Horsin' Around - Part One

            These horses were always running around in the back pastures of my mind; they came to life when I was about eleven, and several drafts of this story later this story came to be. This is the first part. 

            Once upon a time, near a town called Westville, there lived a small herd of horses. They stayed in the pasture during good weather, and in a sheet-metal barn with rusty places in it when it rained. They lived on a farm inhabited by stupid cows, a bad-tempered dog, blackberry bushes, broken-down tractors, a large community of white and calico cats, and three nice people.

            Sometimes a lady people would come and visit for a few days, or other times another lady people would visit for a few days, and bring a little boy people with her. The little boy would ride the horses or fish, or read books and play something where he tried to put a ball into a round thing attached to a tree. Since the people seemed to enjoy these visits, the horses did, too, and these times were pleasant ones. They enjoyed living where they did, on the farm.

After turning onto Morris Road off Highway 62, you drove by the auto body shop and past Jerry Carter’s chicken farm about half a mile, where you’d see the driveway on the right, bordered by persimmon trees. It was a slightly curved gravel driveway, but it somehow gave the impression of being straight. On the right, you’d see a small white and pink house where the man and the older lady lived(their names were Floyd and Betty). Otie, who lived in the backyard, was his usual irritable self, there was also an empty fifth-wheel trailer he shared the yard with, and a porch swing. Just outside the gate, you’d find the burn barrel, a patch of waist-high wild onions, the little house where Betty kept the things she’d found over the years, and the shop, generally inhabited by two or three lounging felines. 

On the left, you’d see a brown and yellow singlewide trailer, which is where the younger lady(her name was Linda, she was Floyd and Betty’s daughter) stayed when she wasn’t working at the library. Just behind that was the garden, where corn, onions, lettuce and cucumbers grew, shaded by the apple and peach trees along one side. Farther along, past the two working tractors and five parts tractors sitting around, and past the fishing car, a 1982 Chevy used to drive down to the pond, you would come to the barn.

It was impressive, in all its large width and height, coated in bluish-gray armor streaked with orange-red; it contained stalls, a floor coated with hay, there was the saddle room, and the loft, full of no telling what all interesting surprises. A corral of weather-beaten old boards enclosed the back end, which led you to the field gate, where the first thing of the 160 acres you’d notice(besides the cows, cow pies and trees) would be a trail well worn by truck tires, which if followed would take you to the blackberry bushes and the good fishing pond.

This front pond was full of catfish, and on the banks were good skipping rocks and sticker bushes. There were also snapping turtles and water moccasins in the muddy water, which Linda shot with her .22 every chance she got.

This was the world the horses knew; now to describe them. Penelope was a middle-aged palomino known for her gentle ways; Milky Way, who had a natural gift for telling stories; her sire was Moby, the most legendary non-human resident that ever lived on the farm. Rex was a crazy one, but he had his good points as well. He was loyal, and he’d try to help his friends out if he could and any of them found themselves in a tough spot. Gunslinger was an ex-rodeo bronc, he was good pals with Rex. Tanner was odd. Her coloring was different, bay markings interspersed with egg nog. She was always a little skittish, and overall a hard personality to figure out. And, of course, we can’t forget Tussle and Misty. At that awkward stage where no longer fillies any more, yet not quite mares, either, they usually got on each other’s nerves and caused headaches, thought they had some undefinable likable qualities in them.

One story, which might give insight into the characters of both Tussle and Misty, should appear here.

It was a typical October day, of the beautiful type just before it gets cold. Tanner was grazing, looking for some especially tasty alfalfa blades. She looked up at the frantic sound of quick hoofbeats.

It was Misty, her eyes wide, mane thrown back in disarray, and her grammar even more mangled than usual. She had a habit of speaking in half sentences when nervous or excited or thoughtful, or in long paragraphs that would have made Charles Dickens proud, only without the commas. “The barn’s on fire! She started it!”

“Who?” Tanner asked anxiously.

“Tussle did. Blame her.”

Tanner shook her head. “Why can’t you two ever get along?”  

Misty paused for breath. “I don’t know, we just don’t. Anyway, we were racing, Tussle and me, and her shoe hit a quartz rock and it made some sparks that caught on some old newspapers and moldy hay and stuff on the floor, and it made a fire and now she’s stuck and it’s all Tussle’s fault!”

The words poured out in a rush. Cody, a neighbor stallion debating something with a bull, overheard the last bit and decided to go rescue her. A wiser observer than Misty might have guessed his reason, as Tanner was extremely worried.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

“I will,”

With that, he and Misty dashed off to the rescue. It wasn’t really needed. Floyd, the hired man Zeke, and the fire department got the flames extinguished and extricated Tussle, it was in reality only a small grass fire.

In his hurry, Cody stepped in a snake-hole and went down, and as humans call merciful in such cases, a shotgun blast signaled the end of his agony.

“I can’t believe it,” Tanner said hollowly as the horses gathered together a few hours later.

“It’s not your fault. He just tripped, is all.” Tussle said awkwardly, trying to comfort her. “Yeah, if it’s anybody’s fault it’s ours,” Misty chimed in. “That’s not helping,” Gunslinger hissed at the pair.

