Lauraine Snelling (5 page)

“See, you’re missing out on all kinds of good things by being so cranky,” she told the closed stall doors as they passed. Since she’d already dumped feed in his box, she cross-tied Dancer in his stall and let him eat while she worked on his foot and leg.

“How’s he going?” Mr. James stopped in the stall doorway.

“He still favors it, but I think it’s improving. Less swelling.”

“He’ll make a great riding horse, even a jumper maybe.”

“I wish I could adopt him.” Maggie knew she was dreaming, but years ago, dreaming had been a delight.

“We’re all like that. But every one of them that we keep out of the slaughterhouse is one more victory.”

“The thought of eating horse meat makes me gag.”

“The French and the Japanese think it’s a delicacy.”

Maggie closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“He’s just kiddin’ ya.” Kool Kat stopped beside Mr. James.

“No, it’s true. I read about it.” Maggie pulled two brushes out of the bucket and went to work on Dancer. The smell of horse and the rhythm of stroke with one hand, then the other combined to make her relax too. Dancer cocked one back foot, his head hanging further and further.

“Now, there’s a picture of contentment.” Mr. James nodded as he spoke. He turned to the other women, who had drifted over. “It doesn’t take a whole lot to make a horse happy. Food, water, attention, a good brushing.”

“She turn him loose, he go roll, you watch.” Kool Kat stuck her hands in her back pockets. “Jes like any man, clean ’em up, they go get dirty again.”

Mr. James rolled his eyes, but all the women laughed as they drifted back to their own chores.

Maggie kept on brushing and a small tune flitted through her mind, keeping time with the brush strokes. When she finished brushing the horse, she dropped the brushes back in the bucket and unsnapped the tie ropes. “Come on, fella, back out in the fresh air for you.” And me. She couldn’t get enough of the sunshine, the breeze, and blue sky that went on forever.

“Why don’t you take him over to graze that patch by the south paddock?” Mr. James suggested.

Maggie paused with Dancer at her side. “You know, I was thinking. How about we drill a hole in the stall wall so we can stick a hose in there to fill Freebee’s bucket?”

“Freebee?”

She shrugged. “Easy to say.”

“Good idea. I’ll look into it after I write his attack on the report.”

“But . . .” She clamped off her protest. Stay invisible. If you react, you can get hurt. She turned back to Dancer. “Come on, fella.” All the time she walked away, she wanted to whirl and yell at him.
He didn’t really hurt anyone. Well, except you and me
. But Mr. James didn’t know about her shoulder.
It could have been a lot worse
, the voice in her head reminded her.
Either you or he could have been seriously injured, not just bruised
. No horse is worth that. What would he do if she begged him not to write that report? Probably nothing, he seemed to think that following protocol was pretty important. But then, not following the rules could put the entire program in jeopardy. Sometimes being able to see both sides of a situation didn’t make one feel any better.

The next day when they arrived at the barns, a hole had been drilled into the wall so a hose could be inserted, and the top half of the stall door had been left open.

“Keep way back from Breaking Free’s stall. Hopefully his curiosity will help him calm down.” Mr. James announced to them all, with a direct look at Maggie.

On her way back to the barn, after taking Dancer to the paddock, she paused, careful to keep a safe distance away from Breaking Free’s stall. While he pulled his head back from the stall door, she could see him standing in the shadows, rather than hugging the back wall.

“Hey, fella.” His ears stayed forward. She studied him, running one of Mr. James’ early lectures through her mind. He had taken them around to all the horses and pointed out their body language.

“You watch the horse to see what he is trying to tell you. Horses never lie. What you see is what you get. See that one throw his head up, we startled him. You want to see relaxation, go watch Ghost snoozing in the corner. His head hanging even with his withers, lower lip drooping. Ears go back for a reason. What is it?”

“The horse is mad,” JJ called.

“Kinda like you?” Brandy grinned at her own words.

“Used to be like me.” JJ spoke firmly but without the rage and slashing fingernails a comment like that might have caused before.

“Exactly. Watch the ears and the tail, easy indicators of what the horse is feeling. When that tail starts to twitch, back off. Give him some space.”

