Excerpt
…topping up the water in the buckets, and distributing some oats,
and from the reaction of the horses, the oats were especially
appreciated.
Taking advantage of the momentary lull in conversation, Joel
knew he had to care for the gelding he had ridden that morning.
The horse had been patiently standing in the center of the alley.
First, Joel loosened the cinch strap and lifted the saddle and
blankets from the back of the horse; even after all of those years,
Joel could still recognize an Eamor saddle when he saw one. His
family never had much when he was a kid, but his dad always
made sure that they always rode Eamors. He placed the saddle
and the blankets on separate railings of what seemed to serve as
the official tack stall in the barn. Then he led the gelding into the
stall that Joel had found him in that morning and removed his
bridle. In his absence, Harry had cleaned out the gelding’s stall
and replaced the soiled bedding with fresh straw. Joel re-hung the
bridle on a nail high on a post, and he approached the gelding to
brush him down. As he groomed the sorrel gelding and waited to
see what the old hand had to say, he was reminded of two of his
favorite smells.
Sweaty horses and leather. It had been a lot of years since he
had smelled that unique combination of aromas, but there was
no doubt about the rich smell. He had smelled a lot of good
things in his life. The smell of the sea. The smell of pot. The
smell of peppermint. The smell of fresh fruit. The smell of a fine
cigar. The smell of a rich port. But none of these compared to that
of sweaty horses and leather.
It seemed as if the old hand was just about finished feeding the
horses when he muttered, “Too bad about your dad.”
“Sure is,” confirmed Joel. “I wish I was here for the funeral,
just got word the other day.”
“Don’t matter,” grunted the old native as he busied himself
about the barn. “Doesn’t make much difference once they are
gone, does it?” Joel was feeling good after hearing this.
