Lone Wolf Ranch - 4. Chapter 4

Connor

Connor stood for a second, frozen in terror. Then he nodded, stepped over and took Bootsie’s reins in his hand, checked the girth, and mounted. He patted her neck gently and encouraged her as he lightly squeezed his ankles inward. Bootsie started off at a walk. As he guided her through left and right turns, he heard Jeffery say, “Step her up one.” He gave another squeeze and felt her increase her pace to a trot. As he moved her up and down through the gaits, Connor remembered how Jeffery seemed to stand in the stirrups on every other step, so he imitated this motion and found it was actually fun. When he returned to a walk for the third or fourth time, he noticed Colt standing with Jeffery. Both men had looks of amazement on their faces.

Before Connor could question it, Colt said, “Stop and turn her left on her back legs.”

Connor shoved his heels deep in the stirrups, bringing Bootsie to a stop. He then touched her right shoulder with the toe of his boot, causing her to pivot to her left, keeping her rear feet in place. Colt just shook his head and laughed as Jeffery tried to hold back the grin that threatened to split his face in two. When Connor brought Bootsie to a stop and dismounted, Colt applauded while Jeffery rushed in and embraced his student.

“Dude, you lied to us, right? There’s no way you’ve never been on a horse, just no way.” Jeffery said through his smile as he stepped back from the hug. “You’re using an active leg, you’re holding the reins relaxed. You even posted a bit. Come on, admit it, you’re fooling with us.”

Connor shook his head as he said, “I swear I’m telling the truth. I don’t even remember ever riding a pony at a fair. Did I do good? What’s posting?” He looked from Jeffery to Colt, seeking an answer.

Colt burst out laughing and, when he could speak, said, “Did I do good he asks. What’s posting, he asks. If I didn’t trust your integrity, I’d agree with Jeffery and say that you’ve lied to us about your experience.” Colt turned to his son, saying, “Find him a pair of spurs and teach him how to properly use them, then take him on trail 9, and finish with 4 to the lake. While you’re out, explain what posting is, and show him anything you can think of. As long as he’s learning, keep pushing him.” Turning back to Connor, he added, “I think you’re going to make your Granda proud by the time you’re through here.”

As they went inside, Jeffery explained posting to Connor. He dug in a trunk for a pair of spurs, and when he found them, the first thing he did was roll them up and down Connor’s bare arm to demonstrate that they aren’t sharp and they don’t cut the horse.

Jeffery explained, “Okay, here’s how I think about it. Spurs are simply artificial toes on the heel end of your foot. A rider can apply force to a stubborn horse’s shoulder with his toes, but it’s hard to get your heels wrapped far enough under their belly to put effective pressure if they choose to ignore a gentle squeeze. This is where the spurs come in, allowing an increase in the touch cues to communicate what the rider wants.

Connor asked, “What about the whip? Doesn’t that hurt them?”

Jeffery replied, “I use one when I’m training a horse, but you’ll never catch me, or anyone on this ranch, actually whipping a horse. If we give our cue and the horse doesn’t respond, we touch with the whip, just a touch in the appropriate place, to encourage them to comply. Let me put it this way, were you ever spanked as a child?” When Connor nodded, he continued “And I bet that you understood that it was done in love and was just enough to make you change your behavior, right?”

Again, Connor nodded, so Jeffery went on, saying, “Have you ever met a kid that was beat? I mean, beat with a belt until there were welts on his backside? I know you have, and every time anyone lifted their hand, that kid flinched, right? Well, if you watch any well-cared-for horse, you’ll never see that flinch because they have learned that their human loves them and won’t harm them. Horses are naturally ‘flight’ animals. What I mean is, when danger comes along, a horse’s first instinct is to take flight, to run. Cows, sheep, deer, elk, they all have horns, and they can fight. But a horse’s first and best defense is his speed. He’ll put distance between the threat and himself, and then he’ll turn and evaluate things. And no one gives horses credit for their smarts, either. Most say it’s a coin toss between a horse and a dog, to say which is man’s smartest companion. Personally, my money’s on Dream, Bootsie, and their buddies.”

