A Tale of Two Horses Page #4

• Fiction
• Children

								


 Part two: 
Hi, my name is Juliet, and my life hasn’t always been easy. My story starts when I was born. I was with my mother, nursing. I laid with her, as happy as could be. But when I woke up from my nap, my mother was gone. I stood up on my wobbly legs, and looked around me. I took one wobbly step, then another. At the door of the stall stood a cowboy, who looked rather sad. “I’m sorry, little baby, but something has happened to your mother,” I stared at him in horror. “Something went wrong when she gave birth to you. I’m sorry little baby, but your mother is dead.” I looked down at my wobbly legs. I felt like someone had hit me with a hammer. “Cheer up! I’ll be your mother! And I’m going to call you Juliet,” the cowboy said, trying to sound cheerful. I soon found out his name was Hugh. I liked the name Juliet. I liked having a name, because somehow it comforted me. It made me feel not so alone. Hugh sighed. “Nothing seems to be going right,” he said. “One little foal has a stomach infection and is probably not gonna make it.” He made himself smile and got to work on being my mother. My life was pretty basic, the feeding, grazing, sleeping, running around, the same old thing. Except for Hugh, I had no friends. When I was three months old, I met Blaze, who was terribly fussy and could be very jealous. I was in the field grazing, when a foal bounded up. “Is it following?! Where’d it go?! Is it after me?!” The foal screached at me, cowering down, and looking around rapidly like a maniac. “What are you talking about?” I asked him in surprise. “That loud flying thing!” He cried looking up. I chuckled. “It won’t hurt you. That’s a plane.” “Are you POSITIVE?!” He cried. “Yes. And my name is Juliet,” I replied. “I’m Blaze and what was this so-called plane doing up there?” Blaze asked, barely acknowledging that I’d said my name. “I’m not sure,” I said. “Well once you’ve figured it out, call me,” Blaze said angrily and stalked off. So after that I tried to be nice to him, but avoid him at the same time. Blaze was not the easiest horse to get along with. So I only had Blaze as a friend, and he wasn’t a very good one. But one day, when I was six months old, I was out grazing, when another foal ran into the pasture. He stopped running, and stepped up to me cautiously. “Hi, I’m Kid! I almost died!” He said to me, in a rush. “I’m glad you didn’t! I’m Juliet by the way.” I replied. Then Blaze walked up. “Juliet, who’s this?” He asked grumpily. “This is Kid, Blaze!” I told him. “Watch yourself, Sid,” Blaze said to Kid. “That’s KID..” Kid began to say, but Blaze walked off muttering things. “Don’t worry about Blaze,” I said. “He can get terribly jealous.” Me and Kid had fun, running and playing, and trying to avoid Blaze. Kid helped me through the sadness of not having a mother. I felt as if I could tell him anything. And he told me how he’d almost died from a stomach infection. Blaze was awfully jealous, but we didn’t care. We had many adventures. Once, Kid saved my life. It was a rather boring day. Nothing very fun was happening. So me and Kid escaped the pasture, and ran to the woods. We followed the trail to the creek, and we began to play. I walked out onto a dead log that had fallen over the creek, but with my weight it snapped, and I was sent gushing down the fast flowing creek. I thrashed around, trying to stay above water. Kid ran alongside me, trying to figure out how to get me out. Then he ran ahead, grabbed a vine and tossed it out to the creek. I grabbed onto it, just as I was about to be gushed by. Kid yanked me out and we laid there, while I dried. After I was almost completely dry, me and Kid headed back to Hugh’s farm. We arrived just as Hugh and his son, Vic, were putting the horses up for the night. We had many adventures, including one where me and Kid fell in a hole and probably wouldn’t have made it out of it weren’t for Hugh! We had many adventures, but it would take a long time to write them all down, so I’ll skip ahead a little. We had been friends for a year, when trouble began. It was a hot August afternoon. Me and Kid were out in the pasture. “Let’s practice our rearing, Kid,” I suggested. We both wanted PERFECT and majestic rears. We started to rear, holding them as long as we could. Then Hugh came up with another cowboy, Waylon. Hugh pointed to us and said our names. Waylon nodded and asked if we had any bad habits. “They love a-rearing but they ain’t never hurt no one.” Hugh answered. Waylon handed Hugh some money, which Kid referred to as