Zach had been sitting on the porch in front of his house, bouncing a tennis ball against the stone when a brown, once red, pickup, dragging a horse trailer along, pulled up to the Brooks house.

The driver window opened and Sawyer grinned at his little brother, “Tara around?”

“Went swimming!”

Sawyer arched a brow.

“...With Lucy. Swimming in the swimming sense.”

“Guess she won’t be needing an inner tube then. Come on, Zach. Let’s go before mom brings her back.”

“Why would Tara care?” Zach asked, discarding his tennis ball to the lawn as he got up.

“Dumbass. You don’t think she’s going to ask about a horse trailer?”

Zach shrugged, “She knows she’s getting a horse. Dad told her yesterday.”

He opened the passenger door, crossed himself, then got in. Sawyer didn’t wait for his brother to put on his seat belt, but took the the truck at a breakneck pace around the round cul-de-sac and sped out a moment later.

“Whose car is this?” Zach asked, firmly looking at his feet to not have to see the road in front of him.

Sawyer shrugged his shoulder, briefly sending the heavy truck grate against the curb.

“One of dad’s friends. Who cares?”

“I’m going to assume the owner,” Zach muttered, tightly locking his fingers around the assist grip, as Sawyer pushed the gas down even further.

“You know you’re pulling a trailer, right?” Zach reminded him a moment later as it veered behind them in the next turn.

Sawyer didn’t reply. Instead, he got a cassette from his pocket and popped it into the player. A moment later, Zach, was no longer able to remind his brother of anything when his voice was drowned out by Aerosmith.

Six minutes of Aerosmith later, Sawyer turned the music down and grinned at his brother. Keeping one hand on the roof of the car, he used the other to swerve across the empty lanes.

“Well done, little bro,” he said, “Knew I could count on you.”

“For what?”

“You put my mag back.”

“Again,” Zach sighed, “I didn’t take your jack rag. Must’ve been mom when she vacuumed or something.”

“Mom doesn’t clean my room any more. Wouldn’t want her to find the other shit I’m hiding there.”

Zach frowned, wondering what the ‘other shit’ was, but got no chance to ask.

Sawyer brought the car back to a straight line, took his hand off the roof and moved to open the glove compartment.

“Even if you’re lying to me, I don’t care,” he said, pulling out a brown paper bag, “Here’s a gift.”

Zach, used to his brother’s ‘gifts’, flinched in preparation of the usual one-hard-instead-of-two-soft-punches.

Instead there was a rustling of paper and Zach felt a magazine on his lap.

“Oh shit,” Sawyer said, returning his hands to the wheel to avoid a rabbit that barely had time to register the heavy vehicle thundering towards it.

Thankful for any chance to not have to watch the road with Sawyer behind the wheel, Zach carefully tore open the paper and pulled out four magazines.

“Didn’t know what you’re into,” Sawyer said, “So I made a selection for you.”

The first magazine showed a half naked man in his late teens, tied up in a bathtub.

Sawyer laughed when he saw Zach’s face, briefly cutting through the dirt as he did.

“Couldn’t resist. Hey! Don’t throw it out, I’ve got a buyer…”

Zach tossed the gay pornography on the back seat, then frowned at the next magazine that was titled ‘ ビデオ ボーイ’ and had a lot of similar characters on the page.

“Fresh in from the orient,” Sawyer assured him.

“That’s for the uh...Ttjai? Is that what it says?”

“Bideo boi,” Sawyer corrected, “Or some such, is what my source called it.”

“Video Boy?”

“I don’t know, man. Do I look like I speak Korean?”

Zach put the magazine back in the brown paper, then checked the next. It was an older one, yellowed and enthusiastically announcing ‘Linda Lovelace “Bites” dog’.

“Not the greatest,” Sawyer said, “But it’s got the Jackie O. Photos.”

“Why would I want to see those? She’s older than mom.”

“She wasn’t back then and, hey, maybe you’re into famous babes.”

“Maybe if it were Kelly LeBrock.”

“I told you I didn’t know what you’re into.”

Zach shrugged and checked the last magazine, which was titled ‘Beaver Hunt ‘and promised him ‘Amateur models in the buff’.

