Hossie
Copyright 1991
George Willard

My Stepmother, the Horse
Part 2


Chapter Five

At last the first of June arrived. All three of us arose early, and gave the house a final cleaning. We went into town to the grocery store, getting lots of Dad's favorite foods. Aunt Ellen picked out several new magazines from the rack, saying that Dad didn't get a chance to read them way off in those foreign countries.
Maybe so, but I wondered if perhaps she was starting another stack of magazines for another yard sale.
The rest of the day dragged, as Aunt Ellen cooked and my brother and I tried to kill time, looking down the road every few seconds.
"Maybe Dad bought a sharp red sports car!" Doug exclaimed. "Don't be silly. How could we all fit into a sports car?" I replied with my superior sense of maturity.
Doug kicked at a tree root. It didn't bother the tree. "Well, maybe it's a big motor home. Yeah! We'll travel all over, seeing the sights while he writes!"
"And who would drive it while he's writing? Aunt Ellen? Me? You?" His eyes lit up. "Oh, no! NOT you! Besides, what's that got to do with cleaning out the barn?"
Doug went back to the tree root. I went inside before he could come up with any more dumb ideas.
I guess I fell asleep in the warm afternoon, because the next thing I knew, I heard honking outside the door.
I jumped up and ran outside.
It was Dad! He was driving a new pickup truck, one with an extra-big cab to hold five people and behind it...
I rubbed my eyes.
I looked again.
YES!
Behind the truck, there was a shiny, new horse trailer, and there was something in it!
I hesitated, not sure whether to run up to the tall man stepping out of the truck with arms waiting wide for Doug and Aunt Ellen and me, or go around to the trailer to see just what was inside.
Finally, I decided that family had to come first. I joined the rush heading for my father.
In the next few moments, I was kissed, hair-rumpled, stepped on by Doug, kissed again, hugged several times, and generally left breathless.
Dad looked past us at the newly-painted barn. "Whew! When I ask you to clean up a place, you really clean up a place!" "Didja bring us anything, Dad? Didja?" My brother has no tact.
With a twinkle in his eye, Dad turned and looked at the trailer. The trailer! I had almost forgotten about it! "Yes, I suppose I did," Dad replied. "Come meet someone very special!"

