Horsin' Around - Part Two

     Part two of this story.

Tussle was looking for somebody to talk to. She found Slinger in the corral behind the barn.

“Hey Sling, what’s up?”

“Nothin’ much, what’s up with you?” he returned the greeting. “Somethin’s on your mind, what is it?”

Tussle frowned. “How do you do that?”

He switched a fly away. “You’ve got a certain look.”

“Oh. What’d you think about Cyclone?” Tussle launched into her lead-in question.

“Huh?” He knew what she was driving at, but wanted to make sure.

“Well, doesn’t it seem like she likes messing with me and Misty? Like, humiliate us or something. And that deal with Rex, what'd you think of that, kind of weird, right?”

“Well,” he started. “I’m not sure. Seems to me like she’s just trying to fit in, find her place here. It’s hard when you get inserted into a new herd, and have to readjust your position and everything. And she hasn’t exactly had too much help in breaking in, ya know.”

Patriot entered the doorway, facing Sling.

“With Rex…no, I don’t think that’s weird. Seems like a bad idea, but perfectly normal. I also think you might be just the tiniest bit jealous.” continued Gunslinger.

“What - ! I am not!”

“You’re talking about my sister.”

Tussle spun around. “Uh…well….yeah.” she admitted, ner nerves too jangled to come up with an alibi.

“Cy’s just trying to fit in. She’s lonely.”

“Yeah?” This was a new idea.

Patriot looked at Gunslinger, questioning. He nodded.

“Yeah. Well, ya see, we’re part paint, part quarter horses, broke to herd cattle. We were both pretty good at it. But Cy…she loved something else. Can’t all be workaholics, I guess. She fell head over hooves for racing. I kind of did, too, but not as much, mostly just along for the ride. She was pretty good, best racer of all our girl’s friends’ horses, even won some real races. And she was likable, and sort of pretty, I guess. Hard to tell when it’s your twin you’ve seen every day of your life. Anyway, she was popular, had lots of friends. But then one day – one day she was on her way into the barn, and somehow the door swung shut, trapping her tail. The vet had to amputate it. She got a fake tail, but…it’s like the people who seems the happiest are those hurting the most. She’s always been kind of sensitive, kind of….fell into a depression, I think the people call it.  Didn’t help that some of the fillies she knew laughed at her prosthetic, or that Emily had to be doing something called studying constantly.

“She felt like someone had placed her inside the body of some filly named Cyclone; she’d known the other horses, cows and stuff, but now it was like a different world. And nobody knew, cause they just saw the same Cyclone as ever, she felt like an outsider, watching her life go by without actually living it. Emily went somewhere called college, and if we got ridden at all, it was to work. It wasn’t challenging anymore, all the fun seemed drained out of it. We were finally sold to a horse trader, and after about three weeks we came here. You’re Tussle, right?” he broke off abruptly. She nodded.

“Thought so. You and Misty’ve been acting like we have some kind of disease or something, West Nile.”

“We have? Um, well…yeah.” she ended lamely. “Yeah, we have.”

“She’s been through a lot. We both have, really. Hope you feel proud of yourself.”

“Well, I gotta go, Tussle,” Gunslinger excused himself, going with Patriot to scare turtles down by the fishing pond. They walked off.

Racing…thought Tussle. Racing. Yeah….it might work… “Guys! Wait up! I have an idea!”

They strolled over. “A good one?” Patriot jabbed dryly, impatient to get going.

“Shut up. Okay, here’s what I was thinking…”

…

“You want to do WHAT?!” Misty exploded. Tussle quickly sketched out Cyclone’s story as best she could. “Hmm…I don’t like it…” grumbled Misty. “Please?” Tussle begged. It was that tone she used, that just has to be agreed with. Quiet, urgent, serious. Misty sighed. “I guess we could try it…”

…

Meanwhile, Patriot was having an equally hard time convincing Cyclone to race, although he was trying a different angle. “It’s called the Rusty Barn Derby, it’s held every – three months, I think,’ he improvised rapidly. “It’d be fun, why don’t you enter?”

His sister’s eyes had an empty look to them, where you’ve let out all the tears that you have. If horses wore makeup, they’d need some dark eyeshadow. “I don’t feel like it anymore.”

“Cause of your tail?”

She whirled around, eyes laid back. “Yes, because of my stupid tail! And, and – Well, I don’t know anybody, and they despise me, and I’m just – Scared!” she sobbed.

Patriot just looked at her. “Just think about it, all right?”

Cyclone rolled her eyes and gave a non-committal snort.

“I’m trying to help you here.” He walked over under a tree to take a nap. “Move it, Ferdinand, will you? Thanks, dude.” As an afterthought, he added, “Rex is sort of hoping you’ll enter.”

Her ears pricked up. “…Really?”

“…But I don’t know why he’d want that or anything. Probably just invited us to be polite. I mean, it’s not like we’ll win or anything. We aren’t fast enough.”

