The Mare

Velvet

Beverly and Pat were always saying somebody didn’t want to work. They said it about people and horses. They told stories that ended “he just didn’t want to work for it.” It could be about a horse who didn’t win a contest or a horse that didn’t want to pull Beverly around in a circle while she sat in a buggy. Or a person who couldn’t ride very good or somebody they knew in school who flunked like about a hundred years ago. Once Pat said it about her own father, that he didn’t want to work to get a better job. Once Beverly said it to me. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Your trouble is, you don’t like to work.”

It was the same thing my mom said to me. And I thought the same about Pat and Beverly as I thought about my mom: Look what your work got you. Shoveling shit and carrying it back and forth all day in hell-heat and half the horses standing pissed off and hot in their stalls while the other half go out and play because they can only use one paddock because they’re trying to grow out the grass in the other one, and they can’t all go out at once because they fight. That’s why Beverly wouldn’t let Diamond Chip Jim go out even though he was rearing up and wanting to be out; he’d fight in the same paddock with Rocki and Officer Murphy. And besides, there’s not enough room. And Beverly’s going, He don’t like to work, like that’s got anything to do with it.

He don’t like to work. It was like flies buzzing at you all day, like Fiery Girl banging on her door that she could not open, because they let her out hardly at all. “She has to go out by herself because she fights and there’s not always time or room to let her out by herself. Besides which, listen to her.” She meant, listen to her banging and cursing, probably snaking her head around. “Do you want to turn that horse out right now?”

“No, but—”

“I didn’t think so.”

“But it’s not fair. She hasn’t been out for like, days.”

“Guess what, life ain’t fair. But you know that already, right?”

I looked down so she wouldn’t see the expression on my face.

“Look at me,” she said. I did. She saw what I thought. We stood for a minute. And then she said it: “You’re right. It has been too long. We’ll take her out early evening.”

We had to argue to get the halter and the nose-chain on her, and when we did, she came out her stall feeling like a freight train running even though she just walked. Pat said, “Pull the chain if you need to.” I said, “Does it hurt?” and Pat said, “It reminds her that you’re there.” We stepped outside and I saw Heather and Gare and this other girl Elizabeth were still there, hanging around in the driveway. I didn’t like them being there. I especially didn’t like it that when we walked out to the arena they stopped talking and stared at us. I lost my concentration; Fiery Girl picked up her pace, like she wanted to trot. Pat said, “Be in control!” I tugged the chain and the mare slowed, but her engine ran and she pushed on me with her shoulder. Pat snapped, “Cut it out!” but the horse lunged, jerking me almost off my feet. I heard somebody giggle. I remembered “Why does a Mexican kid walk around like—” and I yanked on the chain. I didn’t care if it hurt. Fiery Girl rose a few inches off her front feet. Pat said, “Give me the lead.” But I did not. Fiery Girl yanked me and I yanked her, and my mom reached out of me with her fist, she grabbed the rope, and I swung around in front of Fiery Girl and yelled, “Oye, slow up NOW!” And she jumped back so fast, it was funny. I came back to the side, my heart pounding, and we walked, her still a bit ahead, still all fresh, but for show; I had her. There was no giggling. I didn’t even have to look to know their eyes were all on me.

Pat put her hand on my shoulder. “I’d say I didn’t think you had it in you, but I knew you did.”

I smiled and felt my face turn red, proud and embarrassed to be that way.

“But FYI, that’s not a great idea, getting in her face like that. Next time, she could dance on your head. Next time, just use the chain.”

When we walked past, Elizabeth and Heather turned around and walked away. But Gare didn’t. She stood there and she didn’t talk, but her face said, Awesome.