rectangular paper. Both the cowboys heaved sighs. Waylon sighed because humans don’t like parting with money, and Hugh because he didn’t want to see us go. I would miss Hugh, because he was like a mother to me. But his job was breeding, so he had no choice but to sell the horses. I went up to Hugh and he stroked me gently, one last time. And I never saw him again. We were loaded into a horse trailer, and as we were driven away, we saw Blaze looking sad. I would actually miss him a little. But leaving my birthplace and everything I ever knew (besides Kid), was small potatoes compared to what was to come. Me and Kid were buzzing with excitement when we got to Waylon’s farm! As we were led to the pasture, there were two other horses coming to meet us. Waylon’s farm was HUGE and he had lots of cows, goats, pigs, and chickens. The horses' names were Sistine, a Tennessee Walking Horse, and Passo, a black Arabian. Passo was our age, but Sistine was in her twenties. Passo seemed nice enough, but Sistine was warning us about all sorts of funny things. “DON’T go near Callabar the rooster! He will kill you if he feels like it!” Passo whispered to be prepared for Sistine’s warnings, because she had a lot of them. Me and Kid avoided Callabar, even though Sistine was probably off her rocker. We had only been at Waylon’s farm for a week, when he discovered that he could not care for us. So he called his friend. The next day, a teenage girl came.“Hi, my name’s Sarah,” she said, holding out her palm. Me and Kid searched it for treats. We didn’t find any. After a few moments, Sarah told Waylon that she would take Kid. Kid cocked his head and I stopped breathing mid breath. She gave Waylon some “rectangular paper” and tried to lead Kid to a trailer. He neighed and tried to run to me but Sarah caught him. So I ran to him. “You can’t leave! You’re my best friend!” I cried, in distress. Kid neighed and kicked, but Sarah had her mind made up about taking him home. We pressed our muzzles together, and Kid was loaded into the trailer, and was driven away. I stood there watching the truck haul away my best friend and wondered what I would do without him. Waylon came to my side and stroked me gently. “I’m sorry Juliet. But she can’t afford both of you. And I can’t afford either of you,” he said sadly. My stomach turned to stone at the thought of never seeing Kid again. Sistine and Passo tried to comfort me, and I was grateful, but without Kid, I just couldn’t be happy. The next day (after a plain MISERABLE night), a man came to see me. He had scraggly brown hair and wore a patched shirt and torn jeans. He had tattoos up his arms and a gruff look on his face. Right then I had doubts about him. Waylon told him that my name was Juliet. “Yeah yeah,” the man said. And I knew right then that I didn’t like him at all. If I hadn’t had on my halter, I would have run away. “I’ll take it, but I know I’ll regret it,” the man said, gruffly. He led me to a horse trailer. I didn’t want to go in. This man seemed evil! “Get on with it!” He cried, and slapped my hind. I whinnied in pain, and got in the trailer. The man got in the truck, and drove crazily to his farm. “Move, you piece of junk!” He yelled at someone on the way. When we got to our destination, I saw that his farm was as filthy as he was. His barn was old and the wood was rotting. This house looked like a shack that could tumble down at any moment. And the pasture was just a bunch of rotten posts in the ground with a rope wrapping around them to enclose the pasture. Any animal could escape easily. And by the porch was a bunch of trash and bottles that should have been in the recycling bin. And later, I found out that some of his horse feed had clumps of mold. When I was being led to the rotting barn, I saw a rotting chicken coop that contained chickens with half of their feathers missing. I hoped that Kid was having a better time than me. I was led to a stall that could have been broken out of with very little effort. In the stall beside me, there was a chestnut mare that had a raggy and tangled mane and tail. She looked like she would kill somebody. The man slammed the stall shut, and I saw through a small hole in the barn wall that he sat down on his rickety porch and started drinking out of a bottle, and when he was done, tossed it down with the rest. The mare chuffed at me and didn’t speak. “Uh- my name is Juliet,” I said to the chestnut mare. “We don’t have names around here. We earn our keep and don’t get spoiled with dumb junk such as a name!” She snapped. “How do you earn your keep?” I asked, because