It was cloudy and cool when Cliff and I returned from our morning walk, and I decided a horseback ride was just the thing to get me out of my cloudy-day doldrums. At forty degrees, I knew it would be a chilly ride, but I put on a stocking cap and got some gloves from Cliff.
By the time I was done grooming and saddling Blue, though, I forgot about the gloves I'd taken off and placed atop a post, and didn't miss them until I was a mile down the road. So I tried pulling my coat sleeve down over my left hand, which was holding the reins, and sticking my right hand in my pocket.
Farmer Steve drove up as I was riding on the lane leading to his fields, and said, "You sure picked a cold day to ride!"
"I know," I answered, "but it's only going to get colder in a couple days. The bad thing is, I forgot my gloves."
Nothing would do but that I take the gloves he was wearing. They were those cloth, woven kind that Cliff calls glove-liners, exactly like the ones I'd forgotten at home. Except they were black with grease.
"Just throw them away when you get home," he said, and patted Blue on the nose.
I have to say I was glad to have the gloves, grease and all.
And you could say I stole another ride.