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.

This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

 

A few weeks later, at the breakfast table, Poppa announces, "Well, boys, there's a big auction coming up in a week. I've been thinking long and hard about it. We could wait a bit longer, have you put a tad more training into the horses, and ask a better price for them. Or we can sell them now and make a good profit. I've decided it's time to sell the horses you've been training."

I swallow hard. I knew this moment was coming, and I'm not going to get upset. Poppa has been depending on me and Monty to get the horses ready. They're all saddle broke and have a decent amount of extra training. We haven't had time to teach them to cut cattle yet, but they're all comfortable with carrying a cowboy roping fenceposts. We could teach them a lot more, but at some point, Poppa needs to cash in on his investment.

His next announcement surprises me. "We might find a few things we can use ourselves. I hear the Welsh family will be selling a good bit of their horse training gear."

I look at Poppa, surprised. "Why's that?"

Poppa glances at Carson, who's looking down at his food, picking at it. Poppa hesitates, then says, "They've decided to sell their farm. They're moving out of state."

I look at Carson, shocked. Did he know? What will happen between him and Nancy Jo?

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I catch Carson and pull him aside before he starts his work with Poppa in one of the lower pastures. "Did you know about this?" I ask.

He nods. "Nancy Jo told me a week ago."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can we do?" Carson asks with a shrug. "I'm going to college. Nancy Jo is going with her family."

"But I thought you guys were going to get married."

Carson sighs. "So did we, but now we're not so sure. Who knows what will happen? She might find someone else. I might too. Or I might finish college and go looking for her. I don't know."

He's putting a brave face on it, but I can tell he's hurting. I wrap my arms around him and hug him. "I'm sorry, Carson."

He pats my back. "Thanks, Squirt. But don't let it bother you. I wasn't sure how we were going to stay together when I left for college, so we've been thinking that maybe it wasn't meant to be after all."

I pull away and look him in the eye. "Are you upset?"

"I am, but I'm dealing with it. Nancy Jo was more upset than I am. When she first heard about it, she refused to talk to her dad for two weeks. Now she's excited about moving to the city and making new friends. I think she's most excited about shopping at the big mall there."

We both laugh. Women. I'll never understand them. They should all be replaced by telepathic space aliens!

Except for Momma. I'd miss her incredible cooking.

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The morning of the auction arrives.

Poppa hooks up the big four-horse trailer to his pickup, and backs it up to the corral.

Monty and I walk into the tack room and get halters and lead straps, then head for the back stalls where the two-year-olds are waiting in their stalls. We didn't let them out to pasture this morning, because we knew we'd be loading them up later to go to the auction.

I walk straight to Misty's pen. "Come here, girl," I call.

She whinnies and trots up to me, sniffing my hand and nudging me with her nose.

I suppose everyone is expecting me to let Monty halter her up and load her in the trailer. Nope. I'm doing it. She's my horse. I've trained her. I've gotten her ready for today, and now I'm taking her to the auction myself.

I'm not gonna cry. Cowboys aren't supposed to cry.

I slide the halter on her head and latch it up. She pushes me with her head, knocking me sideways. "Settle down, girl," I say, reaching under her halter to snap the lead strap in place. I lead her out of the stall and head for the horse trailer. The back is open and I lead Misty inside, taking her all the way to the front. There's a one-foot-long lead strap hooked to the front wall, designed to hold the horse during hauling. I unsnap my lead strap and hook the shorter one in place. It will keep Misty at the front of the trailer while it's moving. I slide past Misty and walk to the back of the trailer, turning around to look at Misty one more time. Her head is twisted around, and she's watching me leave. "Good girl, Misty," I whisper, then turn and step out of the trailer.

I'm not gonna cry.

Monty walks past me, leading Cinnamon up into the trailer and putting her next to Misty in the front.

I walk back to the stalls and halter up Chance. He's settled down nicely over the last few weeks, and I think he'll make someone a fine horse. Why is it easier for me to lead him out of his stall and load him into the trailer behind Misty?

Monty brings Charlie in last. With all four horses loaded up, we close the doors at the back of the trailer. They clang shut, and the sound of the bolts latching in place makes me want to turn and walk away as quickly as I can.

But I'm not gonna cry.