For once, I led the charge instead of my brother. I ran around to the side of the trailer, and found myself looking into a pair of large, brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to see right into me, eyes that held wisdom and intelligence and love and...
"It IS! It IS a horse! Oh, Daddy!"
I hugged him again, and he put his hand on my head, stroking my hair. "If you'll let go of me for a minute, I'll let our newest family member out to stretch her legs, too!" Dad said.
I followed eagerly to the back, where Dad opened the latches on the tailgate, lowering it to the ground for a ramp.
"Come on out, Ayesha!" Dad called.
Carefully, daintily, the most beautiful buckskin mare I had ever seen backed down the ramp, turned, nuzzled my father, then stood still for our inspection.
She had a shining, tawny coat, with black mane and tail, a forelock that curled wistfully down between her ears. The face and head had the delicate
lines of the Arabian horses I had stared at for hours in my books. I stood still, not daring to move for fear it would turn into a dream and I would awaken.
Then Ayesha shook her head and looked at my father. Formally, he said, "Ayesha, this (pointing to me) is my daughter, Diane. There is my son, Douglas, and my sister Ellen. Welcome home."
Ayesha regarded each of us solemnly, in turn, as we were introduced. I stepped forward, gingerly reaching a hand out to stroke her muzzle, soft as kid gloves. She stood for a moment, accepting my caress, then reached her head forward and gently nuzzled me on the cheek.
I threw my arms around her neck. "Oh, Daddy, she's the most gorgeous animal I've ever seen!"
Dad had a kind of funny look on his face. "Yes, Ayesha is VERY special." Just then Aunt Ellen spoke up. "She's very nice, but I had best get Barney and Brian out here first thing to fix the pasture fence."
Dad shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Ellen." No! Did this mean Ayesha couldn't stay?
Aunt Ellen said, "Don't worry, we made enough on the yard sale to pay for it." It looked like Aunt Ellen had the same thought I had, and didn't want to see me disappointed. Good old Aunt Ellen!
"That's no problem," said Dad. "But Ayesha needs no fences or gates.
As I said, she's very special."
Wow."Ayesha is part of this family now, and she knows it. She'll stay within the boundaries that she's shown."
I had never heard of such a thing, and had a hard time believing it. "Bob," said Aunt Ellen, "are you sure?"
Again that funny look. "Yes, I'm sure. She understands what you say, and has been raised to be obedient. Watch."
He motioned us back, then started giving commands, except he said them more like requests."
Ayesha, turn around." "Please walk around the truck." "Ayesha, sit like a lady."
As he gave his orders, the horse followed them to the letter, even to sitting up with her hind legs crossed, forelegs folded in her "lap."
I was amazed. Never had I seen or heard of a horse that followed spoken commands so well unless, maybe, in a circus. I was not alone in that thought.
"Wow!" exclaimed Doug.
"Can she do any more tricks? I can sell tickets to my friends, and--"
Dad cut Doug off. "Sorry, son, but she is a family member. You
wouldn't sell tickets to show off your sister, would you?"
Ack!
I said Dad didn't know Doug very well. Last year, when I was suntanning out in the back yard, I heard some boyish giggles and looked up to see Doug and some of his friends hiding in some bushes and staring at me. The little brat had sold them tickets for a nickel apiece to look at me in my swimsuit! I chased them off. Later, I found out that his friends demanded refunds! I don't know what made me maddest-- the refunds, or Doug only charging a nickel.
Dad continued, "We must treat Ayesha with respect. She has feelings, and if you treat her right, she will be a friend for life."
I had an awful thought. "Does this mean we can't ride her?" Dad looked thoughtful. Ayesha put her mouth to Dad's ear, just like she was whispering to him. I decided that was nonsense, but then Dad said, "I guess so, sometimes, but no bridle with a bit in it. After all, she understands your voice."
I decided to put that to the test. I turned back to Ayesha. "Do you understand me?" Ayesha nodded. "Can I be your friend?" Ayesha reached out again like she was going to nuzzle me, but this time she opened her lips and planted a kiss on my cheek!
I shook my head. This summer weather can sure do strange things to your mind!
Dad stirred himself into motion. "C'mon, everyone! Help me get Ayesha's things into the barn, then we'll take my stuff into the house. Is that pot roast I smell cooking?"
Dad opened the front compartment on the trailer, and we pitched in. I lugged a big bag of oats back to the barn while Dad hauled in a couple of bales of hay, then one of straw. There were also two large trunks that we took into the barn. Dad scattered the straw around in one of the stalls, put out a pan of fresh water, and then placed hay and oats in the feed bunker.
He called, "Come on in, Ayesha," and darned if she didn't! She looked around the barn, spotted the stall, went inside and inspected it, shoving the straw around a little bit until it was to her liking, then gave a contented whicker. She came back out and did that whispering routine with Dad. He flushed a little bit, and walked out the back door, Ayesha following. He pointed to a corner of the grounds in the back, then herded Doug and me back inside while Ayesha trotted that direction.
"What was that all about, Daddy?" I asked. "Well, Ayesha is, er, housebroken, I guess you'd say. I thought it would be polite to give her a bit of privacy."
"Housebroken? You mean I won't have to clean her stall out?" "No you won't, not that way. Of course, she'll appreciate fresh bedding now and then, but you won't have to do it more than once a week. And it shouldn't be an unpleasant task."
This was getting better all the time! But it was strange. After Ayesha returned with a relieved look on her face, Dad said it was almost dark, and time to go inside for supper, and let Ayesha go to bed. "I have a few more things to move out here, but I'll do them later," he explained.
I hugged the mare around the neck, and said "I love you, Ayesha." That earned me another nuzzle and an ear-lick. I decided that we were on such good terms a little good-night kiss wouldn't hurt. I smooched her nose. Ayesha kind of grinned.
We went inside, carrying Dad's suitcases.

