The Wicked Redhead

An MG story of fiction.

She wasn’t really wicked, though. She just needed some understanding and a lighter touch. She was sensitive. And smart.

When the wranglers came to her stall to turn her out and clean, she would always pin her ears and bare her teeth. This behavior frequently resulted in her being left alone, as well as earning a bad reputation, threatening to end in slaughter.

I had grown up on this ranch, and was a pretty good hand, myself – especially with the horses. In all of my twelve years, I had never seen anything like that ornery, chestnut mare, Belle. She fascinated me.

She was beautiful, with her glossy red coat and observant eye. My dad wanted to use her as a broodmare for his best stallion, but she hated people.

I had been warned to stay away from her, because no one wanted me to get hurt, but I couldn’t stop sneaking by to watch her in the pasture, getting almost close enough to touch her sometime.

Especially after I overheard my dad talking to one of the ranch hands: “If she doesn’t settle in soon, we’re gonna have to send her down the road before she hurts someone.”

I knew “down the road” meant to auction, and most likely, slaughter.

I couldn’t let that happen. I snuck off to the house before my dad could see me and figure out what I was thinking. If he did, I would probably be grounded and banned from the barn and reminded to mind my manners and to ‘quit bein’ such a Tomboy, anyway.’

That just wouldn’t be right. She was a beauty of a mare, and I knew I could help her.

***

I snuck down from my room early in the darkness of morning. I went through the kitchen to grab a couple apples and few carrots on my way out the door to the barn.

I made my way carefully through the dark to the barn. Feeling a bit nervous, but also excited, I approached the stall with an apple in my hand, Belle looked at me skeptically, her eyes peeked above with worry and flicking her ears back and forth in uncertainty, before pinning them back and showing her bared teeth. I held my ground and held out the apple.

I could see her start to relax a little bit and stretch her neck forward to sniff at the apple, but staying far enough out of reach, there was no chance of being touched.

When she stopped pinning her ears and, instead, flicked them forward, I dropped the apple into her stall and left.

The next day, I repeated the process.

By the third morning, she didn‘t even pin her ears!

On the fourth morning, she took the apple from my hand, and by the fifth day, she let me stroke her face, too!

By the end of a week, she was greeting me with a low nicker and just starting to allow me to enter the stall with her.

Soon, I would be able to halter her and lead her nicely to show my dad and the ranch hands she really wasn’t mean, and we should give her more of a chance to be the super mare I knew she could.

“What are you doing, Girl!” I heard my dad yell from behind me. I whipped around, my red ponytail flying. The mare pinned her ears when she saw the man approaching.

“I told you to stay away from that witchy mare! She’s mean! She’ll hurt you!”

“No.” I answered meekly but determined. “She won’t hurt me. Watch.”

I took the halter from the hook and stepped into the stall. I offered Belle another apple, which she took gently from my hand and lowered her head.

I slipped the halter over her nose and buckled it behind her ears. I gave her my last apple and started to rub her all over, as my dad watched, looking stunned and worried.

I took removed the halter then and left the stall. The mare stepped forward to watch me.

“That’s incredible!” I watched my dad’s face turn from pride to anger as he looked from the mare to me. You are so lucky she didn’t tear you apart! I oughtta take you over my knee! Now get to the house and help your mother with breakfast.”

“Yes, Dad,” I replied, my eyes cast down in disappointment, and my shoulders sagged.

***

“Good! You’re here.” my mother said as I entered the kitchen. “Now get that bacon fried up.”

My sister pinched her nose at my entrance, pretending to be offended by my stench. I didn’t stink, but she much preferred the house to the barn. I rolled my eyes and shook my head in return.

“But wash your hands first!” snapped Momma.

I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, still thinking to myself how this whole scenario seemed ridiculous. Why couldn’t I be where I preferred, when it seemed everyone else was?

I hated frying the bacon, but my younger sister was already on egg duty, and our little brother was clearly in charge of setting the table, as he flashed a grin of self-pride at me when I walked past on my way to the stove, carrying the five plates to the table. Momma had coffee going and was making pancakes.

I started putting the strips of bacon into the already heated cast iron skillet. That’s when dad walked in, looking stern.

“After you left, that crazy mare came at me again. That’s it! I’ve had it! She’s a danger and a nuisance. I should probably just put a bullet in her head, but she’ll bring a couple hundred from the meat man. The next auction is in a week.” He looked directly at me again, his brow furrowed. “Now you, young lady, stay away from her!”

I quietly turned back to the job I was doing, figuring out my next move. How could I prove to them the mare’s value? How could I prove mine? My own thick locks swung behind me, now free of the ponytail, shielding the mischievous look in my eye.

I focused my attention then on making the bacon just right.

****