BROKEN
By Wes
Leigh
This is a work of fiction intended
solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people
or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged
to contact me at weston.leigh@protonmail.com.
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Monday morning, Monty has me saddle up Amber. She's an older
mare, very calm and dependable. Cinnamon is actually Amber's daughter, so the
two have similar personalities. Quiet, but intelligent and curious. While I'm
saddling Amber, Monty is lunging Cinnamon to work out her excess energy. She's
moving nice, trotting and galloping around the pen while Monty stands in the
middle, holding the end of the lunge line.
He brings Cinnamon to a halt and calls her to the center of
the pen. When Cinnamon stops in front of him, he changes out the halter for a
hackamore bridle. I ride Amber up next to Cinnamon and hold her bridle. Monty hands
me the reins and I loop them around Amber's saddle horn, keeping Cinnamon on a
very short lead. She seems completely relaxed, standing next to her mother.
Monty slowly drapes the saddle blanket over Cinnamon's back.
Then he adds a saddle. It's heavier than the one we've been training them with,
so Cinnamon snorts and flips her ears back and forth, but she doesn't move and
stands quietly. Monty pulls the cinch strap under her belly and tightens it. She
grunts when she feels it constricting her chest. Monty pats her shoulder and
talks softly to her, telling her she's a good girl. He pulls the cinch again,
making it tight. You have to watch horses. Sometimes they hold their breath
when they feel you tightening the cinch, and you'll think it's tight, but when
they breathe out, it will be loose and the saddle will roll on you. I'm not
kidding. Horses are super smart, and you have to be smarter.
Monty tries to slide his fingers between her chest and the
cinch strap. Good and tight. He nods at me. I grip the reins.
He doesn't climb straight into the saddle, but pulls himself
up sideways, leaning over her back with just his chest resting on the seat of
the saddle and his legs hanging down on the side. She grunts again, but doesn't
seem to mind.
"Good girl," he says. I begin leading Cinnamon around the
ring at a walk with Monty draped over the saddle. We're doing it this way so
she can get used to the idea of a human's weight on her back. If she shies away
or bucks, Monty can slide right off without getting hurt.
We walk all the way around the round pen without any
trouble. Cinnamon is doing great.
Monty signals for me to stop. It's time for the biggest step
of all.
We talked about this last night and decided that I would be
the one to actually climb into the saddle and ride her. I'm lighter than Monty,
and he's stronger, so Cinnamon won't mind my weight and he'll stand a better
chance of holding her if she starts bucking. Monty has seen me ride. He knows I
have a good seat.
Monty mounts Amber, holding onto Cinnamon's reins.
I walk to Cinnamon's side and stroke her neck. "This is
going to be fine, Cinnamon. You're a big, strong girl, but you know I'm going
to take good care of you, right? So you listen and do
everything we tell you." I take the saddle horn in my left hand, turn the
stirrup so I can slide in my left foot, then hop on my right foot and pull
myself up into the saddle, throwing my right leg over her back. Cinnamon
shivers nervously, but doesn't move. I kick my right foot into the other
stirrup and settle myself into the saddle.
Monty is watching carefully. He can see that Cinnamon is
unsure of herself, but there's no sign she's getting ready to buck. He gives Amber
a light tap in the side with his heels and starts her
walking slowly forward, tugging on Cinnamon's reins to get her to follow.
We walk around the round pen for ten minutes. It's going
great, so Monty stops Amber and dismounts. He walks in front of Cinnamon, strokes
her cheek, and passes the reins up to me. I take them in one hand, but I keep
my other hand tight around the saddle horn. Then I nod at Monty to let him know
I'm ready.
Monty steps over to Amber and swings into the saddle. He
wants to be ready in case Cinnamon starts acting up. I might need him to grab
me and get me off her back quickly, if I get in trouble.
So far, Cinnamon is doing fantastic. Her ears are flicking
back and forth. She's curious about what we're doing, but not nervous or upset.
