Jacque and the Palomino Gelding

November 4, 2012


Chapter 10 is in the computer now. It was hard, dealing with matters I would just as soon leave to the reader’s imagination. Sometimes, though, in order to further the plot, compromises must be made.

I will probably be slower with writing for the next week or so… I have some work to do that will actually provide resources (much needed now) and some things I have been putting off. So I’m going to set this on the “back burner” for while and see how the other things progress.

I tried to install a new power supply in the computer and do a tuneup, but the new power supply was faulty. Now I am waiting for a replacement. Bummer. He we go.

Jacque and the Palomino Gelding  I was (still am) quite the horse fancier. I was born in rural Arkansas and grew up on a series of tenant farms in Kansas. I truly enjoyed rural living and having animals around. Experience taught me, though, that animals have minds of their own and can be very dangerous for the unwary.

When my kids were little, then, we usually had one or more cats around. Then, when my youngest daughter was a baby, we moved to a nice farm in Nebraska where I could raise a garden and have chickens and an occasional pig or calf.

Jacque was one of those kids with a shrill voice. She seldom cried: she screamed. The sound could shatter glass and pierce eardrums. It was a relief when she only cried!

At one point when Jacque was just walking and talking good, I acquired a Palomino quarter horse colt. Like cute little puppies that grow up to be big, ugly dogs, my cute little colt grew into a big, beautiful colt that liked to pluck the chickens and try to stomp the cats. This playfulness was fun to watch, but I had nightmares of looking out to see one of my kids out there being stomped for not getting out of the way like a cat could do.

It was very fruitful year. We had plenty of tomatoes and before the killing frost I took a few plants, wrapped the root balls in burlap, and hung them in the basement. We had fresh tomatoes past Christmas that year. I froze bags of pumpkin, green beans, tomatoes and peas, and froze corn on the cob. We ate tons of potatoes, so those didn’t last long, but you have the idea.

Late in the fall, I had all the kids outdoors, finishing the harvest and preparing the garden for winter. The kids liked to help, so I let them carry in the produce: buckets of potatoes and tomatoes, and armloads of sweet corn to prepare for the freezer while the kids took afternoon naps – since Jacque was so little, I kept her with me until the last chores were done. There were a half-dozen or so roasting ears left, so I piled them in Jacque’s arms and sent her to the house while I gathered up the hoes, rakes and shovels to carry in.

I was about halfway to the house when I heard Jacque scream! I knew exactly where she was, my worst nightmare was coming true!

Tools flew everywhere as I ran around the house to behold the horror: my baby was in the horse lot, halfway between the fence and the chicken house. The horse had caught her with the delicious corn she was intent on feeding to the chickens, and he was just as determined she would feed it to the horse!

His head was bigger than this whole child. Every time he reached over her shoulder from behind, to try to steal an ear of corn, Jacque would scream – right in his ear!

The poor horse went weak in the knees, backed off and shook his head, then panicked when she resumed her march in the direction of the chicken house! Then they would do it all over again!

Before I could reach the fence, the gelding had won. Jacque finally lost her grip on the corn and the triumphant colt, sides heaving with relief, joyfully munched his well-earned corn. The chickens did get what dribbled from his nervous lips, and the big boy sent relieved glances after my heartbroken child as she stormed past me on her way to the house, crying as though her heart was broken.

I still tremble and my hands get numb just thinking about it. I do not think Jacque has changed all that much since then…


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