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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What do I do now? Monty had to have felt my boner sticking
out when he took the box from me. His fingers brushed up against it. And he got
a funny look on his face before turning away, with his face becoming as red as
mine. What will he say now? Will he think I'm a disgusting pervert boy who
can't control his own body?
Monty turns to look at me. His eyes flick briefly down to my
lap, where my hands are covering my stupid boner. He looks back up, meeting my
frightened gaze, and he clears his throat. "Ummm,
listen, Truman. If you and I are going to work together, I think there's
something we need to talk about right now, before we even get started."
Oh, no. Here it comes. He's going to tell me he doesn't want
to work with me anymore because my dumb body had to pick the worst possible
time to do the worst possible thing and now he's truly
disgusted with me.
He takes a deep breath and says, "I want you to know that
I'm very sorry about what just happened."
Huh? Okay. That's not what I expected to hear.
I'm very confused, so I ask, "You're sorry? For what?"
He looks around nervously before saying, "For bumping your ...
for touching you ... damn, Truman. Let me start over." He glances at my lap and
says, "An erection is totally normal for guys your age. Hell, even guys my age get `em all the time. It's nothing
to be embarrassed about, and if I'd known you had a ... you know ... I would have
been more careful grabbing the box like I did. I didn't mean to bump you there,
and I hope you're not upset with me."
"What?" This is definitely not what I thought he was going
to say. Why would I be upset with him? I'm the weirdo.
He grimaces. "Let's just pretend it didn't happen and move
on, okay?"
I look at him, very puzzled. And my boner gets even harder,
which only adds to my confusion. All I can think to say is, "Sure. That's okay
with me." I'm so relieved to hear this. He doesn't think I'm disgusting. In
fact, he says it's perfectly normal, and he even admitted that he gets
erections too. I guess that's why my dick started throbbing even harder. My
thinking is still jumbled, but I'm feeling better now that Monty is okay with
me popping random boners in front of him. At least, I think that's what he
said.
"Good," Monty replies. He seems relieved as he turns and
sits on his bed. Flipping open a box, he rummages inside and pulls out a book
with a picture of a man holding a long lead strap and a horse rearing up and
tossing its head. He hands me the book, and I stand up to take it, forgetting
that my boner is tenting out my pants. The book title is Understanding the
Equine. "This is a great book," Monty says. "Talks about how horses think
and what you can do as a trainer to teach them to work with you." His eyes scan
down my body and I know he sees my bulge because he looks up quickly. I hurry
to sit back down, placing the book in my lap.
I open the book to the introduction and begin reading.
Equus potens.
The mighty horse. Who is able to stand in his path when he charges into battle?
Who is not astonished when he flies over the ground, his thundering hooves
trampling the earth, his eyes flashing, his nostrils flaring? He is without
equal, a powerful and rapid steed, a gentle warrior. Do not think he can be
dominated. His spirit is too magnificent to submit his will to another, but
with patience and respect, he may accept a mere man as his partner, or even his
friend.
My boner disappears. I'm captivated by the opening
paragraph. I thumb through the book, seeing picture after picture of beautiful
horses, running and playing, bucking and rearing, standing and submitting to
the humans training them. I need to read this. Today.
I look up and see Monty watching me. "Hold on to that. Read
it at night or when you have time. It's filled with good information, things
you need to know if you're going to be my helper."
I nod. "Yes, sir."
He grins and shakes his head. "Just call me Monty, okay?"
I grin back. "Sure thing ... Monty."
He leans over and takes a few more books from the box. I see
a tattered copy of Dune by Frank Herbert.
"That's also a great book," I blurt out.
He notices where I'm looking and smiles. "You might not like
the book. It's nothing at all like the movie."
Nodding, I agree. "The movie was horrible, but the book is
incredible!"
"You've read it."
"Yeah. Twice."
He seems surprised and impressed at the same time. "If you
want to borrow it ..."
I shake my head and hold up Understanding the Equine.
"I'll read this first."
"Okay. Well, I'll be here all summer, so you have plenty of
time."
"I'll have it finished by Sunday." I'm not boasting. I read
everything fast, especially if I like it, and this book is mostly pictures.
"Really? Well, okay. That's good. I'll check to see how much
you remember when you're done."
I smile really big. I love taking tests.
Monty looks around and sees a dresser against the wall. "I
guess I should start putting my stuff away. Then I want to go look at the
horses again. Get a feel for their temperaments, intelligence, their comfort
level with being handled. Can you be ready to take me down there in—" he
glances at his watch— "maybe thirty minutes?"
"Sure!" I say, excited to get started. "Should I leave your
book here?"
"You can hold onto it," he replies. "Where do you usually
read? Your bedroom?"
