Three girls were sitting in the gap between the roof and wall of a shed, holding barn cats. Pat, the oldest, mouthed “One, two, three,” and they dropped the cats onto the backs of three of the horses that were standing below. This wasn’t random mischief on the part of the girls, this was research.

“Damn! Look at the bay buck!” said Eloise, the youngest.

“Yea, we’ll leave her alone!” said Kathy, the middle child.

“The pig-eyed one is just a high lopper, easy-ride,” said Pat.

“The tubby sorrel has a little turn, but he’s ride-able; but not for Eloise,” said Kathy.

“Hey, are you saying I can’t ride just as good as you can?” said Eloise.

“When I was eight, I couldn’t have ridden that one, that’s all I was saying,” said Kathy.

####

Olie and Gilbert Silas were brothers who owned houses that were a mile apart. They had a palomino gelding that they used to ferry themselves back and forth between the houses. When they first bought him they would take long rides around their farms. In the past few years the horse had become less cooperative. It had been years since they had been able to get him to go anywhere but between the two barns, and this was getting gradually more difficult. One day the palomino bucked Olie off and he landed with a crunch that broke his arm.

“How’s the arm?” said Gilbert while popping in on his brother.

“Still broke,” said Olie.

“Have anything you want me to do?” said Gilbert.

“Yea, open the mail.” Olie nodded at a stack of envelopes. Gilbert sorted through the envelopes. When he got to the one from St. Luke’s Hospital, opened it and whistled.

“Your broken arm costs 600,” said Gilbert, handing the bill to his brother.

“That’s a lot of hay and horseshoes,” said Olie, looking at the statement. “I’ve been thinking that we should get a motorcycle. They can’t be any more dangerous than that horse. With this oil-embargo, OPEC thing, gas prices are high,” he waved the bill in the air, “but this is ridiculous.”

“What would we do with the horse?” asked Gilbert.

“Sell him, let him sit in the field, I don’t care,” said Olie.

“He’s big enough he’d probably get 80 if we canned him,” said Gilbert.

Olie cringed.

“That girl down the road - Lee’s youngest,“ said Olie.

“Yeah,” said Gilbert. “She’d be able to handle him.”

Olie looked out the kitchen window into the field, watching the palomino graze. He shook his head.

“He’s too purdy to be turned into dog food and glue,” said Olie.

That’s how Eloise got the palomino. She was about seventeen years old.

####

 He kicked her, plastering her against a fence.

“Son-of-a bitch!” said Eloise.

He stepped on her foot.

“Son-of-a bitch!”

He went into a fit of bucking and rubbed her off in some trees.

“Son-of-a bitch!”

She was opening a gate and he bit her shoulder.

“Son-of-a bitch!”

She was shoeing him. The priest was visiting for lunch and stepped out he back door. She was holding the horses foot up, when he decided to lean all of his weight on that side.

“Son-of-a bitch!” she croaked.

 “Oh my, what a beautiful horse. What’s his name?” asked the priest.

“Son-of-ah…ah…ah.” The phrase stuck in her throat when she looked up to see who was asking.

“His name is Sunny,” said Lee as he stepped out the back door behind the priest.

END