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Standing on the small porch I sip at the steaming cup of coffee in my hand, eyes roaming over to the small sectioned corral. Inside one side my black gelding, Pony, eats his mush for breakfast, the hard grain being too difficult for the aged gelding to chew properly. Beside him Blue plows through his meal with the vigor and appetite of a young horse. It’s been seven years since I bred, broke and gelded the sturdy animal, seven long years of hard riding, hard living and sometimes near neglect. I feel a knot in my stomach turn as the memories of how neglected the horse had been when Sarah and Adam had been killed, riding the animal in a drunken rage until finally Pony had enough and threw my ass. Waking up in the morning, hung over to find the horse standing obediently beside me, head hung low, dried sweat caking his black hide. All those times Pony was my only lifeline to the real world and honestly I didn’t deserve it. Taking another gulp off my coffee I shake my head, banishing the memories of those times.

 

Pony finishes his breakfast and turns, walking the few steps to the other side of the corral to where the shady tree provides him with relief from the hot sun. Even at his walk Pony limps, all the hard galloping, sliding stops and hard terrain finally showing their effects. Finishing my coffee I put the cup down and reach inside the door, grabbing the soft tanned leather satchel I head for the corral, smiling as the gelding’s ears perk at my approach and he knickers in greeting.

 

“Hello boy.” I smile, stroking the long face, feeling the soft hair under my fingers and the animal’s sides heave with a sigh. Pony always loved to be stroked, he loved human contact above all else. Slipping the halter over his head I tie the horse to the fence out of habit, knowing Pony isn’t one to run when the gate is opened. Opening the satchel I look at the set of brushes, gifts from last year’s Christmas from JD and pick out the hardest one. Gently but firmly I begin to brush out the dark hide, watching as the dirt comes loose, leaving behind a black finish slightly dulled with age. Pony stands, content with his grooming, eyes closed and ears flopped to the sides. I shake my head, Pony always was an easy keeper, a little attention, food and love and the horse could live forever. I cringe, knowing that the animal can’t live forever. Finishing with that brush I take the softer one and shine up the once lustrous coat, finding the blackness under all the grey and age. Adam had only been a baby when I started breaking the young Pony and by the time he had started talking Pony was fast becoming a good saddle horse, trust worthy and obedient. Standing in front of the small but sturdy animal I run the soft brush over his long face and the deep brown eyes stare at me, their depths filled with the same courage and strength I first saw when I brought him and his mother back to my place. The spirit is still there, but the body isn’t. I stop brushing and gently place my head into his mane, breathing in the so familiar scent of grain, leather and sweat, the sweet scent of horse. Pony nudges my back, nipping at my belt playfully as he had done since he was a baby. I let go of the muscular neck and stand back, feeling my eyes prick with sadness before walking out of the corral and over too my tools. Taking out several items I return and ask for the old horse to pick up his feet, he does and waits patiently as I remove each of his metal shoes, throwing them aside. Pony looks at me once more as I stand near his head, ears pricked foreword in almost question before snorting and reaching out his neck to be scratched. I oblige the elderly animal, giving his withers a good scratching that makes him toss his head and lean into my hands. I laugh softly at the expression of pure bliss on my companion’s face, finding his ears flopped over and lip curled. Blue calls from the other side, his own ears facing towards us, expecting to be scratched as well. I smile and nod, pulling my hands away from the black gelding who stands in the shade, a content look on his graying face. Gathering up the brushes I move over to the other side and catch the blue roan and double knot the lead over the fence, knowing this youngster to be an escape artist. Quickly brushing the bluish-grey coat down I give the youngster a loving scratch and pat on the muscular neck before saddling him. Blue nips at my hands as I bring the bit to his mouth and I reprimand him, the action bringing back memories of when Pony use to attack my hands when he was this age. Pony was notorious for being a bitter, well, that was until I hauled off and bit him on the ear. That seemed to earn me some sort of respect from the gelding and he hasn’t bit since. Obviously that’s a lesson for Blue, but a lesson meant to be taught at another time. The young gelding accepts the bit and stands patiently as I untie Pony and lead him over so I can mount. Pony snorts at this but complies too being asked to walk beside the younger horse. I had seen this day coming so after scoping out a place I found one I think Pony would like.