Dinner was great! Dad told us all about this little Arabian kingdom (or is that sheikdom? Is there a difference?) where he had spent his last assignment. They had a little oil, and a little mining, but generally were pretty poor. Dad said that the sheik, kind of an Arab prince, was a good ruler, and really cared about his people, but they had a hard time raising enough food on their desert property. He (Dad) had found a kind of rock formation that usually held water, and helped them drill three new wells good enough to irrigate the land. With that help, and teaching them how to make the most of the water and land they had without hurting it, it looked like the little country would raise enough food for their people, and have some left over to sell. The people were very grateful.
So grateful, in fact, that the sheik had insisted on giving my father gifts, the major one being Ayesha. "I could hardly refuse." I was glad of that!
"He also sent gifts for you, my family." Our faces lit up. As far as I know, none of us had ever received gifts from a prince!
Right after dessert, Dad opened his luggage and took out several bundles. The first one, a long one, he handed to Doug. Doug proved his expertise at unwrapping, removing the paper in five seconds flat!
Aunt Ellen and I both gasped as we saw the fierce-looking curved sword that Doug held in the air. "Wow! Zowie! A genuine scimitar! I can be Lawrence of Arabia!"
Even Dad seemed a bit taken aback. "Well, Doug, I'm sure you won't want such a valuable piece to be exposed to damage. We'll rig a very secure mounting on the wall above the fireplace for your sword," he said in a firm tone.
Doug looked disappointed again, knowing that tone of voice meant "No Arguments." Aunt Ellen and I looked relieved.
Dad handed another parcel to Aunt Ellen. It proved to be a very nice hand-hammered silver tea set. "Oh, Bob," she said, "this must be very valuable. And it's so pretty! What do these letters mean?"
Dad took the tray and read the Arabic script. "They say, `Happy is He who does the Will of Allah,' which is a quote from the Koran, the Muslim Holy Book."
Then Dad gave me a package. It felt sort of heavy, but soft, too. When I opened it, I saw it was a magnificent costume. I held it up. Aunt Ellen and Dad both blushed a bit. It was a thin silk harem-dancer's outfit with little brass spangles and sequins sewn on in what Aunt Ellen later described as "strategic places." I'm not sure what that meant, but I knew right then I would have to be a lot older to wear it, and only in private. But I still liked it because it was special.
When we were through admiring each other's gifts (Doug muttered something about "charging more for tickets for this" when he held my costume. I stepped on his toes, hard), Dad looked at his watch, said it was time for us to go to bed and for him to finish unloading stuff into the barn. I still had far too many questions for Dad to answer in one night, and I was tired, so I left with little protest. I heard the murmur of Aunt Ellen blackmailing Doug into bed just as I closed the door on my upstairs room.
I left the lights off as I changed into pajamas by moonlight, reviewing the exciting day in my mind. Before getting into bed, I went to the window and looked out toward the barn.
I saw Dad carrying in three big cartons, then watched him return to the truck and pull what looked like a folding bed from the back seat part. He took this into the barn, too, then shut the doors from the inside.
I decided the night was warm enough, so I opened the window to let the breeze in. As I snuggled under the sheet and started to doze off, I thought I heard Dad's voice coming from the barn. I couldn't make out the words, but then I heard a woman's voice. I started to puzzle on this, but kept dozing off further, and halfway decided I was just dreaming. Then I was dreaming for real, the best kind of dream, the kind that come true, for I dreamt of riding through the tall grass with Ayesha, riding as partners instead of rider and mount, friends..pa?

Chapter Six

The next morning I forgot about nighttime dreams as I prepared for the real thing.
We had breakfast on the patio in the back, enjoying the gentle spring morning over our hotcakes and sausage.
"Mmmmm," said Dad. "I sure missed this on the last trip."
"Why is that?" asked Aunt Ellen.
"Oh, you know. Arabs don't believe in eating pork. It's against their religion, so I couldn't find any over there except in big-city hotels. No bacon, ham, or sausage even."
"Well, with all the worries today about diets, maybe they have something there," Aunt Ellen mused.
"Maybe. But I don't think it hurts to eat it once in a while," Dad said. While they talked, Doug and I ate. I wasn't worried about diets, yet, since I didn't have anything like a weight problem. But the thought of a world without crisp bacon or tasty country-style sausage wasn't appealing.
It was while I reached for the syrup to drench another stack of pancakes that I felt it, creeping up the back of my neck. It reminded me of the way I felt sometimes when we'd get to watch a late-show horror movie on TV!
Just then, Dad looked at me, and got a grin on his face. "Diane, it would be polite of you to carefully turn around and offer your new friend some breakfast."
I turned, slowly, until I saw a large nose right about chin-level with me. I jerked in surprise and almost fell out of my chair.
Ayesha grinned back at me and I swear I heard a little giggle. Recovering my dignity as best I could, I moved my chair a bit to one side, picked up my plate, and offered it to Ayesha.
Aunt Ellen looked fairly horrified at the idea of an animal eating with us, but Dad calmed her with a gesture.
Ayesha reached forward and took a flapjack in her lips, nibbling it so daintily you would have expected to see a raised pinky-finger if she had hands.
As Doug and I stared at this, Aunt Ellen began to grin, then smile, then let out a loud guffaw!
"I wish you children had such nice table-manners," she said, laughing some more. After that, Ayesha could do no wrong. She turned up her nose at the meat, but seemed to be quite enthusiastic about pancakes with syrup. Dad advised us to leave off the butter, as the fat wouldn't be good for her stomach. Then, after a heroic breakfast, he offered Ayesha a large plastic water glass full of orange juice. She delicately held the rim in her teeth as Dad slowly upended the glass, letting Ayesha drink the juice. To our amazement, she didn't spill a drop.
Aunt Ellen sat bemused. She looked the mare up and down, staring for a moment at her hooves. "No," she said to herself, shaking her head, "I doubt if she does dishes..."

