User:Erastus/Serving the Sentence - Part 8

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Serving the Sentence - Part 8/14

Author: Erastus Centaur

The riding club would open in two days. Stan had done a great job -- at least as far as Dave could tell -- of oiling and polishing the tack and organizing the mismatched pieces in the tack room. Stan still eyed he horses warily, still getting used the idea his charges had human brains and speech.

Stan was finishing off the last saddle when he glanced towards the door of the tack room and found Dave's head and neck filling it.

"Just about done, Dave," said Stan. Dave's watchful eye also took some getting used to. "Even though this stuff is used, it's in good shape."

"We have Zane to thank for that," said Dave.

"The next task is to get all this stuff on you and get all the straps adjusted properly."

"So soon?" Dave edged away a bit.

"Dave, we open the day after tomorrow. I can't be fumbling with straps while customers are waiting."

"Of course," said Dave.

Stan set the gleaming saddle aside. Dave could see it was the one purchased for Piet. Stan reached over and grabbed the halter at the end of the row. "We might as well start with you," said Stan, turning to Dave.

Dave lowered his head and held still while Stan slipped the halter over it. With quick motions, Stan adjusted the various buckles. "I've never been able to ask this before," said Stan. "How does that feel?"

Dave could feel the loop around his head, more straps along his cheeks, and a loop around his muzzle. "Weird," he said.

"I mean, does it feel tight or loose? Does it hurt?"

"No. It feels all right. Though I don't know how it's supposed to feel. It's just weird."

Stan patted him on the cheek, "You'll get used to it." Dave was very aware of the strap being pressed into his cheek by Stan's hand.

Stan reached over for Dave's blanket and saddle and soon had them on and adjusted. He attached reins to the side of the halter and draped them over the saddle horn, then stepped back to admire his work. "Looking good!" he said, giving Dave a thumb's up. Tomorrow, I'll teach all of you how to respond to a rider."

Stan quickly had the saddle and blanket off.

"Aren't you going to take of the halter?" asked Dave.

"Nope."

Dave's eyes got wide.

"Sorry, Dave. Domesticated horses wear halters all the time. As far as our customers are concerned, that's what you are. As I said, you'll get used to it and will forget it's there."

Dave knew it wasn't logical, but he still felt as if a tiny bit of his humanity had tiptoed away.

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Nell gave directions as Erin drove. "Turn left here. This is it." Erin loved horses and checked out new riding clubs as soon as she heard about them. Nell wasn't quite the fanatic, but was willing to be dragged along. Quite willing, in fact. The weather was perfect for a late summer ride.

"Look at that!" said Nell.

"Look at what?" Erin's eyes darted around the drive. They weren't about to run over anything.

"The horse that's pacing us, off to our left."

Erin stole a glance. "Wow!" She jammed on the brakes. The horse obliged by slowing down too. "I've never seen a horse that color!"

They both got out of the car. The horse was on the driver's side so Erin got to it first. As she got to the fence the horse stuck its head over it. Erin quickly stroked its nose. "Aren't you a pretty one!"

While she stroked, she looked the horse over. A fanatic like her would, of course, be able to recognize breeds. She told Nell, "All the classic markings of a Clydesdale -- white face, white legs with feathering, strong build -- but I've never seen a Clydesdale that was a match for crayon red. This must be one-of-a-kind. I wonder about the lineage? He's certainly healthy looking." She pulled a bag of apple slices out of her pocket. One comes prepared when visiting horses. The horse ate each slice eagerly as it was offered.

"Come on Erin," said Nell. "As beautiful as he is, one horse does not make a riding club."

Erin turned to the horse. "Do you think we should go find your stablemates?"

The horse very clearly shook his head. The human action looked so strange when being done by a horse it sent Erin into a howling laugh. When she subsided, she said, 'I know dear boy, you want to keep me all to yourself." The horse nodded. Erin laughed again.

Erin patted him on the nose one more time before the women climbed back into their car and drove slowly on up to the barn. The beautiful red stallion kept pace again.