“It almost seems like part of me is missing…” Tanner mumbled, tears in her eyes.

“There is,” Penelope agreed in a calming sympathetic tone. “It will take time, a long time, but eventually the wound will mostly heal.” The others nodded in agreement.

“Maybe I’ll be okay at some point, but that’s not right now.”

After a few minutes of silence, Misty spoke up. “Mom? You know how people go somewhere really nice called heaven? Do us horses go there, too?” Penelope shook her mane to keep a fly away. “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it. We could, I suppose. What’d you guys think?” “Beats me.” “I’ve never heard of the place.” “I heard I might have sent some people there…” Rex snorted at ‘Slinger’s comment. “You sure that’s where you sent ‘em?” “Well, it was people talk, so I didn’t understand it all that well. They sound so much alike. Anyway, I wasn’t paying all that much attention.”

Milky Way came out of one of her deep thoughts. “Well, I don’t really know if we do or not. My cousin belonged to a Sunday School teacher, he heard bits and pieces of what’s called ‘theology’, and passed them on to us. Not everyone goes there…and there’s eagles and lions, I know. And I think there’s some horses…I’m not very sure, it’s all so confusing. It’ll mostly be people, I know that.”

“Be quiet, will you?!” Tanner pleaded, eyes streaming. “I….I just can’t handle it right now.” With that, she galloped away, leaving a crowd of curious equines, some more confused than others.

“What’d we do wrong?” Rex wondered. “Nothin’, really. It’s just a tough time for her right now. Things happen sometimes…Give her some time, she’ll be all right.” Penelope said.

She did more or less come to terms with it after a time – at least, as much you ever can.

The winter passed, it was early spring. Penelope was enjoying a roll in the warm soft mud and trying to keep up a conversation on parenting with a dull-witted cow mother.

Her mind wandered; she spotted something in the next field over. “Oh my goodness!” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Bessie, but I’ve got to go.” The next instant, she was off to spread the good news, doing her best imitation of a racehorse. (This is a very hard accomplishment for middle-aged mares to perform, and it must be noted that if gossip weren’t involved, she probably couldn’t have pulled it off.)

“Misty! Misty! Where are you?” she whinnied. “Yeah, Mom?” “It’s here!” Penelope yelled as she tried to slow her momentum. She couldn’t, and skidded into the pond, taking an unintended bath.

From there, things just got even more chaotic than usual. A cow was being milked in the barn, Misty managed to get a hoof on the milk bucket in her haste, spilling it. The cats were grateful for this mistake, as far as that virtue goes in their species. Tussle lost her sense of direction even more than normal, winding up trampling lettuces in the garden, and Rex knocked over the rabbit cage, which used to house Linda’s pet rabbit Mr. Whiskers.

It would be hard to describe the joy that the herd experienced when Tanner approached with her new foal wobbling unsteadily on his spindly legs, saying “This is C.J.” So we’ll just have to imagine it.

It was a very hard day for Floyd and Betty.

A few weeks afterwards, there had been three new litters of kittens, and a healthy proportion of cows had given birth, when a dusty dually pickup with a horse trailed attached crawled up the driveway. Rex and Gunslinger, who were being saddled by Linda and her grown daughter Jo, watched carefully as Floyd and another man backed the occupants of the trailer into the side pasture. Two piebalds, male and female, stood there, glancing around uncertainly.

Rex nudged ‘Slinger. “She’s not bad looking.”

‘Slinger looked at his pal. “I don’t know…I suppose she is,” he agreed doubtfully. “I try to stay away from things like that, much as I can,” he added.

They walked on a ways. “Yeah? Why come?”

“It’s easier,” he snorted in thought.

“Bay?” Rex asked after a pause.

“No, sorrel. Her name was Bonnie. Barrel racer. Things….kind of went bad. Trying to forget about it.”

They weren’t the only ones spying.

Tussle and Misty were also watching the newcomers.

“Look at them,” Misty whispered.

“Kind of stuck up, looks like,” Tussle agreed.

“And that two-tone tail!”

“It’s pretty awful, all right.”

“Well, what do ya think?” Patriot asked.

“”I don’t think I’ll like it here…”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it can!” Cyclone’s answer to her twin came out harsher than she intended. “See those horses out there?”

He looked, and after a bit of searching, found two mostly gray fillies staring at them, one dappled lightly, the other dotted with a rusty red color. They seemed to be whispering conspiratorially.

“I bet they’re talking about us.”

“By ‘us’, meaning ‘you’?”

“No…Ye – Oh, I don’t know!” she wailed. “I just want Emily back, and things to go back to normal.”

Patriot shook his head. “I’d like that, too. But we’re here now, and still together, so I guess we’ll just have to make the best of it we can.”  

Things were pretty tense around the farm for the next couple weeks.

