Heart and Soul (rewrite)

Chapter Five

I won't tell you the entire auction, it even became a bit boring for me, and my life was on the line. Three other people joined in the bidding, but I was a sad looking horse at that point, and eventually they all dropped out.

Except the little girl and her mother.

When the deafening cacophony of the auctioneer, the bidders, and his hammer died down I was led away and back to my stall the same time that little grey pony entered the auction.

"Glad to see you have a home." She nickered, flashing a mischievous look in her eyes. "Good luck and goodbye. Let me just say you were one of the funniest horses I have ever met." She laughed as she recalled her conversation, then she was behind me. "Humans eat money," She muttered beneath her breath. "Ha! Then we'd be safe!"

I watched her enter the ring, noticing for the first time a distinct hitch in her gate, and heard the silence after the auctioneer called her number and a brief description. I willed someone to bet on her, she deserved a wonderful home.

"Seventy five!" It was the same man who'd bet on me. My heart dropped as no one else rose to meet his challenge.

"Goodbye." I whispered from my stall, feeling an overwhelming combination of grief and relief. She was led past me to the exit, pulled roughly.

"Keep your chin up, filly!" She called to me, lifting her head as if to demonstrate.

"Why do you have to go?" I called after her.

"I guess the humans need money!" She chuckled again.

"I'll never forget you!" I whinnied back, realizing I was looking at a horse that would be dead within the next week.

"I'd hope not!" The old pony responded, now almost out the door.

"Goodbye!"

"Bye now!" She replied, nickering over her grey shoulder.

We left it at that. A few minutes later the woman who'd won me came to my stall and called me gently.

"Hey pretty girl, you look like a Thoroughbred. Do you have a tattoo?"

I watched her warily. A young girl bounced up beside her. I spooked, flinching, and snorted warily.

"Easy!" The mother warned, speaking as if she were addressing an over excited foal. It was fitting, seeing as this child acted the part. She peered through the tube fence at me.

"Is she the one?" The girl asked, reaching out a hand. I stared at it. She didn't move. I tilted my head slightly. She smiled. I reached for her hand with my muzzle. She giggled as I ate the carrot held flat in her palm.

"She's perfect, Mom!"

"She's for me. You have a horse."

"So do you! You have two!"

"I can't play a full chukka with two, you should know that, Annie!"

I was loaded on the trailer with a pretty little grulla mare. She pinned her ears at me through the divider in the big stock trailer. I made a face right back, and there was a loud bang as what I assumed was her hoof connected with the door. I lunge forward at her, but Mom pulled my face away, and I lost both my momentum and balance.

"Remind me to never bring Paloma again."

"Okay!" Annie chirped, already extending a flat palm with another carrot for me. I took it greedily, then nosed her for me. She laughed, but gently pushed my muzzle away. 

"No, no! The rest are for Paloma and Vickingo and Doxie and Rex!" A name struck a chord in my memory, but another carrot drew my attention back to Annie. She rubbed my star and smiled. "So pretty! Like a princess! We'll call you princess!"

"It doesn't fit. She looks like a Streak or something." I turned my head at this new voice. A curly haired boy stepped up to the trailer, and held out his hand for me to sniff. Unfortunately, there were no carrots, but his hands tasted salty, so I nibbled them anyway. He pulled them away with a cry of pain. I must have bit him. "Snapper, more like."

"Princess!"

"Snapper!"

"Princess!"

"Snap-" Before the boy could finish Mom stepped between them.

"Annie! Owen! Quiet! I don't need to hear this, and I don't want to. She looks like a Thoroughbred, and if she is then she's registered. And if she's registered then she already has a name. So stop!"

The children obeyed, and I realized that no matter what Paloma said, Mom was lead mare. Mom then tried to tie me to a string of baling twine hanging from the side of the trailer. Memories of the beatings rushed back unbidden and I threw my head, threatening to rear. I stepped back until my hindquarters hit the rubber coating on the side of the trailer, at which point Mom unclipped my lead rope in one smooth motion and was out the door.

"I don't feel like being kicked today!" She called to us between the slats. "Behave yourselves, we'll be home soon!"

Soon was a loose term. By my estimation it was about an hour before we pulled into a winding driveway marked with an iron sign. Twisted below with painstaking care were the words "Diamond Creek Stables". We drove past a wide open field, followed by a quaint, neat stone house, and finally arrived at the barn. Painted blue with white trim, the barn offered a stable row with windows to the house and to the field where two other horses grazed, a cherry bay and a dark bay. Paloma whinnied to them as the trailer backed up to the barn. A man rushed out of the tack room, wiping his hands on a towel, and waited until the trailer came to a stop. Paloma whinnied again. He slipped his hand through the window and rubbed her muzzle.

"Yes, P baby, you're home. Who's your friend?"

Mom stepped out of the truck, a lead rope over her shoulder. "She didn't come with a name. I think she's a Thoroughbred, we'll have to search her number later. She doesn't tie, unfortunately."

"So she's loose in there?"

"Yep." Mom replied, opening the door just enough so she could slip through. She clipped the rope to my halter and led me off the trailer, giving me enough slack in the rope to allow me to jump off, but not enough so I could take off afterwards. The man whistled.

"She's skinny."

Mom nodded, then put me in a stall. I immediately fell upon the pile of hay, marveling in the sweet taste of alfalfa. After years of moving from barn to barn, I finally had a home.