Stan came out to greet them. Dave strolled up to the fence beside the barn at about the same time. "Good morning, ladies," said Stan, "What can I do for you today?"

While Erin was good at sizing up horses, Nell was as good at sizing up men. Stan looked rather harmless. He had all the trappings of being offspring from an area ranch, a guy wanting out from under the thumb of his father but still wanting to work with horses and not at all ready to do it on his own. Nell figured Stan looked old enough to have finished high school. She guessed this was a job to make a bit of money while he decided whether he wanted to go to college.

"You haven't been open very long, have you," said Nell.

"No, just opened for business this past Saturday."

As would any straight male teenager with a beating heart, Stan sized up the women. From their clothing, both looked to be experienced riders. The one that had spoken was taller, almost to his own six feet. She had blond hair that just brushed her shoulders. The other was about a half foot shorter with dark blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. He guessed that the were in their early-20s, old enough to have finished college (and from the looks of the car, it looked like they had), but not yet interested in settling down.

"I've never seen that color on a Clydesdale," said Erin.

"Yeah," said Stan, "He's a strange one, though the mares don't exactly seem to be standard issue either."

"Now you have me interested."

Stan gave a whistle. Amos, Piet, Zane, and -- reluctantly -- Jack came up to the fence.

Erin studied them for a moment. "I see what you mean. I've never seen a Paint so highly decorated, a dapple gray quarterhorse, a brown Arabian, and the strangest of all, a yellow Thoroughbred." By then she was at the fence, stroking Piet on the nose. "Does the owner have an idea of their worth? I imagine they are worth a lot."

"If he does, he hasn't told me," said Stan. "Shall I saddle up a couple of them for you?"

The women nodded and Stan led them in through the main door of barn. Erin watched as the five horses brought themselves in through the door from the paddock. Each one seemed to pick out a stall and stand in front of it. Four of the horses clustered at one end. The brown Arabian stayed by herself at the other.

Erin made mental notes of little differences from the typical stable -- the orderliness of the horses, that Stan didn't lead them around, the aloofness of one. She noticed that the stall latches were much newer than the wood they were mounted on and had a crazy notion that horses could operate them if they had a mind to. She wondered if Stan really watched the TV that was in the central area. He probably didn't have time during the day and wasn't around in the evening. She also noticed a couple other strange features. In each of the stalls that appeared to be claimed by the horses there was a large something covered by heavy canvas cloth. Erin quashed the thought that it looked to be about the right size for a computer monitor on a card table. The last oddity was in the red stallion's stall. She was sure that was a stuffed dinosaur toy sitting on the windowsill.

Erin glanced from horse to horse and said, "Before I mount up, I like to know my horse's name. I feel a bit better connected that way. Will you introduce me?"

Stan got a sly smile on his face and came up to the red stallion. He turned to Erin and said, "To do that, I need to know your name." She told him.

In formal tones, Stan said, "Erin, I'd like you to meet Dave. Dave, may I present Erin."

"Glad to meet you, Dave," said Erin. She caught on to the game and gave a small curtsey."

Dave extended one foreleg, curled up the other, and lowered his head. The image of seeing this horse in this barn bowing like a circus horse sent Erin into another fit of laughter. She caught sight of the here-we-go-again look on Stan's face and laughed even harder.

When her laughter had quieted, Stan said, "I know these are mighty strange horses -- you have yet to see how strange." Stan proceeded with the introductions. "The Paint is Amos." He patted her on the side of the neck. Amos bobbed her head. "This beautiful Thoroughbred is Piet. The owner said to use the Swedish spelling. Don't ask me why; I don't know." Piet also nodded. Stan moved over to scratch behind the ears of the dapple gray. "This one is Zane." Zane did a curtsey. "And the last one --" Stan had to take several steps to get to the aloof animal. "-- is Jack." Jack seemed to glare. "And that is the staff of The Mongolian Riding Club."

