The stall is clean, but the new straw is in the loft. I don’t want to climb up there just yet, so I move to the next empty stall and clean it. Now, I’m left with three stalls with the horses in them. Do I clean them with the horses still in there? Or do I take them out? The chestnut horse eyes me, but there’s something about him I don’t trust. The other two pay me no mind when I open their stalls. One at a time, I guide them out to the arena, open the gate, and they walk lazily inside.
“Good horses,” I say to them with a grin.
They both trot around in a circle, and I leave them to it. As I enter the barn, the chestnut horse rears up.
“Something tells me you aren’t going to play nice with me. So your stall gets done last.” The chestnut snorts at me and shakes his head. It takes the better part of an hour to get the other two stalls cleaned. So, now I have four clean stalls with nothing inside of them.
The chestnut whinnies and shakes his head. “You know all your bitching isn’t going to make me let you out.” I point at the loft. “I’m going to go up there to drop some straw down, then I’m going to clean out your stall, and you are going to behave.”
He looks at me and stomps a hoof.
I shake my head and climb the ladder up to the straw. There’s another pitchfork up here, and I begin to throw down the fresh straw. When I think I have enough, I climb back down and pile it into the four empty stalls then fill up the water and feed buckets. All that’s left to do is the chestnut.
“If I open your door, what are you going to do?” Of course, I get no response.
When I open the stall, he backs away from me.
“I’m Sean. I’m not going to hurt you, but I do need to get this nice and clean before your owner comes back.”
The horse rears, and I retreat quickly. The chestnut lands loudly and takes a step toward me.
“Buddy, I know, you’re bigger than me and could probably stomp my ass into eternity, but I have a job to do. You can make this easy for me or hard. What’s it going to be?”
He takes a step back, and I take a step forward and another until I’m right in front of him. Slowly, I reach up and touch his face, then run my hand up and down, and amazingly, he stays still.
“You’re not so bad, are you? You want to join the other two in the arena? Will you play nice?”
“Sean, I need you to back out of the stall slowly. Okay?”
It’s Beth’s voice from behind me. I let my hand drop and do as she says. When I’m outside, Beth shuts the stall door.
“Hey, you’re back.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? He’s wild. You’re lucky he didn’t stomp your ass. And how the hell did you get the other two horses into the arena without bridles?”
“You didn’t tell me he was wild, and the other two followed me out. I told you I’ve never worked on a ranch before. I guess some guidance would have been appreciated,” I growl at her.
Beth looks shocked and then begins to laugh. “They followed you out?”
“Yes, they did,” I reply indignantly.
She has dirt on her face and is wearing a stetson hat. Beth pushes it up at the front and tries, unsuccessfully, to stop laughing.
“They aren’t pets, they’re working horses. You’re lucky they didn’t bolt.”
With my hands on my hips, I lean into her body space. “Well, perhaps you should have explained it to me.”
Beth nods, and although she’s stopped laughing, there’s a grin firmly planted on her face.
“You’re right. This boy here is Titus. I’m amazed he didn’t bite or stomp you. Maybe you have a way with horses?”
Still pissed at her attitude, I scowl at her. “Considering I’ve never been this close to a horse before, I doubt that.”
Beth’s smile widens. “You know they can sense fear? Horses are pretty good at knowing what type of person you are. You walked right up to him, no hesitation, you spoke in a low tone, and Titus respects you.”
I eye the horse who’s still in the same position and watching both of us. “He didn’t seem to mind me being in his space. I watched a thing on llamas once, and if their ears go back, you’re in trouble.”
A giggle escapes Beth, and I quickly turn my head to look at her. “Llamas? You watched a show on llamas?”
“It was on late-night TV. And what’s wrong with llamas?”
“Nothing,” exclaims Beth. “I figured you more a porn guy.”
I take a step back and shake my head. “Really? Well, do tell, Beth. What kind of guy am I?”
I’m pissed, and I have no idea why I’m pissed. I think it’s because she’s laughing at me, or maybe because Beth seems to have such a low opinion of me.
What’s wrong with a guy like me watching a documentary?
With her hands up in surrender, Beth takes a step back, widening the gap between us. “I apologize. I meant no offense. I should have given you better direction. I’m used to ranch hands knowing what they’re doing, and I was hell-bent on fixing the fences this morning. If you’d been hurt, it would’ve been on me. And you’re right, ears back isn’t a good sign.”
I nod but don’t say anything.
Titus snorts and shakes his head as though he’s not impressed with her explanation either.
“What were you going to do with him?”
“I was going to put him in the arena with the other horses.”
“Okay then, he’ll need a halter. You want to do it?”
I lock eyes with Beth, keeping my face free of humor. “I don’t know how.”
“I can show you what to do?”
“Okay.”
Beth grins at me. “First, we need to give his face a bit of a brush down.”
As she speaks, Beth walks toward some ropes which are on the outside of his stall and looks at me expectantly. When I get within an arm’s reach of her, she holds one out to me, and it looks like a bridle without the bit. Beth moves toward a table on the other side of the barn and picks up a brush.
“This is softer than some of the others. It slips over your hand. Be gentle when you use it. You ready?”
I’ve got the halter in one hand and the brush in the other. “I think so?”
“Always approach him from the left and let him see the halter. Put it over his head, then slip his nose through the band.”
I open the stall, and Titus takes a step back and shakes his head.
“Okay, buddy… I mean, Titus. We can do this.” I close the gap between us and slip the halter over his head, which has a longer rope clipped to a ring on it. Titus doesn’t move. I lightly brush his face and some of his mane. “Now what?”
“Make sure it’s not too tight around his ears. We don’t want it so tight that it’s cutting into them.”
“Okay, Titus, did you hear what Beth said? I’m going to make sure your ears are okay.”
Titus doesn’t move a muscle as I follow Beth’s instructions.
“Now, hold it in place with your left hand and do up the buckle with your right on the left-hand side of his face. It needs to be tight enough so it won’t fall off, but loose enough so it’s not digging into him.”