She trusts us.
I gently touch her sides with my heels and say, "Walk."
She tosses her head and steps forward. Monty has Amber walk
next to Cinnamon, and for the first time in her life, Cinnamon is allowing a
human to ride her. I click my tongue and send her into a trot. We move smoothly
around the pen. I'm guiding her with the reins, turning her, bringing her down
to a walk, and then twisting my body to tell her I want her to turn and head in
the other direction. We walk, we trot, and I slow her to a walk again and bring
her to a stop. I slide off and give her a big hug around the neck. "Good girl!"
I exclaim.
And with that, we've saddle broken the first of the
two-year-old's.
͠ ͠
͠
After lunch, Monty decides to work with Charlie. He thinks
we'll need more time with him than we did on Cinnamon. Charlie's been taking
the training well, but he's not as dependable as Cinnamon. He has moments when
he rebels a little, so we may have to take it slower and accept a few false
starts.
As before, we're using Amber as the buddy horse. Monty
saddles her up in a side pen while I lunge Charlie in the middle of the round
pen. He's moving good at the end of the lunge line, following my verbal
commands and watching me as he circles the pen. Maybe he'll be fine. I suppose
it's still a good idea to be cautious, but I'm feeling optimistic that Charlie
will take to the saddle breaking as smoothly as Cinnamon did.
When Charlie has warmed up nicely, I pull him toward me and
stop him in the middle of the ring. I remove his halter and slide the hackamore
bridle in place. He tosses his head and even takes a small nip at me. Not a
good sign.
"He's feisty today," I call to Monty.
"Yeah. I saw him try to bite you."
"Should we work with Misty instead?"
"Nah," Monty replies. "We'll have to break the colts sooner
or later." He rides Amber into the round pen and stops her next to Charlie. I
pass the bridle reins up to him, and he loops them around the saddle horn.
Charlie is fidgety, shifting his rear end around. Monty
talks to him. "Woah there, Charlie. Easy, boy."
I bring the blanket over and rub it on Charlie's shoulder
and side. He snorts, then sniffs it. "You know what this is," I say. "We've
done this before, Charlie." I gently slide it onto his back, watching him.
He doesn't seem to mind, so I put the saddle on next. He's
still standing calmly.
I reach underneath him and pull the cinch strap up, feed it
through the buckle, and begin pulling it tight. Charlie's eyes open wide. This
is new for him, and I can tell he's not entirely comfortable with it.
I speak softly to him, rubbing his neck as I slowly pull the
cinch tight. I keep stroking him, and when he settles back down, I pull the
cinch tighter, buckling it in place.
"Let's walk him around for a bit like this," Monty suggests.
I agree. Charlie is staying keyed up each time we do
something new, and there's no telling how he'll respond if we go too fast.
Monty walks Amber around the pen, leading Charlie. This
seems to help, because Charlie stops dancing around and settles into a slow,
calm walk. When they get back around to where I'm standing, Monty stops the
horses.
I move next to Charlie and push down on the saddle with just
my hands, letting him know that more weight is coming. He doesn't react, so I
pull myself up until my upper body is resting on the saddle, with my legs
hanging down to the side. Charlie isn't exactly happy with what I'm doing, but
he tolerates it. Monty kicks Amber into a slow walk, leading Charlie around
with me hanging off the side.
After a minute, Monty stops Amber and looks at me and
Charlie. Frowning, Monty says, "He's still acting skittish, but let's see how
he does with a rider. Switch with me, Truman."
I nod. We've talked about this too. It's risky the first
time you climb into the saddle with any unbroken horse. We both felt good about
me riding Cinnamon, but Charlie is a different beast altogether. Even with me
riding Amber next to Charlie, we have no guarantee that Charlie won't panic the
first time he feels Monty in the saddle.
I mount Amber and position her next to Charlie. Monty passes
me the reins to Charlie's bridle. I loop them around Amber's saddle horn and
make sure I have a good grip on them.