Erin had been stroking Dave's nose through most of the introductions. She said, "Why do all the mares have male names?"

"The owner said that they were named before someone thought to check the gender."

The women laughed again.

"And why the Mongolian name?"

"The owner said it was in celebration of the Mongolian horse culture. He recently did paleontology work there. So which of these fine horses should I saddle up for you?"

"No contest," said Erin, still stroking Dave's nose. "I'll take Dave here." Dave looked like he was enjoying the attention very much.

"It's a tough choice," said Nell. She had slipped between Amos and Piet, petting one with each hand and glancing back and forth between them. Finally, she turned to Amos, "I hope you don't mind, girl, but I'd like to ride Piet today. I'll ride you some other day."

Stan may have been young, but Erin could see he knew about riding. It didn't take him long to saddle up Dave for Erin to ride and Piet for Nell.

"Why isn't there a bridle with a bit attached to the halters?" asked Nell.

"Because the owner forbids it and the horses seem to do just fine without it."

Once on the trail, Erin did find her horse easy to control, or to put it more accurately, needed less control than other horses. It didn't take the two women long to relax and let the horses choose the route. They soon turned to talking about a frequent topic.

"So did Hank ask you out?" asked Nell.

Erin let out a short laugh.

"That's not a good sign," said Nell.

"I spent a lot of time hinting about my ideal date. He completely ignore the hints -- or didn't realize I was hinting. Either way, the message didn't get through."

"So where'd you go?"

"The rodeo! Aarrgh! I hate rodeos! I think all that bucking is cruel to both the horse and rider and Hank thought that was the best part! Needless to say, I don't see Hank in my future."

"So what do you consider the ideal date?"

Piet saw Dave's ears twitch.

It didn't take Erin long to answer. "A picnic at a spot only accessible by horseback." She had a dreamy quality to her voice. "Up on a hill or mountain would be nice, though I'd settle for spreading a blanket out in the middle of a field."

"Sounds wonderful!" agreed Nell. She was quiet for a few moments, then asked, "And what would you put in that picnic basket? Wine and cheese?"

"No. Heavens no. I hate wine. I don't know why, but alcoholic drinks taste disgusting to me." She paused for a moment. "Though cheese, on the other hand, cheese is good. I would enjoy sampling a wide variety of cheese. And damn the arteries!" She giggled. Another pause. "I guess I would want a variety of crackers for the cheese and a good mixed fruit salad."

"As long as he leaves out the honeydew," said Nell.

Erin laughed, a hearty sound. "You're not going to let me forget that story, are you." She smiled a toothy smile at Nell. "Yes, as long as he leaves out the honeydew."

Dave didn't want to turn back to the barn when the ride was supposed to be over, but he didn't know how to stay out longer without giving himself away or appearing to be a balky horse. With reluctance, Dave turned around when Erin tugged on the reins.

Once back in the barn, Erin and Nell volunteered to groom their mounts. They long ago learned that the task was an enjoyable one for themselves and the horses and the caretakers usually enjoyed the break. Stan was no exception. Besides, it gave Erin a chance to more closely inspect the horses and assess the quality of the stable.

Erin decided Stan was a pretty good groomer. The Clydesdale looked well cared for. She also decided that this red Clydesdale was an exceptional animal and wouldn't mind having this one for her own.

"Stan, do you think I might be able to buy this one?" She patted Dave on the flank.

Dave's head came around to look at her.

"You'd have to talk to the owner," said Stan.

"How do I reach him?"

"Here's a card with his phone number, but don't expect a quick reply. He's a professor at the university and is swamped with all the problems of the start of the term."

"You're about to take matters into your own hands, aren't you," whispered Nell.

"You know me too well," Erin whispered back as she patted the stallion on the nose.

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The women were back a week later and brought a man with them. Erin was saying, "These are such unusual horses. I'm sure you'll recognize that when you see them."

"You keep saying that," the man said. "I keep having to remind you that while I am checking them out as a favor to you, you don't know if they are for sale."

