ChapterOne
I once reada quote from Dagobert D. Runes that has stayed with me. He said that you couldn’t yell and scream at a horse then expect him to listen when you whisper. That short but powerful thought was how I got through to fearful horses. And dogs. And people. It seemed that every creature on this earth had been yelled or screamed at, some for longer than others, but the anxiety caused by shouting lingered. I know I disliked someone bellowing at me. I had to assume an animal did as well.
The leopard Appaloosa staring at me with its ears flat and eyes wide had been yelled at. A lot. And probably whipped. So there were no loud voices allowed near the corral. The older hands knew to leave me alone when I was connecting with a new horse. This one was going to need a lot of connecting. And books. So many books. Connection began with reading.
“This is an interesting story,” I softly said, my ass resting on the top rung of the corral fence as Gemini—named by the last person who had owned him because he was supposedly two-faced—paced the paddock. I hooked the tips of my boots under the second rung of split rail, the book resting on my thighs. There was dirt smeared into the faded denim of my favorite Levi’s. Nothing new there. Working with horses was dusty work. “Socrates was told by the Oracle of Delphi that there was no one wiser than him. He was skeptical because he was a great thinker.” I glanced up from the book to the horse eyeing me with distrustful brown eyes. It was the same kind of wariness that Will Abbott’s eyes reflected. I shook off the memory of Will’s eyes and returned to the tale. “So, Socrates started discussing this in public conversations and legal dealings. He notes that after many years of philosophizing that he came to accept that there was a small measure of truth in what the Oracle had said. His wisdom, a wisdom that many around him lacked, was that he knew the limitations of his own knowledge. Socrates admitted that he was ignorant and that he knew very little. He was wise because he recognized what he didn’t know.”
Gemini stood across the paddock, black tail swishing flies and nostrils relaxed. All good signs. Now if he would just take a few bites from the hay net that I’d hung on the fence…
“Are you seriously reading to a horse?” Gemini’s ears pricked forward to pick up Will’s voice. The horse’s jaw tensed. I stiffened as well. “Is it Dr. Suess?”
Will strolled up to the enclosure, the wind whipping the flop of dark chestnut hair atop his head into his face. He wore no hat to keep the sun off him. His neck, ears, and cheeks were constantly cycling through burning and peeling. His skin was as white as cream. Mine was several shades darker, but even I wore a hat to protect my face. Extra melanin did not eradicate the dangers of the sun.
“It’s a book about the teachings and thoughts of Socrates and Plato.” I closed the book softly. “Can you speak quietly?”
Will glanced up at me, thin brows tangled over eyes as blue as the summer skies of Wyoming. My stomach did this weird flip-flop whenever our gazes met. Seeing him always pushed the memories of that night we’d ridden out to the Lone Vale cabin shortly after he’d arrived at the ranch to the front of my brain.
“Why are you reading about some old dead Greek to a wild horse?” He tossed his arms over the top rail, his long lean body draping casually forward. Will tried to make everything look casual as if he gave no fucks about anything, but I saw deeper. Just like with Gemini. Man and horse weren’t all that different. “Don’t you just jump on his back to break him?”
I tensed. “No, you don’t just leap on his back to break him. You work at gentling or starting a horse. Back in the old days, people thought you had to break a horse’s spirit to ride him. We know better now.”
“Huh.” He studied the horse regarding him. “So reading books about dead Greeks is what makes him allow you on his back?”
“No, well…sort of. He gets used to me, to my voice, and then we start to build trust.”
“See that’s where the horse makes his mistake. Never trust anyone.”
With that he walked off, long legs carrying him to the bunkhouse where he’d vape, listen to music, and be troublesome. Why he insisted on being such a dickhead, I’d yet to fully ferret out, but I’d learned a few things since his arrival. Like his father had beaten him. And just like Gemini, it would take time, a gentle hand, and lots of patience to get Will to see that I would never hurt him. Maybe I should read Socratic theory books to Will as well?
A honeybee buzzed around my face, pulling me back to story hour. “Okay, so we can move onto Plato now I think. Plato was one of Socrates’ students and believed that reality is an imperfect reflection of a perfect ideal.” I looked at Gemini. “That’s pretty deep. Shall we discuss?”
He took a bite of hay. I smiled.
“Cool. Well, Plato thought the soul was an entity that was distinct from the body…”
I spent an hour with Gemini.We’d made some progress. He would now eat with me nearby and was a funny one in many regards. He’d take a bridle. Just. And would lead. Mostly. As long as no one touched him or raised their voice. He’d come to me after Joe Wild Tree, one of my brothers from the Fork River Reservation, had been kicked into a wall and ended up with a broken femur.