“Where’d you get these, Sawyer?”

“Normally you’d say ‘Thanks, big bro. Very cool of you’,” Sawyer grinned, “But I’ll just take that for granted. As for where I get them? Some homeless guy brings them to the back door of the store. Trades them for expired sandwiches and booze.”

“Where does he get them?”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Sawyer laughed, “Probably steals them from the store and sells them back to me.”

“Why would the store have ten year old, you know what. Never mind. Thanks…. Aren’t you worried they’re going to fire you?”

Sawyer shrugged once again, “See if I care. I’m a stock boy and make like three dollars an hour.”

“And if you get sacked? You’re gonna work for dad?”

“Hell no! I’m thinking of becoming a cop.”

“Seen ‘Police Academy’ huh?”

“Highway patrol, little bro. Drive like I stole it without actually stealing it.”

“You’d get less tickets, that’s for sure.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Dad says he’ll take my car if I get another one.”

To show the idea didn’t bother him very much, Sawyer pushed the pedal down and Zach was pushed back against his seat.

“Sorry, lil bro," Sawyer grinned, turning up the music again, “This is my jam.”

Zach returned to praying for their safety, though occasionally glancing to the glove box.

Sawyer turned into a rest stop, abandoned save for two trucks and a too small car with a horse trailer hooked up to it.

Leaning against the trailer was a man rolling a cigarette. He was dressed in sturdy boots, overalls and, strangely, wearing a cowboy hat.

“That’s probably our man,” Sawyer said, parking next to him.

Zach opened the window further, letting his brother talk to the man.

“We’re here about, Byoo...Booo. Byoosomething…?” Sawyer tried.

“Bucephelus?” the man responded, a light southern twang to his words, “You got yer man. Y’all strong? It’s a fighter.”

“We can’t give Tara wild horse,” Zach warned Sawyer, “She doesn’t even know how to ride.”

“He only fights men,” the man said hastily, “Strong horse, not wild. Likes women too, yer sister can probably mount up, right away. Naked if she wants, like lady whatshername, go...diver or some such.”

Zach threw Sawyer a dubious look, then got out to check on the horse.

“Get an eyeful,” the man said, “Prime grade A US. horse.”

Zach peeked through the slats, frowning, then turned to Sawyer.

“That’s a donkey,” he said flatly.

“Only ass here is you, boy. Prime race horse right there.”

Sawyer shrugged, “He’s the farmer…”

“It’s a donkey,” Zach insisted.

“No matter to me what it is,” the farmer continued, “Yer pop paid, so he’s yer problem now. Get it out of my trailer.”

Zach shrugged, unlatched the trailer and stood face to face with Bucephelus, who, no matter how you looked at him, was not a horse.

Sawyer joined him a second later, slowly arching a brow. Even though he had deferred to the farmer’s expertise a moment ago, his face fell.

“That’s a donkey, yeah.”

He turned to yell at the man.

“Hey dipshit! Give the money back and you can take it home with you.”

“It’s been paid,” the man replied. There was the sound of a lighter opening, though no sound of lighting the cigarette, “Buyer beware.”

Sawyer walked to the front of the trailer to confront the man. Zach leaned around it to make sure brother wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Buyer beware,” the farmer said, opening his overall just far enough for sawyer to look in. Zach saw his brother turn pale, then rush back to him.

“We’re taking the horse,” was the decisive comment as he reached for the bridle.

“Donkey.”

“Don’t care. We’re taking it.”

Sawyer got the bridle in hand and drew the donkey out. It brayed in protest.

“He’s got a gun,” Sawyer hissed to his brother, hoping the animal’s noise would drown out his words, “I’m not getting shot over a fucking donkey.”

Zach nodded, took the reins from Sawyer and dragged the animal to their own trailer.

With shaking hands, Sawyer opened it.

“Pleasure doing business with y’all,” the man called after , disappearing into the car and before the two brothers knew what had happened, the car rushed back onto the freeway.

They stared blankly at it for a moment, then forced the donkey into the trailer, where it quite contently stood looking around.

“Let’s go tell dad,” Sawyer mumbled, “You drive…”

“Me?”

