Cracker-Jack

Chapter seven

*Note* Yes I know that this chapter isnt really realistic, with the whole auction thing, but just keep reading!----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I layed on a rubber floor in a big room to rest. It was the first time I rested painlessly in months, I closed my eyes, but listen to the humans sitting beside me.

 "He says he can't afford the vet bills," a woman says.

 "Then can't he sign him to a rescue or something?" Said another, she had dark, curly hair.

 "We can't, nobody has room, at least, not around here," A blonde headed woman stroked my head. The dark haired woman looked down at me. "Ever since his wife has died, he had turned to alcohol for support, and took his anger out on him." I sighed, I am glad I am away from Master's cruel ways, but now I know that I will never see him again, and the old days will never come back, and I will never see the man that raised me, bottle fed me when Mom died, took me to rodeos, gave me pieces of his molassas cookies, and most importantly, the man who used to love me.

 "He won't eat," the dark haired woman said, and it's true, I won't eat, I feel too ill, physically and emotionally, eating is the least of my conserns.

 "What's our other options?" The dark haired woman stared at the blonde headed girl petting me, she was frowning.

 "Auction," she replied. "I hate that, but our only other option is-"

 "I know," the dark haired lady frowned and walked away as the other one followed her, later they came back with two other men.

 "It's almost 8," one of the men said. "If we are gonna get him there in time for the auction, we better leave now." He said, one of the women was crying. 

 Auction? What's an auction? Why don't they like it?

 I was able to limp to the trailer with little help now, I was led outside to the same trailer I was picked up in, as I was going there I passed other stalls filled with healthy, happy horses, the kind I will never be. I hobbled inside the black trailer and waited for the truck to drive me away.

*****

 I focused on the trees, grass, and sky as we drove past it assuming that it will be the last time I see them, then I rode past a big field, enclosed with a white, clean, wooden fence that held lush grass, clover, and a pond surrounded by two trees.

 Paradise

 Then in it's driveway was a black pickup, I glared in the window, there were two women inside, one younger than the other, the younger girl looked at me with sad eyes as if she just saw my whole past and understood my pain, then we drove away. 

 I started to think in my head. What's worse, physical, or emotional pain? I have experienced both, but not knowing if what your future is going to hold and knowing that your driving away from your world as you know it seems to hurt worse than barbwire. Many negative emotions flutter in my head, sadness, confusion, fear, all the emotions that nothing could ease.

 The truck squeaked to a stop and before I knew it I was being led to an indoor corral with many other horses, big and small, sick and healthy, the women that was with me at the barn where I used to be gave a scruffy man some papers and my lead rope.

 "Goodbye, Jack," They all said in unison. The scruffy man reminded me a lot of Master, he smoked a cigarette, smelled of whiskey, and wore the same kind of hat he did, he led me to a very small pen with about five other horses inside, he opened the gate and slapped my hindquarters, I ran inside. Scared, I stood motionless in the pen, many other horses greeted me with with nips on my face and kicks to my sides, so I stood in a corner looked around, the room was a giant, rusted roof with many different pens and corrals. My ears shifted to all the commotion in one of the larger corrals, many people flooded in and picked up a small horse, a small horse that was dead. Men lifted the limp body and carried it outside. 

 "SLAP!" I turned around as someone slapped my hindquarters, they had placed a sticker on me, it had numbers on it. 

 What do the numbers mean?

I lowered my head and stayed in the corner until people began to walk into the room. Many adored the healthy, compitition ready geldings in the cleanest corral, others oohed and ahhed at the ponies in the smallest corral, then many others looked at me with horror. I listened to people as they stared at me with their hands over their mouths, or mothers covering the eyes of her children, but what hurt me the most was when a larger, heavy, blonde headed women walked up to me. She liftet her head up so she could look down at me.

 " That gelding needs to be put down." She shook her head then walked off. Is that what I am seen as? Just an object that is just not good enough for some people? That just should be thrown away if I am not perfect?

 More men came into my pen and led out a chestnut mare, she seemed frightened, but the man pulled her into an arena, away from all the corrals, there was a lot of commotion in there, there was a man shouting numbers of all kinds into a microphone.

 "200? Could I get 200? How about 175? 175? SOLD for 175!" Then the mare was brought back, the same man came for me this time, frightened I walked away from him, but he grabbed a hold of my halter and took me away. I followed him into the arena it was small, inclosed with iron grids that stood taller than I was, above me was a man on platform looking down at me with a microphone, there were all kinds of smells, sounds, and sights, it was all too overwhelming, I spooked and pulled on the lead rope, kicking up clouds of dust, dirt, and wood shavings around my hooves, but a man behind me smack me with a paddle.

 "Go on, horse!" He shouted, I lunged forward knocking into the iron, causing a crash. The crowd gasped.

 "Woah! Looks like we got a wild one here!" Laughed the man with the microphone. "Let's go 80, 80?" People muttered and whispered to their friends, but no one budged, all of the sudden a scruffy man shot up his hand. "We got 80, how about 100? 100?" The scruffy man sat there looking at the rest  of the crowd, then I noticed her, the girl from the black pickup, the one who seemed to understand me, she had fear in her eyes, she looked at me then the scruffy man, she asked the older woman something, but she did not budge. "100 going once, going twice," the girl seemed more scared than ever, then she raised her hand. "100! Sold for 100!" The older woman glared at her with widened eyes.

 "SMACK!" the man hit me again with a paddle,

 "Gid up!" 

*****

 It was about noon, probably, the sun warmed my back straight over-head. I stood a a rusted gate listening to the two women arguing. Their arguing silenced as a silver diesel truck pulled, followed by a large cattle trailer, the older women seemed very upset, she threw her hands in the air then slammed them at her sides.

 "I can't believe I am letting you do this," she muttered. The younger girl rolled her eyes then walked up to me, untied my halter, and led me in the trailer, whispering soothing words as we walked. She let me walk at my own pace and stared at my injured leg intently. She frowned