RomanceEverAfter

Fiction & Essays

The Cowboy & the Mustang Mare
© 2005 Wayne Bayliff

A while back, there was a cowpoke named Tom Penny. He was a tall drink of water, quick with a smile and hard on a frown. Sat high in the saddle and feared neither man nor beast. He chose his friends by the cut of their grip and the way they talked to their horse. Most folks thought he cottoned to animals a darn site better than to people.

He rode west one day in search of a land where every man was honest and true, and where he could live in peace and harmony within himself and the world around him.

As fate would have it, Tom lost his faithful old horse along the way on one of the high trails. Fortunately, within a day’s walk, he found a little town near the end of a river that flowed to the sea. It was just what Tom was looking for. He settled on a piece of land and pondered what he needed for his future. He decided the first thing was a good horse.

Within a short time, Tom checked out the town and the local coral, but he never did find a horse that caught his eye. He decided that walking wasn’t all that bad and he would hold off and not settle for a horse that didn’t suit him just right.

A few weeks later, he looked out the window of his cabin one early morning, and there in the nearby misty pasture stood the most beautiful wild mustang he had ever seen. He had looked upon many a horse in his time, but this satin black mare with big dark eyes sent a shiver up and down his spine.

The mare stood tall and looked directly at Tom. Seemed like she was just daring him to come out and try to catch her. Tom, being more than willing, slipped on his chaps and boots, grabbed a rope and ran for the door.

Within seconds, Tom was ankle deep in wet grass and staring into the eyes of that mare. The mustang snorted once, and cautiously stepped toward Tom. It was almost as if she was encouraging him to reach out and touch her. When he tried, she instinctively reared up on her hindquarters, and then quickly dropped back to all fours. She turned, glanced back at Tom, and with a wisp of her tail, headed for the distant hills.

Tom followed that mare for nearly a week. He had visions of what it would be like to have such a horse. How he would feel with her galloping under him toward some far stretch, or walking beside him in a quiet wood. "A man can talk to a good horse. A good horse can be a man’s best friend."

Just before dusk on a particularly cold evening, he caught a glimpse of the mare’s shining mane in the last of the setting sun. She was heading right into a box canyon. Tom wanted that horse real bad, but he didn’t want to corner her where she would have no room to move- he just wouldn’t feel right about catching her that way.

Rather than follow her, Tom decided to set up camp just outside the canyon and wait for her under the light of the stars. Tom was sure that when she thought it over, the mare was certain to come on out and deal with him. She was in there, but she was silent.

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