“You?”

Zach, who was used to his brother never letting anybody behind the wheel if he were okay to drive, cast Sawyer a concerned glance, then got in the driver’s seat. Inside he saw why he didn’t want to drive. His shaking legs wouldn’t be much use on the pedals.

“Think I might forget about being a cop,” Sawyer said as they rolled into the cul-de-sac, “Those guys have to deal with guns every day.”

“Then what?” Zach, who was glad to be done pulling the trailer, asked, “Back to being a stunt driver?”

“No idea… No fucking idea. I need a cigarette.”

“You don’t smoke.”

“I’ll make an exception.”

Frowning, Zach put the car in park, then returned his mind to the matter at hand, “I’ll go get dad.”

“You do that.”

Zach gently closed the car door, as not to scare his brother, and found his father already leaving the house.

“He let you drive?”

“Long story. He’ll tell you all about it, but dad… about your horse?”

“Yes, son?”

“It’s a donkey.”

“Nonsense. I got Bucephelus via trusted business partner.”

“I swear, it’s a donkey.”

Mister Brooks scratched his head, then went up to the trailer to see what his son was talking about.

“Looks like a horse to me, son.”

The donkey brayed.

“Horses don’t go hee-haw, dad.”

“It has an accent?” Mister Brooks tried, “European horse?”

Zach stared blankly at his father, starting to wonder if the man was dumber than he thought.

“Yeah okay,” he said to himself, “What do we do with him?”

“Take him to Old Man Hobbs’s place. I rented some space for Bucephelus there.”

“Sure dad, but it’s still a donkey.”

“I think a farmer knows more about horses than you do, Zach.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll take Bucephelus there then, but Mister Hobbs is going to say the same thing. It’s a donkey.”

“European horse,” Mister Brooks insisted.

Zach shrugged and returned to the car.

“You can handle it right?” Sawyer asked, leaning on the roof of the car, clutching a familiar brown parcel under his hand, “I think I need to lie down for a bit.”

“Yeah, sure. Dad! Where do I bring the car when I’m done!”

“Just bring it back here. I’ll get it back to William.”

“Whose car is it anyway?”

“Some guy who owed me a favor. Get going son, try to be back by dinner.”

“You got it, dad.”

Old Man Hobbs was a pretty typical farmer. Tanned, broad shoulder and a skin more leathery than the cows he had once kept. Adding to that was the permanent squint the old man had on his face. He was dressed for the part, more than his fraudulent colleague had been. Old boots, worn jeans and a faded plaid shirt.

He waved Zach into the field, directing him with some halfhearted gestures, then telling him to stop.

Without waiting for Zach to turn off the engine, the old farmer took a lazy jog over the field, detaching the trailer and waving Zach on his way.

“Just keep going, trooper. I know how to deal with horses.”

Zach got out of the truck nonetheless.

“I have to say, Mister Hobbs, sir. You might be surprised at this one.”

“Ain’t no horse going to surprise me, trooper.”

“Well that’s the deal,” Zach sighed, “It’s not a horse.”

“You know horses?”

“I know a donkey when I see one.”

Old Man Hobbs opened the trailer, peered into the darkness, then laughed.

“You’re right, trooper. Told your dad?”

Zach sighed and explained the sequence of events that led him to bringing a donkey to the farm, when there was supposed to be a horse.

“I’ll get on the horn with your old man,” Old Man Hobbs assured Zach, “I think I’ve dealt with that guy before.”

“Thanks, Mister Hobbs. Can you convince my dad it’s not a horse while you’re at it?”

“Well, city kids don’t know an ass from their own ass,” the farmer laughed, “It’s for your sister, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, trooper. Listen up. If there’s one thing I’ve definitely learned over the years it’s that if people ain’t going to listen to you, let them be dumb shits and enjoy the Scha….shart? Some German thing.”

“Schadenfreude?” Zach tried.

“That’s it, trooper. Shady fraud. Anyway, I’ll deal with Bucephelus. You get going.”

Zach thanked the farmer and returned to the car, giving one last look to the donkey wobbling out of the trailer into the green pasture.

He laughed at the idea of Tara riding the donkey, then drove home.