Stone Oak Stables

One

"Louie needs to be bathed this afternoon, Pringles has his behavioral teacher coming in an hour, be ready for that, Cali should be taken for a ride, she's always cooped up, and lastly Delilah. Poor thing, you'll need to work with her...Peony, your breakfast!" Nan scolds. I have just entered the kitchen, waking up to the scent of strawberry pancakes, my favorite breakfast food. Shrugging on my riding coat, I had begun to hurry out the back door until Nan stopped me. She always runs through the daily checklist during breakfast, but I never listen. I'm always too eager to see the horses, plus, I know the to-do list by heart. It never changes.

I hop on one foot as I slip a boot onto my other, revolving in a circle until I face Nan.

"Okay, yeah, got it. I'm not very hungry, but I'll be in for lunch!"

And out the door I go.

》》》

"Louie! Hey bud, dang, you need a bath!" I tease the French Trotter, waving a hand in front of my nose. He snorts loudly and turns in his stall so that his butt now faces me. I shake me head and move across the aisle to Pringles, a handsome Friesian. I was very young when Stone Oak Stables adopted him, so that's why his name is so juvenile. I wish I would've named him something like Atlas or Beau. He presses his midnight sky colored nose against the bars of the sliding door. I offer him a sugar cube, which he gladly licks up. I slide open his stall and slide a halter over his head, then hitch up a guide rope. I walk him out of the large stables and into the warm summer morning. Pringles keeps his head down until we step into the sunlight, in which he raises his head and closes his eyes. He stops for a second, absorbing the sunshine into his elegant black coat.

We walk a little ways to the corrals. When we reach them, I unleash Pringles and he happily gallops across the overgrown grass. I stand outside the corrals, leaning my arms against the fence and watching Pringles' long mane and tail blow behind him in the summer air.

Pringles is the oldest horse we have here at Stone Oak. He was a little over a year old when I first met him, and I was only five months. He's almost twenty-seven, and you can tell his age is getting to him. Nan and I noticed a change about three years ago. As Pringles was getting older, he began to develop some strange behaviors. He used to be a happy-go-lucky type of horse, but now he's very aggressive. Pringles only trusts me, and sometimes Nan, but only if she has a sugar cube. It really broke my heart to see Pringles change. I've grown up with this horse. It's like being best friends with a person all your life, until one day, they unexpectedly turn on you without explanation.

Nan thought it best to get Pringles a behavioral teacher, but in my opinion, the teacher is making Pringles' condition worse. His name is Roderick, and he's very harsh on Pringles, making the horse distressed and wanting to run off. I've tried to explain this to Nan, but she still thinks Roderick can fix Pringles.

》》》

"Any luck on riding him?" Roderick asks lazily. I shake my head, afraid that if I speak, I'll scream out all the nasty remarks I've been holding in for too long. Roderick leans on the fence beside me, so I stand and enter the corral, not wanting to stand by him. Pringles glances back at me, makes one more galloping lap around, then trots up beside me, his head high and arched. He shakes out his mane and lowers his nose to my open palm, leaving small trails of saliva on my riding gloves. I smile and shake my head, then clip the lead rope onto his halter. Roderick steps into the corral, but I don't offer over Pringles when he reaches for the rope. "It'd be helpful of I could have control over him as I work," Roderick snaps, his hand still reaching. Roderick knows I don't like him. I've never said it directly to his face, because my actions speak loud enough; louder than any words ever could.

I feel like it's my duty to speak where Pringles fails to be able to. Humans are the ones that speak for the unspoken voices of animals. Roderick spends just one short 2 hour time span a day with Pringles, so he doesn't understand what his actions translate to. I've known Pringles all my life, so I can read him like a book. For example, bowing his head towards your hand means that he wants to be pet, or if he moves away from you, he wants his space. But people-namely, Roderick-don't understand this, and chase after him, which could get them or Pringles hurt. That's where I come in. It's my job to explain this to our guests at the stables, since I understand the unspoken language of horses. Nan says it's a gift. She can make a horse do what she wants it to, but she can't read the animal like I can. She claims that reading the horse is more important, because then the animal will listen to you when you want it to do something.

Roderick snatches the rope from my grasp, and, still being in my reverie, I gasp out of surprise. Pringles snorts loudly, and begins to back away from the trainer. Roderick tugs at the rope, pulling Pringles' head forward and irritating the Friesian. I start to yell out to Roderick, but I'm too late. Pringles makes one large swoop of his head, pulling the rope free of Roderick's hold, and barrels toward the other end of the corral, leaping over the fence. But he lands wrong, in one of the ditches made by the April rains that I haven't gotten around to filling yet. Pringles collapses onto his left side, his leg snapping so loud that I can hear it, even from this distance. I don't remember running over to him, but I find myself being hurtled over the wooden fence, my hands gripping the wood and swinging my body out of the corral. I land beside my horse, who's chest heaves, who's eyes show their whites when he strains to look at me without raising his head. I hush him and stroke his round stomach, then jump up and begin sprinting toward the house. On second thought, i decide to change courses and head to the barn. Nan will know what to do, and I've been raised to always tell her when something like this happens, but I want to do something on my own for once. Besides, she's not far if I end up needing her.

I try to move quickly, because horses should never be left on their sides. Their organs begin to crush each other, resulting in death. When I reach the barn, I grab one of the body harnesses we keep in the Medical Stall for when a horse won't stand on its own. I also grab a collection of our newest and strongest ropes.

I stumble over the uneven earth as I hurry back to Pringles. I find Roderick kneeling beside him, a debating look on his face as he can't decide whether or not it'd be appropriate for him to stroke and comfort the injured animal.

The animal that he injured.

I start to lift Pringles' right leg, feeding it through the harness, the carefully pull his left leg through the other side. He tugs his leg back and whimpers, but gives up in the end, trusting me and realizing that all I want is to help him.

I start to clip half of the thick ropes onto the harness and knot the other end to the corral fence. The other ropes I clip onto the harness as well, but leave them splayed out towards me. This reminds me of the scene in the movie Spirit, when the cowboys find the wild Mustang and tie him up around his legs, tugging him in every direction, the ropes pulled taught like the spokes on a wheel.

My ponytail curls around my neck as I whip my head around to look at Roderick. He's still on the ground beside Pringles, his face blank.

"Roderick!" I yell, to get his attention. He turns his head slowly to the right to look at me, his eyes glazed over. I lick my lips, then shift my weight onto my right foot while in a crouched position.