American Assassins

Chapter 25: Ronnie

                “What about Shant?”  I ask eagerly turning to him then back at brown horse.  Jama walks slowly over to me and looks at the horse as well.  Shant twitches his ears and shakes his head one swishing away flies from his face.  I grin.

                “Ah, yes, Shant.  One of my youngest horses.  He was actually born from a horse I had named Daisy.  She died giving birth to the foul.  The vets who came to help her couldn’t do anything for her.  She was an older horse but still fairly young.  Now the interesting part is, Gold Bond took Shant under his  . . . hoof you may say,”  he struggles to find the right word, “Since I never knew who the father was of Shant I have seen Gold Bond helping the foul out.  Soon Shant and Gold Bond formed a brotherhood like relationship.  To this day they act like family to one another.” 

                I nod in amusement then look over at Kimberley with her head down.  Her eyes face the floor.  They seemed to be fixed on something I can’t see.  She’s thinking.  I know that look she gets.  I can probably guess what she’s thinking about.  She’s remembering our family, how our mom died, how our dad tried to kill us.  She is Gold Bond.  She took care of me until Logan found us.  I know, because I’m thinking the same thing. 

                “Well can we ride them!?”  I turn to Jama pleading.  He looks down at me.  It takes him a minute to smile.  “Maybe another time, I’m here to train you.  To teach you.  Besides my horses haven’t been ridden in years.”

                My heart sinks to the bottom of my chest at the sound of that.  I look back at Shant.  I want to ride him, no I need to ride him.  Kimberley doesn’t look sad though.  She almost looks like she doesn’t have an expression on her face.   But I know better, she’s thinking of something.  She might be able to fool Jama but not me.  She is determined to ride Gold Bond.

                Suddenly we hear a growling sound coming from the other side of the barn.  Kimberley and I both turn our head seeing a massive black shepherded.  His white fangs are bared in a snarl and drool slips from his mouth down to the floor.  The fur on his neck stands up and his tail is flared.  I jump over to Kimberley in fright.  She sweeps her hand in front of my pushing me behind her. 

                Jama, although, smiles.  The dog barks loudly in anger.  “Oh, Roscoe, this isn’t how we treat guests.  The dog turns his head to Jama who walks over to the dog and kneels down beside him.  The dog’s muscles relax and his fur falls flat again.  Jama scratches the dog’s neck but the dog was still looking at us.  “Roscoe, now you know better than that.”  The shepherd flattens his ears but sits down almost looking shameful. 

                I come out from behind Kimberley and kneel a few feet away from the dog.  His eyes dart towards me.  I hesitate for a minute then put out a hand.  The dog stands up walking slowly towards me.  His ears down but he wasn’t scared. 

                When he got close enough I feel his hot breath sniff my palm.  I react by moving my hand up his snout to his head.  I run my hand down the top of his head then down part of his neck until I feel something.  I trace my finger until I come to the front.  It’s a red color, all worn down, ripped, I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off yet.