I never knew how much Frey understood of human speech, but he’d decided that he didn’t like these two and wanted to get as far away as possible. Horses are not predators. They usually don’t attack if given the chance to flee. That is exactly what Frey did. He reared up, which sent the two ruffians backwards, one of them actually falling onto his rump. Then Frey took off like someone had shot pellets at him. (I later found out that at least one of the boys had thrown rocks at my horse. It is possible that one of them hit Frey in the buttocks, which is the correct label for a horse’s rear end.)
I would never have wanted to gallop my horse down the main street of town, fearing that might scare or endanger someone, but Frey at no bit in his mouth, and he suddenly realized that. The hackamore, especially nicely wrapped by cloth so it wouldn’t hurt him, apparently issued little pressure on his muzzle to make him heed my urgings to slow down. I’m not sure a desert jackrabbit went as fast as our dust-heaving all out run.
We’d gone at least a mile before I was able to regain control of Frey. He was breathing rapidly and sweating profusely down his shoulders. I felt bad for him and instinctively wanted to get him to some water and let him rest, but, of course, anyone who knows about horses are firmly aware that a sweating horse should not just stand in the shade to cool off. But, water was a necessity. I had no idea where I’d find any, but I kept walking Frey, until his breathing slowed.
Gaia must have been looking down at me, offering her blessings, because we’d only walked about ten minutes when we came to a deserted house that still held a full water trough in its corral. I wished for a big, fat sponge, but since I didn’t have one, I just splashed Frey as best I could.
I think by the time we’d arrived at the empty house, Frey was back to normal, but he liked the splashing and wanted to participate in the fun. We both ended up soaked, but I knew that his coat would dry a lot faster than I would. I probably looked like an old mattress tossed in a creek, while Frey’s coat turned shiny. He was always a handsome guy, but water cleaned, he was magnificent. I told him so, and for a moment he tossed his head and acted like a rooster showing off for its hens.