Listening to Jeffery talk about horses, Connor began to understand how men became bonded to a horse and would risk life and limb to save their best friend. He knew a similar bond was shared between some humans and their canine friends and chose not to try to decide which was deeper. He also saw in front of him, a young man who dearly loved the animals that had been placed in his charge, and he knew, without a doubt, that Jeffery would never intentionally harm an animal. As Jeffery continued his talk, Connor knelt down and attached the spurs to his boots. When he stood, he nodded. Both boys understood that nod. It meant ‘I’m with you. I’m a horseman too, or I will do anything I can to become one.’

Jeffery grinned, mounted Dream, and waited for Connor to mount. He then led his best-ever student out of the corral and onto trail 9. As they rode, Jeffery showed Connor how to loop his reins around the saddle horn, so they were available, yet left his hands free to work. To fire a gun, to use a rope, or to take a drink or a photo. He talked about guiding the horse in the right direction while letting the horse pick the actual path. He knew that was a lesson he didn’t need to teach because before he mentioned it, he had seen how Connor let Bootsie go, only giving her gentle guidance when she drifted off course. As they turned from trail 9 onto trail 4, Jeffery was talking about how Connor should choose his horse by the connection between them, the horse’s intelligence and training, only letting the color be the final factor if there were two equal horses.

As they came around the bend, Connor saw the lake. His eyes lit up, and then his face fell as he said, “I didn’t bring any trunks.”

Jeffery laughed as he dismounted and began stripping, saying, “Who needs trunks? We skinny dip when it’s just us guys.” His boxers hit the ground, and he was running towards the lake before Connor could reply.

Connor quickly dismounted and dropped the reins. He looked at Bootsie and whispered, “You stay here, girl, and don’t be peeking at what us boys have. I’m sure it doesn’t compare to what you’ve had from these stallions.” As he stripped, he started giggling as he realized what he’d just told the horse. He was still laughing when he got to the water, and when he told Jeffery, they both ended up in a fit of giggles as they splashed in the cool water, enjoying a break from the early summer heat.

They were soon interrupted by Chris, who was stripping his clothes off as he rode Chardonnay towards the lake. By the time the horse hit the water, Chris was naked and still riding his horse as they enjoyed the lake. Jeffery quickly ran to Dream and Bootsie, removing their saddles and letting them join in the fun. When he returned, he chastised his brother for his actions. “If they came in here with their saddles on, Dad would take your spurs for a month. You know better than that.”

Chris looked properly abashed as he said, “I’m sorry, I thought they were actually tied, not ground tied. You could have removed their saddles before swimming, or put them in the corral, so it’s not just on me.”

Jeffery sighed, “Yeah, I know, little bro. Honestly, this is a good lesson for Connor. Your horse is your responsibility, no one else’s. It’s up to you to train your horse so he can work with any other properly trained horse, and it’s up to you to care for him. Like that missing shoe, if the farrier doesn’t get called, it’s my fault, no one else’s.”

Connor shook his head as he said, “No, it’s my responsibility because I’m riding her. I noticed the missing nail, and it’s on me to make sure it gets taken care of.”

Jeffery grinned. He knew that technically, Connor was correct. He also knew that because the discovery was made during a lesson that he was responsible for, it was ultimately on him to make the call. He settled for a compromise, saying, “OK, you’re mostly right, so I’ll leave it on you to remind me to make the call when we go in for lunch. Judging from everyone’s hooves, I think we’re due for a visit this week anyway, but we’ll double-check.”

As they lay in the sun, Connor looked at Jeffery and said, “I want you to know how much I appreciate you. My Granda said he wants me to be a horseman, not just know how to ride, and you’re doing your best to do that. You aren’t just teaching me how to ride well; you’re teaching me how, and why, to love horses. You’re a good man. I hope your girlfriend knows that.”

Chris started giggling as Jeffery lifted onto his elbow and grinned, saying, “Thank you for the kind words, I am deeply touched, and yes, my boyfriend tells me I’m a good man quite often.”

Connor’s mouth fell open. When he recovered, he asked, “Is Chris the only straight guy on this ranch?”

Before Jeffery could reply, Chris piped up with, “I haven’t decided what I am, but if I am straight, I’m not the only one. One of few, but there’s Uncle Mike, Uncle Louis, Uncle…”

Jeffery cut him off, saying, “Listing the straights implies that those not listed are gay or bi. It’s not polite to talk about someone’s sexuality, other than your own.”

