It was a quick meal, and then were back outside. The grooming of my very dirty horse was done quickly. The boys weren’t able to reach most of Frey’s back. I needed to remember to bring out the stepstool down in the basement. But both boys put in some effort. They were excited when I showed them how I cleaned out Frey’s hooves. When I told them about the frog, the soft interior region of a horse’s hoof, they laughed so hard they fell down.
Frances started yelling, “Ribbit, ribbit,” pretending to be a frog. Then Carlo picked it up and started jumping about the yard.
My wild stallion, as the officer liked to call him, stood absolutely still, watching them like he’d never seen the craziness of little boys. I guess he hadn’t, come to think of it. Although, Frey had been around when the village boys chased each other in the grassy public area. He’d watched as the children caught balls and ran relay races. But no hopping frog boys saying ‘ribbit.”
It was no surprise when Officer Krugel, I mean, Frank, came into the backyard. The surprise was that he’d brought my saddle, its blanket pad, and the bridle. Yeah!
“I’m sorry you didn’t have this for your ride, “he said. “I hope that didn’t make it dangerous for you, although you looked fine on that big guy. That is, not like you were about to fall off or anything.”
He seemed nervous. I started to take my stuff from him, but he nodded his head to the shed. “I’ll take it inside if you’ll open the door. Do you have a rack for the saddle?”
I’d jury-rigged a bucket for my saddle holder in the lean-to, but here, I still had nothing. I shook my head.
“Mrs. Penn and I both want you to be happy here. I’ll see if I can make you one.”
“Really?” I gasped. “You know how to do stuff like that?”
We were standing inside the shed, and I suddenly noticed how enclosed we were. I could hear the boys pretending to be frogs, no doubt hopping about. No doubt Frey was still watching them clown around, but inside this wooden box of a shed, it felt too close, too personal.
I took a step back toward the door. Frank stretched out a hand.
He smiled. “I’ll figure out how to make one, Shama. Call it part of my wooing.”
That was the final straw. I bolted out into the fresh air, the safety of little boys, and my own sweet stallion. Then I breathed in a long, hard breath. I think a smile crept across my face. I couldn’t be sure, but there was a warmness inside my heart that hadn’t been there before. It felt strange and a little scary, but, also, kind of nice.