Beware and Stogie

by Jessie Haas

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LILY CAN’T THINK WHAT TO DO.

  She could yell at Stogie and try to make him move. But if he’s hurt, moving might hurt him even more.

  She could ride up closer and try to see what’s the matter. Will he turn then and bite Beware?

  She could tie Beware to a tree and walk up to Stogie. Beware is wearing her bridle, though, and it isn’t right to tie a horse by the bridle. If Beware pulled back, the bit could hurt her mouth.

  Stogie shifts his back legs. Lily hears his breath rattle in and groan out.

  “All right!” Lily gets off Beware. She unsnaps the lead rope from the bit, and she snaps it into the narrow leather strap of Beware’s noseband. Then she ties the lead rope rein around a small sapling. Now if Beware pulls back, she won’t be pulling against the bit. She’ll probably break the bridle, but she won’t hurt herself.

  “You stand, Beware!” Lily says. She grips the whip tightly, and she walks toward Stogie.

  “Whoa, boy,” she says. “Easy.” Stogie’s hindquarters fill the path. Lily doesn’t want to get close enough to be kicked.

  The saplings beside the trail grow close together like a wall. A horse couldn’t fit between them, but Lily can, just barely. She turns herself sideways. She squeezes between trees and bends branches and pushes little saplings down until she is right up beside Stogie’s shoulders. Only a thin screen of saplings comes between them, like the bars on a jailhouse window.

  Still Stogie doesn’t move. Lily looks at his ragged feet and his strong, round legs. They seem perfectly normal.

  She looks at his broad chest and his arching neck. His hair sticks out in little spikes, as if he has been sweating. But Lily can’t see anything wrong.

  She looks at his head. His eye rolls to look back at her. The white of his eye is bloodshot. His old leather halter is twisted on his head, so the side strap is right up under his eye. Lily can see something dark beneath his jaw.

  Beware snorts, and Stogie groans back at her. He shifts his legs, but his head stays perfectly still. Lily pokes her head out between the last row of saplings.

  “Oh, I see!” The dark thing under Stogie’s jaw is a branch, one that Lily trimmed this summer, a strong, springy branch. The jaw strap of Stogie’s halter is twisted tight around it. That’s what is holding him still. He can’t break the branch off the tree, and he can’t pull loose from it.

  “Stogie, you wait!” Lily says. She pushes back through the saplings and hurries to Beware. She’ll ride up the trail to the clearing, and quickly down the wood road, and get Gramp. Gramp will cut the branch, and then Stogie will be free.

  But when Lily turns Beware up the path, Stogie whinnies after her. He sounds breathless. Lily hears his feet crash in the dry sticks and leaves. She looks back.

  Stogie is trying to twist around to see them. As Lily watches, his back feet slip on the path. They slide underneath his body, and then he is hanging from the branch. It bends with his weight, but it doesn’t break.

  Lily presses one hand to her mouth. There is nothing she can do. She watches Stogie thrash and flail and struggle until at last he finds his footing again.

  He stands still on the path, the way he was when Lily found him. His breath is loud and harsh. His black sides heave. Lily can see the red of his nostrils and smell the hot new sweat that has broken out on his body. How long has Stogie been here? How many times has he slipped like that and struggled?

  Stogie jerks his head against the halter and the branch. He’s still trying to see Beware. “She’s right here,” Lily says. “I won’t take her away.” She rides down closer.

  Now what can she do? Stogie must be freed soon. He’s getting weak and tired. He could hang himself if he slipped again. He could get colic from having no water. He could go into shock.

  Tie Beware here and run home? That will take a long time, and what if Beware gets loose? She would probably go home, and Stogie would go crazy.

  Wait here? Gramp will come looking if Lily doesn’t get back soon. But that could be a long time, too, and when he comes, he won’t have a saw to cut the branch with.

  If only Lily dared go right up to Stogie! Maybe she could get his halter off.

  “What should I do?” she asks Beware. Beware blows softly through her nostrils. She can’t answer Lily the way a person would. All Beware wants is to go home.

  Gramp would dare walk up to Stogie. Probably Mom would, too. Gran would tell them to be careful, but she would think they ought to do it.