Chris thought for a minute, then said, “You’re right. I never thought of it that way. I’m sorry.”

Jeffery stood and started dressing as he said, “It’s OK little bro, you learn from your mistakes. There was no harm done, this time. Now, let’s go have lunch so I can talk with Dad and Papa about what to do with my prodigy.”

As Connor and Jeffery were saddling their horses, Chris looked down from Chardonnay’s bare back and asked, “What’s a progedy?”

Connor smiled and corrected him, “It’s pronounced prodigy, and it usually means a young person who is exceptionally skilled in an art with little or no formal training. Like those kids you see on YouTube playing Beethoven on the piano when they’re four.”

As the older boys mounted, Chris was nodding his agreement. “Yep, you’re sure a prodigy. You’ve only been riding a few hours and I bet you could beat Dad on the barrels.”

When Connor looked confused, Jeffery nudged Dream into a walk, then started explaining barrel racing. By the time the boys were loosening the girths on their horses in front of the house, he had explained all the events in Jr. Rodeo and was explaining their real-world application for a working cowboy.

They were interrupted by a voice Connor recognized, “Rodeos are fine entertainment, but I’ll take a real cowboy over a rodeo one any day. Don’t go tempting my great-grandson into trying for no rodeos, ya hear?”

Three boys looked up to see a man who stood just a few inches taller than Connor and had the same piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. His Ma had said her grandfather was in his eighties, but to Connor’s eyes, the man wasn’t a day over fifty. Connor approached the man like a horse approaching a stranger, slow and easy, never losing eye contact. When he got close enough, he offered his hand, saying, “I’m Connor. You must be Granda Shamus?”

The older man smiled, showing a full set of pearly white teeth, and said, “I am, but I usually answer to one or the other, not both. Some of your cousins call me Granda, while others call me Shamus, like the rest of the hands do. I’ll leave it to you, which you choose. For now, the dinner bell’s rung. You boys get your butts in a seat so we can eat. There’s time for getting to know each other later, you’ve got things to learn while the sun’s up.”

Connor nodded and mumbled, “Yessir.” As he headed inside to join Colt, Matt, and their sons for lunch.

“First lesson. Ya gotta speak loud and clear when you’re workin’. Ain’t got time to be repeating yourself.” Shamus said, in a tone that didn’t sound angry, just matter of fact.

Connor looked Shamus in the eye as he clearly said, “Yes sir. Understood.”

Shamus smiled as he sat. He looked at his great-grandson through experienced eyes, and he liked what he saw. Most men his age would dismiss the boy due to his size and lack of development, but Shamus O’Faolan knew the reason, and he knew the boy would soon grow to be a man to be reckoned with. As they ate, Jeffery and Colt shared their observations of Connor’s seemingly natural riding ability. Shamus nodded appreciatively while the boy stayed silent.

Shamus swallowed a bite of chicken, looked at Connor, and asked, “Not one for tooting your own horn, are ya boy?”

Connor finished chewing, swallowed, and replied, “No sir. I had a teacher last year that said If your actions don’t speak for you, your mouth shouldn’t try to lie.”

Shamus nodded as he said, “Nice turn of an old phrase. That teacher was a wise one. Did she teach you anything else?”

Connor grinned as he said, “No sir, he taught art. I can appreciate art, I can appreciate artists, and I can definitely appreciate that I am not one. He struggled to teach me to draw stick figures.” Everyone at the table struggled not to spit their food or drinks out when they heard Connor’s joke. Even Shamus couldn’t resist a laugh.

They went on in silence for a few minutes, then Connor risked a question. “If I wanted to ride in the Junior Rodeos, would you forbid it? And if not, what events would help me become a better rancher?”

The corner of Shamus’ mouth turned up in an almost imperceptible grin as he paused, seemingly deep in thought. He waived his fork around as he replied, “Well, first we gotta get you a string of horses. Can’t be a working cowboy with less than three good mounts or you’ll wear them out, or one will come up lame for a few days, then where are ya? On your butt back at camp, that’s where.” He took another pause, bit his lip, then continued, “Depending on which Junior circuit you’re talking about, you’d get good practice if you did any roping event. Team roping, tie-down roping, and breakaway roping. Which would be available depends on the circuit and your age, but a real cowboy ropes calves for branding, castrating, and sometimes to simply save them from their own stupidity. You might enjoy bronc riding, but once you’ve broken a real horse or two, you’ll quit doing it for fun.”