A dirt clod lifted itself out of the ground, helped by Cyclone’s hoof. “Did you just use that word about me?”

“Which word?” he asked unconcernedly, used to her frequent mood changes.

“The S-word.”

“Not that I know of,” he replied innocently.

“Are you calling me ‘slow’?” she asked, right up in his face.

“It got your attention, didn’t it?”

She shook her head. “You know me too well, bro. What’s the track?”

“Not sure…I think it’s starting at the blackberry bushes, turn at the fishing pond and ends at the south field gate.”

She smiled. “All right. I’m in.”

Luckily for Patriot, there had been a Rusty Barn Derby before, although nobody could remember exactly how many editions had taken place. Rex and Tussle estimated between nine and seventeen.

All nine horses gathered around by the bushes Puppy Cat sat off to the side on Penelope’s back, waiting for the seven racers to get set. “Ready….set….go!” she meowed.

Cyclone, Gunslinger, Misty, Tussle and Patriot all burst out of the starting line, bunched up together in a tight pack. Tanner cantered along, content to finish the race, and Rex, who had gotten sidetracked watching Cyclone and missed Puppy Cat’s command, hurriedly barreled to a gallop, hoping to at least pass Tanner. Penelope and Milky Way ambled along, observing the scene.   

“’Lord, what fools these mortals be!’” Penelope quoted Puck’s line from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, watching Rex sail by. “It makes a good show for us old girls to watch,” Milky Way reminded. “It does, yes.” Puppy Cat yawned. “You guys still aren’t cats, so why try to be?”

The lead pack had just passed the pond, trampling flat the hay stalks that were trying to grow. Cyclone led by a head, Tussle in second, Gunslinger in third at Cyclone’s left flank, Patriot a half-length behind in fourth, Misty about a quarter of a length behind him. Slinger slowed to a trot. “Ow…side stitch.” Patriot grinned.

Stay with Patriot, and you’ll have a chance…Misty told herself as they gained on the two leaders, who were scowling at each other from time to time. This is insane! How can she keep this up? Tussle wondered as they tore toward the finish line fence. They’re weakening, Cyclone’s competitive sense told her. All systems go. To Tussle’s dismay and Misty’s amazement, she actually increased her pace, her mane streaming and black-and-white tail flapping in her self-made breeze as she rocketed toward the target. “My turn, sis.” Patriot closed the gap to a reasonable distance by the end, a gasping Tussle and Misty eight lengths behind them.

“How’d they do that?” Tussle panted.

“Practice!” Patriot laughed, only breathing a little harder than normal.

“Can you teach us how to race like that?” Misty asked shyly.

“Sure, I can do that. When d’you wanna start?
            “When would be a good time for you?”

“Why not now? C’mon, Tussle,” Cyclone smiled. The three of them trotted off to practice. “Congrats,” Slinger said. “It worked,” Patriot sighed, with the relieved grin of someone who wasn’t sure whether a risky plan would turn out.

Cyclone was entered into the race at the fair, winning it after overcoming a bad start and then pulling away. She not only won that; but the suspicious glances and tension gradually disappeared as the old enemies became friends.

One spring day, later in the future, Cy gave birth to twins, named Pistol and Pete, another Cowboy entered the world with Tussle’s help, and Misty’s new foal blinked up at the big new world.

“Kinda wobbly, aren’t they?” asked Patriot, eyes dancing.

“Dirty, too,” replied Misty, licking Aggie all over.

“The Filly Gang rides again!” Penelope exclaimed, sending the assembled crowd in the waiting room of the barn into sheets of laughter.

“I wonder if they’ll set the barn on fire,” Milky Way teased.

“That wasn’t my fault!” Tussle complained from her stall.

“They might let the cows out,” grinned Tanner. Cyclone glared at her.

“Or maybe they’ll pour water on somebody who’s taking a nap, eh, Penelope?” Rex lobbed his way into the conversation.

“Sorry, Mom…” Misty muttered.

“They’re kind of like double twins…’ mused Gunslinger.

“Quadruplets, you mean?”

He nodded.

“Not really….just born on the same day, all of ‘em.” Milky Way pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“Look out world, here comes the Quad Squad!” Tanner hollered, throwing the place into hysterics again.

‘That. Is. Awesome.” Patriot choked out when he could finally regained some of his breath. “We’re gonna have to use that.”

The Quad Squad grew, and they, being rambunctious, fun-lovign adolescents, cause quite a few frustrations and headaches with their mischief, much like their mothers’ antics before them. It made for a lot of interesting Critter Stories that Linda would jot down to tell the boy. Like the time they decided to mess with the truck, for example.

 Linda was busy shoting water moccasins down at the pond, and the fishing truck was istting there on the bank, waiting patiently.

“I’ve got a GREAT idea!” Cowboy said gleefully. “What?” “I wanna hear!” He told the others. “Awesome.” Aggie grinned. “Sounds good to me!” Pistol agreed. “I don’t know…” Pete hesitated. He usually acted as the group’s conscience, and as he was smaller than the others, he was actually cautious when it came to hijinks and mischief. He was usually ignored.