Misty and Tussle, feeling themselves threatened by Cyclone’s presence, did everything they could to antagonize her at every available chance they got, gradually forcing everyone else to take sides. Rex took the twins’ part, Gunslinger reluctantly allied himself with Tussle and Misty. Penelope looked disapprovingly at the newcomers, Tanner, understanding somewhat how they felt, tried to help them. Milky Way grew more concerned each day. Poor Patriot was stuck. He enjoyed talking to some of them, especially Gunslinger and Tussle, but he also had to protect his sister. It was a mess.

In the large scheme of things, nothing major, but when you consider that these kinds of situations sometimes break friendships that have held together for years, you can start to see why it was important.

And unsettling.

Things finally came to a head when they challenged those twin paints to a race. Cyclone got into an insult-hurling screaming match with Misty that very nearly came to flying hooves, Tussle helping occasionally. Patriot stood by, wishing fervently that he was anywhere else, and the rest stood there awkwardly.

“I smell the second Civil War,” Milky Way remarked to nobody in particular.

“What was that?” Tanner asked, hoping desperately to distract the combatants.

“Well, it was a war, of course. The Union, as one group was called, was fighting a group called the Confederacy. It was pretty complicated, but the whole country was fighting against itself, basically.”

“When was this?” Rex wondered.

“Milky Way looked over her audience, a small gleam in her eye and smile on her lips. “It took place about 150 years ago –“

“That’s befwoe I was borned,” C.J. said in his squeaky little voice, throwing most everyone into laughter.

“That’s right, Junior. None of us were born yet, not even me or Miss Penelope.”

The colt’s jaw dropped. “Wow…you’re old, Miss Milky. I thought you’d seen everything.”

“Not quite everything, but she’s seen a lot,” Penelope answered for her friend.

“So…why were they fighting?” Gunslinger asked.

“There was a lot of reasons, but the main difference was over slavery.” She had all of their attention now. “Now, that’s where some people owned other people and forced them to work for them, and the slaves had to whatever they said.”

“So…kinda like the people own us?” asked Tanner.

“Something like that, yeah. Except they even treated us horses better than the slaves.”

This brought snorts of amazement from everyone, since it so clearly defied the known order of  the world that humans were in charge of all animals. “That’s awful!” Misty commented, almost crying. “No way!” Patriot yelled.

“The people in the North, the Union, didn’t like that, so the South split off into their own country, called the Confederacy, and eventually they were at war,” Milky Way continued. “It lasted nearly five years, a huge number of horses and people died on both sides. Each side made their share of mistakes, and both had their heroes. The North won, so the Confederacy had to disband and rejoin the country. Also, the President – he’s the one in charge of the country, kind of like the top horse in the pecking order – his name was Abraham Lincoln, and he gave a speech called the Emancipation Proclamation, which set all the slaves free. True story.”

As Milky Way had hoped, this made them all think(as all truly great stories should do), and they resolved to be more civil to their enemies, although pride kept them from calling off the race entirely.

  It was – finally – race day, after being postponed twice due to bad weather, and although the incident causing it was somewhat embarrassing, things were still unsettled. And the weather wasn’t acting quite normal….almost like it was upset, too; and not just the horses.

Penelope was going to be the starter, most of the others were watching. “Okay, you’re going from the gate to the trees and back, got it?” she instructed.

Patriot and Tussle made their way over to the starting line, where Cyclone and Misty were glaring at each other. “On your make, get –“ A loud, colorful explosion interrupted the starting command. “What is it?” Tanner wondered.

Nobody really knew what it was, exactly, or why it was there, or what it did or anything. Even Milky Way didn’t know the reason, and she was too distracted to invent an on-the-spot explanation. Whatever it was, it was horrifyingly scary, coming out of nowhere, and almost pretty. The herd stared as the night sky filed with new stars that vanished immediately in a rainbow of colors. The people were watching the sky fall, too.

“See those fireworks?” Floyd asked the boy.

“Yeah, they’re cool,” he said.

“I’m glad your mom let you come visit,” Linda commented happily.

The boy nodded. “Me too, Grandma.”

“Would you like to go ride the horses tomorrow?” Floyd asked because he wanted to and needed an excuse.

The boy’s face lit up. “Oh, boy! That’d be fun! Could I drive the truck, too? Or can we go fishing? Do you need to get anything at the store? Oh, maybe we could go to the library…”  

A small knot of equines gathered in the chilly rain, giving last-minute advice to CJ. Most of the others had already said their goodbyes, and the rest were staying until the trailer came.

“Hey, don’t get into any trouble, all right?” Gunslinger told the little colt. “I’ll try not to,” he said with a grin.   

“And don’t over-eat,” Penelope added. Why is it that the advice we give others is the advice we almost never follow ourselves?

“Bye,” Tanner said, smiling through her tears. “Bye, Mom,” CJ said, his resolve weakening a little. “Good luck,” she said softly.

The sound of a motor came through the raindrops with a glow of pickup headlights, and the other horses retreated out of the way as CJ was loaded into the trailer that Cyclone and Patriot had arrived in.

“It’s tough, isn’t it?” Gunslinger reflected that night. “Yep. It is. But he’ll be fine. It’s just part of this world that we live in,” Milky Way finished the thought on most everyone’s mind.

“Still sad….gonna miss the little guy.” was all Rex said about it.