Breakfast over, the dishes cleaned off the table and put to soak in the sink, I eagerly headed for the barn. Dad was in there, and Ayesha in her stall. After petting her some more I turned to Dad to see what was up.
He was opening the large cartons I had seen him carrying inside the night before. As I watched, he pulled the pieces of a computer out and arranged them on the workbench. I saw that the folding bed was already set up along the other wall, and that there were stacks of books, papers, and photographs piled on one end of the bench.
"So, was Aunt Ellen right?" I asked.
"Are you going to make this your working room for your book?"
Dad nodded as he reached behind the computer to plug something into it. "Yes, at least for the summer. Before winter comes, I'll have to either move inside or fix up the barn some more so it will be warm."
Ayesha stood in her stall, seeming to watch and listen as we talked. I told Dad about school, and mentioned watching Brian paint the barn. He got a little grin on his face, but didn't say anything about that. He told me some more about the various people he had worked and lived with as he finished hooking the computer together.
Then he threw the switch just as Doug came inside. "Oh, wow! A computer! What kind of games do you have for it?" Trust Doug to think of that.
Dad put on his best stern look, the kind that means he's not really mad or anything, but wants us to pay attention.
"Doug, I'm afraid I don't have any games for it, nor do I intend to get any. You have your video game deck you got for Christmas last year, and this is for work."
Doug's face fell.
"However, as you and your sister grow up, I will show you how to use this computer as a very powerful tool. I firmly believe that any kid today who doesn't learn how to use a computer is going to be crippled when he or she goes out into the world to make a living."
Making a living was obviously the furthest thing from Doug's mind, but he persisted. "What kinds of things?"
"Well, there are spreadsheets, that let you keep your home and business books so you can tell where your money is going." Doug didn't look impressed; he hates arithmetic. "Then there are databases so you can file all sorts of information like telephone numbers or recipes or addresses and sort them in different ways."
Doug was getting bored. So was I, a little. "And then there are word processors. That's what I will be using to write my book." My ears perked up a little bit.
"What do those do?" I asked.
"They let you type in your text, then manipulate it. I mean, you can go back and change words, correct mistakes, move blocks of text-- that means groups of words--around in your work to make a better arrangement. There are even automatic dictionaries and grammar checkers to catch any misspelled words or errors in punctuation."
That caught my interest. Even Doug's. Of course, HE really could use those last two features.
When can we start?" I asked, eagerly.
"Oh," Dad chuckled, "give me a week or so to learn how to use it myself!" Shoot. Those keys looked very attractive from where I was standing. Oh, well. Aunt Ellen says that even grown-up boys have to have their toys. That thought surprised me a little-- did that mean that even Doug would grow up, maybe to be like my father? Hmmmph! Small chance! If he didn't learn to treat me better, he might not even grow up at all!
I saw that Dad was pulling some thick books out of the boxes, and decided he would want to be left alone to learn about his computer. Of course, I would be doing him a favor if I got Doug out of his hair, too.
"Uh, Daddy," I said, in my best-little-girl voice, "do you suppose we could ride Ayesha around the yard so you can get to work?" You always have a better chance of getting something from a grownup if they think it will help them, too.
He looked at me, then nodded. "Let me get some more of her equipment out of the trailer."
"Gee, she's such a sweet horse, I'll bet we could ride her bareback!" "Maybe, but you might slide off, and the ground is a pretty good drop from a horse's back. Besides, saddles are as much for the horse's comfort as for the rider."
He went outside and came back in a moment. "What kind of saddle is that?" I asked.
He held up a strange-looking device that looked kind of like a blanket with stirrups and straps. "This is called a bareback pad. It gives you somewhere for your feet to go, and keeps you and the horse from sweating on each other."
"Uh, since we aren't going to use a bridle, where do we hold on? I don't see a saddlehorn."
Dad grinned. "You won't see one on anything but a western-style saddle, anyway. Don't you remember your books showing English saddles?"
I blushed a bit. Of course I did.
"Anyway, you shouldn't need anything to hold onto in the yard. But, just in case, I'll tie a short loop of rope around Ayesha's neck. You can hold onto the rope, but it won't pull at her head, or cause her any discomfort."
Sounded right to me. Just one more question. "Do you have a regular saddle for yourself, or are you going to use this pad, too?"
Dad got that funny look in his eyes again. "I don't think I'll be riding Ayesha."
He called her and she came right up to him. As Dad busied himself putting the pad on Ayesha, I watched to learn how it worked. It was pretty easy. Then Ayesha turned her head and nudged my shoulder, so I petted her nose, telling her again how pretty she was.
"How can we get up on her back, Dad? I mean, you could boost us, but then we'd be bothering you every time we changed riders."
My father thought a minute, then said, "Good point. Tell Ayesha to follow you outside to that old stump. You should be able to climb on from there. And, Ayesha," he looked her right in the eyes, "nothing faster this time than a walk, okay?"
Ayesha nodded. Just a coincidence, I'm sure. I think..pa?