  What would she want Lily to do?

  Stogie needs help. There is no one else to do it. Gran would want Lily to try—and be very, very careful.

  Lily dismounts and ties Beware. She pushes back through the saplings. “Easy, Stogie,” she says. “Easy.” Her voice sounds scared to her. It sounds shaky. But when she gets to the last saplings, she pushes right through them and steps onto the path beside Stogie.

  His black shoulder is hot, like the side of the wood stove. Lily can feel it without even touching him. There’s foamy sweat on his neck where the branch has rubbed.

  “Whoa, Stogie,” Lily says. Stogie’s bloodshot eye rolls. He shifts his front hooves. Lily has seen him strike with those hooves. They are as hard as hammers. She knows she had better not get in front, where they could reach her.

  She looks hard at the halter. The leather is old and stiff. The buckle is sunken down into the strap. With all that stiffness, and all Stogie’s weight on it, that buckle will never come undone.

  But high up next to Stogie’s eye is the throat snap. If Lily can unclip that, the halter will slide right off over his head.

  Can she reach it? Lily leans the whip against a tree, where she can get it quickly. She edges closer. “Easy,” she says, and she puts her hand firmly on Stogie’s shoulder.

  Stogie’s skin shudders. His breath rattles more quickly. Lily is the first person to touch him in two years. His ungroomed shoulder is hot beneath her hand, and Lily can feel that he is afraid of her.

  All at once she loves Stogie. He’s so big and dangerous and in so much trouble, and he is afraid of her.

  “It’s okay,” she tells him. “It’s okay, you silly boy.” She rubs her hand up his neck, making circles the way a mare does with her tongue as she licks her foal.

  “There, does that hurt? You know, if you let people touch you, we could have taken this halter off a long time ago, and you wouldn’t be in trouble now.”

  Lily stands on tiptoe. She can’t quite reach. She’s standing too far back, near Stogie’s shoulder. To reach, she’ll have to step in front of him.

  “You could hurt me,” she tells him. “But if you do, you won’t get loose. Whoa now, Stogie. Stand.” She steps right in front of Stogie’s black, dangerous front feet. She reaches for the halter just as if he were Beware, and she unsnaps the snap.

  The halter slides, all by itself. Stogie pulls back, and the branch springs up into the air with the old leather halter wrapped around it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STOGIE IS FREE.

  Lily is standing right in front of him. He could hurt her if he wanted. He could run away.

  But Stogie just stands there. His head is down, level with his back. His ears go out to the sides, and he has worried wrinkles around his eyes. After a second he shakes himself.

  That’s good, Lily thinks. Horses shake themselves after rolling, or when the saddle is taken off, to settle back into their skins. It’s a sign of good health.

  But Stogie shakes carefully, as if it hurts, and then he hangs his head again.

  “Poor guy!” Lily says. “How long were you stuck here?” A long time. The path under Stogie’s feet is black and beaten with hoof marks. “Your neck must hurt,” Lily says. “Let’s get you home.”

  She pushes back through the saplings and trips on the fallen whip. When she bends to pick it up, she sees a huge horse track, the size of a dinner plate. “Oh!” The Girls came this way, and now Lily sees other tracks. All the horses mus
t have come this way, and Stogie followed them, until his halter caught on the branch.

  Beware wants to smell Lily’s hands. She stops Lily from untying the lead rope, and she sniffs, sniffs, sniffs. All the while she gazes down the path at Stogie. Her eyes are wide and soft.

  What is Beware thinking? What can she tell about Stogie by sniffing Lily’s hands? Can she smell his fear? Can she smell his sore neck?

  “Let’s go,” Lily says finally. The sun is behind the hill now, and the shadows are long. Gran will be worried.

  Stogie has started down the path. His steps seem loose and weak. Lily rides up behind him, not too close. She remembers now that she was supposed to get off Beware if Stogie was around. That way she wouldn’t get caught in a horse fight.

  But Stogie pays no attention to Beware. He just shambles down the path. Lily passes under the halter, hanging on the branch. She reaches up for it. It’s still warm from Stogie’s head. She slings it over her shoulder, and the snap clinks in time to Beware’s steps.

