurt, alone, lost . . . and terrified.

Savannah was unwilling swept back in time to the summer she was fifteen. Angry at her parents for some transgression now long forgotten, Savannah had taken the family’s Boston Whaler and aimed it deep into the black water and green marshes of the Carolina Low Country - her adolescent defiance and righteousness proclaimed by the roar of the engine and the rhythmic slap of the bow on the water.

She’d been lost and alone and frightened then too. Her anger being slow to abate, Savannah had piloted the boat deep into the marshes. In trying to make her way back out to open water, the whaler had run out of gas. With sundown fast approaching and knowing that it was hopeless to try and find her way in the dark, Savannah steeled herself to the prospect of spending the night in the marshes. Her all-night vigil was complicated by a torrential rain and she had spent the better part of night bailing the collecting water from the bottom of the boat.

The following day, it took her 13 hours and an absolute force of will, but Savannah had taken up the canoe paddle stored in the whaler and slowly threaded her way out of the marshes.

She knew that she would have to draw on that same determined will now . . .

[This message has been edited by Inverness (edited 08-11-2000).]

[Kryswyn]

<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Ben & Me:
[B] ***

“Jackie, this is Carleton. A man named Roessel had your horse, but he was stolen back by Diane Amos and a woman pretending to be Fiona Ford.” There was a sound of sudden sobs on the other end of the line. Carleton sat in silence on his end, at a loss for words. They had been so close. "Well Jackie, at least we all know who has the horse, and everybody knows that Diane is not the smartest banana in the bunch. So, there’s hope…[/B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

---

[B] <BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Jackie threw her heart over. Unfortunately, Destiny found the wrong spot and slammed on the brakes. Jackie flew over the wall, and crumpled in a heap on the other side.

Eric ran full speed from his office. Before he knew it, he was in front of Heath.

“What are you doing, coaching one of MY clients?” He punched Heath so hard he heard the nasal bone crack. Blood flew.

Heath, for once speechless, started for Jackie… [/B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Jackie hung up the phone with her good hand, but still managed to knock the lamp over with her heavily bandaged right arm. She glanced over at Heath, who oddly enough looked almost normal now that his face was was swathed in bandages for his broken nose.

“That was Carleton Brooks. He says my horse whatever thatmeans these days was found in Virginia by F. Roussel the Olympic dressage rider. Through the grapevine he heard Fiona Ford was looking for a horse she’d regretted selling. He tracked her down at her Hiawatha Farm in Montpelier Station…”

“Buh she heah in Fluffy Pies” Heath mumbled. Jackie gave him a long look. "I do believe I understand you better with a broken nose.

“Anyway, yes, Carleton said the REAL Fiona is down here at Gitchegoomie.”

Erik, who’d driven them both to Jackie’s from the hospital, threw up his hands in disgust. “It’s not bad enough we have to deal with counterfeit horses, but now people? Why can’t people just be themselves?”

Heath, understandably, said nothing.

Erik continued, “It was supposed to be simple. You spend big money on a nice horse, bring him to me, we go to the shows, we take home the championships, you take out the full page ad in the Chronicle thanking me. I get lots more clients, build another barn…” He looked up at Jackie and Heath, nursing their respective injuries. “Well…that was how it supposed to work.”

“Instead, we have two bay horses whose ownership is in question, so we may have been training the wrong horse; and one of whom has been kidnapped; we find a horse in Virginia, you’ve sprained your wrist and we haven’t been to a single show!” He subsided into the soft leather couch, shaking his head.

[EquiMom]

[quote: Kryswyn]…“Poor Diane, what did she get herself into this time?”

Had just anyone been within earshot, it would have appeared that she was talking to herself. But to those in the horse community, Evie Beauchamps was just doing what came naturally. She often talked to animals–and to hear tell it, they talked back. And furthermore, on a fee per consultation basis, she would tell you just what they had to say!

Her clientele was varied and far-reaching. Some engaged her services as a lark, the way otherwise practical people get their palms read at the County Fair. Others turned to her with a nothing-to-lose attitude. Still others relied upon her empathic powers with nothing short of reverence–and eagerly proffered her business card, bearing the inscription: ‘Evelynne Treadwell-Beauchamps…Animal Communicator.’

No one believed in Evie as much as she believed in herself. She came by her gift by way of her Native-American roots, where being in harmony with nature was as it should be. Nothing off-the-wall about that! Add to this the spice of a little Cajun Voodoo, courtesy of her late husband, Remey “Zydeco” Beauchamps, and you had the recipe for legend status. So whether you ascribed to her mojo or methods, a legend is what she was–and made herself a tidy living at it!