Momma and Mattie stay home. Carson rides with Poppa. I ride with Monty in his pickup, following behind Poppa, who's pulling the horse trailer.

I stare out the window, watching the farms go by.

Two years ago, I was there when Misty was born. Her mother is a sweet, old horse we call Queenie. Queenie gave us a lot of good foals, and Misty was her last. Poppa decided it was time for Queenie to retire, and she's now enjoying her old age, eating grass and watching the foals play around her.

Misty's birth wasn't easy for Queenie. We were afraid we might lose both of them, but I stayed up all night with Poppa, and we helped Queenie deliver a beautiful black foal around two in the morning.

Misty was my special charge from then on. She didn't need me, but I still kept a close eye on her. I saw her struggle to her feet and lurch around the stall until she gained her balance. I watched her taking her first drink of Queenie's milk. I saw her learning to walk and run. I watched her grow and was amazed to see her black baby coat change into the smoky-gray coat she has now.

Her first winter, I watched her play in the snow and laughed when she lost her footing and skidded across the field. I helped her get back on her feet, then we both fell again, sliding around on the hard, cold ground.

I fed her the first grain she ever tried. Oats. They're still her favorite.

For a special treat, I sliced up apples and taught her to paw the ground if she wanted another slice.

And when Monty showed up, I trained her to be the fine horse she is now. It's been a summer I'll never forget. Teaching her to wear a halter and walk beside me. Training her to listen for the cues to trot and canter. Breaking her to the saddle. Teaching her to follow my commands. Riding her bareback with my arms spread wide, feeling the air blowing past my face, feeling her warm body beneath my legs ...

I stop myself right there. I'm absolutely not gonna cry.

I stare out the window at the passing farms, wondering if one of them will be where Misty ends up, with some other boy riding her, feeding her apples, loving her.

Monty reaches over and places his hand on my shoulder. He squeezes gently, letting me know he loves me and understands.

I scoot over next to him. He slides his arm across my shoulders and pulls me into a hug. I lean into his side and let him hold me. I'm not ready to talk about it.

I'm going to be like Carson, dealing with his girlfriend leaving, maybe forever. He's taking the news just fine. He may be upset, but he's gonna be a man about it. So am I. I'm not gonna cry. Cowboys don't cry.

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I normally enjoy the auctions. They're noisy, crowded, and exciting, especially when Poppa has livestock for sale. He's always received good money for his animals. Everyone knows he raises quality stock and gives them the best possible care. The crowds are especially heavy around the four stalls where our horses are on display. Word has spread, and folks know Monty and I have put a lot of training into these youngsters.

Poppa leads us into the auction barn, and we find seats on one side. When the auctioneer raps his gavel, the hubbub dies out. He leans into his microphone and says, "Welcome everyone to the Miles and Davis auction. We have some fine animals available today along with quality farming gear. Without wasting any more of your precious time, let's start the bidding!"

The door at the far end of the building opens, and a dozen sheep are pushed into the ring in front of the auctioneer. "First up, some fine ewes and lambs from the Frank Hutchinson herds. Bidding will start at ..."

I tune out the auctioneer's voice. Glancing out the window on this side of the building, I can see our horses in their stalls. Misty is looking around, probably searching for me.

I'm not gonna fucking cry!

I turn back and look at the sheep milling around in the center of the ring. The auctioneer's voice is rattling off prices. Men around the room are lifting numbered paddles. Other men—I think they call them spotters—are standing all around the room, yelping, "Here," or "Yup," to let the auctioneer know when someone is making a bid. The price climbs up quickly, then the bidding slows down as two men bid against each other until one shakes his head and drops out.

"SOLD!" the auctioneer shouts, pointing his gavel at the winning bidder. Bam! The gavel raps against the desk. The smiling winner walks down to sign paperwork. The sheep are herded out the door closest to us, emptying the ring for the next animals up for sale.

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An hour later, one of the auction house employees leads Chance into the ring. Chance comes in prancing around, and I'm so proud when I hear the auctioneer say, "Next up we have a two-year-old colt. Registered quarter horse. Raised by CJ Greene, trained by Montana McDowell and Truman Greene. Saddle broke with two months training in riding and roping. What am I bid?"