Monty sees me nod that I'm ready,
so he grabs the saddle horn and swings gracefully up onto Charlie's back
without using the stirrup.
Everything is fine for three seconds, then all hell breaks
loose.
͠ ͠
͠
There are horses that you know you better watch yourself
with. Chance is one. He makes it clear that he's looking for every opportunity
to cause mischief. We know Chance is that way, so we're extra careful with him.
Other horses are consistent and dependable. Misty and
Cinnamon have been that way from the start. They listen and do just what we
say. We're still cautious at every step in their training, because horses are
big and strong and can hurt you in a split second if you're not paying
attention.
Then there are horses like Charlie. He's calm one moment,
then freaking out the next. If he has time to get comfortable, he'll be okay,
but he might suddenly decide he's not okay after all, and that's when he's the
most dangerous.
We did everything right with Charlie. We took it slow. We
gave him all the time he wanted to get used to everything we were doing, but
somewhere in that little brain of his, he came to the conclusion that we were
hurting him and he had to fight back.
The first thing he does is try to rear up. That doesn't
work, because I have the reins looped tight around Amber's saddle horn.
Smart horse that he is, he whips his head around and takes a
massive bite out of my arm. I yell, but hold onto the reins, even though it fucking
hurts!
Monty jumps off and grabs the bridle, pulling Charlie away
from me. When I see that Monty is safely on the ground, I release Charlie's
reins and grab my arm where he bit me, gritting my teeth from the pain.
Monty grabs the reins in his fist and pulls Charlie to one
side, talking to him, trying to calm him down, but Charlie is in full panic
mode. He doesn't like the saddle now, and he's ready to fight us. He leaps
straight into Monty, knocking him backward. Then Charlie rears up and strikes
Monty in the face with both hooves.
I watch in horror as Monty collapses to the ground. Charlie
leaps over Monty, but his rear hooves land in the middle of Monty's chest. Charlie
heads for the far side of the pen, kicking and bucking.
I slide off Amber and fall to the ground next to Monty. His
eyes are closed. He's out cold.
͠ ͠
͠
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I chant, bending down over Monty. He's
still breathing, slow and shallow, but his head is bleeding and I know he's
hurt bad.
Charlie is still bucking on the far side of the pen, paying
no attention to anything and headed our way. I stand up and wave my hands in
the air to get his attention. "WHOA!" I shout. I run toward him. He skids to a
halt, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. I grab the reins and say, "It's okay,
Charlie. Settle down, buddy. Shhhh." He's quivering
still, but slowly calming down. I pull him around and lead him into the nearest
side stall. I should take the saddle and bridle off, but I don't have time for
that right now.
I run back to Amber and take her to the stall next to
Charlie's.
Then I run back, dropping to my knees next to Monty. I check
his breathing again. Still slow and raspy. I jump up and sprint for the house,
bursting through the back door and screaming, "Momma, call for an ambulance! Monty's
hurt!"
͠ ͠
͠
I stay by Monty's side until the paramedics arrive. They
spend fifteen minutes checking him over, then carefully strap him onto a
backboard and load him onto a gurney. I want to ride in the ambulance with him,
but I have to take care of the horses. Poppa helps me.
We get the saddle and bridle off Charlie and turn him out
into the pasture. Then we strip off Amber's gear and turn her out too. Poppa
and I carry everything into the tack room and quickly put it away, then run for
Poppa's truck. Momma is waiting for us with a folder filled with our insurance
papers. We jump in the truck and Poppa breaks a few traffic laws, driving to the
hospital.
I sit between them in the front seat. My legs won't hold
still. I'm so fucking scared right now.
"Truman, can you tell me what happened," Poppa asks. His
voice is relaxed, and that helps me to calm down.
