Chisel Creek: The Adventures of Stripe and Brady

Loretto

The new stallion proved to be a challenge for Stripe, who had told Brady many times not to go anywhere near the dangerous horse. Any attempt Stripe made to tame him, he'd reject forcefully.
"It's as though he hates anyone being around him," Stripe mumbled one evening at the dinner table, "I wonder if he was abused at any point. Likely so."
"Why would anyone do that to such a great horsey?" Brady asked, tearful.
"They just do. Maybe he's always been difficult to handle, so someone got frustrated with him. Then again, maybe he was wild all his life. We'll never know."
The next day, Stripe went to a local tack shop and bought the cheapest bridle they owned. Lathering the bit with honey, he thought that perhaps he'd be able to trick the horse into taking it into his mouth. Unfortunately, every new day of training the horse would feel like going straight back to step one. He wouldn't let Stripe get anywhere near him!
Stripe put the bridle down and picked up a lasso. He threw the rope around the very large horse as he went into a gallop, tugging and resisting. Stripe held on tight, knowing that if he let go, he'd be teaching the horse that he could get out of work by yanking just hard enough. When the stallion realized Stripe had an iron grip on the rope, he turned his hindquarters in and let out a hard kick right into Stripe's chest. Stripe fell straight onto the ground, releasing the rope and groaning, "Brady, call an ambulance! Dial 911!"
As Stripe was being taken to the hospital, he told Brady, "Don't mess with that horse. When I get back, I'm selling him to whoever will buy him. I just can't do it."
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Brady sat on the fence that was keeping the stallion in his paddock, sighing defeatedly, "I wish we didn't have to sell you. You would've made the best horse! You have all those great conformational things Stripe was telling me about. If only you could be nicer."
The stallion watched Brady intently for a few moments, and once he realized that Brady wasn't a threat, he put his head down to graze.
Brady giggled, "that may be the first time I've seen you eat instead of galloping around all crazy and scared. I don't blame you, I'd be scared too if—" Brady paused, having a sudden realization, "—if people were chasing me around with ropes! That's it!"
Brady immediately quieted himself, trying to think calm, non-aggressive thoughts. Don't make direct eye contact. Don't raise your paws. Don't jerk any part of your body. Don't walk fast, and definitely don't look like you're targeting his face.
Brady carefully slinked under the fence and into the horse's pasture. With each passing minute he inched closer and closer. Occasionally, the horse would pop his head up if Brady got a little too loud or took too big of a step, but then he'd go back to eating.
Eventually, Brady found himself only a foot away from the stallion. Close enough to touch him, but also close enough to get kicked.
"Don't be scared, boy. I just want to barely touch you somewhere. Anywhere is good. I just want a little tap and then I'll leave," Brady whispered. At this point, the horse was not at all focused on eating. He was staring straight at Brady, contemplating whether or not he needed to run.
Brady cautiously reached out his paw as the horse raised his head high enough so that he wouldn't touch his face. Brady gave the stallion's chest a single gentle pat before immediately turning and walking away.
Approach with caution, do your thing, and leave. The best reward I can give him for the moment is not a pat or a treat, but to leave him alone so he can eat and not be anxious about me.
Stripe ended up brought back home in several hours wearing a cast and looking lethargic.
"Stripe! Stripe!" Brady ran to him shouting, almost not noticing the cast.
"The doctors said I have two broken ribs and need to take it easy," Stripe groaned.
Brady helped him up the porch steps while excitedly announcing, "I petted Loretto! He let me touched him!"
"No, no no!" Stripe groaned, "Don't name it, and especially don't touch it. I told you, I'm selling that horse. He's too dangerous!"
"Yeah, that's what I thought too, but—"
Stripe opened his door to see that his bookshelf was nearly empty and all of his books were piled on the floor. He didn't even say anything about it, he was so tired. He immediately made his way to his bedroom, set up a pile of pillows behind him, and lied down.
Brady continued, "I read a bunch of your books and learned some cool stuff. It's actually super easy if you know what to do!"
"Well I'm glad you're naturally gifted on horse training," Stripe complimented, "but, today could've been an easy day. Tomorrow he may not be so inclined to cooperate. Besides, I told you not to go near him, so that will be the very last time. With me being bedridden, I'm going to need a lot of help around here from you, so there'll be no time to mess with that dangerous stallion."