Jeffery, Colt, Matt, and Chris all nodded and vocalized their agreement with the last statement. Connor felt the resolve forming inside. When his eyes met Shamus’, he said, “Then I guess I need to get with Colt and Matt and find a horse or two that likes me, right Shamus?”

Shamus smiled a full-face smile as he said, “Spoken like a true O’Faolan. Do you mind if an old man tags along to watch?”

Connor’s reply, “Yes, I do mind if you tag along to watch,” shocked the older man, until Connor finished with “I expect you to guide me and teach me what to look for.” With that, Connor stood and started clearing the table.

When Chris and Jeffery joined him, Colt looked at Shamus and said, “I think you’re going to have your hands full keeping up with that one.”

When Shamus nodded, Colt told the story of Connor’s first meeting with Brandy, her reaction, and the subsequent reaction of other horses. He ended by saying, “Brandy is not a one-man horse. She’s let several of us ride her, but like any horse, she has her quirks. We can try her again, but honestly, she’s not trained for what you need.”

Matt nodded as he said, “James told me he helped Dylan unload a few working horses yesterday at the rescue. Seems their cowboy died in a car crash and the widow can’t stand to have them around. I hope, for her sake, that we don’t find homes for them and she comes to see things differently. Anyway, when Brandy refused Connor, I reached out to Dylan. He’s expecting us if you’re interested, that is.”

Connor stood silent, waiting for Shamus to answer for what felt like an hour. When he remained silent, he realized it was his responsibility, so he said, “Yeah Matt, I think we should go meet these horses, see if they’ll tolerate a rookie rider.” As everyone was standing, he added “Oh, and Bootsie is missing a nail in her right front shoe. Jeffery asked me to remind him and I just remembered. Thought I’d cut out the middle man if that’s OK.”

Matt, Colt, and Shamus all smiled as Colt said, “It’s always OK to put a horse’s welfare above everything else, except a human life that is.”

As they walked off the porch Matt said, “If you don’t mind riding, we’ll get there quicker on horseback, as it’s more direct.”

Shamus laughed and answered, “Rather have my seat in a saddle than a pickup. Point me to a horse.”

Jeffery spoke up with, “You can ride Dream, sir. I have chores to do, and he’s already saddled. Papa and Dad can ride Lightning and Scotch bareback, and Connor knows Bootsie already.”

Before anyone could speak, Connor said, “No, Bootsie needs to get her shoe fixed.” He turned to Chris “May I ride Chardonnay, bare?”

Chris nodded as he said, “If he’ll let you, sure. He’s not as bad as Scotch, but he’s picky.”

Everyone watched as Connor approached with his hand outstretched, saying, “Hey Chardonnay. I need a favor. Your aunt doesn’t like me and I need to make some friends. Will you take me over to the rescue so I can meet some new residents there? If we’re lucky, one of them will bring me back and you can just follow us. Sound like a deal?”

None of the Custers were surprised when Chardonnay pulled his head back to get a good look at Connor, then gave several nods of his head, agreeing to the plan. Connor broke into a smile, then jumped up and threw his leg over Chardonnay’s back and said “Well, someone show me the way, I don’t know where I’m going.”

After recovering from the shock of seeing a horse answer a question, Shamus took a page from his great-grandson’s book. He stepped forward and took Dream’s reins in his hands, then asked, “Dream? Would you take me to the rescue and back so I can help the boy find a horse?”

In reply, Dream turned his flank, putting the stirrups exactly in line with Shamus. As the older man mounted, Colt and Matt let out a whistle, and soon, Lightning and Scotch came running to greet their human friends.

Colt led the way, and in half an hour or so, everyone was dismounting in front of the rescue’s intake barn. Dylan was there to greet them, and after introductions were made, he sent Connor to wait by a nearby corral. Shamus followed the boy and explained that it was easier on the horse if they met new people in a more open space.

Connor nodded, saying, “That makes sense. It gives them an escape if they feel threatened by me. If I met them inside, they’re already trapped and if they sense a threat, they’ll panic.”

