We love our Willadine |
It’s live music night at Blackbeard’s in Bath. Dusk is gathering as we walk the block
from the town dock to the restaurant.
It’s a beautiful clear night, cool enough for a sweater but
comfortable. As we come around the
back of the building, we see some people hanging around in the parking
lot. Then we see the sheriff’s
patrol car. Curious, we walk out
into the parking lot by the creek, where we see two women, one in a startling
blue and white dress with a full skirt, as if she just stepped off the set of Oklahoma. She is
wearing white high heels and holding the lead of an enormous brown and black
mare. All five of the sheriff’s
deputies, for there turns out to be at least two cars of them, are studying the
mare and the lady, who is accompanied by another young woman in jeans.
Everyone is just standing around and the music is getting
ready to start, so we go up on the deck and sit at the table we reserved for
the occasion. Mark Williams cranks
up his acoustic guitar and sings all our favorite oldies. He opens with James Taylor’s “Carolina
In My Mind” (of course) and moves on to some Crosby, Stills and Nash and Allman
Brothers. He’s good and we enjoy
our beer, which the waitress says is “dark” but to us is tolerable for a lager,
but nothing resembling dark. The
fresh mozzarella is good with balsamic vinegar even if the tomatoes are a bit
anemic. We’re enjoying each
other’s company and applauding with the other customers when Mark finishes a
song.
Something big enters the parking lot. It’s a Beaufort County Animal Control
truck towing a horse trailer. The
horse is a stray? The sun is a
glowing red ball setting into the trees across the creek. Blue Dress leads the horse over to the
open rear of the trailer. The
horse takes one look at the trailer and comes to an abrupt and stubborn
halt. Mark strums the opening
chords of Lyle Lovett’s “If I had a Boat.” Dress pulls on the bridle. Horse’s neck stretches but otherwise, nothing moves. Jeans and Dress stroke Horse’s neck and
nose, their faces to close to hers.
You can almost hear the pleading, cajoling tone that the horse is having
none of. A black bucket of oats
appears at the horse’s mouth.
Jeans goes into the trailer supplicating with the bucket. More pulling.
Mark sings, “Me up on my pony on my boat.” The horse lifts her tail and calmly
drops a load of crap in the middle of the parking lot. It’s getting dark. The men are milling about shaking their
heads, while the women pet and whisper to the horse. The restaurant owner paces back and forth between the
restaurant and the parking lot. A
yellow strap appears and Dress walks very slowly around the rear of the horse
with it. The tension, which was
pretty high, ramps up. It’s
getting darker. Things are getting
serious. The strap is fed through
two eyes on either side of the trailer and around the horse’s knees. They pull. Horse stands.
Tail flicking. Does she
know they’ve got her now? Will she
rear, break the strap and gallop off into the sunset? Where did she come from? In the grass by the dumpster is a saddle and blankets. What became of the rider?
Movement catches my eye. The horse takes that first tentative step into the
trailer. The relief among the
humans is palpable. After an
interminable hesitation, the back legs step up. As the door closes, Mark finishes a song and everyone
applauds, whether for Mark or the horse, we’re not sure. Mark takes a break and I put money in
the tip jar, shake his hand and explain why we were laughing so hard during “If
I Had a Boat.” He shrugs and goes
inside. Feeling fully entertained,
we pay our bill and head back to our boat, sans pony.