Chapter Seven


The morning of riding was terrific. Doug insisted on the first ride, so, no matter how much I wanted to go, I let him. After all, he was just a little kid, and besides, it might tame him down a little.
Boy, was I right about that!
I told Ayesha to stand beside the stump, and she did. Doug climbed up, but couldn't quite make it, so I gave him a little help. He carefully put his feet in the stirrups, although he could barely reach them, and took hold of the loop of rope. "Ayesha, giddyap!"
She started off in a gentle walk, but her long legs made me hurry a little bit to keep up. Doug had a grin on his face a mile wide until he saw that he was heading right under a tree. He pulled back on the rope, but Ayesha kept going until I said "Stop!"
I gave Doug some calm, reasoned, big-sisterly advice which he took in his usual manner.
"Smarty-pants!"
Hmmmph!
However, Doug did pay closer attention. After about ten minutes, he had riding down pat, or so he seemed to believe. I was thinking that it was about time for my turn when he said, "Ayesha, faster!"
She just turned and looked at him and continued her measured pace. Doug shook the rope. No change. Then he lifted his legs and kicked her with his heels.
Oops! Ayesha gave a snort of surprise, jumped forward, then planted her forehooves and bent her neck toward the ground.
Doug went sliding down her neck pretty as you please! He gave a holler.
"Daddy, Daddy, she hurt me!" and ran toward the barn. Dad stepped out, laughing.
"I saw it all. She didn't hurt you a bit more than going down a slippery-slide!" He laughed some more and hugged Doug. "I told her to walk, and she obeyed me instead of a ten-year-old who's sometimes a bit big for his britches. Good girl. But you, young man..."
Dad gave Doug his I-really-am-a-bit-angry look. "I meant it when I said that she is to be treated only with respect and kindness. You musn't ever kick her again. I think you should go up to your room until lunch and think about what you did."
Doug paled a little bit and hung his head. He knew he was in trouble, and walked slowly back to the house.
Ayesha and I stood together, watching this. I stroked her neck. "Poor girl! That mean brother of mine kicked you!"

She laid her head across my shoulder and let out a short whinny. It must have been my imagination that made it sound like "Brat!"
Ayesha and I spent the rest of the morning exploring the yard and, after asking Dad's permission, the rest of our land. He told me to show her where our property ended so she wouldn't stray off of it.
After about an hour, Ayesha looked around at me. We were passing through a patch of very green grass, and she seemed to be asking for a rest. I said "Okay," and slid off her back. The mare immediately put her head down and started grazing. I sat down nearby with my back against an old oak tree. The warmth of the air and my feeling of contentment soon had me relaxed and drowsy. I closed my eyes for a minute.
I more felt than heard Ayesha close to me, and opened one eye a bit. She was lying down right beside me. She looked at me, rolled on her side, stretched her legs out, laid her head down, let out a sigh and closed her eyes.
I crawled over next to her, and laid back between her legs with my head on her tummy. I closed my eyes again.

"Diane, wake up,"
I heard the gentle voice of my father. I opened my eyes to see him standing in front of me, a smile on his face and that special father's love in his eyes.
"It's time for lunch."
I scrambled to my feet. Ayesha opened her eyes, rose with dignity and grace, stretched her legs and yawned. I yawned, too. Dad lifted me up onto her back, and we walked back to the house.
As we passed the barn, Dad said, "Ayesha, you better eat here. I've put hay and oats out for you. We're having things for lunch-- Mexican food-- that wouldn't be very good for you; I'll bring you a corn tortilla later."
It seemed pretty strange to hear Dad talking to a horse like she was a human, but Ayesha just bobbed her head and turned toward her stall..pa?


End of Part Two

Part One <> Part Three <> Part Four

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