his gate. He watches me, his ears pricked back, then somewhere he seems to find resolve and eats from my palm. When he finishes, I rub his forehead.
“I’ll be right back, Big Guy!”
He snorts.
“I’m only checking out your friends.”
There are six other stalls occupied by a mare and her foal, two fillies, and two stallions. Most of them ignore me, so I walk back to the Big Guy.
He sighs, long and heavy, when I return.
“You sure are friendly.” I want to get closer. Between his stall and the mare and foal’s, I find a brush hanging on the wall. I grab the brush and some oats, open his gate, and walk right up to him.
His coat is well groomed, but I run the brush from his head to his haunches anyway.
“I just got a new horse at home,” I say to him. The day before our trip, Gary and I had finished cleaning the horses’ stalls, then he took me into the arena behind the barn and showed her to me. A beautiful brown and white Paint—just like this Big Guy—trotted over our rolling, green pastures toward us. Her eyes were wide, and her tail was curled up over her back. She was such a happy girl. “She was supposed to be my summer project. I never even gave her a name, Big Guy. Can you believe that? My poor girl doesn’t have a name.”
I talk to him about my life on the farm for about an hour or so. He sighs every now and then. He’s so sweet. He nudges me with his head, and he sighs again. Leaning into Big Guy, I wrap my arm over his back, listening to him as he breathes.
During the summers on the farm, my stepdad took me out to work full days with him. As with most kids, I’d become bored, and after a few hours of following alongside him in the fields—or wherever it was I was supposed to be working—I would sneak away into the barn and find the horses. I don’t think Gary cared when I wandered off. At the end of the day, my stepdad would come to get me, worn and weary, but always repeating his favorite line, “All you need is five minutes, and you can make any horse love you
.”
On the farm is where Gary and I are the closest. I wonder if I’ll ever return. If I see my mom again, I’ll have so many things to talk to her about. First, why she never trusted me with my truth, and second—well, there are a lot of second questions. I’m upset with her. My mom and I have been able to talk to one another about most things, but now I think all she did was keep a lot of information from me.
“I miss my family. Do you think I’ll ever see them again?” I ask, feeding the horse more oats. He neighs, pricks his ears forward, and shakes his head at me. “Well, I hope I do soon, Big Guy. I need someone I know to talk to.”
Someone clears their throat.
I’m no longer alone.
Butterflies float in my stomach as I turn around. Arland and Flanna stare at me, disbelief on their faces.
“I see you have met Bowen,” Arland says, not looking as angry as I thought he might.
“Is that your name, Big Guy? Bowen?” I ask, rubbing his soft nose.
Flanna snickers and puts her hands on her hips. “Arland, why is Bowen allowing Kate to touch him? He will not allow any of us to get near his stall.”
“Flanna, why is Kate up here without anyone protecting her?” he asks, without looking away from me.
“Please don’t be upset with Flanna. She told me about the stables being off-limits, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to come up here.” I hope she doesn’t get in trouble for telling me about this place.
Arland’s expression lightens, but I can tell he’s still unhappy with her. “Flanna, you may return downstairs, now that Kate has been found.”
“Yes, sir.” Flanna hangs her head and kicks up dirt as she walks away.
Arland joins me on the other side of Bowen, receiving the same affection from the horse as I did. Arland rewards Bowen by feeding him some oats from his hand.
The hinges of the door creak.
“Kate, I will do everything in my power to make sure you see your family again,”
“I’ll be right back, Big Guy!”
He snorts.
“I’m only checking out your friends.”
There are six other stalls occupied by a mare and her foal, two fillies, and two stallions. Most of them ignore me, so I walk back to the Big Guy.
He sighs, long and heavy, when I return.
“You sure are friendly.” I want to get closer. Between his stall and the mare and foal’s, I find a brush hanging on the wall. I grab the brush and some oats, open his gate, and walk right up to him.
His coat is well groomed, but I run the brush from his head to his haunches anyway.
“I just got a new horse at home,” I say to him. The day before our trip, Gary and I had finished cleaning the horses’ stalls, then he took me into the arena behind the barn and showed her to me. A beautiful brown and white Paint—just like this Big Guy—trotted over our rolling, green pastures toward us. Her eyes were wide, and her tail was curled up over her back. She was such a happy girl. “She was supposed to be my summer project. I never even gave her a name, Big Guy. Can you believe that? My poor girl doesn’t have a name.”
I talk to him about my life on the farm for about an hour or so. He sighs every now and then. He’s so sweet. He nudges me with his head, and he sighs again. Leaning into Big Guy, I wrap my arm over his back, listening to him as he breathes.
During the summers on the farm, my stepdad took me out to work full days with him. As with most kids, I’d become bored, and after a few hours of following alongside him in the fields—or wherever it was I was supposed to be working—I would sneak away into the barn and find the horses. I don’t think Gary cared when I wandered off. At the end of the day, my stepdad would come to get me, worn and weary, but always repeating his favorite line, “All you need is five minutes, and you can make any horse love you
.”
On the farm is where Gary and I are the closest. I wonder if I’ll ever return. If I see my mom again, I’ll have so many things to talk to her about. First, why she never trusted me with my truth, and second—well, there are a lot of second questions. I’m upset with her. My mom and I have been able to talk to one another about most things, but now I think all she did was keep a lot of information from me.
“I miss my family. Do you think I’ll ever see them again?” I ask, feeding the horse more oats. He neighs, pricks his ears forward, and shakes his head at me. “Well, I hope I do soon, Big Guy. I need someone I know to talk to.”
Someone clears their throat.
I’m no longer alone.
Butterflies float in my stomach as I turn around. Arland and Flanna stare at me, disbelief on their faces.
“I see you have met Bowen,” Arland says, not looking as angry as I thought he might.
“Is that your name, Big Guy? Bowen?” I ask, rubbing his soft nose.
Flanna snickers and puts her hands on her hips. “Arland, why is Bowen allowing Kate to touch him? He will not allow any of us to get near his stall.”
“Flanna, why is Kate up here without anyone protecting her?” he asks, without looking away from me.
“Please don’t be upset with Flanna. She told me about the stables being off-limits, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to come up here.” I hope she doesn’t get in trouble for telling me about this place.
Arland’s expression lightens, but I can tell he’s still unhappy with her. “Flanna, you may return downstairs, now that Kate has been found.”
“Yes, sir.” Flanna hangs her head and kicks up dirt as she walks away.
Arland joins me on the other side of Bowen, receiving the same affection from the horse as I did. Arland rewards Bowen by feeding him some oats from his hand.
The hinges of the door creak.
“Kate, I will do everything in my power to make sure you see your family again,”
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