Prelude
to Backyard Horse Tales 3:
Don’t Call me Love
by
Jackie Anton
Copyright ©2012 by Jackie Anton
ISBN: 978-1-4661-9890-6
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents art the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to any events, locals, or actual persons, living, or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Introduction
This prelude to Backyard Horse Tales #3 is in response to the many requests for Love’s tale. I dedicate this to my daughter, to Lou, to Sherrie, and to Mary. I hope this tides you over until the complete tale is published in the near future. Check my blog jackieanton.com for release dates of this and other Backyard Horse Tales.
All of the Backyard Horse Tales are told from viewpoint of the horse.
Sox is the story of a modern-day horse, that along with his little friend Emma, overcomes many of life’s adversities until the two, triumph as an inseparable team. The release date for the second edition is March 2012. This edition is getting excellent reviews. You can purchase it in print or as an e-book.
Frosty and the Nightstalker has a paranormal and historical twist. Look for it in the fall of 2012. There is also a sneak preview of Frosty’s Tale at the end of the Backyard Horse Tales / Sox book.
Table of Contents
Chapter 2 - New Herd, New Rules
1 - Lazy Summer Days
I became a backyard horse my yearling summer. Until that fateful summer I lived on a large horse farm not far from where I was to spend most of my life. My mother was the boss mare, and she told me while I was still a little filly nursing at her side, “Never let any of the other foals push you around. Timid horses don’t fare as well as the more aggressive ones.”
Momma was always the first in line to enter the barn for the evening feed, and no one challenged her. As I became more aware of the hierarchy of herd life I grew a little bolder, straying a little farther from my mother’s side. Under the guidance of my mother, her traits soon became mine. I heard whispers around the pasture that I did not understand. Curious, I asked Mom, “What does Plain Jane mean?”
“Where did you hear that, daughter?”
“The other foals said their moms call you and Toy Plain Janes.”
“It is just sour apples! Little ones just repeat what their parents say, and some of the other mares are jealous. Toy and I do not have Appaloosa coat patterns, but we both produce loud colored foals. Don’t pay any attention to them.”
“Well, I think you are the most beautiful of all the mares, Mom.”
She nuzzled me. “Thank you dear, you are a lovely filly, and you will be a real beauty.”
I didn’t know about that, but I did have some spots the color of my mom’s solid coat. She told me once that the color of her coat was liver chestnut; I had inherited the same star mom had in the middle of her forehead. My star was not as easily seen amid the spots that covered my face. No matter how hard I stared at my reflection in the pond, or the water trough I could just barely see it. My hind socks were also inherited from Mom, but they stood out well on my dark chestnut legs. From my knees and hocks up my body was white with multi-colored spots in various sizes some even had what Mom called a halo around them.
Toy was Mom’s best friend, but she was injured as a young horse leaving her blind in one eye. So, like a good friend, Mom always stood on Toy’s blind side to protect her. Toy was buckskin, which is kind of a gold color with a black mane and tail. Her legs were black from her knees and hocks down. She also had a few random white spots on her gold coat, about the size of a kernel of corn. Toy’s daughter, Sugar, was born a couple of days after me, and we palled around together a lot. Sugar was the name the humans gave to Toy’s foal. My new friend was a true leopard, white from her nose to her hooves. She had large, quarter and half-dollar size, golden spots splashed about on her white coat. In the same way that some of my spots and the color of my legs matched my mom’s coat, Sugar’s spots were the color of Toy’s coat.
Sugar thought that we were related because I had a few gold spots here and there in my coat too, along with some reddish chestnut spots. Actually Sugar was pretty close with her relationship estimate. As our mothers explained the facts of life to us, it turns out we were half sisters. Now the word from the older generation was that every one of our sire’s offspring had at least one red chestnut spot somewhere on their body. Some of the foals, like me, had several spots of that color on their hides. It became a game with us to locate the inherited spot on the other foals. I found Sugars only red spot on the back of her right ear. Some of the famous marks were well hidden, and could get you kicked if you got too personal in your search.
It was interesting that humans who came to look us over called both Sugar and I leopards, even though my dark legs kept me from that category, according to my mother. The human population of the farm, as well as visitors, started calling me Love. Like all the other foals, I sought out Mom to explain what I didn’t understand. “Mom, what does Love mean?”
“Well, daughter, I overheard one of the grooms tell another that you were registered as Chelsea Love. So, the humans gave you Love as your barn name.”
I had no idea what registered meant, but I filed it away in my memory banks. What I did know was that I took a lot of teasing once word of my name got circulated to the other horses. The harassment about my name continued throughout the fall, and winter. I guess that the other mothers thought I was misnamed. The constant teasing did not do my disposition any good. In the fall when we were all put in a separate pasture from our mothers I kicked and bit a few of the other weanlings butts when they repeated what their had mothers had told them.
Sugar went away with some unfamiliar humans just before Christmas. We didn’t even get to say goodbye! The colts were separated from us fillies in the spring. We had all grown a lot throughout the long year. I could see Mom with her new foal over in the adjoining pasture. It didn’t look at all like me! It had a big snowflake pattern on its rump, but otherwise was solid like our Mom, with the same star and hind socks. It was also a colt. Toy lost her foal a couple of months earlier, so my little brother had two overprotective mares trying to keep him from getting too adventurous too soon.