"Charlie was acting goofy all the time we were working him,"
I say, "so we were being extra careful. He was okay at first when Monty got in
the saddle, but then Charlie went nuts on us. He bit me and tried to break
free. Monty jumped off and grabbed the reins, trying to settle Charlie down,
but he reared up and—" I can't hold back the tears. I start bawling, and Momma
wraps her arms around me.
"It's okay, baby," she says, rocking me gently in her arms.
"Is he going to die, Momma?" I gasp, sobbing.
"Shhh, sweetie, don't talk that
way. He's in good hands now."
"But Charlie hit him hard, right in the face, Momma. And
Monty just fell to the ground, completely limp. I couldn't do anything. Charlie
was out of control. He ran right over Monty and trampled him, Momma. He
trampled him."
She keeps rocking me, whispering soothing words in my ear.
I can't calm down. "I should have moved faster. I should
have gotten off Amber and helped Monty hold the reins. I could have stopped Charlie."
Poppa places one hand on my knee and squeezes gently. "Truman
Greene, you listen to me now and hear what I'm sayin'.
Farming is dangerous work. You can do everything in your power to stay safe,
but you're dealin' with big, powerful creatures, and
sometimes things go wrong. Monty knew how dangerous it was, and that's why he
taught you all the extra steps you can take when training horses. Even when you
take every possible precaution, it can still go wrong, and when it does, you
may find yourself in a position where you can't stop it from going bad. You do
your best and pray it will work out. Now here's what I need you to understand,
son. Truman, what happened is not your fault."
I turn bleary eyes to look at Poppa and sob, "It's not?"
"No, Truman. It was an accident, and you reacted quick and
smart. After Charlie panicked, how did the horses get into the side pens?"
"I ... uhhh ... I put them there, so
they wouldn't hurt Monty."
"And then what did you do?" Poppa asks.
"I ran to the house and told Momma to call for help."
Poppa nods his head. "Your quick thinking may have saved
Monty's life, son. You didn't do anything wrong. You did everything right."
I stop blubbering and wipe my nose on my sleeve. Momma
doesn't say anything for once. I guess this is one time when she's okay with me
wiping my nose on my shirt.
I turn to Momma and say, "Do you think it would be okay if
we prayed for Monty?"
She smiles and nods, closing her eyes and bowing her head. Her
voice is sweet and confident. "Good Lord Jesus, in our time of need, you always
come to us with comfort and peace. We ask for your mercy toward Monty, for the
miracle of healing, for strength in his body. We pray for wisdom and skill for
the doctors and nurses caring for him in this moment. And we ask for your
comfort for ourselves, that our hearts might be filled with courage as we wait
to hear the good news that you have restored Monty in every way."
͠ ͠
͠
Poppa leaves Momma and me in the waiting room at the
hospital, while he drives to the school to pick up Carson and Mattie.
I'm pacing back and forth, wondering what is taking so long,
when I feel a burning sensation in my arm. I roll up my sleeve and gasp. My
bicep is purple from where Charlie bit me.
Momma runs up and lifts my arm, checking me carefully. "Does
it hurt?" she asks.
I nod, biting my lip. "A lot," I admit.
She calls for a nurse, and soon they're taking me back to an
examination room. The bone isn't broken or anything, but the skin is bleeding
in a couple of places and I have a massive bruise developing. They clean it
off, wrap it in a bandage, and give Momma instructions for taking care of me
for the next few days.
By the time we make it back to the waiting room, Poppa is
walking in with Carson and Mattie. I run to Carson, hugging him with all my
might. He holds me, knowing I need him right now. Mattie touches my shoulder,
and when I look at her, her eyes are a bit red, as if she's been crying too. I
hope this means we can stop hating each other so much.
Poppa looks at Momma. "Any news?"
Shaking her head, Momma replies, "Nothing yet."
Mattie walks over and hugs Momma, and the three of them talk
quietly.
Carson pulls my arms from around his back and kneels down in
front of me. "You doing okay, Squirt?"