horses don’t produce milk and eggs like chickens and cows. “I get Marco where he needs to go. Only Marco says my legs are getting old, so I don’t do what he requires, and the only reason I haven’t sold is because I’m an ugly piece of junk. That’s what he says,” she replied. “Are you happy here?” I asked. “I’m not here to be happy, I’m here to work. Now leave me alone you rookie,” she said, turning away from me. I believed in happiness, so I knew me and Chestnut Mare wouldn’t get along well. I went out to the “pasture” and decided to say hi to a cow. “Hello. My name is Juliet, what’s yours?” I asked. The cow looked at me strangely. “Marco isn’t going to like you. You’re soft. The only one here with a NAME! We aren’t here for NAMES! We’re here to WORK!” The cow screamed at me. I guessed that the evil looking man’s name was Marco. I believed in happiness, which is something that the residents of this farm didn’t, so I knew that I wouldn’t fit in. So that day I went back to my stall and stayed there. Later the evil man put a saddle on my back (without a saddle pad! And might I remind you that I’m only a year and six months old? I was way too young to be ridden!) and climbed on. “Get on with it you lazy horse!” He cried, and whipped me. I neighed in pain and raced ahead. That was one uncomfortable ride. First of all, I’d never in my life had a saddle on my back, or a bridle on my face. But Marco expected me to be perfect. I would have thrown him, but I wasn’t raised that way. So I went on, uncomfortable and upset. But I could never go fast enough for Marco. He called me lots of things and beat me the whole time. When the awful ride was over, I collapsed in my stall, breathing heavily. “You’re spoiled. You don’t know how to work,” the chestnut mare said, distastefully. I thought a thought that you don’t want to know about. A week after the ride (and more beating and yelling), Marco decided that I wasn’t good enough so he wanted to sell me. So the next day a man who looked as filthy and rotten as Marco came to have a look at me. “What’s wrong with its eyes? It looks like he thinks he’s about to be beat,” the guy said. Because I probably AM! And I’m a girl, I thought. “It’s just a dumb horse. It doesn’t know anything,” Marco said. I did NOT like being referred to as, “it”, or “just a dumb horse”. The other guy sighed and handed over some money, and muttered, “why am I wasting money on a worthless animal?” Let me describe this man. He was bald and had tattoos up his arms and legs. His clothes were as dirty and rugged as Marco’s. He forced me into a trailer, and left on my lead rope for the awful ride. This man seemed awful. And his farm matched his personality. His house was a rundown shack. It probably had a bed and a kitchen and that’s it. He didn’t have a pasture at all. His farm was just enclosed by barbed wire. He had one other horse and two cows. And his barn was just a large shed. Once I was loaded out of the trailer, I wondered if these animals had names. So I walked up to the horse (I don’t know what breed he was. He was too dirty to tell), and I asked if anyone here had a name. “Of course we have names, dum dum! Jerry calls me Dummy, he calls him Worthless, and her Mistake,” he said, gesturing to the cows. I cocked my head. “I meant a real name,” I said. “Oh. We don’t have any of those. What’s the point of a darn name anyway?” he said. I did not enjoy my stay at Jerry’s. It was rather terrible. I might even venture to say that he was worse than Marco. I knew that I had to get back to Waylon. Or better yet, Hugh. The more Jerry beat me, the more I knew that I had to escape. He beat me and beat me and called me names and when he rode me, like Marco, didn’t use a saddle pad and whipped me. I wondered why I was with such evil men. I had been a good horse. What had I done wrong? But I knew that I had done nothing wrong, I just happened to be in the wrong place. But I was never good enough for Jerry. For years Jerry beat me and called me things. But finally, one day, as he was coming to the barn, I broke out of my stall and ran as fast as my weary legs would carry me. I couldn’t stay there anymore! I ran and ran and ran. Finally, I stopped at a river, and collapsed. I tried to get up and drink, but my legs were just too weak. So I laid down, and I don’t know how long I laid there, but I heard a loud whinney. I looked up and saw Jerry on his other horse, on a hill, looking down at me. I struggled to my feet, and ran. I don’t know how I ran, because I was so weary and weak, but I did. But not for long. I stumbled over my legs and fell on my face. The next thing I knew, Jerry had thrown a rope around my neck and was yanking me to my feet. I stumbled up, hoping that my legs would support me. Jerry called me mean names and whipped me all the way back to what was supposed to be home. There I was thrown into my stall, and Jerry didn’t bother to take the rope off my neck. “You shouldn’t have run away. You have a roof and food. What more could a horse want?” The other horse asked. The roof leaks and the food has little clumps of mold. And what more could I want?! An owner who loves me! And Kid!  