  Stogie shakes again. His matted mane flaps against his neck. Could anyone make Stogie’s mane look nice? Lily doesn’t think so. He’ll have to be shaved—

  “But nobody can catch him!” Lily says out loud. It’s surprising to remember that, because she just touched Stogie. She just took his halter off, as if he were any other horse.

  Now he is free again. He doesn’t even have a halter on. What will Gramp think about that? Lily wonders.

  Stogie’s steps get quicker and stronger. He’s walking the stiffness out of his legs. He dips and raises his neck, stretching the stiffness out of that, too.

  “Feel better?” Lily asks.

  Stogie stops. He cranes his neck and looks over his shoulder at Lily and Beware. His eye seems brighter now. He looks more like himself.

  “Hey, walk on!” Lily says. She holds the whip up to show Stogie. He just looks at her. Then he groans. He stretches his neck down, and up, and starts walking again.

  Soon he’ll reach the bottom of the hill. The path crosses a brook there and widens out through a weedy meadow. When he gets there, Stogie will have plenty of room to turn and sniff Beware. Then the squealing and striking will begin. Before then, when she sees the brook, is when Lily should get off.

  But Stogie sees the brook before Lily does. He swishes his long tail and starts trotting. Beware trots after him.

  “No,” Lily says. “Whoa!” But Beware wants to be with Stogie. She pulls against the bit. The pony did that all the time, but Beware hardly ever does.

  “Beware!” Lily says sternly. She sits firmly in the saddle, and she makes Beware stop. “That’s better,” she says, and she gets off.

  Is this the right thing to do? It feels strange to take Beware’s bridle off while her saddle is still on, while she’s still a half mile from home. Lily looks ahead to Stogie, drinking from the brook. Now she’ll have two loose horses.

  But that’s what Gramp said to do. “All right,” Lily mutters, and she slides the bridle over Beware’s ears.

  Beware shakes herself, so hard the stirrups thump against her sides. She trots to the brook and pushes in beside Stogie. He lifts his head, and they touch noses.

  Lily waits for the squeal, the strike, the kick. But Stogie just sighs. He pushes his head into the curve of Beware’s neck and rubs his face gently up and down, the way Beware sometimes rubs against Lily.

  Beware lets Stogie rub for a minute. She mumbles her lips along his neck. Then she pulls away and puts her head down to drink.

  Stogie starts to drink again, too. With every big swallow his ears twitch back and his throat makes a sound—gunk! gunk! gunk!

  But Stogie can’t drink any more! He’s too hot, and he hasn’t drunk for a long time. Too much cold water will make him sick.

  Lily hurries down to where Beware stands drinking. She reaches across Beware’s neck. Stogie is so close Lily can push him with her hand. “Stop!”

  Stogie looks at her. He steps farther into the brook and puts his head down again.

  Lily looks at the whip and the bridle in her hands. She could hit Stogie or throw the bridle at him. She could scare him out of the brook, and that would save him from getting sick.

  But it seems wrong to scare Stogie now. Lily just touched him. Twice.

  Stogie swallows again, and Lily lets the whip fall. She steps into the brook, straight to Stogie’s head, and loops the rope around his neck. “No, Stogie,” she says, and she pulls his head up.

  Water drips from Stogie’s muzzle. Water flows around Lily’s feet, so cold she can feel it through her boots. Stogie looks at her. He doesn’t pull. He doesn’t try to bite. He just waits for what will happen next.

  Lily hardly dares to breathe. Very gently she lets the halter slide down her shoulder. She works it along her arm until her hand can reach it, moving slowly so she doesn’t frighten Stogie. When she has the halter in her hands, Lily spreads it wide, and lifts it toward Stogie’s nose.

  Stogie tosses his head.

  “No!” Lily says firmly. She reaches up more quickly this time. Stogie tosses his head again, but Lily gets the halter on his nose. She slides it up over his ears, just as if he were any other horse. She snaps the throat strap shut, and she clips the lead rope into the ring.

  Stogie bobs his head toward the water. He bumps against the rope in Lily’s hand. “No,” she tells him. “You can have more later.”