“It’ll be fun,” Aggie protested. “Well, okay….” 

The four of them meandered over to get a drink of water, then they shoved against the tailgate, rolling the pickup into the mud, where it soon stuck. And besides, Linda was marching towards them yelling things that sounded unpleasant. “I think we’re in trouble.” said Pistol.

They were.

“…So, since you’ve shown that you can’t be trusted to act responsibly…” Cyclone wrapped up their lecture, trying hard not to look at Misty and Tussle, who were cracking up. “She used that word,” Pete whispered. Cowboy rolled his eyes. “Told you.” “Shut up.” “…You’ll have to stay by us for a few days.” Cyclone finished. “Aww!” Pistol muttered. “I knew that wasn’t a good idea…” said Pete. “I’ll say,” Aggie agreed gloomily. The mares went off to discuss grown-up topics, like punishment, or schooling methods, or something equally boring. “Wouldn’t that have been FUN?” whispered Tussle, eyes gleaming. “I wish we didn’t have to grow up,” Cyclone said wistfully.

Eight years went by.

Linda and Floyd both passed away, Betty rarely came to the farm any longer, except to feed the remnant of the feline tribe that still hung on. There were only four or five left.

No dog ran through the fields, and the pastures were being steadily overgrown by thistles. The truck just sat there in the driveway, no one drove it any more.

Cows no longer drank form the pond; there weren’t any cows left.

Somebody painted the barn white to cover up the rust stains, it looked awful.

The garden was bare of any growing vegetables or fruit in the trees, the weeds were waist-high.

And Misty was the only horse left. The others had died, or were sold at the sale barn, or given away to horse-crazed 4H kids.

Everything was in disrepair, threatening to fall apart any second. A state of gloom asd sadness hung over the entire farm. Brush piles were arranged in crazy collections from where the ice storms had left them, the fences were in indescribably bad shape.

But memories still were in good condition, and Misty often spent the days recalling the good times she’d had there. The boy did, too.

And that made it okay. Not perfect, by any means, but it was a little easier.

They were sad, but okay. 

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. 

Don't Ask Me to Watch Baseball

     This isn't very good, and I'm not sure whether it's supposed to be a song or a poem, but anyway, I wrote it during the 2011 World Series, which the St. Louis Cardinals won over the Texas Rangers in six games. This phrase just came to me while enduring an inning somewhere in the middle of one of the games, and the story, simple as it is, was there without much digging. I like it; it's a funny story. (FYI - I really don't much care for America's pastime in general; but I do follow the Cardinals semi-closely.)

"She played basketball and was in the band,
Cheer and volleyball, 'til she broke her hand
Or was that track, or maybe softball?
I can't remember, something where the crowds are pretty small.
We met one day in college,
We both fell pretty hard
Our relationship went deeper, I went down on one knee
But the answer that she gave was quite surprising...

She said, "I'll cook, I'll clean,
I'll do my best to do it all,
I'll marry you if you're serious, just have one stipulation -
If you really love me, don't ask me to watch baseball."

I laughed at first, or said something witty which fell flat,
We stayed in that coffee shop until they told us to scat
Walking her home I gave my reply:

I said, "We'll learn, we'll try,
We'll do our best, sometimes we'll fall.
I wouldn't ask if I wasn't serious, there's just one string attached -
If you really love me, don't ask me to watch baseball."

That was two years ago, our furniture's come from garage sales
We kept my bookshelves, and she had her Grandma's quilts
So complain all you want about your team's batting average
Their ERA and other ills
And keep those big green diamonds; our interests lie in other fields.
We try to be hospitable, to all but Yankees fans
Stay with us any time, you've just got to read the sign in the den:

It says, "We'll cook, we'll clean,
We'll do our best to do it all.
We're glad to have you stay here, summer, spring or fall
If you're under our roof, just remember, y'all:
If you really love us, don't ask us to watch baseball."

I Love This Barn

     A more rural parody of Toby Keith's "I Love This Bar".

Verse One -
We got caprines, we got rust stains
We've got a slick floor when it rains
And we got cute chicks, we got dog ticks
Food sacks, discarded guitar picks
And the dogs sing about their broken hearts...oh, I love this barn...

Chorus -
I love this barn
It's my kind of place
Just walking through the front door
Puts a big smile on my face
It ain't too far, come as you are
Oh, I love this barn...

Verse Two -
We've got security guards, we got plenty of hay
We got roosters that'll crow any time of day
And I've seen layers, I've seen fighters,
I've even seen crazy zip-liners
There's that pile of broken mower parts....oh, I love this barn...
(Chorus)

Bridge -
Well, I liked my job, I like to see the Cowboys win
I like eating out for dinner, I like a movie now and then....

Chorus Two -
But I love this barn
It's so peaceful in here
None of that stressful atmosphere
It's free of charge, so come as you are
Oh, I love this barn....