I thought angrily. Early the next morning, Jerry appeared in the doorway of the “barn”. “Alright Fleabags, get up! We’re takin’ a lil’ trip,” he said. Then he pulled me and the other horse out of our stalls and made us get in a trailer. Me and the other horse unfortunately were right next to each other in the trailer, so I tried to stay as far away from him as possible, which wasn’t very far. I was just thinking over my situation when I heard Jerry’s truck door slam. Then we started to move. Wouldn’t it be terrible if the floor just… fell out? Heh heh. Now that would be terrible. Not. I thought. I had an idea. The trailer was as old and rickety as the “barn”, so I stomped the floor (at least as much as my body would allow me). When nothing happened, I tried again, a bit harder this time. A small piece of wood broke off and there was a small hole. So I stomped and stomped and stomped. The other horse  looked at me quizzically but said nothing. Soon, I had a horse sized hole. Well, this is it. I thought. I lowered myself out the hole and as quick as a flash rolled out from under the tire. I don’t know how I wasn’t killed but I wasn’t. When I looked after the trailer, to my surprise I saw the other horse escaping out the hole as I had done. Then he galloped over to me. “Smart idea. Maybe you’re not such a nitwit after all,” he said. After a moment, he added, “And I’m sorry that I was so mean to you. I had a bad life and longed for a name, but I was just too proud to admit it.” “I know you had a rough life. But we’re free now!” I said, happy that he might be my friend. “Thanks to you we’re free,” he said. “Did you ever have a name?” I asked. “My name was Dakota, but I’d almost forgotten it,” Dakota answered. “Well then, Dakota, let’s get a move on before Jerry realizes he doesn’t have any horses!” I said, and with that, we galloped into the woods. We ran for a while, and my weary legs no longer felt weary. After a while though, we did get tired. So we stopped to drink at a stream, then we laid down. But a while later, we were awakened by the sound of thundering hooves. I feared that Jerry or Marco (or worse:both) were there to retrieve us. But as I sat up, the only thing I saw was about twenty five wild horses thundering by. “Dakota?” I asked, not being able to find him. “Over here, Juliet!” He cried, amongst the herd. Then I saw him. He was running with the herd! So I ran ahead to join him. And we ran with the herd for a long time. But eventually, there was a fork in the road and some horses went left, and some went right. Unfortunately, I was swept right as Dakota was swept left. “Dakota!” I cried. But it was too late. I’d lost him. And I never saw him again. Soon I broke myself from the herd, and went down a different path all by myself. So there I went on, wondering if I’d placed a record for losing friends. But losing Dakota didn’t hurt me near as bad as losing Kid. So I continued on, missing all my friends, even Blaze. So finally, I came to the end of the road and I came to a place where there was a big and NICE  chicken coop, and a big NICE pasture, and the place looked like somebody cared about it. Then I saw it. A brown quarter horse with a brown mane and a star on his forehead. It was Kid! My long lost friend! I ran to him. “Kid! Kid! It’s me, Juliet!” I cried. Kid looked up and saw me. “Juliet! It’s you!” I ran to him on my legs that no longer felt weary and we pressed our muzzles together. We were together at last. Kid told me of his friends that he had lost and his legs that always gave him trouble. I told him of my horrible time at that evil men’s farm. Sarah saw that there was an extra horse (and boy was she more grown up!!) and recognized me. After some research, she found out about my terrible experience and decided to keep me. She contacted Jerry, told him that she was buying me, and Jerry agreed! And her niece, Kate, spent a ton of time with me and Kid! Finally, my life was as it should be. 

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