A man just in front of us starts the bidding at $2000. A man across the room raises his paddle and shouts, "$2500!" It becomes chaos for a minute. All around us, men are shoving their numbered paddles in the air, raising the bid. When it reaches $15,000, I look at Poppa, stunned. He smiles at me and claps Monty on the back. "Word's gotten around, boys."

One minute later, the auctioneer slams the gavel down. "Sold, to the Barstow Ranch for $23,000!"

I can't believe my ears. Carson and Monty are giving each other fist bumps. Poppa is hugging me around the neck. I stare at Chance as they lead him out of the ring. That knucklehead just sold for $23,000. Wow!

The far door opens, and Cinnamon is led in. "Another fine animal," the auctioneer begins. "A two-year-old filly, a registered quarter horse, also from CJ Greene and his talented trainers. Who'll give me an opening bid of $10,000?"

I watch in amazement as paddles go up all around the room. There's shouting and yelping for a good two minutes. When it's all over, Cinnamon sells for $26,000.

Charlie is next. He stops in the middle of the ring, hikes his tail, and drops a steaming pile of poop. The crowd laughs and the auctioneer says, "No extra charge for that, folks. CJ Greene's stock once again. Why don't we save time and start the bidding at $20,000?"

The bidding is slower this time, but Charlie eventually goes for $23,500. I'm happy, but my heart is starting to ache. Misty will be next.

I can't do it.

I can't stay.

I jump up and run down the steps on the side of the stands, headed for the closest exit. I hear Poppa calling my name, but I walk quickly to the door, shove it open, and step outside.

I'm not gonna cry. I'M NOT GONNA CRY! Cowboys shouldn't cry when they're selling the best darn horse they've ever trained.

I stumble to the side of the building and take deep breaths to calm down. I don't know why I'm being such a baby about this. It's our business to raise and sell animals. This is why we operate our farm.

It's easy for me to tell myself that, but my heart is having a hard time accepting it. Somehow, I've become attached to Misty like no animal I've raised before. I just need a minute or two. I'll wait here for now. I'll be okay soon. Then I'll go back inside and apologize to Poppa for running off like that.

On second thought, I need a lot more fresh air. I wander around the auction grounds, climbing on the fences and looking down at the bulls, cows, sheep, pigs, and every other kind of animal you can think of, animals that farmers raise and farmers sell, and that cowboys don't cry over when they go to another farm or get sold as food for the table.

I try to distract myself, but it's not working. I just want to go home. I want to crawl in bed with Monty and let him hold me until I finally fall asleep.

I figure I've waited long enough. It should be over by now, so we can leave.

I make my way back to the parking lot, looking for our trucks and empty horse trailer. I think I'll sit in Monty's pickup and wait for them to come out. I climb into the passenger seat and stare at the ceiling. Please hurry, guys. I wanna go home now.

I'm glancing in the side mirror when I see something I don't understand. Poppa and Carson are walking this way. Behind them is Monty, leading Misty. They're headed for the horse trailer.

I open the door and jump out. Running up to them, I ask, "What's going on? She didn't sell?"

Poppa shakes his head. "No, son. She sold. For $29,000. Best price they've ever gotten for a two-year-old filly."

Now I'm really confused. "Then ... ummm, did the buyer change his mind?"

"Nope," Poppa replies, opening the back door on the horse trailer so Monty can lead Misty inside. She doesn't want to go. She keeps fighting him, trying to get to me. I run up and take the halter from him and lead her inside the trailer. She settles down, happy to do whatever I ask. I snap the short lead on her halter and slide past her to get out of the trailer.

Carson is grinning at me like it's Christmas morning.

Poppa is struggling not to smile.

Monty is standing with his arms crossed, just watching me.

"Okay, you guys. What's going on? Why are we loading Misty up in our hauler? Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

Monty opens up a sheet of paper and hands it to me. It's the ownership papers for Misty.

I look up at him. "So?"

He points at the bottom of the page.

Seller(s): CJ Greene

Buyer(s): Montana McDowell and Truman Greene, co-owners.

For the first time in my life, I don't know what to say.

Monty holds out his hand for me to shake it. "Looks like we're partners, cowboy."

I throw my arms around him and give him a massive kiss right on the lips. Right there in front of everybody, and I don't give a fuck who sees.

Then I can't help it. I burst into tears. Maybe it's okay for cowboys to cry sometimes.

 

The end of BROKEN, Chapter Twenty-Two