Breaking Free moved to the back of his stall and now seemed to ignore her. When he cocked a back foot, she knew he was relaxed again. She inched closer to the stall door. Her action brought his head back up, and he shifted his front feet.

More of Mr. James’ words came back to her. “Watch his eyes. It’s easy to mix up fear and anger. But remember, either way, the horse wants to get away from whatever is bothering him. He wants to run.”

“These guys always want to run, they’s Thoroughbreds,” Kool Kat had quipped, making everyone laugh as usual.

Making people laugh, a gift Maggie had always dreamed of having but never saw happen.
Except for my baby.
The thought struck right to the target of her heart, like an arrow after flight. Her hands clamped against the shaking that came with the arrow.

Breaking Free snorted and shifted again, his eyes rolling white in the dimness. Could he pick up on her feelings that quickly? He’d recognized them almost before she did. She took a deep breath and forced her hands and shoulders to relax. Someday she’d have to let those thoughts out but not today. Not here.

That afternoon she stopped by the door, only moving forward a tiny bit and then waiting until he settled down again before repeating the action. He settled more easily the third move so she left and went about her chores. Make it easy for him to do what you want. She’d read that in a horse training book. Surely the same would work with people.

“You ever worked a lunge line before?” Mr. James asked her as she stepped off the bus at the ranch the next day.

She nodded, all the while wracking her brain, trying to remember everything she’d learned almost twenty years ago.

“Good, take Fashion Sense over to that corral,” he pointed to the one at the south end of the long barn, “and work him slow for a bit, then pick up the pace. Most of these horses have cooled out on hot walkers so you should have no trouble with him. The whip is in the tack room.”

By the time she had the horse in the corral, Mr. James had gathered the others around. He was good at using everything available to teach about horses, instilling new information in their heads every chance he had.

“Okay, Maggie, you loosen him up while I give a little quiz here.”

“A test, that ain’t fair, you din’t warn us.” As usual Kool Kat’s voice rose above the rest.

He raised his hands for silence, which happened fairly quickly these days. These last weeks had accomplished as much among the inmates as with the horses. “Now, tell me what was wrong with this horse when he came in?”

Maggie led the dark bay gelding to the center of the corral and, clucking him forward, slowly let out the lunge line. She snapped the whip behind him to get him moving away from her. Keeping one ear on the discussion, she kept both eyes on the horse.

“He was skin and bones. Nobody taked care of him.”

“His feet were a mess.” Brandy was getting braver about answering.

“Meaning?” James asked.

“Growed out, hooves cracking. Smelled so bad I almost heaved.”

“And what is that called?”

Brandy screwed up her face. “I don’t remember.”

“Anybody help her?”

“Thrush?” JJ asked.

“Good. Anything else?”

“He had a bad cough.”

“Good, and what have we done for him?”

“Put him on good food.” Kool Kat threw in.

“Trimmed his hooves.” JJ picked it up. “And treated the infection.”

“Dewormed him.” Back to Kool Kat.

They had come a long way in their horse sense. Maggie turned with the horse, flicking the whip along the ground, unconsciously keeping her body in line with his. The sun beat down hot, a breeze danced with the dust stirred by the horse hooves and slowly Fashion Sense picked up his feet. He even snorted once and bobbed his head.

“So, tell me what you see.” Mr. James returned to his questions.

After a pause, Kool Kat took up the challenge. “I see a horse that still got a long way to go.”

“True. But what do you notice?”

“He not limpin’ any more. Coat looks better. Ribs and hip bones don’t stick out so much.” Kool Kat raised her arms in the air and danced, stepping high in place and making everyone laugh.

“Good. Now watch Maggie. What is she doing?” He kept eye contact with Kool Kat, encouraging her further.

“Showing off.” DC’s voice.

Showing off could get you hurt. Maggie swallowed and focused on the horse. It wasn’t the first time DC had made a comment about Maggie’s “uppity” attitude, different duties, and how she got them. How the woman slipped below Mr. James’ watchful eye, Maggie did not know, but she did.

Kool Kat squinted her eyes to think. “Makin’ him go with the whip.”

“How is she using the whip?”

“She keep it low and behind him.”

“Watch her body.”