“I heard you two talkin’” she said, perusing the newspaper’s account, “…but don’t know–something’s not working for me with this. Just doesn’t feel right, eh!”

The porch pair exchanged glances, then both looked up at Mama Evie, who responded with a knowing chuckle; “I won’t be lookin’ for any trouble, children! But won’t be no surprise if trouble comes lookin’ for me…!”

[Louise]

a fragment of a sentance from Eric, “money and that horse”, followed by a quick glance at at table where four young women sat. Carleton knew them of course, the Virginia horse community is small and close knit. He immediately suspected that the subject of discussion might be Jackie Dixon. He had known and respected Jackie for a long time, though there had never been the opportunity for them to develop a close friendship. Jackie’s fresh attitude and her bright innocence made her stand out from the somewhat jaded group that she hung out with. Should he say something to her about what he had heard? But, why? He had nothing, really but a fragment of conversation, that could have been about any number of people.

As he hesitated, and gazed at Jackie, her eyes were drawn to his and held. For a moment, their glances remained locked, then both looked quickly away, shaken by the intensity of that moment. Confused, Carleton walked out of the door, into the fresh air of the soft Virginia night. He had to get away and think, before he did anything.

Jackie, in the meantime, reached over and grabbed Vanessa’s arm. “Was that Carleton Phipps?” she asked. “Who cares!” replied VAnessa. “He’s old news and not very interesting, if you ask me.”

Jackie dropped the question, but she knew that she would not soon forget that glance. As she sat there, slightly distanced from the conversation that the other three were having, her eyes were drawn to…

[This message has been edited by LOUISE (edited 08-08-2000).]

[EquiMom]

[quote: Flight Check] “Hoe DOES one go about getting in touch with Johnny Cochran?”----

Since assembling a ‘dream-team’ didn’t seem prudent, what with the looming constraints of having to budget against disaster, Jackie decided to seek out other counsel.

She arranged for a free consultation with the junior partner in the firm of Litty, Gator and Defendum. Their commercials on TV promised theirs as ‘Your friendly one-stop shopping firm for all your legal needs–with terms available.’ The preliminary advice she received actually proved helpful, to wit:

1)There was no evidence nor indication that she, as the heir to the stipulated fortune, had not met with the terms specified in the will, as there had been no clearly defined time frame assigned to it’s provision–ie., that she “find true love.”

2)As the above delineated stipulation contained no specified time-frame, any attempt to rescind its force and effectiveness would require that an open-ended time frame be construed as the definitive measure set forth–and therefore not expired until such time as the heir’s death and demise–at which point, her estate, if any, might be open to contest through litigation.

3)Since “true love” is, at best, an esoteric and/or subjective state and/or condition, it would likely be legally construed as a portion of the the will assigned to sentimental and/or non-binding frivilous addendum.

In other words, it wasn’t gonna fly.

[Ben_and_Me]

…Jeffery Stewart. And I’m sure that once he catches a glimpse of this boy, he’ll be dying to throw his Butet up there!"

“Oh wonderful,” gushed Jackie. “I’ve always loved his style, what a wonderful rider! I just know he’ll be able to take Destiny to the winner circle at Devon!”

“Well, thats what we all hope for Jackie. But first lets get this fellow unwrapped and into a nice stall,” replied Erik. Jackie quickly nodded and led Destiny off to the barn.

Erik walked back up the gravel sidewalk, lined by perfectly groomed flowerbeds. He paused and thought about the resemblence shown between Lacey and Jackie. It was simply uncanny. But he couldn’t let that bother him. After all, Lacey was a thing of the past. But Erik couldn’t stop blaming himself for her death. He had been witness to the tragic accident and the flashbacks haunted his sleepless nights.

But he had to forget about it. Lacey was gone from his life forever. He had even sold the horse; he simply couldn’t bear to bring back the memories.

Erik continued to walk up the sidewalk and walked into the wide barn aisle. He went down to the stall that Jackie was leaning up against, peering in on Destiny, watching him eat a warm bran mash.

“Has he settled in okay?” asked Erik.

“Oh yes,” Jackie replied. After all, he has gotten fairly used to travelling. He did do a few smaller A’s in the Baby Greens before I purchased him. But I’m not sure if you’re familiar with his former owner’s story…

[This message has been edited by Ben & Me (edited 08-08-2000).]