Page 13 of More Than a Fling

“That’s great news Slim. Go ahead and call it a day. Tomorrow we’ll get started on baling hay while we have the dry weather for it. Looks like this whole week will be perfect balin’ weather,” Gabe said. “I’ve got a couple of young guys lined up to help, so we should be good for labor. Slim I’m putting you in charge but go easy on them.” He grinned to soften his directive.

“If they do their dang dern jobs I won’t have to go hard,” he griped. “The group you hired in the fall were useless.”

“Now Slim, you were young once… they’re learning. Think of yourself as their teacher instead of their boss. That’ll take ya a whole lot further than yelling will,” Gabe said.

He could tell his advice was going in one ear and out the other. Shaking his head in disgust, Slim plunked his old worn out cowboy hat back onto his balding crown and shuffled out the door. Gabe listened to Slim grumble under his breath as he left, amused at how prickly the old cowboy could be.

Gabe returned to the problem at hand and decided to consult with Zane Dunn about taking on this latest equine client. Zane was a sharp attorney and it would ease his mind to talk with him about the liabilities and legalities of the contract. He wanted to make sure to cover his ass, because he certainly couldn’t afford to pay them back for a million-dollar horse if something bad were to happen to it.

He had to admit to himself that not only did he feel flattered, but he felt an inner excitement at the prospect of working with the troubled filly. The thought that he could potentially reach a very large audience appealed to his altruistic nature. He knew he had a calling to help as many horses as he could, and that started with educating the folks in the horse world about the essence of horses and working with their nature rather than against it.

He had dreams of obliterating the cruel practices and the old ways of “breaking” a horse and of being a part of the evolution of a new paradigm. This seemed like a golden opportunity to do that.

Gabe knew that the best way to clear his head was to hop on the back of his horse, so he strode toward the barn to saddle up his palomino Gil. Gil and he had a bond that cowboys dream of. There was a mutual trust and respect that had saved Gabe’s ass many a time out on the trail.

Everything dropped away when they were out in nature together, and the two became one. They communicated almost telepathically, Gabe would think left and Gil would move left. So complete was his trust, Gabe thought that Gil would walk through fire for him, as Gabe certainly would for Gil.

He grabbed his halter and lead from the tack room and went to fetch Gil. When he arrived at the pasture gate, he let out a loud whistle and, hearing the familiar sound, Gil came thundering in from the field, whinnying a greeting as he galloped toward Gabe.

“Hey big fella, how is my best bud today?” he said offering him an oat treat. Gil took the proffered treat with his soft lips searching Gabe’s outstretched palm, warm breath blowing through his nostrils. Slipping the halter on, he walked him back to the barn to tack up

He had decided at the last minute to ride bareback which he preferred, loving the tighter communication that the closer contact provided. There was something sacred about sitting on a thousand-plus pound animal, one that you really could never take the “wild” out of, that was not only a privilege, but humbling. To feel the strength and muscle under your seat, to feel every movement as they, in turn, felt yours, was satisfying on a deep level.

Gabe hopped on and they headed toward the wooded trail that he and Sam painstakingly kept clear of invasive honeysuckle and fallen tree branches and the occasional tree. He let Gil have his head and they meandered at a slow pace, neither in any hurry, nowhere else to be. The trees were leafed out, shading the path as they followed the twists and turns through hills and dales. They weren’t too far along when Gabe heard a cry coming from the brush alongside the trail. “Whoa,” he said as he jumped down from Gil to peer into the thick tangle of vines, branches, and greenery.

He softly called out, “Here Kitty, here kitty.” Suddenly a small kitten sprang from the thicket, mewing frantically to convey it’s panic at the predicament he was in.

“Aww, you’re a cute little fella,” he said picking up the small orange kitten, holding him up to check and confirm the gender. “I guess we could use another barn cat. Now how in the world did you get all the way out here?” he said in a soothing voice. The terrified kitten, knowing he was now safe, transformed and began loudly purring.

Gabe walked around to show Gil the tiny bundle he held, and Gil nuzzled the soft orange ball of fluff, his breath ruffling its fur. “I guess this means our ride is going to be cut a little short… oh well, that’s the way it goes sometimes.” He tucked the kitten inside his tee shirt then hopped back on his mount for the return ride to the farm.

He passed Slim’s trailer home as Slim was taking one last puff of his cigarette. He stubbed it out in the coffee can he kept on his front stoop.

“When ya going to give up that nasty habit?” Gabe said.

“That’d be never,” Slim replied. He never smoked while at work, and never at the barn. Smoking and barns were a recipe for disaster and Gabe had a firm rule about it, but he figured what his employees did on their own time was none of his business.

“Hey look what found us on our ride?” he said pulling out the kitten for Slim to see. “I think you could use a companion,” he said, only half joking.

“I’ll be a horse’s bee-hind, I had an orange cat years ago, Rotten was his name, he was my favorite cat, he lived for almost 20 years. I cried like a baby when that durned old cat died. Here hand him to me,” he commanded reaching up for the small kitten. “I reckon he hain’t no more’n six or seven weeks. Let ol’ Slim getcha some food and water.” The normally crotchety man was suddenly talking baby talk much to Gabe’s amusement.

“That was easier than I expected,” Gabe said.

“I may be an old salty bastard, but I still got a soft spot for critters. It’s the dang blame humans that get under my skin,” he admitted.

“You’re as tough as old shoe leather, but I always suspected that your heart was mushy underneath that exterior.” Gabe enjoyed having a real conversation with Slim. They were far and few between.

“Don’t get used to it, it’s reserved for animals only…the four-legged kind, unless they’ve lost a limb, then the three-leggeds have my blessin’ as well,” he said, letting the slightest of grins turn up his lip.

“Help yourself to the dry food up at the barn, I’m sure he’s pretty hungry,” Gabe offered.

“I’ll do that until I kin git to the store and pick up some kitten chow. What do ya think little feller?” Slim said, continuing with his baby talk. “I think I’ll name him Gus, after my Pa.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, I’ve got some office business to finish up with,” Gabe said. “By the way, you don’t happen to know of anyone worth hiring to help out around here do ya? I’m thinking maybe twenty-five to thirty hours a week?”

“Naw, I don’t know nobody, but there was a young guy wanderin around here yesterday asking for the owner or manager, he mighta been looking fer some work,” Slim said. “I tole him you weren’t around, so he might be back.”

“Send him my way if he shows up again, I’ll be in the office for the next couple of hours catching up on some paperwork,” Gabe said. Slim turned his back to Gabe and entered the trailer, letting the screen door slam shut behind him.

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