No one much bothered me anymore, they knew better, but the little filly Blue was always picked on, and excluded from the filly clique. I guess that when Sugar and I were growing up together we didn’t pay much attention to the other foals, except to put an occasional upstart in their place. I never realized how small Blue was.
Blue, alone as usual, had found a yummy patch of clover not far from where I was grazing. The gang of four—the nasty girls that always made fun of my name—decided they wanted Blue’s patch of clover.
“Scram, midget, you don’t rate sweet clover.”
Outnumbered, Blue started to back off. When she saw me coming at her from behind she froze. Bertha, the ringleader of the pack, was so occupied bullying Blue that she didn’t notice me. She laid back her ears and scrunched up her nostrils making an ugly face at Blue, and then threatening her.
“I told you to get lost, Blue, unless you want a beating!”
I whizzed past the frightened Blue, and took a chunk out of big mouth Bertha’s spotted hide. Then, I whipped around and clocked her with a hind foot for good measure. One of her friends, Lotta, tried a rear attack. I let go with both hind legs and sent her flying off of her feet. The other two gang members were long gone. I laid my ears back and challenged them, “Come on! You want to try again? I am just getting warmed up.” They backed off, and I turned my attention to Blue.
I had never noticed before—probably because she tried to stay out of everyone’s way—but Blue was very pretty with her black coat and white snowflakes. I told her, “Eat your clover, Blue, they won’t be back.”
“Thank you Love! Would you share the patch of sweet clover with me? I am sure there is enough for two.”
After that day, Blue became my new pasture buddy. A few weeks later the gang of four became the gang of three. By the end of the month the humans call June, they had become the gang of two. It was funny…or maybe not…but as their numbers dwindled so did their bullying. Another four weeks passed and a family of humans took Blue with them. I left the farm of my birth a few days after Blue. I wondered if I would ever see my mother and my little brother again, or my friends Sugar and Blue.
I was very reluctant to leave everyone that I knew, and all that was familiar to me. But my new humans were persistent, and spent a lot of time with me. From the beginning it required all their patience to convince me to step into the metal box on wheels. From the safety of my pasture, I’d watched other horses go into the trailer trap, and they all disappeared never to be seen again. I didn’t know where they went, but I didn’t want to disappear like the others. If I held my ground, I thought they might give up and go away.
2 - New Herd, New Rules
The short ride to my new home was frightening. They tricked me by feeding me some of the yummy sweet feed that I just loved. Then they sprinkled some on the floor of the scary trap. My hunger for the molasses-coated grain defeated my resolve. As I reached farther into the trailer to nibble at the oats and pellets, I made the mistake of hopping in to reach more of the tasty offering. The metal stall on wheels shook and wiggled when my hooves hit the rubber-covered floor. Then wham! The doors closed behind me, and it scared the poop out of me! I forgot all about the grain that my feet were now trampling.
The whole experience would have been a lot more traumatic if the human named Lou hadn’t ridden in the trailer with me on that first fateful trip. Lou understood that I was terrified when the stall began to move. “Oh. Great Horse in heaven please save me!” I prayed. My human companion reassured me by stroking my neck and talking to me in a soft voice, “Easy, Love, you will find your balance soon, we are almost home.”
I was not really adept at the human language yet. But I thought I had just left my home behind, along with my mom and little brother. I took the measure of this young woman: her hair was a lighter shade of gold than what Toy’s coat had been, and she had eyes the color of the summer sky. She looked kind of skinny to me, but it was hard for me to judge. I did not know many humans.
My companion was right the bumpy ride was soon over. The stall stopped moving, and the door behind me opened once more. Lou pushed on my chest while telling me to “back up.” Okay, time out! I didn’t have a clue what she was yakking about. When she poked me in the chest again, I took a step back. She stopped jabbing at my chest, and praised me. “Good girl, Love.” So, cautiously, I took a couple of more steps back, and suddenly my back foot slipped out into midair. I quickly brought it back in with my other feet. It took me a couple of false starts, and a lot of work on Lou’s part to get me out of that thing. Once I got both hind feet back on solid ground my front end was out of there in a flash. I thanked the great horse gods for getting me out of the frightening ride in one piece. Toy always told Sugar and me that if we were good fillies, the great horse in heaven would look out for us. My mom just used to snort at her friend’s comment. I don’t know if Mom didn’t believe, or she just figured that I couldn’t be good long enough to qualify for divine protection.
All the strange voices nickering at me made me a bit nervous, but I walked along with Lou to my new stall. My new place was clean and comfortable, but I paced its confines while listening intently to the strange new voices. I noticed that all the other occupants were adult horses when Lou and I first strolled up the aisle of what she referred to as my new home. The only big horses I had any experience with were limited to my mom and the other mares in the broodmare band.
***
I was turned out alone in a small paddock on my second day. Lou groomed me in the morning and talked to me, but I only understood a few words. “You can spend most of the day in the riding arena, Love. You will be close to the other horses, but separated until you get acquainted with the others.”
I watched the four older horses from the safety of my isolated turnout area. The riding arena at my new home was a far cry from the huge pastures where I had spent the first year of my life. The only grass was at the edges of the fence lines. The adults ran around the larger paddock bucking, rearing, and playing tag. I raised my tail so high that it curled over my back, snorted, shook my head, and whizzed around my playpen.