One to Leave (One to Hold 5)

Winona was in the kitchen alone when I took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She smiled and nodded.

“Where is everybody?” I asked softly. I’d never spoken to the kindly cook, and I wasn’t sure if she knew English.

“Mr. Bill is in the side paddock.” Her voice had an accent I couldn’t quite place. Perhaps she was Indian? “The rest are off playing.”

?

?Thanks.” I smiled and headed out towards the small pen on the side of the barn.

The wind was dying down, and I knew that meant the cold weather would come barreling in soon. Walking around the side of the weathered-wood barn, I saw Stuart’s uncle holding the reins for the new colt. I’d heard he was breaking him in, but I’d never watched him work.

He spoke low to the young horse, clucking and making sounds with his mouth. Occasionally the colt would try to pull away, but for the most part, he seemed comfortable with the leather and metal contraption holding his head. They walked around in a half-circle, when Bill glanced up and saw me watching. He led the animal over to where I stood on the fence.

“Hey, there,” Bill smiled up at me. “Last I saw you, Patrick had you over his shoulder.”

Glancing down, I felt my cheeks warming up. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how strong that drink was.”

He laughed. “No worries. The Sip-n-Dip is pretty famous for strong drinks.”

“And mermaids.”

“Right.” He reached out and petted the horse’s nose.

“It looks like you’re almost done breaking him in.”

He nodded, reaching up and sliding the bridle off the colt’s head. The young horse instantly dropped the bit and turned. Bill made a low noise, and he shook his head, making me laugh.

“He’s getting there,” Bill said with a smile. “Still got a lot of fight in him, but he’s a good horse. I expect he’ll give me quite a ride the first time I mount him.”

I watched as the horse took off, loping around the pen. “What do you mean?”

“After all the time I’ve spent working with him, when he sees me on his back for the first time, it’ll spook him.” He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “And if he throws me, it’ll spook him more.”

We were quiet a minute watching him.

“How long does it take to break a colt?”

“Depends on the animal. Not all of them are as strong-willed as this guy.”

The horse shook his head and trotted a bit, then shook his head again.

“I think he’s fighting the feel of that bridle.”

Bill nodded. “Strong-willed animals are valuable. I don’t want to break his spirit. Just teach him a better way.”

Every word he said touched me deeply. I couldn’t help seeing the parallel to Stuart and me. “What would happen if you didn’t train him?”

“Wild horses are prone to injury. Loners have shorter lives.” He rubbed his thick grey mustache. “Broken, they have safety, shelter. They live longer.”

Quiet settled over us. I pictured Stuart like one of those wild horses, running free, refusing to take shelter, being injured...

Bill pushed away from the fence and turned to me. “I’ve been watching this phenomenon for years. It takes patience, a gentle hand, and a lot of love.”

I squinted up at him. “Patience is the hardest part.”

“Yep.” He looked past me at the horizon. “But I think you’ve got what it takes.”

I looked out at the horizon, too, hoping with all the feelings swirling in my chest that this wise old cowboy was right.