The Reunion

At Sam Houston State University, I met my soul horse. This story is about the day I returned to him after the holiday break.

Huntsville, January 2011

The afternoon sun soaked the sky with brilliant hues of orange, pink, and lilac. I could smell the sweetness of spring ever present in the January breeze, masked by the most comforting aroma of horses and sweet feed in the barn.

The lower barn building had housed the horses for several months in the duration of class, and I smiled as I pulled my F-150 over into the parking lot. The gravel crunched under the tires as I put the truck in park and felt the indescribable joy of seeing my horse again for the first time since Christmas break.

Sam Houston State University had been my home for two years when I made the discovery of the Colt Breaking course available as a credit for Equine Science. I remember the moment that I was assigned a challenge to gentle and train a wild colt from my then professor, the volatile but respectably experienced horseman, Doc MacGuffy. In his defense, I was the kind of student that constantly tested the teacher, pushing the limit on what may or may not have been allowed, and luckily, I was smart enough to get away with it. Doc wasn’t my biggest fan, nor I his, and I wasn’t particularly thrilled to find that he would mentor the process.

The Colt Breaking class was capped at twelve students, an unusually small group for college courses, but considering the size of the arena and the number of students and green, unbroken horses, it was almost too large of a group. I had several horse-collisions with Diane, an irritating classmate and her stubbornly aggressive palomino colt, who promptly wound up being kicked in the gut by my newest addition, Tyson. The second semester group was eagerly anticipating the next few weeks, because it meant that the horses were finally ready to be saddle broken and have their first rides.

I reached the stall of my second-favorite horse, Vegas, and he sharply blew his breath on my icy hands while I rubbed his forehead. Vegas flared his nostrils and shook his magnificent head, eyes wide and I stood back, appraising him. Vegas was the half-brother to my soul horse, Houdini, and where Vegas was thin and spooky, Houdini was broad and steady. The two were bred from the same sire, Jim San Cudo, out of Champion Ranch in Centerville, Texas. We had visited the herd over the break with the class for the final day of fall semester, and when we stopped in the broodmare pasture, Houdini’s dam walked right up to me and nudged my elbow before pressing her velvety nose into my shoulder. Her grey coloring was Houdini and Vegas’s future characteristic shade, but being as young as they were, they both had a deep charcoal coat accented by inky black manes and tails. Houdini was finally beginning to lighten in his face when last I saw him, his deep brown eyes like pools of chocolate and caramel. Vegas moved from the door, past where I could reach him, and I continued onward down the walkway.

Tyson, the sorrel colt, nibbled at my fingers as I reached up to scratch under his chin, nodding in enjoyment from the affection. I gently slapped his neck before he could snatch the zipper to my Carhartt, his favorite game resulting in horse slobber all down my front. In mock indignation, Tyson pinned his ears before I told him ‘quit it,’ and moved along down the aisle. The other colts were moving to the front of their stalls now, greeting me as I passed. Patton, another handsome grey, Hurricane, a muddled brown roan, the irritable Palomino, Legs, a chestnut filly, Caliente, the wild-eyed filly that almost flipped on her back during a class last semester, all pricked their ears and watched as I meandered down the dusty walkway. Houdini pressed his nose against his gate, impatiently nickering when I reached his stall and slid the door open, stepped inside, and leaned into his shoulders in a long-anticipated embrace. Seemingly satisfied that his human had returned to him, Houdini heaved a great sigh and stood perfectly still, appearing to enjoy the moment.

I stood there a few minutes, enjoying the sound of his breathing, before he bumped his nose into my shoulder, just as his mother had done not even a month ago, to signify he was finished with being patient. Grinning, I grabbed his halter from the front of his stall and slipped it over his head. Not even needing to lead him with the rope clipped to it, I tossed the rope over his shoulders and walked with him to the round pen, side by side, like a couple headed to a familiar dance floor.

The gate to the round pen squealed in protest from the cold and Houdini’s ears flicked towards it, but he didn’t spook like Vegas or Tyson would have. Houdini obediently followed me into the pen, then swung his hindquarters around to face me when I turned to close the gate. Ears pricked, his eyes followed me as I inspected the pen’s soft ground for any rocks before striding over to him and unclipping his halter. Houdini gave a moment’s hesitation before moving off and trotted over to the far side of the pen and began a slow, meandering walk before I clicked my tongue at him, urging him to pick up a trot. I moved to the center of the pen, mirroring his outer circle with a smaller one of my own, keeping my steps in line with his shoulders. Clicking my tongue again, I flicked the rope at his hindquarters, making him snort before playfully throwing his head down and releasing an impish buck as he flew into an easy lope.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Brat.”

Houdini’s inner ear flicked in my direction and remained there while I put him through a lead change, a trot, walk, change of direction, and loping again before allowing him to come to a stop. His breath billowed out of his nostrils in the frosty air like a dragon; wisps of steam were beginning to trail off his neck and back. His ears perked, eyes unwaveringly watching my next move, as I pivoted my feet and turned my back to him. The first time I had done this, it was only a few moments before he approached me, much like he did just now. Almost instantly, he plodded forward and blew a warm breath into my hair, tickling my neck with his whiskers. I laughed, turning to face him, heart full of happiness and love for this magnificent creature with which I had formed an unbreakable bond. Looking into his eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief. There with my horse, I was finally home.