"Everything is for sale at the right price."

"My mother isn't."

As the three of them got out of the car, Stan gave a whistle. Three horses appeared.

"Stan, this is Gary. He is a friend of mine. He works as an appraiser at the Livingston horse auction," said Erin. "I asked him to determine what these horses are worth. Don't worry. He is doing it for free as a favor for me."

She saw the three horses were Amos, Piet, and Zane. "Where's the Clydesdale?" asked Erin.

"Out with another customer. He should be back soon."

Erin felt a pang of jealousy. "Well, we can look at these three while we wait for him."

"You're right", said Gary to Erin. "I've never seen a yellow Thoroughbred, much less one of this shade. And it certainly isn't paint or dye."

He examined each horse in turn, including Dave and Jack, once they returned, and made notes on a clipboard as he went.

When he was done, he gave Erin a summary sheet and a copy to Stan. "These are excellent horses. Each one is top quality and shows the best traits of its breed. The unusual colors add to their value. It is a shame there aren't papers on any of them. Even so, I'm sure breeders who aren't so interested in lineage would love to improve their stock, or perhaps even start a new breed."

"So what do you think they are worth?" asked Stan. He could have read the number off the appraiser's report, but wanted the horses to hear.

"The stallion could go for a half million and with one exception the mares could fetch a quarter million each."

Gary expected a gasp from the humans. He was surprised to hear gasps from the horses.

Gary continued, "The exception is the Thoroughbred." He walked over to Piet and gave her neck a pat. "Without proper registration, a Thoroughbred is useless for breeding. It's just one of the quirks of the Thoroughbred Association rules.

Erin said, "I guess I won't be buying this one." She patted Dave. "I'll have to be satisfied just riding him when I get the chance." She turned to Stan. "Are you sure it is wise to use such valuable animals as a riding club?"

Stan could only shrug.

That evening, after Erin had a ride on Dave and Nell on Amos and after Stan had left for the day, Dave said, "Half a million! Wow! I could have Professor sell me. That would certainly improve things around here and I'm sure whoever bought me would keep me in luxury."

"Sorry," said Amos, "That would be unethical. What would you do if you bought a horse for a half million and after only one breeding cycle that horse turned into a man? I dare say that man wouldn't have long to live. Or do you like being a horse so much that you want to stay one the rest of your life?"

"At least I could get rich on stud fees."

"I doubt you really want that," said Amos. "First, the money would go to your owner, not you. Second, I doubt you are the type that can love 'em and leave 'em. It isn't the mare so much as the offspring. Some men can donate sperm and have no further thought of any possible offspring. I think that is highly irresponsible."

"But these offspring will be horses! They won't be human."

"But you aren't all horse. You will want to form an emotional attachment to them."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"What is this!" said Jack. "Has our big manly stallion gone soft? If you won't sell his offspring, then sell mine."

"I think," said Amos, trying to be diplomatic, "we had better wait until you have offspring. You might change your mind then."

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Erin came to visit often, always choosing to ride the red stallion, while Nell made sure she took turns on each of the mares so she wouldn't show favoritism.

Over the golden days of September and October they traveled over the fields, mountains, and valleys around Bozeman. During a break in their rambling Dave would watch Erin as she and Nell sat on a rock to each the lunch they packed. There was always food and a treat for Dave and Nell's mount. It was an idyllic time. If Dave had to be a horse, this was the way to do it.

Dave looked forward to Erin's visits. He almost always met her along the drive and paced her to the barn. He paid attention to her throughout her stay. He dreaded that another customer would choose him and he would be away when Erin came. But when it did happen Erin waited for his return. His waning energy always rebounded with her on his back. There was no doubt why Erin always rode him.

After a couple months -- when Erin began to come less frequently due to the snow -- Amos said in a gentle voice, "You're falling in love with her, aren't you."

Dave only let out a long sigh.

The next nineteen months were going to be long ones.

Part 7 * Part 8 * Part 9