what you did after the rescue to get him back in shape. I don’t want to plow the same field twice, if you get my drift.”
In fact, the accident had been no one’s fault—turned out it was a barn fire. Streak had been very young, and when the owners released the animals from the burning barn, a few of them, including Streak’s mother, wouldn’t come out and died before the blaze was under control. Streak got out of the pasture he’d escaped to and in the dark he ran down a nearby road that was under construction, slid on loose gravel and into a pit. He couldn’t get out. By the time stable hands rescued him, using a lift, he was half out of his mind.
As Clay already knew, there was no evidence the horse was physically injured from his mishap, but the fall, the isolation, the separation from his mother, the frustration with trying to find a way out, the lift rescue—or the combination of all these events—had traumatized him.
Clay told the colt, “We’ll start at the beginning, young man—just a little walking around with the harness and lead rope until you get more comfortable.”
And the horse said to Clay, I can’t forget!
As he stroked the horse, Clay thought, Good. Don’t forget. Remembering will keep you sharp and safe.
This was the part that made sense only to Clay—he didn’t hear the voice of the horse, he felt it. When he was sending a mental message to the animal, sometimesthe horse seemed to receive it and they were both on the same page. How do you explain something like that? How do you explain getting drawn into an animal’s dream?
In just a week, they had come a long way.
The next time Lilly came by with her delivery, Clay wanted to go help her haul the hay and feed, but the horse felt it and pulled him back. Sorry, Clay thought. I don’t usually get distracted. Let’s just do our job. And he focused again. He pushed the pretty Hopi out of his mind as he slowly led Streak around, creating comforting images in his mind and murmuring soothing sounds and words.
When they were finished, he removed the lead and set the horse free for a little exercise. When he turned he was pleased to see Lilly was still there. She leaned her forearms on the rail and watched him, her booted foot resting on the bottom rail.
Clay walked over to her, detached lead in hand, while the horse romped behind him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you unload today,” he said as he neared.
She shrugged. “I told you before, I can handle it. It’s my job.” She jutted her chin toward Streak. “He’s amazing.”
“Beautiful, isn’t he?” A thought emerged in his mind—how wonderful she would look astride a large chestnut creature like Streak—but he stopped the thought at once. The downside to letting a young horse into your head—you could accidentally send a message you didn’t intend.
“He seems to have calmed down a lot in a week, but he’s still…wild and crazy. But he likes you.”
“He comes from a champion line, but he wastraumatized by an accident when he was young. Anxiousness in combination with strength can be lethal. So we’re going back in time, returning to his early training. And going slow.”
“Does he get that? That you’re starting from the beginning?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Clay said. “He’s cooperating for the moment. If I could, I’d regress him to the womb.” Then he smiled and said, “You hung around again.”
“I saw you working the horse and just wanted to look at him. And I like to check on Blue. That’s all.”
“She’s in fine shape. How long since you’ve ridden?”
She shrugged. “I bet it’s been six months. I rode almost every day as a young girl.”
He grinned at her. “You’re still a young girl,” he said.
“Really, I’m not that into riding. Just occasionally. If Annie wants someone to ride with.” And then she thought about what a huge lie that was. She’d revised her budget a hundred times to see how she could
In fact, the accident had been no one’s fault—turned out it was a barn fire. Streak had been very young, and when the owners released the animals from the burning barn, a few of them, including Streak’s mother, wouldn’t come out and died before the blaze was under control. Streak got out of the pasture he’d escaped to and in the dark he ran down a nearby road that was under construction, slid on loose gravel and into a pit. He couldn’t get out. By the time stable hands rescued him, using a lift, he was half out of his mind.
As Clay already knew, there was no evidence the horse was physically injured from his mishap, but the fall, the isolation, the separation from his mother, the frustration with trying to find a way out, the lift rescue—or the combination of all these events—had traumatized him.
Clay told the colt, “We’ll start at the beginning, young man—just a little walking around with the harness and lead rope until you get more comfortable.”
And the horse said to Clay, I can’t forget!
As he stroked the horse, Clay thought, Good. Don’t forget. Remembering will keep you sharp and safe.
This was the part that made sense only to Clay—he didn’t hear the voice of the horse, he felt it. When he was sending a mental message to the animal, sometimesthe horse seemed to receive it and they were both on the same page. How do you explain something like that? How do you explain getting drawn into an animal’s dream?
In just a week, they had come a long way.
The next time Lilly came by with her delivery, Clay wanted to go help her haul the hay and feed, but the horse felt it and pulled him back. Sorry, Clay thought. I don’t usually get distracted. Let’s just do our job. And he focused again. He pushed the pretty Hopi out of his mind as he slowly led Streak around, creating comforting images in his mind and murmuring soothing sounds and words.
When they were finished, he removed the lead and set the horse free for a little exercise. When he turned he was pleased to see Lilly was still there. She leaned her forearms on the rail and watched him, her booted foot resting on the bottom rail.
Clay walked over to her, detached lead in hand, while the horse romped behind him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you unload today,” he said as he neared.
She shrugged. “I told you before, I can handle it. It’s my job.” She jutted her chin toward Streak. “He’s amazing.”
“Beautiful, isn’t he?” A thought emerged in his mind—how wonderful she would look astride a large chestnut creature like Streak—but he stopped the thought at once. The downside to letting a young horse into your head—you could accidentally send a message you didn’t intend.
“He seems to have calmed down a lot in a week, but he’s still…wild and crazy. But he likes you.”
“He comes from a champion line, but he wastraumatized by an accident when he was young. Anxiousness in combination with strength can be lethal. So we’re going back in time, returning to his early training. And going slow.”
“Does he get that? That you’re starting from the beginning?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Clay said. “He’s cooperating for the moment. If I could, I’d regress him to the womb.” Then he smiled and said, “You hung around again.”
“I saw you working the horse and just wanted to look at him. And I like to check on Blue. That’s all.”
“She’s in fine shape. How long since you’ve ridden?”
She shrugged. “I bet it’s been six months. I rode almost every day as a young girl.”
He grinned at her. “You’re still a young girl,” he said.
“Really, I’m not that into riding. Just occasionally. If Annie wants someone to ride with.” And then she thought about what a huge lie that was. She’d revised her budget a hundred times to see how she could
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