Maybelle: Untamable Wild

First Day of Training

                           Maybelle eyed the feed in her trough. A stingy suspicion was keeping her from eating the now rusted-color food, even though she swallowed handfuls and handfuls of similar food days before. The food really didn't sit well with her this time.

                           Her muzzle churned some of the pellets. First of all, the pellets were definitely bigger. And her sense of touch of detected something more. The bits were softer and rounder, in delicate little ovals. Her nostrils curled to take in the scent-it was rich and tangy in a way. Almost tempting to snack on.

                           Silken raised his head from  his stall, inspecting Maybelle's feed.  "This might be an unusual time to ask, but it's about the food..."

                          Maybelle didn't take her eyes off the pellets. "Go on." she said.

                          "You okay with..." Silken paused, cautiously eyeing the trough of feed. "having foals?"

                          Her ears suddenly swiveled at the nickering of his voice, and her eyes widened, although she was instantly disdainful. "Having foals?!" She shrilled. Silken brought his head back and all the stable horses stopped what they were doing to stare.

                          "Would you shhhh?" Silken scowled under his breath. Maybelle glimpsed at the horse suited beside the palomino and briefly smiled an apology, then around to the whole barn in embarrassment.

                          When all was normal, Maybelle faced him. "This might too be an unusual time to ask, but what in the world does this food have to do with me getting pregnant?!" She confronted him.

                         "It's food that messes with your reproductive system. The boys only feed that stuff to the mares." He cocked a ear at the amount of reddish pellets, then to her. "So your essentially their ticket to raising more foals." His voice was volatile.

                         "Why would they do such a thing, trying to trick my senses into falling for that?" Maybelle asked,  scuttling into her stall.

                         Warily, Silken replied, "Who knows for sure. Humans are about the most desperate of nature's creations. Especially in a state like this, where the cash doesn't come easily. Most two-legs know that us horses are profitable and go to great distances to round us up and use to their own benefits. They all come with some concoctions. Don't get me started on plowing-I've already have my share once in this rowdy place of Fraiser."

                         Maybelle did nothing but grimace. Prowling didn't peak her interest. Silken buried his muzzle into his food and ate but she refused to do the same. The heated weather was brewing from open windows, and then Maybelle realized that she hadn't had a sapling of water since two days before.

                          She got done lapping up the rest of the pail water. The barn cat got her interest from in the aisle of stalls, about to scroll past. Until it sat down and started viciously scratching at it's ear with his hind leg.

                          Maybelle poked her head out. "Psss. You, sir!"

                          The white tom kept on scratching. He paused, glancing at her with big piercing eyes.

                          "Meow."  He spoke. Maybelle looked confused, but she went on after hesitating to attempt a conversation.

                           "Sir-whatever your name is-could you please help me out of here?"

                          The tom stared back, not replying, his gaze ridiculing her.

                          "You do understand what I'm saying, right?" Maybelle quizzed the animal.

                          The cat stalked away, Maybelle tried to call him back but the white feline kept second-glancing at her with that same confused and arrogance face. It came to Maybelle that the cat was not aware of horse language. So it was a bust.

                          The doors unlatched, a man swinging his hat idled inside under the light. He left the doors wide ajar from each other, as if he was making a small trip into the barn. The chocolate-haired cowboy stopped in the very middle section of the barn and looked at the horses. His eyes scoped Maybelle, and she gave him a dry look. The man went up and unlatched her stall, equipping her with a head set, following up with a rope around her neck and leading the mare. Maybelle, being forcibly neutral, rolled her glossy eyes as the man smiled while jostling the rope piece.

                           Both approached a remotely rectangular corral. The strange man placed his bland hat onto his head while the sun rays breached the land. Maybelle took slow steps as the anonymous man brought her over and rubbed his hands like sandpaper, dust accumulating off.  He went over to the gate and opened it. He walked on back over and pulled the rope to get the bay female inside, this time closing the gate securely behind him.

                          His eyes wandered to the very left-scoping two men on the fence. It was Mike and Mr. Outerbridge, sharing the fence to watch the training routine.