When we reached the house, the feed store cart was just pulling up. I could hear Frey making a huge commotion. Everyone in the whole neighborhood could probably hear him blasting warnings at the poor cart horse. Luckily the delivery man’s sway-backed gelding wasn’t reacting at all. I wondered if the old fellow was half deaf, or just far beyond such foolishness.
I ran forward to get the gate for the driver. He tipped his hat at me, then started backing into the yard.
“Wait,” I called out. “I should go quiet my horse. He’s pretty excited by all this.”
The man nodded, then halted the cart, as I ran into the backyard.
“Frey,” I cried out as the stallion practically climbed into my lap. I secured his neck, like I’d often done before, then led him out of the way.
While I was holding onto Frey, the man was able to deliver a tub for Frey’s water and two big bags of food. The latter went into the shed. I thanked Mr. Beanie and watched as he headed out through the gate, his horse pulling the cart forward slowly, completely ignoring Frey who was still bugling and pawing the ground. I released my stallion and started to lock the gate, but the boys and presumably, Mrs. Penn, wanted to come into the yard as well.
“Mrs. Penn said you got carrots. Can we feed Frey some? Please?” Frances pleaded.
After the carrot feeding, I filled the new tub with water and told Frey to drink. I know that a horse will drink if he’s thirsty and hold back if he’s not, but Frey wasn’t just any horse. As if he’d been waiting for my permission, he immediately dropped his head into the tub and started swallowing. I always found it intriguing how with a horse, you can actually see the gulps of water being channeled down into their stomach. A horse’s neck displays that, if you look carefully. The others crowded around Frey, watching the lumps traveling up his neck and down into his belly. Even Mrs. Penn found that riveting.