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“So,” Parker told Teddie, “Horses 101. Let’s go.”
“Yes!” Teddie enthused and followed Parker into the barn.
Parker put a bridle on Bartholomew and led him out into the corral that adjoined the stables.
“Where do your cowboys keep their horses?” he asked.
“Oh, Jerry keeps them at his place,” Teddie said. “He and Lacy, that’s his wife, have a big stable that his father built years ago. Mom says it’s much nicer than ours, and he’s got lots of room. There are two line cabins on the place, too, and the full-time men live in them with their families. They have a stable apiece. It was a really big ranch when my grandmother was still alive.” She sighed. “They said she could outride any cowboy on the place, shoot a gun, rope a calf, even help with branding when she was in her sixties. But she broke her hip and she could never do it again. Mom says she lost heart and that’s why she died.”
“It’s hard for active people to sit still,” Parker replied. “I remember your grandmother,” he added with a smile. “She used to sell milk and butter. My mother, and later my uncle and aunt, bought them from her.”
“Your aunt and uncle, they still live on the reservation?” He nodded his head. “Yes. They’re the only family I have, except for their son, my first cousin, who’s in the navy. He never comes home. I think he’s ashamed of us,” he added quietly.
“Why?” Teddie asked. “I mean, I think it would be awesome to be a member of a tribe and know all that ancient stuff that people used to know. It’s such a heritage!”
He chuckled, surprised, as he looked down at her. “Where did you get that from?”
“My mom,” she said. “She loves history. She had a friend who was Northern Cheyenne when she lived in Montana. They lost touch, but Mom knows a lot about native customs and stuff. She said that’s how people were meant to live, in touch with nature and not with big stone buildings and pavement.”
He pursed his lips. “That’s exactly how I feel about it.”
“Me, too. I hate the city. This”—she waved her arms around—“is the best place on Earth. Well, now that I’ve got Bartholomew, it is,” she amended. She grimaced. “I didn’t want to come here. I had a good friend where we lived, and I had to leave her. She sends me e-mails, though, and we Skype. So I sort of still have her. And I made a friend here named Edie. She has a palomino, too.”
“You have two friends here. I’m one of them,” he chided.
“Of course, you are.” She laughed.
“So. First lesson. Horses 101.”
“I’m all ears.”
He went over the various parts of the horse, from fetlocks to withers, tail to ears, and he taught her the signs to look for when she was working with Bartholomew.
“Watch his ears,” he told her. “See how he’s got one ear toward us and another swiveled behind him? He’s listening to us, but also listening for sounds that mean danger.”
“Wow.”
The horse looked back at Teddie and both ears swiveled forward.
“That means all his attention is on you,” Parker said, indicating the horse’s ears. “That’s important, when you’re training him.”
“I guess he’ll need a lot of training. Poor old thing,” she added.
The horse moved forward and lowered his head toward Teddie.
“Poor horse,” she said softly. She didn’t make eye contact, but she let the horse sniff her nostrils. He lowered his head even more, so that she could stroke him beside his nostrils.
“He likes you,” Parker said. “And he’s intelligent. Very intelligent,” he added, when the horse turned its head and looked directly at him.
He chuckled softly and put out a big hand to smooth over the horse’s mane. “Sweet old boy,” he said. Bartholomew nuzzled his shoulder.
“I was afraid he was going to be mean,” Teddie confessed. “You know, because he was hurt and didn’t trust humans not to hurt him anymore.”
“Some horses can’t be turned back after they’re abused,” Parker agreed. “But lucky for you, this isn’t one of them. He’s a grand old man. He’ll make you a dependable mount.”
“I wish I could already ride,” she confessed. “Mom used to go for horseback rides with Dad when we lived back east, before he . . .” She swallowed. “But I didn’t go with them because I was afraid of horses. But the first time I saw Bartholomew, it was like, well, I don’t know what it was like.”
“Like falling in love,” Parker said, smiling at her.
