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Col. (ret.) Henry Ruiz-Costa sat on his terrace and admired the view. The view consisted of five blond females and a black-haired one who were playing a noisy round of Monopoly. Henry had begged out claiming the need to compose a letter to his solicitor. Some of the real estate the Ruiz-Costas had owned before WWII had come up on the market. Josie had suggested buying it to consolidate their property. Yet, instead of typing words into the laptop he idly watched the women in his life.Seven months along in their pregnancies, Josie and Ellen looked even more beautiful to him than before. He was a truly blessed man he conceded, blessed with a wonderful wife. A wife who was able to extend her caring to their best friend Ellen. Ellen, who had blossomed into a beautiful mature woman and whose calm strength would surprise everybody who had known the wretched, guilt-ridden creature of a few years backs.He was also blessed with three daughters. He still viewed Patricia and Megan as his first. Single-seat go-cart type machines.Way off to the side, in a dusty corner, where the unused and discarded equipment was parked and forgotten was a carriage. Something that I had only seen pictures of. An English Phaeton. You could almost imagine the king and queen being carried down the county fair parade. Pulled by a matched pair of blacks. It was dusty and dirty and needed a lot of TLC.“These are the quads,” Carl called me over to the doodlebug go-carts. “We used to use them around the farm. But then dad bought the UTV. That’s the heavy lifter nowadays.” He then walked me over to the dune buggy. “It helps out a lot if we need to move a lot of things into the backcountry. It took us a while, but we’ve got trails all through the ranch. You can do anything with a quad that can be done with a horse.”It was difficult, but I stopped myself from laughing. “If you say so, son. Me, myself, I prefer horses. Have you ever rigged a buckboard? Or a surrey? You might want to learn. Sometimes.
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