"Everywhere!" I reply, laughing. "I love to read."
He chuckles and says, "Then wherever you want is okay by
me."
I get an idea. An inspiration. And I don't know if it's a
good idea or not, because we had a scary start and I don't want to make any
more mistakes with Monty, but something inside me wants to spend as much time
with him as possible. I place the book on the side table next to the bed where
I'm sitting. "Is it okay if I leave it here?" I ask. "When we're not working
with the horses, I'll read it, and if you're here too, I can ask you
questions."
Monty smiles and nods. "Sounds like a good idea, Truman."
Yes! We're heading in the right direction now. I jump up and
hold out my hand. He smiles and reaches out to shake it. "See you in thirty
minutes," I say.
I head for the door, turning and looking back at Monty. He's
staring at me as I leave, and he seems a bit nervous that I caught him. I don't
know why he would be. I wave and head out the door.
͠ ͠
͠
Monty is a magician. I still don't know how he does it.
First, he walks slowly into the pasture, getting closer and
closer to the two-year-old horses. They see him coming, and their nostrils
flare. His body is relaxed, and he doesn't walk straight up to them, but comes
in at an angle and sort of freezes each time they snort or act like they are
going to run.
He gets close and waits for a bit, then kneels down and
starts playing with the grass.
The two fillies, Cinnamon and Misty, are watching Monty
closely now. They sniff and walk slowly toward him. He ignores them, looking
back at me and grinning. I watch as they walk up to him and snuffle his shirt,
his hat, his hair. He doesn't reach up for them, but lets them get a good
smell.
Misty nudges him with her nose, almost knocking him over. He
laughs softly and pushes back against her with his shoulder. She nibbles at his
hat, and he pulls away, finally reaching up to touch the side of her face. She
doesn't shy away. He strokes her cheek, her neck, and her ears.
Cinnamon pushes in between them. He laughs and asks, "You
want love too?"
I shake my head in amazement. These horses know me, since I
feed them every morning, but Misty is the only one who will let me touch her
face like that, and Cinnamon tries to bite me. The colts, Chance and Charlie,
do more than bite. They also kick.
"They all have fancy registered names," I say, "but we chose
every day names for each of them that are easy to remember. Cinnamon is the
color of the spice. Misty has a free spirit, like a puff of smoke, and she's
also gray in color from her shoulders up. Chance is the most nervous of the
four, so you're risking a bite whenever he's around. And Charlie—I don't know
why we named him Charlie; it just seems to fit him."
Monty laughs when he hears my explanation of their names,
then he bends down and slowly caresses Misty's front leg. He reaches her hoof
and moves to the other leg, stroking down from her shoulder to her fetlock. She
playfully knocks his hat off his head. He turns and picks up his hat, smiling
at me. His black hair is shining in the morning sun, and his green eyes are
sparkling. His smile is bright and he looks truly happy.
He stands up slowly and motions for me to come to him.
I imitate what I saw him doing earlier. Approaching slow and
easy. Not heading straight in. "That's good," he softly comments. "You were
paying attention, I see."
"Yes. I'm watching you, Tristan McDowell." I grin. He grins
back and turns sideways, waving me over.
I walk slowly up next to him and let both fillies smell me. They
know who I am, but I try to do everything the same as Monty. He's becoming my
hero, I guess.
Monty moves to Misty's shoulder and begins slowly sliding
his hand down her neck to her withers. She shivers at his touch and her hide
ripples, but she doesn't move. He continues across her ribcage, moves his hand
up to slide over her back and down her flank. More quivering, but she accepts
his touch now.
He looks at me and says, "That's enough for now. I'm not
going to touch her back legs or tail just yet. That's for later." He nods at
the other filly. "Your turn."
I don't tell him that these two-year-olds have taken bites
out of me before. If he can do it, so can I. I think about how he did it and
repeat what I remember. Slow caresses of Cinnamon's face, her cheek, her ears. Move
to her neck, slide my hands gently over her withers, down to her shoulder, over
her ribs. And then one long brush of my hand over her back, stopping at her
hip. Success!
I turn to Monty, a huge smile on my face.
He nods approvingly. "I think I'm going to like having you
as my helper."
͠ ͠
͠
As we're walking back to the house, Monty explains his
philosophy on training horses. "These are powerful creatures, Truman. They're
bigger than us, stronger than us, much more powerful. They could hurt us
easily, but it's their strength we need. Somehow, we must find a way to harness
that power and use it.
"They also have a wild and free spirit. It's what makes them
fight and run hard and live unrestricted by any will but their own. That spirit
is also a power to be used. We don't want to break their spirit, just mold it a
little.