I gulp and swallow hard. I don't want to start crying again.
Carson seems to understand. He takes me back into his arms
and hugs me, whispering in my ear, "He'll be okay, Truman."
I sniffle and say, "He has to get better, Carson. I need
him."
While we're still hugging, a doctor comes into the room and
asks, "Greene family?"
We all look up. Poppa walks over to the doctor and says,
"Yes. I'm CJ Greene."
The doctor nods and asks, "Monty McDowell is your hired
hand?"
Poppa nods. "Yes, sir."
"I have good news. Monty is doing fine. He's stable and
under observation at this time." The doctor opens a folder he's carrying and
checks it. "He has a mild concussion, so that's the primary concern. He also
has three broken ribs and a cracked collarbone. We have him under sedation
while we check for swelling due to the concussion, but for right now, he seems
to be doing fine. He might need to stay overnight, just as a precaution."
Poppa sighs with relief. A few tears roll down Momma's
cheeks. Mattie whimpers a bit. Carson hugs me from behind, and I squeeze his
arm in relief.
"When can we see him?" Poppa asks.
"We need a little more time to make sure he's out of danger.
Why don't you folks get something to eat, then come back around 8. He should be
able to have visitors by then."
͠ ͠
͠
Monty looks like crap. His face is badly bruised and his
eyes are red and bleary. He has a bandage around his forehead and his right arm
is in a sling. He's not in pain, because of the medicine they're giving him,
but that also means he's not making much sense at the moment. I think he's
having a hard time remembering what happened, because he keeps asking why he's
in the hospital.
"You had an accident, dear," Momma says, "but you're fine
now, and as soon as the doctor says it's okay, we'll be taking you home."
"But what happened?" Monty mumbles.
"Charlie knocked you over," I say, sitting on the edge of
his bed and taking his uninjured hand.
"When?" Monty asks, frowning. "I don't remember that."
"This afternoon," I say. "We were saddle breaking him, and
he got wild on us."
Monty begins to panic. He looks at me and asks, "Did he hurt
you?"
I lift my arm and show him my bandage. "He bit the hell out
of my arm." I turn to Momma and apologize, "Sorry, Momma. I should have said,
`He bit me on the arm.'"
She smiles. "It's okay, Truman."
I turn back to Monty. "He bit me good, but I held onto the
reins until you could slide off and grab his bridle. You couldn't get him to
settle. He went crazy and knocked you down and ran over you."
"Shit," Monty moans. "Sorry, Mrs. Greene."
We all chuckle. Monty squeezes my hand gently. "I suppose
you took care of things while I was out of it?"
Poppa steps up and places a hand on my shoulder. "You'd have
been proud of him, Monty. He penned up the horses, then ran to the house to get
help for you."
Momma nods. "And you should see the mess Charlie made of his
arm. Truman didn't complain one bit about his own injuries. All he cared about
was getting you the help you needed."
Monty closes his eyes. "Good job, cowboy," he whispers as he
falls asleep, still holding my hand.
͠ ͠
͠
The doctor allows us to take Monty home the next day, but he
orders one week bed rest and no riding bucking broncs for a couple of months. Monty
feels horrible about that, but what can he do?
The entire family is there to escort him home. Momma started
to insist that Carson and Mattie go on to school, but then she gave in when she
realized how much they care about Monty too. Poppa has Carson drive Mattie and
Momma to the hospital in our pickup. Poppa and I take Monty's old truck. A
nurse pushes Monty out in a wheelchair, and when he sees the whole family
waiting for him with big smiles on their faces, he reaches up to wipe his eyes.
I think he almost cried.
We load him up in his pickup, with me next to him to make
sure he's okay. When we get home, Carson and I work together to get Monty into
the bunkhouse and onto his own bed again. Momma asks Mattie to help her get
lunch started. Carson and I sit on the bed next to Monty's, and Poppa stands on
the other side of him.
