Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago by Stephen A. Bly

Author:Stephen A. Bly [Bly, Stephen A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781433684968
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: B&H Publishing Group
Published: 2014-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

Brownie limped when he rode up out of the water. Develyn slid off the saddle to the prairie floor and walked him over by several tall, gray and green sages. “What’s the matter, boy?”

She dropped the reins to the dirt and reached for his right front leg. He gave her his hoof.

“Oh, you got a rock in your frog …” She clutched the granite stone between her fingers and yanked it. “It’s in there tight! I wish I had a hoof pick like Dewayne.” She glanced around the dirt. “There’s a stick. I’ll use it.”

Develyn retrieved a sliver of a cedar fence post and rammed in under the rock. With a hard thrust, the rock flipped out. Brownie jerked back. Some of the cedar splinters remained lodged in the soft tissue of the upper frog.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Develyn cried out. “Let me get those.”

Brownie shied back.

Ten-year-old Develyn Worrel trotted after the horse. “Wait … wait … I’m sorry … let me take care of you.”

Every time Develyn stepped toward the big brown gelding he limped back, always keeping a distance between them.

“Stand still, Brownie.”

The wind whipped sand in her eyes. Develyn trudged several feet with her eyes closed, then peered between her fingers. The horse continued to back up.

“Wait for me.”

She lunged toward him. He bolted behind some tall sage. His head jerked down when he stepped on the reins.

“Don’t do that! Wait. You are going to hurt yourself even more. Don’t you understand?” Develyn screamed.

Brownie turned his tail toward her and grazed further away.

“I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”

She rubbed her sticky palm across her little, upturned nose and trudged after him.

“Brownie, I love you and want to help you. How come you are treating me this way?”

With his tail still pointed at her, Brownie stared across the prairie at the rocker arm of a distant oil well pump.

Lord, make that horse stand still. How can I help him if he’s always running away?

She took baby steps as she sneaked up on the horse. When she got within ten feet, he scooted away.

Is that what we do, Lord … do people who are all hurting run away from you? Do they think it is you who hurt them and don’t realize you only want to help them?

Develyn reached her foot out, then pulled it back. She repeated this until the gelding turned around.

“I know I hurt you, Brownie. I was trying to help. If I had my own hoof pick this wouldn’t have happened. But Mother said we shouldn’t waste seventy-nine cents on another hoof pick, and Dewayne said he would carry the pick and I should carry the comb. I guess it was my idea to carry the comb.”

She circled around Brownie. He pivoted, keeping one eye on her.

“Come here, Brownie,” Develyn motioned with her hands. “Come unto me … that’s in the Bible somewhere.”

She perched by a big tuft of brown buffalo grass and rested her hands on her hips. Brownie feigned grazing, though there was nothing but dirt under his nose.

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