"Our job is to teach them that we can be trusted. We want
them to be our partners, to listen to us. They provide the strength and the
spirit. We provide the wisdom, the direction, the guidance. Together, we are
unstoppable!"
I glance at Monty and ask, "Is that what you learned from
that book?"
He nods. "And from someone I knew growing up." His smile
disappears, and he seems suddenly sad again.
I try to change the topic. "I can't wait to read the book
and learn everything you have to teach me!"
He seems to snap out of his gloom. He puts his arm across my
shoulder and hugs me, which makes my tummy flutter with excitement. His hug
lasts only a few seconds. He seems unsure of himself and moves away from me. I
don't know what I've done wrong, but I know I want him to hug me again. I
really like it.
There are several things I have to figure out. Mysteries
that I must solve.
First, how does Monty know so much about horses? He's not
much older than Carson, but he seems to be very smart. He likes horses and
science fiction, so he and I are a lot alike. And I hope we'll find other
things we both like, because I want to get closer to him. I want to know
everything about him, starting right now.
And that's the second mystery I want to solve. Why do I like
him so much? I barely met him, yet I feel so strange whenever I'm around him. Sometimes
I want him to be like a second big brother, doing stuff with me, teaching me
things, throwing his arm across my shoulders. Other times, I feel different. I'm
not sure how I feel, but my stomach gets tight and fluttery, and I feel shivery
too. My dick also gets a little hard. What does that mean?
And last. Number three. Final mystery and most important of
all. Why does Monty get sad at strange times? It must be something that
happened to him, and I need to know what I'm doing that reminds him of it,
because I don't want him to be upset and not like me.
I have to figure all this out while learning to train horses
with Monty and building up my muscles with Carson and doing my chores for Poppa
and keeping good grades at school and reading my books and everything else. That's
a lot! I hope my body and my brains are up to the challenge.
͠ ͠
͠
Monty asks me to show him all the tack we have for the
horses. I take him to a store room in the barn and show him the halters, lead
straps, bridles, saddles, and blankets. He nods his approval and opens a few
drawers, glancing inside at the brushes, curry combs, and hoof picks. We have
just about everything you could want for taking care of horses. Poppa believes
in putting good money into gear.
Monty points at the wall and says, "Grab four harnesses and
four leads. Shouldn't have trouble with the two fillies. I think they'll take halters
just fine. The colts look a little skittish, but we need to get them started
too if we can."
I understand what he's saying. Misty and Cinnamon are
fillies (females) and Chance and Charlie are colts (males), all of them a
little over two years old. We need to break them for riding to get top money
for them at auction. The fillies seem ready for handling, but the colts are
still wild, and they'll kick you if you come at them from behind and bite you
if you come at them from the front. They're nasty little fuckers. I wouldn't
say that in front of Poppa, but that's what Carson calls them. He doesn't like
the colts, and I don't blame him. It was one of the colts who kicked me in the
hip and knocked me out that time.
I pull everything Monty wants off the wall. He takes two and
leaves me carrying the other two, then stops and squints at me. "Hold on a
second. We're missing something," he says, studying me carefully.
I start to get nervous. Something is wrong, and he's
frowning now. I look down at the gear in my hand. I can't think of anything
we're missing.
Monty sighs and asks, "How are you gonna
help me work horses when you don't have a cowboy hat?" He smirks at me, and I
know he's teasing me again.
I giggle. "Haven't got a cowboy hat. I have a baseball cap."
He shakes his head sadly. "I guess that'll have to do for
now. Run and get it, but I'll be talking to your Pa about this."
I hand all the gear to Monty and run back to the house to
get my cap. I hear Monty mumbling behind me about how hard it is to do a good
job without the right gear. I bite my lip so that I don't laugh. I've always
wanted a cowboy hat, and now it looks like I might get one.
͠ ͠
͠
Like before, we slowly approach the horses out in the
pasture. The older mares move away from us, whickering at their foals to follow
them. The young fillies and colts look up when they see us, ears flicking
backward and forward in curiosity.
Monty is explaining what he wants to do. "Some trainers use
grain and sweets to get horses to work with them. I don't. I want these animals
to trust me, to want to work with me, so we're gonna go nice and slow and convince them that this new game
is fun and something they want to do, just because they want to hang out with
the two coolest cowboys on the planet."
"Or in the entire galaxy," I add.
Monty winks at me. Then he drops everything but a halter and
begins moving it around in his hands, back and forth, turning it this way and
that. Cinnamon moves slowly toward him, snorting and sniffing the air. When
she's finally close enough for him to touch her, he doesn't try to put the
halter over her head. Instead, he rubs it gently on her nose, letting her smell
it. He rubs it on her cheek, but she shies away. He waits and when she comes
back to him, he starts over with her nose, then moves to her cheek, and finally
rubs her neck with it. She's still nervous, but she lets him touch all over her
face with the halter.