Shamus was still smiling about the boy’s intuitive understanding when Dylan came out leading a palomino quarter horse stallion and a cremello quarter horse mare, both sporting beautiful custom-made saddles. He dropped the reins as he closed the gate, and said, “Her name is Mac Tíre. I haven’t taken the time to find out what it means yet. His name is Fenrir, which is a mythical Norse wolf that is the son of Loki and is… I don’t know, I didn’t study that stuff, but he’s named for a Norwegian Wolf God or something like that.”

Connor smiled as he said, “Fenrir is the son of Loki, the trickster. Fenrir, it is said, will break the bonds placed upon him by the Gods and attack them, starting Ragnarök, the final battle, or doomsday.”

Before the mythology lesson could continue, Shamus added, “And Mac Tíre is Irish-Gaelic. It means wolf.”

Colt nodded as he said, “I recognize the name, she’s Brandy’s daughter by Malt. She’s Scotch’s half-sister.”

Connor stood a moment, digesting this bit of information. In all their chatting, Jeffery had told him how special Scotch was, and Chardonnay’s performance earlier demonstrated that the intelligence was likely genetic. He bent and stepped between the lower bars of the fence, joining the two horses in the corral. Both were keeping a close watch on this small human with the large grey hat. Mac Tíre was keeping herself between Connor and the stallion, and both were staying on the opposite side of the corral.

Connor was about to reach out and say something when there was a crash inside the barn. Before anyone could react to investigate, a young buckskin stallion came trotting out and kicked the gate open, clearing his path into the corral. Everyone stood frozen in shock as the stallion calmly walked over to Connor and threw his head over the boy’s shoulder, pulling him into a horse hug. Connor put his arms around the horse’s neck and hugged him tight as tears streamed down his cheeks. The stallion took a step back and bent his front knee, lowering his shoulders, and put his nose to the ground. Connor looked around for guidance and he heard Colt softly say “He’s telling you to jump on. Go for it, buddy.”

Without another look around, Connor threw his leg up over the stallion’s back, and when he did, he felt the horse rise from his bow and begin to trot around the corral. Connor tried guiding him with his legs and found the horse understood what he wanted, almost before he gave his cue. After two laps around the large corral, the stallion broke into a gallop, and Connor’s shouts of pure joy could be heard as he sped around on ‘his’ horse’s back. He had barely pushed his legs out when the stallion came to a controlled, but quick, stop. Connor tossed his right leg over the horse’s neck and slid down his flank, then turned to again wrap his arms around his neck.

He heard Dylan saying, “His name is Maʹiitsoh. I’m told it’s Navajo for Wolf.”

Shamus softly said, “It is, but not just any wolf. Maʹiitsoh refers only to the Alpha.”

Colt observed, “He looks young.”

Dylan replied, “He’s only 2. That’s why I didn’t bring him out. There wasn’t even a saddle with him.

Maʹiitsoh let out a loud snort, then turned and chased Fenrir and Mac Tíre around. As everyone watched, mesmerized, Shamus was the first to realize what he was doing. In awe, he softly said to the group, “He’s pushing his herd over to his human. He’s going to make them submit to Connor, you watch.”

As predicted, after a few false moves, Fenrir and Mac Tíre were soon standing on the near side of the corral, facing a very shocked Connor. When he looked at Granda with confusion on his face, Shamus just waved his hand as if to say ‘this is your show’. Connor turned back to face the two horses who were now standing very still, with Maʹiitsoh between their rear flanks. He made eye contact with each of them, then, in a strong but loving voice, said, “Are you going to behave? Are you going to help me do what I need to do?”

When all three horses nodded, the corral was as silent as the grave. Connor continued, “Are you going to protect me, and each other, and let me protect you?” Again, three equine heads nodded. “Fine. Then show me that you know your names. Fenrir, come here.”

What followed was a show of, what many would call ‘horse whispering’ and most riders would call pure fantasy. Real horsemen know that magic does happen, on occasion. Connor proceeded to call each horse forward, by name, and mount them. He took each one in several circuits of the corral, taking them up and down through their gaits, guiding them left and right with just his legs. When he was finished, he was surrounded by all three trying to give him horse hugs until finally Maʹiitsoh pushed the other two aside and hugged ‘his boy’.