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The strong legged pony like
horse was working his heart out. A potential buyer put the horse through
paces in order to see if Shorty was everything the owners promised. For
Lisa it seemed a mean rough treatment being used. The man turned the
pony in the air. He kept the reins pulled up close and the girl could see
the horse being forcibly controlled by the bit. The heavy breathing of
the horse with the lathering up on his skin told how much pressure the
animal experienced. Now the rider had the pony side stepping to the right
and then back to the left keeping an imaginary calf in front of him out of
the herd. Never had she ever seen Shorty put to such a test and in her
child like misunderstanding she was angry with the stranger who was
undoubtedly adept with his riding skills but seemed to be so cruel.
Lisa was a woman now,
keeping mentally balanced in a world gone crazy. The sweet gentle days of
childhood were like a horse loping along. Today was an animal let loose at
breakneck speed. People every where were rushing here and there, back and
forth, up and down the roads. Now she understood the meaning of “a penny
for a spool of thread, a penny for a weasel, that's the way your money
goes, pop goes the weasel.” That quick moving, jerky, erratic little
weasel, popping up here and there best described the present lifestyle.
These could not be criticized or chastised. It was the way they had to
live in order to survive.
“I'm telling you, if one of
these little copperheads hiding around here gets you, maybe you will have
fifteen minutes to get to the hospital and even then you will be swelled
up like a gourd with skin ready to burst and break.” Lisa spoke to her
neighbor after he used a shot gun to blast away at their best small snake
dog.
“The dog has already pulled
two of them out of the fence row.” Lisa had seen the man watching her as
she did a controlled burn down the fence row. With hose in hand and a
careful scrutiny of what would burn rapidly already wet down and the low
grass allowed to burn the fence row was cleaned out in a matter of
minutes.
“You realize we are less
than a quarter of a mile from this little creek down at the bottom of the
ridge. There is a spring and anyone who has lived in the country knows
this is where they go, except when it gets this hot. The spring drys up to
a trickle causing cool rocks to become hot. Snake slithers quickly to our
places with cool green grass and nice fence rows for hiding.”
Lisa worried about the way
the children, the young adults, her husband, would react to the
“shooting.” She couldn't believe they all seemed to take it with a
“ho-hum” attitude. For all the world, the only one to be upset about it
was her Mother.
“You tell that
irresponsible little gentleman to use a newspaper to spank dogs. It works
far better than a shot gun.”
Lisa was making a mental
note not to share the goings on around them the next time something came
up, not because she didn't value her Mother's opinion, but the next
several days of having to worry with her blood pressure bouncing around
like a yo-yo made the daughter know her Mother's pacemaker might not be
able to keep up with older women's chagrin.
Lisa's own mind somehow
kept going back to the memories of seeing her Dad out in the pasture with
Shorty. His gloved hand reaching down to pat the horses neck once, and
again his holding the reins just so in order to relieve the pressure of
bit gouging at the horses mouth when they were in certain area where the
horse had to walk over rough rocks. Shorty was so well trained. Her Dad
could drop the reins for that matter and the horse easily worked on his
own.
Not only was Shorty trained
though, and this was the joy the woman remembered. The cattle were trained
as well and, probably, this never happened very often. Her Dad had a lead
cow, even with a name, “Cherry.” Whistles in staccato meant one thing to
Cherry. A long drawn out low whistle meant something else. What was
particular exciting to see was the man leaning back in the saddle as he
let Shorty out into a run. The particular whistle he used caused Cherry to
run after them and behind her the whole herd moving along at a run too.
This was the way he moved the cattle from pasture to pasture for water, or
whatever other reason. In this way their Dad worked the cattle by himself
when other folks had to have a number of hands to do the same thing.
Another time, another
world, but for Lisa a hedge there in her mind full of the joyful memories
of it and for some reason coming at night in a dream as if to say, “I'm
here even if you don't call me up during the day.”
As though the gentle spirit
of the calm era around Shorty carried over to her, she watched the burning
of trash along the back fence row which had been there for at least three
years. Her neighbor was doing the same controlled burn he had watched her
practice.
“Well, well! There is hope
for the city boy after all.” Lisa smiled to herself.
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