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Brady's days became more tiring than ever. Instead of having to do only some chores, he now had to do all of them, including hand-harvesting Stripe's many rows of ripe corn and selling most of the ears. When poor Pocahontas began to feel antsy and energetic, having been left alone in her stall for a few days now, Stripe asked Brady if he could try to ride her.
Stripe would put much effort into pulling himself out of bed to go down to the barn. There he would sit in a rocking chair while giving Brady some instruction. When Pocahontas would be ridden, the stallion would stand as close to her as he could, trying to smell and say hello to her.
It was difficult for Brady learning how to ride bareback with no help from grippy saddle leather, knee pads, or stirrups. Brady often complained, stating that riding bareback felt "slippery," and that he wanted to learn with a saddle.
"We don't own any saddles, Brady. This is how I learned to ride and this is how you're going to have to learn. It'll just make you that much better at it. Now let's try trotting!"
Pocahontas had very nice gaits. Her walk was relaxing and slow. If Brady paid attention, he could feel which legs were moving without having to look down! The trot was a very different experience. It was less of a relaxing pit, pat, pit, pat and more of a loud, bouncy thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud! It was difficult not to get tossed and jiggled around, but with Stripe's advice, Brady was soon able to relax himself, follow the rhythm, and sit calm and quiet on Pocahontas. She was also much happier when Brady was sitting rather than bouncing.
After the rides, even if Pocahontas didn't sweat, Stripe required Brady to dismount and lead her at a slow walk for a few minutes. Then, he'd be required to brush her, starting with a rubber one called a curry comb, brushing in large circles to break up any loose hair and dirt. After that, he'd use a hard brush to wisk away any loose hair or dirt that still sat on her. Next, he'd use a softer brush to smooth and shine her coat. Finally, he'd use a metal hook called a hoof pick to scrape dirt and stones out of her hoof.
Even with all of the extra responsibility, Brady still enjoyed living on the farm, and every night he would go into the stallion's paddock to work with him just a little more. It took about a month and a half before Stripe felt well enough to start picking up some easier chores. By that point, Brady had gotten the stallion to accept a bit and bridle, and even better, he could sit on his back for a few minutes while the horse stayed calm.
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"Stripe, come see! Come see! I told you Loretto could be trained!" Brady giggled enthusiastically as he dragged Stripe to the paddock.
"Brady I TOLD you to stop messing with that horse! Are you still trying to train it?!" Stripe inquired angrily.
"Not trying. I did train him! Watch!" Brady ducked under the fence and went up to his stallion friend, putting the bridle on effortlessly.
"Here," Brady motioned towards the stallion, "You do it! Loretto's plenty safe, I've gotten up on him and never had an issue! Just sit though, we haven't covered any of that walking or trotting stuff yet."
Stripe paused before cautiously making his way back on the horse. He nervous,y stuttered, "So, Loretto, what made you decide to call him thaAaAaAAAAAHHH—!!"
Stripe's question trailed off into a scream of terror. As soon as he situated himself on the stallion's back, he broke into a gallop, bucking his hind legs high into the air and throwing his head down low, yanking the reins from Stripe. It didn't take more than three bucks, one, two, fling! Stripe found himself thrown in the air and straight onto his back.
Brady meanwhile, stood by the fence in stunned humiliation before rushing over to help Stripe up.
"Stripe, I'm sorry! He's never done that to me! I don't know why he—"
"HE'S DONE!" Stripe shouted, by some miracle being unharmed from the fall despite his ribs still being a bit weak, "Look Brady, I know you mean well and want to help him, but I'm serious now! If you go near this horse ever again, you will be in BIG TROUBLE! He is dangerous and I don't want you getting hurt!"
"But he's not—"
"Go to your room, Brady! And I mean your actual room! Not underneath Pocca's feet!"
Brady scowled and stomped angrily to the house's guest bedroom. Meanwhile, Stripe rode Pocahontas into town with some posters he had printed out:
For sale. Beautiful stallion with dangerous temper. Will accept any and first offer. I need him gone. Unknown breed. Unknown age. Please call 555-0123.