Nate had informed me that the horse was already on his second strike as he had bitten his previous owner so hard the man had required stitches. Perhaps that was why he was thought to be two-faced. He’d lead okay then turn on a dime and boot you into a wall. But funny horses and me kind of got on. People had called me funny my whole life. Young boys weren’t supposed to be reading all the time, or whispering to animals, or kissing other young men. But Perry Yellow Horse did all those things. Two were hard to hide, one was easier. Or had been until Will Abbott had shown up with his nose ring, neck tattoo, and all that damn attitude.
“…remember that Plato also was credited with creating the first university in Europe,” I said as I slowly led Gemini to the stables. He’d showed me his teeth when I’d approached him in the paddock but hadn’t bit, even when I reached up to slide on the bridle. “I’m hoping to save enough money working here to go to college someday. I want to study philosophy and paleontology. Did you know that you’re descended from a dog-sized mammal called Hyracotherium? They had phalanges instead of hooves.”
We made our way around corrals and pens, past people carting feed and pushing wheelbarrows full of hay and horse shit. Gemini wanted to dance a bit, but I kept a firm but soft hand on the reins and never stopped talking. The long barn that housed the ranch horses was busy today. A large group of fishermen were here, and they all wanted to ride out to Smoke Lake to do some trout fishing. Several hands were getting the visitors ready. The foreman of the ranch, Nate Pearson, was leading them out on his gelding Tiberius. He nodded at me as we passed, Gemini skittering to the side, knocking me into a stall.
“Easy, now, easy,” I cooed, stepping around Nate’s horse to get room between the massive animals. “Remember what Plato said. ‘The first and greatest victory is to conquer yourself; to be conquered by yourself is of all things shameful and vile.’ You’re not vile at all, just scared, I know, but we can’t let our fears conquer us.”
Look who’s talking about fears. Have you told your family you like men yet? No? Then give the horse a break.
Right. Yeah. Who was I to preach? Gemini leaned into me then spied his stall, his flanks twitching. He lived right next to my mare, Chex, who had recently given birth to a beautiful red and white filly I’d named Kima. He picked up the pace, and I jogged along beside him. He was happy to be back where he felt safe. Chex whickered at me as I tended to Gemini.
“Patience,” I told the pinto mare who was mouthing off in the next stall. She could see me giving Gemini his grain through the round metal bars that separated the stalls. “You’ll get yours.”
She’d get twice his rations as she was giving milk, I reminded her as I moved around the stall with Gemini, taking care to always keep a hand on his flesh. He would look at me oddly now and again, judging me, wariness in his gaze. I simply talked, softly and slowly, and so far we’d been okay. I wasn’t in a cast anyway like Joe was. Which was why we had to hire a new hand, a tall White guy with an odd gait named Ron Simmons. He’d not come through the Bureau of Indian Affairs Work Program as most of the other hands had. I wasn’t sure how he had come to Nate’s attention but the owner, Landon Reece, had okayed his application. Ron was okay just…odd. Still, he did his work and didn’t cause shit like Will did every other day, so maybe I should be crushing on him instead.
When I backed out of Gemini’s stall, he looked at me, mouth full of sweet hay, and then went back to his hay manger. If only we could read the thoughts of animals. It would make giving them what they needed to be happy so much easier. Guess the same could be said for humans too. What did go through Will’s head? Why did he have to be so confrontational? Who did he turn to when he wanted someone to talk to? Certainly not his older brother, Kyle, our second-in-command at the Prairie Smoke. Had their dad whipped Kyle too? There was a big age difference between the two of them. Kyle was thirty-five and Will was twenty, two years younger than me. Was the dad Will had shouted at his brother about the father of both or just Will? I had a lot of unanswered questions about Will Abbott, and that was not good. I was too curious not to poke and prod to find the answers I needed. Also, I liked Will—a lot. More than I should. And he was hurting. I could help him if he would just let me.
Chex whinnied then stomped a foot. “You’re such a diva.” I laughed then slipped into her stall to lavish praise, hugs, and kisses to her and her foal. After Mom was grained, I led her and Kima to a large pen thick with rich, fresh grass. It was a pen solely for new mothers and their foals, so they were the only ones in the pasture. Kima raced around, kicking up her heels as Chex grazed along peacefully. A cool wind blew down off the Tetons, tossing manes and lifting dust motes into the air.
“Figured I would find you here. They’re looking good.” I looked back over my shoulder to see Kyle Abbott sauntering up to me. He was a friendly guy unless you had the last name McCrary. He was the one most of us went to when we had trouble or needed an ear. Nate was cool but he was much older than most of the hands, and he was the foreman. Kyle was laid back and openly bi and proud. “We had to juggle the roster for the dig site. Think you and Will can take the rotation tonight?”