Ten Year Grudge

Tribute accompanied us down the hill to the gate that led to the range. Bayou and I crossed the small creek that separated the main part of my property from the range. Because of the nearly nonexistent rain we'd been getting, the water was low. When we got rain, the harmless creek would turn into a river that was nearly impossible to cross. There had been a bridge but one particularly bad rain had washed it away. Tribute left us at his stride of the stream. I opened the gate on the other side, urged Bayou through it, and then shut it.
The hay I'd thrown out a few nights ago was almost all gone and there was fresh manure and even a few hoof prints to indicate that the herd had been around. This part of the range was fenced off. I brought mares in here that were hurt or during my small round-up twice a year, the whole herd stayed here so I could do shots and observe them to make sure no one was sick. At the opposite end, there was another gate that was closed. I'd recently bought more land at that end and was having it fenced in-not a cheap project-so that I could start another small herd with my latest acquisition, a strawberry roan stallion named Toledo. I had a cousin in Wyoming that also ran mustangs, but on a much larger scale. She culled her herds three times a year and sold off some of the horses. Toledo was a descendant of her favorite stallion Naki. I just hoped that he had inherited Naki's intelligence and temperament. Toledo was currently out on the range somewhere, getting acclimated to the climate. I would find him soon and bring him back to the barn so I could observe him for a while before decided what mares to cut out of Trial's herd and put in with him.
We jogged out of the gate that led to the main range and I could see that the tall grass had been flattened to the left, so I followed it.
We met up with the creek eventually and I saw more hoof prints on both banks. After crossing it, I let Bayou out a little more and he loped along the the dirt path that had been made by the herd's many trips in and out of the holding paddock.
Nothing much fazed Bayou. I didn't only keep him because he was an amazing polocrosse horse, but also because he was the calmest trail horse I'd ever come across. A squirrel chattered on the path and zigg-zagged nearly under Bayou's hooves to avoid him, and the gelding kept his rocking-horse lope.
It was always harder finding the horses in the spring and summer. The foliage was much thicker and the grass was taller, hiding the signs that the horses had passed through. It was easiest to find them in the snow, but I only got that a few times a year and I was never really glad about that because it was always damn cold when the white crystals did fall.
We were about a mile from the holding pens when I heard hoof beats.
Before I could slow Bayou to hear what direction they were coming from, a huge strawberry roan stallion broke out of the brush directly in front of us. Even Bayou was shocked and came to a sliding halt.
Before I could worry about his legs, the stallion was gone and a black stallion came after him. He stopped on the path with his ears back and his teeth bared in the direction the other horse had went. He noticed Bayou and pinned his ears but didn't go at the other horse. He turned around and came back the way he'd come.
I pointed Bayou to follow him. He seemed to know I was following him because he took the harshest path through the foliage and I lost him after a while.
I was still able to follow the broken branches and the crushed grass to the creek. There were hoof prints everywhere, as if the horse had circled. I looked in both directions, but the water was clouded both ways. Damn but the horse was too smart.
I took a gamble and went upstream until I saw that my hunch was right when there were prints leading out of the water.
I followed them again until I came to a small clearing where the dozen mares were grazing. Trial had taken up grazing on the outskirts, where he could watch everything. He saw me and pinned his ears again, but he was used to my weekly visits and let me walk towards his mares.
The mares, also used to the inspection, barely moved except to make room for me as I checked all of them over. There didn't seem to be any problems. One mare did look particularly close to foaling, but she was a veteran mare and she knew what she was doing.
I took a less complicated route home and let my mind wander. Damn Ace. I would have to draw up a contact for him. I would give it a few months so if the dickhead did take it to court, I could argue that I'd given him a fair chance. But until then I was stuck with him and it looked like he would be living in my house with me until he fixed up the apartment.
I could have just said that he would have to live with his mother until the apartment was fixed, he couldn't take that to court, especially if I told a judge that I was uncomfortable around men, which wasn't entirely a lie.
Suddenly, another horse wandered onto the trail. A chestnut with a stripe that I'd thought as really beautiful before...
Before I could gather my thoughts, he lunged at Bayou and grabbed his neck, his teeth grazing my hands where they rested.
Bayou squealed unhappily and went up, and I nearly came off his butt. The chestnut had taken me by complete surprise. I'd never had a horse attack me before. I'd heard of stallions attacking other horses, but not with a rider on them.
I gathered my wits and reacted quickly, kicking my left foot out of the stirrup and landing a blow the stallion's side.
This seemed to shock the horse and with a squeal, he released Bayou. I let my reins go slack, glad that Bayou knew how to defend himself in a fight since he got into plenty with Becca.
The gelding wheeled and landed another blow, this time to the horse's chest, then pivoted on his haunches to grab the other horse where he'd been grabbed just moments ago.
After a moment I gave Bayou's bridle a tug and he released his hold, ears swept back and teeth barred to the other horse.
The stallion didn't give Bayou a chance to swipe at him again, he turned tail and ran, back into the forest.
I checked Bayou over quickly. He had a circular cut on either side of his neck where the horse's jaws had grabbed him. But they weren't deep.
I looked to the place where the horse had disappeared. It hadn't been my horse, but the stallion Leah had asked me to hold onto while she was trying to find him a home. He was an off-the-track thoroughbred, and I knew he was pretty messed up from the abuse his old owner had put him through to make him run. But attacking me and my horse? No, that was unacceptable.