“For why?” The others groaned with her.

“Go, Kool Kat,” Brandy chanted.

“See how relaxed she is? If she tightened up, so would the horse. She’s easy and keeps moving with him. So, if he is throwing his head and jerking on the lead, what is he telling you?”

“He scarder’n me?” Kool Kat’s answer brought snickers from the group.

“He might be head shy. What would cause that?”

“Someone smacked him around.”

His nod brought other murmurs and comments.

“No one should be smacked around.” JJ spoke with deadly certainty.

“I agree.” Mr. James looked them each in the eyes. “Not horses, not people.”

For a moment, silence hung.

Then, “Okay, who’d like to trade places with Maggie?”

A hand went up and JJ entered the corral.

“Now, you go stand by Maggie and begin by copying everything she does.”

Maggie had to keep her attention on the horse or she knew she’d start to freeze up. Having someone this close always sent her into a retreat within herself.

“Go ahead and hand her the whip.”

She passed it to JJ and joined the others around the pen.

Sweat trickled down her back, and she lifted her hat to finger comb her hair back and let the breeze cool her. She might have looked relaxed out there, but the scrutiny made her sweat. Interesting how the rhythm came back to her. Besides, Fashion Sense was an easy horse, grateful for his good treatment.

What about Breaking Free? If she was able to bring him out here and work him like that. . . . Not if, but when, she reminded herself, remembering a comment Marion, their group leader, had drilled into them at Bible study every Tuesday evening. Maggie sometimes found it hard to believe the good things when everything around her screamed hide, get through. Don’t let anyone in.

Later that day, she brought Dancer in from the small pen so another horse could be let out.
We really need more small pens
, she thought. More horses would keep coming in, but then they’d not get a group this big all at once again.

She rubbed her shoulder, using the whip had made it ache. But she’d made it without Mr. James noticing anything was wrong. Picking up a bucket with brushes, she headed for another stall. Giving this guy a bath would be a good time. She glanced at her watch—an hour to go, surely she could finish in time.

By the time she dumped the scraper in the bucket, her shoulder felt like it was on fire.

“He sure is pretty now,” JJ said, walking over to stroke the horse’s shoulder and up his neck. “He liked that.”

“Sure, he’s used to getting all cleaned up. Pretty soon he’ll shine again, just like he should.”

“Five minutes,” Mr. Creston called.

“Can you put him back in his stall? I’ll take this stuff back to the tack room.” Maggie dug in her pocket and palmed the last quarter of her apple. “You’re a good fella.”

“Where’s the whip?” Mr. James asked when she set the bucket in its place.

“Ah, JJ had it. I’ll go ask her.” Maggie trotted back to the stall. No JJ. She turned and scoped the area. Where would it have been left? She ran out to the corral. No whip. Time was running out, if they were late, they’d all get demerits. Back to Dancer’s stall. Sure enough, the whip leaned against the wall just inside. She snatched the whip and trotted back to the tack room.

“Remember, you take it out, you bring it back.” His censure smarted.

She nodded, in her mind screaming,
but I didn’t use it last
! Now she had a mark against her, and it wasn’t even her fault.

“We’re late, let’s hustle.”

Mounting the bus steps, she moved down the aisle to her regular seat. DC had taken her place, smirking at her. Fight for it or go on? The thought caught her by surprise. She’d never fought for anything in her entire incarceration. She lowered her gaze and took a seat to the rear.

That evening in her room, she made a list of the questions about Breaking Free she wanted to ask Mr. James, determined she wouldn’t lose her nerve again, and planning ways to avoid contact with DC.

In the morning on her way out to the bus, she was mentally reviewing her list when she heard the warden’s voice coming from behind the closed door of his office. She kept her gaze forward but slowed slightly.

“Put him down! We cannot keep a vicious animal here!”

Maggie froze.

“But Warden . . .”

“You heard me, Trenton. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be.”

No, it cannot be.
Please God, it cannot be
.
We’ve not had enough time.

FOUR

H
e can’t mean Breaking Free.

“But . . .”

“I can’t have it.” The warden interrupted Mr. James. “Someone gets hurt and the lawyers will be all over us like ducks on a June bug. Now you know that.”