Applejack Rents a Bobcat
Admiral Biscuit
Louis Keller believed that a proper workday always began with a cup of coffee, so as soon as he'd opened the back door of the shop he went straight to the break room and set the Bunn coffee maker to its appointed task.
That done, his next stop was the key drop box. A few machines had been returned after hours. They'd been properly parked with the glaring exception of a Skylift that was sitting right in the middle of the lot, blocking half of the spaces. Whether the renter had wanted to make sure that they saw it, or was just a jerk, he didn't know.
Louis could have waited for the coffee maker to finish its morning duties, but he hated an untidy workplace, so he grabbed the keys out of the early bird envelope and went out to move it back to its proper place.
He'd just parked the Skylift in their back lot when Roger Gwinner pulled in, nosing his Dodge Ram in between the ranks of utility tractors and skid-steer loaders.
“Morning, Louie.”
“Rog.” Louis shut off the Skylift and slipped the keys in his pocket. “Looking forward to the weekend?”
“Yeah. Going fishing in Minnesota. Pomme de Terre Lake.”
“Oh, yeah. I've been there. Caught a 20 pound pike one year.”
“That's what I'm hoping for.” Roger yawned. “You make coffee yet?”
“'Course I have.”
The two men walked together back to the office and were still talking about fishing trips past and present when Cliff Parisi arrived, late as usual. Not that it really mattered; he tended to get his day's work done despite the constant late starts. Louis had spoken to him about it once, years ago, and he'd promised to do better but never had.
Cliff filled his battered Yeti cup with fresh coffee and went back into the workshop to start his day. A few moments later, the distinctive rattle of the air compressor starting up permeated the building, covering the sound of Eddie Rabbit on KOVC.
Roger went to the front counter, and Louis took his place in the office, hesitating slightly before digging into the pile of paperwork on his desk.
Another workday had begun.
•••
He was midway through a requisition form when Roger knocked lightly on his doorframe.
“Hey, boss, you got a minute?”
Louis frowned. Roger almost never called him boss, except when faced with a belligerent customer.
He nodded and pushed back his chair, already mentally preparing himself for someone who wanted a discount on a piece of equipment or didn't feel like they should have to pay a security deposit or any of the other thing that customers complained about.
As he walked to the front counter, he didn't see the customer proper, just the very top of a Stetson hat.
A midget. Is the circus in town? He pushed that to the back of his mind. A customer was a customer.
“Hi, I'm—” he began, and then he saw it—her—properly. A well-built gamboge pony with blonde hair and alluring green eyes. And most importantly, a friendly, easy smile. “—ah, Louis. Keller. The manager.”
“Applejack.” She got up on her hind hooves and reached a foreleg over the counter. That was a clear enough invitation for him, and the normalcy of a handshake—even if it was with an equine—got his mind somewhat back on track.
“What brings you by?”
“Ah need to rent a Bobcat.”
Louis blinked, then looked over at Roger. “She's got a reservation,” he mouthed.
“I see. A Bobcat.”
“Ah've got to do some work, and everypony—everyone—says that they're the best.”
“They are,” Louis agreed. “Pardon me for asking, but do you know how to operate a Bobcat?”
“Well, Ah reckon it can't be too hard to figure out. Ah know how to use just about every other kind of farm equipment.”
“That's fair, I guess.” Louis looked back over at the computer screen. “Now, I see that you've got it 'til the end of the day—”
“Yup. Ah reckon it'll make short work of—”
“—which, as long as it's back by the time we open tomorrow, there's no late fee. Otherwise the rental cost goes up in four-hour increments. Now, were you planning on having it delivered, or do you have a trailer?”
“Ah was just going to drive it.”
That wasn't against the rules, and it was rural enough that tractors and combines weren't an uncommon sight on the street. “Do you have a credit card? There's a damage deposit, and. . . .”
She did have a credit card, which she was holding lightly in her lips. Where it had come from was a complete mystery to Louis, one that he didn't care to think about too much.
“Total rental fee is $240, plus a $500 security deposit, which will be refunded to your card when the Bobcat is returned clean and undamaged.” The word clean hadn't originally been in the script or the contract, until numerous contractors had taken full advantage of the omission.
“Yessir.”
Roger slid the rental contract over to her, and she signed it neatly with a mouth-held pen.
•••
Cliff joined them on the sales floor, and the three of them watched out the front windows as Applejack drove the Bobcat through the parking lot and out into the street.
They kept watching until the yellow blinking light on the roof of the skid-steer had completely faded from their view.
“Did you think her voice sounded a little bit like Reba McIntyre, or was that just me?” Roger finally asked.
“I noticed that, too,” Cliff said. “Y'know, Louis, I've got to ask—why'd you rent it to her?”
“She had a reservation.”
“Well. . . .”
“And a credit card, and an honest face.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Looks like she knows how to drive it, too.”
“I'm just glad you're the one who did the contract,” Roger said. “If it does turn up on its roof in a ditch or we never see it again, won't be my name on the contract.”
“I'll call myself into my office and tear a strip off my hide if that happens,” Louis promised him. “Don't think it will, though. Alright. Cliff, if you haven't got anything else to do, go get that manlift and fix the leaky hydraulic hose. Roger, make another pot of coffee. She drank the last cup.”
•••
Five o'clock rolled around and there was no sign of Applejack or the Bobcat.
Louis took his time shutting down. He wasn't worried; there were a thousand reasons she could be late.
Roger stayed, too. He got the beat-up Electrolux out of the closet and began vacuuming the showroom rugs.
Cliff left on time, lest his favorite seat at Cat-Tails be taken.
•••
Applejack and the Bobcat returned at 5:15. The loader itself was so clean it practically sparkled. It probably hadn't looked that clean since the day it left the factory.
Applejack herself showed plenty of evidence of hard work, though. Her coat was stained with mud and salt; even the brim of her hat was drooping slightly.
Louis met her outside and pointed to an empty spot, and Applejack neatly parked it between the lines, then unhooked the harness and hopped out the front.
“Sorry Ah'm late. Hope y'all weren't waiting for me.”
“No, not at all,” Louis said. “We were just taking our time closing up. No big deal at all.”
It only took a moment to refund the deposit on her credit card, something Roger handled. Louis could have done a through walk-around—something he normally would have done—but he trusted that she hadn't broken it.
“You need a ride?” Louis asked. “I could—”
“My brother's comin' to pick me up. Thanks for the offer, though. And thanks for letting me rent the Bobcat. Ah reckon most places wouldn't, 'cause Ah'm—”
“That's their loss.” Louis went around the counter to hold the front door open for her. “You're welcome back any time.”
“Ah appreciate that.” She tipped her hat as she passed him, then walked across the parking lot and climbed up into the cab of a 1979 Mack dump truck.