  Now what? The last time anybody led Stogie was when Gramp took him off the truck. Lily can remember how beautiful he looked, and how he pranced beside Gramp. He wasn’t hard to lead, and when he was let loose, he didn’t kick up his heels until he was far away from Gramp. But he never let Gramp close enough to touch him again.

  Now Lily is standing in the middle of a brook, holding a rope that’s clipped to Stogie’s halter. She’s half a mile from home. One of her boots has a leak, and cold water trickles under her toes. She’d like to get out, but when she takes the first step, what will Stogie do?

  Behind Lily, Beware shakes herself. The saddle leather squeaks. Beware walks calmly past Stogie and Lily, splashing through the brook and up the bank on the other side. At the top of the bank she starts to trot. In a second she’s out of sight.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “BEWARE!” LILY CALLS. “BEWARE!”

  Stogie calls, too. He screams after Beware, so loud and close that it hurts Lily’s ear. His hooves splash in the brook. He’s dragging Lily up the bank. For a second she feels her feet running in the air, not touching the ground.

  Beware is across the field already. She has turned to look at them, but Lily knows she won’t come back. Beware wants to go home.

  Stogie wants to be with Beware. He’s trotting, pulling Lily forward so fast she almost falls. Lily digs in her heels and pulls back. She presses her shoulder against Stogie’s shoulder. “Whoa!”

  Stogie doesn’t slow down. One hoof bangs down on Lily’s foot, and off again, so quickly that it doesn’t seem to hurt. But halfway across the field Lily begins to feel it. “Beware! Wait!”

  Beware does wait, but when Stogie gets close, she turns again. She trots along the little trail through the pines. Her ears are pricked, and she carries her tail gaily.

  Stogie trots too, and Lily has to run to keep up. He knocks her with his shoulder. He bangs her with his knee. He pulls her along, and Lily can feel her body getting ahead of her legs. She’ll fall down, or she’ll have to let go, and Stogie will be loose again.

  “Stop!” Lily screams. Her voice comes thin and breathless. The dark trees blur past. She can’t see.…

  Yes, she can. Up ahead it’s getting lighter. They’re coming to the big hayfield. As soon as she reaches it, Beware will kick up her heels and start to gallop. Then Lily will have to let Stogie go.

  I will not! The words are in Lily’s head because she has no breath left. But they’re strong just the same, strong with anger.

  Lily looks ahead for the right kind of tree. Near the edge of the woods she sees one, a straight,
sturdy young maple.

  Closer. Closer. Beware bursts out into the hayfield and kicks up her heels. Stogie surges after, but at the same moment Lily steps off the path, to the other side of the tree.

  The rope twangs hard against the trunk and slides across it as Stogie keeps going. Lily’s hands are pulled toward the tree. That will hurt. She’ll have to let go—

  No. Lily lets go with one hand. She reaches around the tree and grabs the loose end of the rope. Now she has a loop around the tree and the free end tight in both hands. Stogie hits the end of the rope and snaps himself around to face Lily. The tree trunk bounces. Above their heads the leaves rustle and go still.

  It all happened in a few seconds. Lily’s heart still pounds from running. Her breath moves her like ocean waves moving a boat. Stogie’s hot breath blows over her. Lily reaches around the tree and makes one more loop with the rope. There’s not enough end left to tie, but there’s enough to hold.

  Stogie twists to look after Beware. He neighs and yanks the rope. Lily waits. Sometimes horses panic when they’re tied, lean back and pull with all their strength. If Stogie does that, even the two loops won’t hold him. Lily will let him go.

  But Stogie has spent this whole day hitched to a tree. He bumps against the halter, tugs on the rope, and neighs. But he doesn’t panic, and he doesn’t pull hard. He seems to know that he is stuck again and that pulling won’t help.

  While Stogie listens for Beware, Lily hears the quiet. Home is just two fields away. What is happening there? Does Gran see Beware coming home with no bridle? Is Gramp there, and does he know where to come looking? How long will Lily have to wait?

  The sun is setting. It will be dark in a while. “We’ll stay here all night if we have to!” Lily tells Stogie. She shifts her weight off her aching foot.

  Stogie seems to listen to Lily. Then he turns his head and neighs again, sending his voice as far as he can across the field and hill.