As Mr. Davidson got closer to the barn, he could hear the sound of the new horse, stomping and chuffing.
"Poor nervous rascal," the old man mumbled to himself. As he opened the door, the sunlight shone in and hit the horse's gleaming black coat. With his head raised and ears perked, the huge stallion looked to see who was there.
"Listen here ol' boy," Mr. Davidson spoke to the horse with an air of authority to his voice, "I just wanna let you know ya ain't gotta be scared o' nothin' here. This has got to be the most peaceful and easy-goin' farm you ever will see this side of the United States. Plus, none of us much appreciate you keepin' us up all night, squealin' and hollerin', stompin' and tearin' up my property. So I'm just gonna have to teach you, there's nothin' to be frettin' yourself about."
The horse's breathing became slower and more relaxed, yet he still carried his head high and alert. Mr. Davidson retrieved a bucket full of brushes toward the horse's stall. "Let's shine you up now for Riley. You probably weren't no kiddie pony back where you come from, but I think with time you'll get the hang of it just fine. You'll make a fine first horse for my youngest granddaughter. However, you need a name before anythin', and I think I have the perfect one: Somethin' like Bob or Fred or Dave. Somethin' a tongue-twisted four-year-old can pronounce. Or Ben. I like Ben. You like Ben?"
The large horse began to lower his head and lick his lips, signaling the brushing and gentle conversation was putting him at ease.
"Yup. You're Ben."
YOU ARE READING
Rocketman
Ficção GeralJosie Davidson had it made; She was pretty, popular, and smart. Everyone loved her, and she loved her life. However, her grandpa's recent purchase from a scammer forces her to revisit her childhood roots, risking her popularity--and even her life...
