Horses

A few days ago I’m sitting on the front porch with my brother, and we hear a car coming up the driveway toward the house. It’s fairly remote out here and we don’t often get unexpected guests so we’re watching to see who it could be. Probably just a lost tourist or someone trying to buy property. 

A nice new Subaru comes into view, pulls up and parks. A young woman, tatted up, ball cap, work boots, gets out and walks toward us. Turns out she is the niece of the lady who keeps horses in our pasture, and she’s just here to check their water. There’s been a bit of a drought, and it’s hot.

I ask her how Mary is doing. That’s her aunt, the horse lady. Her husband passed away from cancer last year, leaving her with a farm to work, a trail riding business and a young teenage daughter. Quite a few horses to take care of. Life isn’t always fair.

She usually keeps two or three in our pasture here. They’re no trouble, and pretty to look at. We keep some sweet feed and horse treats on hand and they will usually come to the fence when they see us coming. Mary cycles different ones in month to month, but one horse is pretty much a constant. King Phillip is his name, and he’s a big, noble looking animal. Solid black with a white blaze face. He’s also old, twenty eight, and lame in his front legs. Mary had told me a couple of years ago that he was going to have to be put down because of his legs, that he’s in a lot of pain. But he’s still here, and we try to treat him a little special. Seems like the old guy deserves it.

She usually puts young horses in here with him. He’s very calm, and they stick close to him as he moves around the hillside, showing them the ropes so to speak. Or in this case the fenceline. The young ones are inexperienced and can be excitable. Phillip helps with their education, in his own stoic way. Horses herd naturally, but don’t always necessarily get along. King Phillip gets along with everybody.     

Hadley. That’s the niece who just pulled up in the Subaru. I tell her I have kept an eye on their water this week, and just topped it up fresh an hour ago. But to make herself at home if she needs to do anything else. She’s very polite, and grateful for the help. “No,” she says. “That’s all I needed to do.”

As she’s pulling away my brother looks at me. I’ve filled him in about Mary, and her misfortune.

“There’s good people everywhere.” He says. “You never know where you’ll find them.”

We sit for a few more minutes as the sun is going down, watching the horses graze slowly over the pasture. King Phillip gingerly favoring his front  legs. 

Good people everywhere, indeed.  And good animals too.