Montie looks miserable. He's still taking pain killers, but
he's not as sleepy and confused as he was at the hospital. Instead, he's
frustrated. Angry at himself.
Poppa isn't having any of that. "Monty, you know as well as
I do that this kind of thing happens all the time in farming and ranching. It
comes with the territory."
Monty sighs. "That ain't gonna fix
the mess we're in. How am I gonna work with my body
all banged up like this? I need to finish training those horses."
Poppa shakes his head. "The only thing you need to do right
now is follow the doctor's orders and get yourself healthy. You're not leavin' this bed for a week."
Monty grimaces. "You can't afford to pay me for layin' around doin' nothing."
"I'm not," Poppa says, grinning. "Our insurance company is."
Monty sighs in resignation. "For how long? And you heard the
doc. Even after they let me out of this bed, I can't ride for two months."
"Well," Poppa says, "it sounds like the training is gonna have to wait a while then."
"Why is that, Poppa?" I ask.
Monty and Poppa both look at me. I can tell they don't
understand my question. They're probably thinking it should be obvious why the
training will have to be postponed, but I don't agree.
"Why do we have to wait?" I ask. "Monty has been teaching
me, and I know what we need to do. I'm a good rider, Poppa. You've always said
I am. Why can't I train the horses, with Monty watching and telling me what to
do?"
Carson chuckles. "He's right, Poppa. You told me last week
that he's a natural horseman, better than me."
"It's not about how strong you are, Poppa," I add. "It's about
understanding the horses, knowing how they move, and working with them. I'm
good at that. I can do this."
Poppa looks at Monty. "What do think, lad?"
Monty looks at me and squints. He's thinking about it. He
looks back at Poppa. "Well, CJ, I think your little boy is becoming a man."
Poppa gives me a good, long look, then says, "I do too." He
nods his head. "Okay, boys, we'll give it a try. But I want you both to
remember that your horse training crew is down to one able-bodied man."
Poppa stresses the word man, making me feel extra proud. I push out my chest
and sit up straight. Poppa turns to Monty and says, "You stay in this bed and
let my wife nurse you back to health. No getting up and moving around until she
says you can. Then you and Truman can work out how you're gonna
continue the training. For the dangerous parts, when you need two riders, you
can use Carson."
Carson nods. "I'll be glad to help, Poppa, because I'm
quitting school."
"No." Poppa shakes his head. "I won't hear of it."
"We don't have any choice, Poppa," Carson insists. "You need
me. We gotta get that seed in the ground down by the
river before they release the overflow from the dam."
"I know that, Son."
"If they open the floodgates, the river will fill the bottom
lands. That ground will be too soppy to work for a month. I have to quit school.
They'll understand. It's a farming community. They know what it's like."
"Carson, you're gonna finish your
senior year, graduate, and get ready for college."
"Poppa, you can't do this alone."
"You're right, son, but I won't be alone. Truman will be
with me. While Monty is laid up recuperating next week, Truman and I will get
that pasture seeded." Poppa comes around Monty's bed and motions for the two of
us to stand up, then he takes us in his arms and hugs us to his chest. "I'm a
blessed man. God has given me two wonderful sons, two strong men to work by my
side. We'll manage."
Carson asks, "Would it be okay if I just talk to the school?
Maybe I can do like Truman. Do my school work at home, and go in when it's time
for final exams."
Poppa nods. "Go ahead and ask. See what they say. But don't
worry about this next week. Truman and I will get it done."
Poppa is making me so proud right now. For the first time in
my life, I know for a fact that I'm one of the men of the family, and the farm
is going to succeed because I'm working it. Carson looks at me and I can see
that he believes in me too, but he's bound and determined to pull his own
weight. That's just how we've been raised. We work together. We work hard. And
when one of us needs help, the rest of us come running.
I'm glad I'm a part of this family.
Whether he expected it or not, Monty's a part of this family
now too.
The end of BROKEN, Chapter Seventeen