Misty is sidling closer, so Monty motions for me to pick up
a harness and do the same. I try repeating everything Monty has done, but also
keep an eye on him so I'll know what to do next.
He slips the halter open and slowly draws it up onto Cinnamon's
face. He doesn't latch it, but slides it back off again, rubbing her cheek and
neck and shoulders with it. He scratches her withers and the middle of her
back, and she reaches around to nibble at his shoulder. He pushes her gently
away and brings the harness back up to her face, sliding it on, and this time
buckling it into place. Then he continues scratching her all over.
My filly is just as calm, and it only takes me another five
minutes to buckle Misty's halter in place.
Now we have both fillies haltered up, but the colts are
still staring at us. They don't trust us at all.
"I don't think they're going to come over," I whisper,
nodding at the males.
"Maybe not," Monty admits with a grin. "We just have to
increase the curiosity factor a little more." He leans down and picks up one of
the unused halters and casually tosses it halfway between us and the colts. It
stirs up a bit of dust, making one of the colts snort
and jump back. They both stare at the halter and nervously approach it,
sniffing cautiously. When they're inches away, Chance startles Charlie, and
they both leap back and run off, kicking their feet and farting.
Monty doesn't seem to care. He grabs a lead strap and snaps
it on Cinnamon's halter. She doesn't mind at all. I'm beginning to think the
girls are much smarter than the boys.
I snap a lead on Misty's halter, rubbing her neck and
telling her what an intelligent girl she is.
Monty and I walk the fillies for a few minutes, getting them
used to being led on a lead strap by the halter. They take to it just fine, and
soon Monty motions for me to remove the halter from Misty while he does the
same for Cinnamon.
"We'll do this again tomorrow," he says. He scratches Cinnamon's
withers again. She shows her teeth, making us both laugh.
"Hey, she likes it."
Monty nods. "They need to learn that good things happen when
they're with us. You brush and curry them, right?"
I nod. "When they let me. The fillies like a good brushing,
but the colts haven't let me close yet."
"Those rascals are gonna be a
challenge," Monty admits. He picks up the harnesses and lead straps, then piles
them all in my hands. He puts his arm around my shoulder and hugs me. "But with
my helper, I think we'll have them eating out of our hands in no time."
"You got that right!" I exclaim.
We head back for the house. It's time for a break and some
of Momma's peach pie.
͠ ͠
͠
While we snack, Poppa and Carson talk about what they have
to do to get the river bottom acreage prepped for planting. I guess they didn't
like what they found when they walked down there this morning. There are a lot
of natural grasses, and they think it might be necessary to disc everything up
first before planting Bermuda grass seed. Carson isn't so certain. He wants to
try planting the Bermuda grass too and see if it is hardy enough to take over. Poppa
thinks they should get rid of the stalky river grass first, just to be sure the
Bermuda grass has the best chance to grow.
Eventually, they stop talking about the river bottom and ask
us how the training is going.
"Those fillies are coming along nicely," Monty says. He
glances at me and adds, "Truman and I were able to halter them up this afternoon."
Poppa grins. "That's quick. And the colts."
Monty chuckles and shakes his head. "They wouldn't come
close to us. It's gonna take more time, a lot more
time. But we'll get there."
Poppa points his fork at me. "You learn everything you can,
Truman. We could sell those colts as is and get good money for them. They come
from good stock. But if you can get them saddle broke by the summer auction,
we'll double their price, maybe triple it."
"I will, Poppa. Monty is a good teacher, and I've learned a
lot already."
Mattie sniffs disdainfully. "What could you have possibly
learned in one day?"
I hold up a finger and say, "One. Horses are powerful
creatures with a wild spirit, but humans are smart, so if you can teach a horse
to work with a human, they make a great team. Two, humans aren't strong enough
to beat a horse physically; you gotta trick `em into trusting you. Three, you don't want to break a
horse's spirit, because that's one of the things that makes `em useful to us. Four, ummm ... oh
yeah, and four, a horse that trusts humans is worth far more than a horse
that's afraid of humans."
Poppa raises an eyebrow and looks at Mattie. "Seems like he
learned a few things, eh, Mattie?"
She snorts and reaches for the pitcher of tea to refill her
glass. "Probably read all that in a book or something. Doesn't mean he's
learned anything yet."
I've changed my mind. When it comes to horses, the females
do seem to be smarter than the males, but that's definitely not true for all
the species on our planet.
The end of BROKEN, Chapter Five