Changing Ways

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

I stand outside the yearling paddock, eyeing all the horses carefully. The five horses born last year, when the theme was fish; Reba, Kita, Mikus, Chinook and Nirka are all very good prospects. Reba is a muscular chestnut filly, with good confirmation. Kita is a small bay filly with a long neck, sloping shoulders and good disposition. Mikus is a tall chestnut colt who, already stands at 16hh. Chinook is a small gray colt with a short back, stocky build and boxy head. Not to attractive. The last horse, Nirka, is a bay colt with wide-set eyes, high withers and a long, rambling gate.

"This is going to be so hard!" I say aloud. I kick the ground with the toe of my Ariat Western Heritage boot, sending up a cloud of brown, earthy dust making me cough.

"Just watch them for a bit," my dad recommends. "Then, you'll see how they act among the other horses, how they move, though they are still young so their movements won't be flawless just yet." I do what he says, and watch the yearlings closely. Mikus pins his ears flat on his head and slings his neck with his teeth bared if another yearling goes near him. Reba, Nirka and Chinook are overly friendly. Kita is neutral. Not aggressive, yes I'm sure she would be if she were aggravated to extreme measures, but otherwise she is sweet, and very people friendly. Her gaits are already smooth.

"She's the one." I sigh and whisper at the same time.

"What's that?" Dad asks.

"Kita. She's perfect." I tear my glance away from the pretty bay to look at Dad. Please let him say I can have her!

"You think you'll be a good match for her?" Dad asks. I nod my head defiantly. "Then go get her halter! What are you waiting for?" I smile widely, throw my arms around Dad, and murmur my thanks. Then I run to the yearling barn, and dive into the tack room.

"Let's see... Reba... Mikus... Nirka... aha! Kita." I take the lilac purple nylon halter off it's hook, and whirl around. Then disaster. With my knee, I hit Kaya's brand-new Rodrigo Pessoa Gen X XCH saddle, and it is knocked off the saddle rack. There just happens to be a hoof rasp, propped up on a bucket exactly where it falls. I try to grab the saddle, but it's to late. The damage has been done. The rasp has scraped the fender, taking off some of the supple, buttery leather. I gasp, and bury my face in my hands, dropping the purple halter. Why? Why did that have to happen on one of the best days of my life?

I knew Kaya was going to kill me! Kaya spent a whole year saving up the $1519 it took to buy that saddle from Dover Saddlery. Tears blur in my eyes, and spill out of the lids. The salty liquid streams down my cheeks, and drip onto the hard concrete floor.

"Robin?" Dad steps into the tack room, and moves my hands away from my face. "What's wrong?" I indicate towards the saddle. Dad picks it up, and inspects the fender.

"I'm sorry! It was a complete accident. The rasp scraped the fender, and some of the leather came off. It was like... a carrot on a grater or something." I choke.

"Robin..." Dad hugs me. "It's OK. Kaya will understand. We'll just send it to Grandpa to fix alright? Grandpa fixes saddles. You know that."

"I should go... tell Kaya." I whisper, eyeing the saddle.

"Kaya went to town with your mom for a few hours. She'll be back around four," Dad says. It's one now. That means I have a while to compose my speech to Kaya on how I ruined her beautiful saddle. "It wasn't your fault Robin."

"Yeah it was. I bumped it!" I mumble miserably.

"Accidents happen," Dad looks at me. "Now. I'll run thus saddle into the house. In the meantime, I want you to go out to the yearling paddock with that halter OK. And I want you to catch Kita, bring her over and tie her up. Then you can brush her for a bit. OK?" I nod, and Dad ruffles my brown hair, then strides over to the house. I sigh, pick the halter up off the ground and make my way back to the yearling paddock. Mikus trots up to the stainless steel gate and butts me with his nose. Usually, I'd laugh at this sort of thing, but I'm in such a foul mood that I just ignore him, and swing the gate open widely. Kita looks up, and I call out her name. I like the way Kita sounds. It's soft, almost musical. Kita is the scientific name for the Chum salmon. Kita is very chummy.