 

Not too far from my homestead is a large tree surrounded by the greenest, sweetest grass any horse could hope for. Under that tree a large hole sits; the hole I dug when I noticed how the cold mornings and hot afternoons were causing my beloved horse pain. It hurt the gelding to walk in the morning; it was hard for him to breath in the afternoons. I decided it was time. Pulling Blue to a stop I dismount and tie the young horse several yards off to a small sapling, leaving him to graze peacefully. Pony walks beside me, wheezing from the walk from the house to here. Stopping him beside the hole I smile sadly at him and give the black one more scratch on the withers, watching with sadness building in my heart as the beloved animal stretches up his neck and makes faces. Pony brings his head down and around sharply when I stop, ears cocked foreword as I stroke the neck and cheek, tears building in my eyes.

 

“I’m sorry Pony.” I tell the horse and he nudges my chest with his nose

 

“You’ve been a faithful companion old boy and a wonderful teacher. I don’t know what I would have done without you during those dark years. I thank you friend.” I can feel the tears start to roll as I stroke the black face and look into the warm brown eyes, finding not only the courage and spirit but also the love and compassion of an animal I raised.

 

“You’ve been more to me than just a horse; you’re my best friend, worst enemy and my savior. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.” I sob, knowing I must look stupid for talking to a horse but don’t really care. I can’t count the number of times Pony has pulled me from my memories with a hard head-butt or a loud whinny. It was the devotion of this one black gelding that kept me from falling into a void to where there was no return. I had to return to take care of the animal, to feed him and clean him. It had been Adam who named him and maybe that’s why I refused to sell the black horse to potential buyers. Pony was my only connection left to my son and that’s why I had to take care of the horse.

 

“Your job is done Pony, I’ve survived. Thanks to you old man I’ve survived.” I press my face once more into the wiry mane and inhale, relishing the scent that is uniquely Pony before taking my knife off my belt and cutting a piece of the black mane. Pulling the lock of hair into my pocket I replace the knife and withdraw my pearl handled gun and cocking it.  

 

“You’re job is done Pony and I thank you for saving me. Never forgotten.” I sob and pull the trigger, hearing the report and the sharp whinny as the bullet ends the faithful life. I refuse to open my eyes at the heavy sound of the body falling into the hole. Turning around I risk opening them, finding Blue standing stiffly and watching me, his large eyes wide and ears stretched foreword. Replacing the gun I wipe at the tears and turn back, solemnly grabbing the shovel and without looking inside I begin to fill in the hole; tears staining my face.

 

Spreading the dirt around I stare down at the area, the sadness settling into my stomach as I step over to a rock and maneuver it over, so that whoever happens by will know this is a resting place of someone. Stepping back I stare down once more and unconsciously fold my hands, feeling the breeze as it whips past, blowing the tall grass, and bending it in its wake. I inhale and stop the familiar scent lingers for several minutes before the wind blows once more and it’s gone. I smile and reach into my pocket, withdrawing the lock of long black hair.

 

“Run far, run fast and run free my friend. Good-bye Pony.” I call out to the wind and the soft but unmistakable sound of hoof beats.

 

“And thank you.” I whisper, replacing the hair into my pocket and walk over to where a subdued Blue stands, his ears prick and he nudges me. I smile and scratch the neck before untying him and mounting. Casting one more look across the grassy area I smile and cluck to the blue roan, directing him back to the homestead.

  
Chapter End Notes:

 

 

 

In Loving Memory of Sarka P.S Love, born April 1985 to May 2007.  Gone but never forgotten.  
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