Red Outlaw

Red

Even though that colt's ma was young she had enough sense to keep him from the herd until he was good and strong. He didn't know that. His world was his mama and them trees that was all around.

Whenever he'd get too far away, his ma would call him back and he'd come racing on those spindly legs of his. But there was a great deal of rocks out there he liked to play with.

He'd go to finding himself a rock, they looked mighty frightful to a little guy such as himself, and reach his short neck out to sniff it.

Then after a few seconds he would shy and run away. That was the fun of the game to him.

In those few days he didn't have another little colt to play with, and the rocks served as a bit of a replacement.

He'd be real ornery with his ma too. The colt 'ud get up to her real nice and then snap at her flanks with his gums. She'd nibble at him back, but not real hard. She let him jump and get his legs on her back, which he thought was real fun.

He'd go bucking and sprinting circles around her, after that. And followin' those moments he'd nurse and ram his head into her belly. She gave him a good nippin' fer that one.

One time too he'd gotten too cocky and went to bitin' her ears real good, or so he thought. Really he was just annoyin' her like a big fly and gummin' them til' they was numb.

The light of the sun on his first day of life was startling to him. He'd slept for a while, and woke up to everything being bright and lit. It hurt his eyes to open them at first, and though everything was still very fuzzy. It'd be another day yet until that cleared up.

By the time the morning dew dried off the grass his eyes were somewhat adjusted and he stood up.

He learnt quickly not to stare at that bright yellow dish in the sky, for it burned his eyes worse than lookin' at his lit up ma did. Her coat was bright and shiny copper now, never mind her white blaze and socks.

He gave his head a good shake, his tail swishing back and forth again like he was workin' on a way out of the light. He looked up and down a tree, and noticed how his ma went over to it and became darker. He followed her, and his red hide was instantly made twenty degrees cooler than it was.

Now the reason the colt was called Red was simply because it was his color. He was the color of cherries, the hue of well oxygenated blood, the shade of only the brightest rose. His fuzzy mane and tail were the blackest black that stood out against his body. At his knees and hocks his red darkened to that same jet black.

All in all he was a good lookin' bay. Not a hint of roan on him. Some would say he's plain, they mustn't have got a good look.

Now don't let his good looks fool you. Just 'cause he's handsome doesn't mean he's gentlemanly. His ma sure wasn't fooled.

It was good her first colt was so thick-headed and ornery. It gave her some good experience for the next one.

Red's mama stood in the shade for a few minutes, licking her dry lips with her drier tongue. She needed water, but wasn't quite sure where to find it. In the distance, she heard the crick that went through here.

But she was worried they'd run into more cats like the one that nearly took Red from her the night before. She didn't know these woods, and wanted to be sure they could come back here when she drank her fill.

She couldn't wait no longer. She needed water, fast. Red would have to put up with it, and if they ran into trouble she'd sure fight as hard as she could.

Red stuck close to his ma as she started to walk. He was confused; they'd never moved out of that place before. Why start now?

She kept them at a fast walk, with her head low sniffing the ground. Red didn't understand why she was so intent on going thisaway.