Post by wolf2 on Jun 18, 2006 18:53:10 GMT -5
This is my story about Chisim, It's unfinished though...this isn't even a fraction of the whole thing. I'll add more parts as I wright them...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
A miniature bundle of golden fuzz lay out in the wide open pastures of Alamo Creek. A great sorrel mare stood above the bundle, watching over like a hawk. The little bundle began to lift it’s its head up, It was a dun colt. He had a golden coat, with black stockings all the way up his legs. He had a black strip running down his spine, and a black Muzzle. The colt was the son of Hurricane, a great barrel horse of his time, who was now only a stud horse at the age of eighteen. His mother had passed three more of the stallions foals…the colt was to be the last of her foals. The sorrel mare was Alamo Creeks best brood mare, Rain Storm’s Rose. Rose, as they called her, was once and elite cutting horse. She could keep up with the fastest calf, but a run-in with an old ranch-hand ended her career early. The ranch-hand had rode her just before a show…and while he did so, the mare spooked at a blanket being thrown onto another horse’s back. Rose took off in a dead run, and the man lost it. He pulled back hard on the bit, and to her that meant go faster…so she did. The man became ever more frustrated and dug his spurs into her sides. Rose showed out…The man tumbled out of the saddle, and was so enraged that he beat the mare with a whip. She still had scars from that day, not to mention a bad back.
About three hours after the colt was born, at three in the morning, one of the kind ranch-hands came to check up on Rose. The ranch-hand, Toby, always wanted to check-up on the mare…he favored her a lot. He knew she could foal at any day, he when he saw the young colt he knew right away it was Rose’s foal. Three other mares were due to foal, one at any day, one in about a month, and the other in a few months. The mares were kept in a big pasture attached to a large barn, the mares could go in and out of the large stalls as they pleased…but at feeding time they each had a stall all to their self. Stallions were in the same barn, but their pasture was one the other side. There mares and stallions couldn’t get to one another, for only the stalls were assessable to them. The walk-way, tack/feed room, and the aid room were all kept where the horses couldn’t get in them. Soon the owner of the ranch came to view the colt. John Alamo was a kind man, he was tall and fit…he was thirty-two years old, and had been in the horse business all his life. Alamo Creek had been passed down to him from his father, and John was to pass it down to his oldest son, Jeff. John Alamo had three kids, Jeff, the tall lean re-make of his father, Maddie, his hazel-eyed daughter, and Todd, his blond-headed five-year-old. His wife was Kate. John had six ranch-hands, Toby, Bill, Jim, Joe, Shane, and Hank. They had six mares, three stallions, and two foals so far. They had a good five-hundred head of cattle, a hen house, around ten pigs, and good land, around seven-hundred acres of it.
John walked up to the now sturdy legged colt, and looked him over.
“Think, we outta call this’n Chisim.” He told the other’s her nodded.
“Sure does look good, huh John?”, Toby said.
“Kind of puny to me boss.”, Hank had come over to the colt as well.
“You sure we want to use him? Rose has had a lot of foals…many not be able to produce no champ any more. Ol’ Whisper should give us a good one…”, Hank kept on. “Hank, He’ll make a good horse…look at his pa, thought he never shape up. You will ‘in to be wrong twice?” Toby corrected him.
“Look here Toby, I ain’t come down here to be questioned…yo-” Hank was cut short by John’s booming voice that said, “That’s enough boys, Hank you’d had no business coming down here to pick…now go tend to the cattle.”
Hank gave Toby a look as if he could shoot him right then and there, but it was true…he had been wrong about the colt’s father.
“Toby, I want you to Currie up ol’ Rose, and start handle’in that colt…”, John gave Toby his first job for the next few months. Toby was going to be the trainer of Chisim, since Rose was his favorite mare. Toby hooked Rose to a rope and lead her to the barn, Chisim, only being a newborn had an instinct to fallow his mother. Toby closed the stall door behind the colt and began to groom Rose. After this task was complete, he stalled the rest of the horses for their morning meal. After giving each horse their right amount, and type of food he came back to check the colt out. Rose was very trusting of humans…so there was no problem with her. Toby felt the colt’s whole body, making sure the foal hadn’t the need for a check-up this early. He sensed no problem. After the horses were through eating, Toby let them back out to graze.
Chisim nursed, then took a sound nap under one of the giant oaks. The colt was beautiful, he was the same color of his great grand-sire, Alamo Cowboy. Chisim awoke and nursed again, then the colt began to trot. He look almost like a young deer full of life, dashing around the vast pasture. All of a sudden Chisim’s legs slipped from under him. The colt landed hard one is side. Chisim lay there a minute, then his head popped back up in the tall grass. He extended on leg out, but it slipped under his weight and sent him down again. Chisim, this time, lifted himself off the earth all at once. Chisim looked around and saw he was a ways from his mother. The colt dashed for his mother, and then nursed again. Ginger, another mare that was to foal any day now walked up to the mother and colt. She was bright sorrel with a white blaze, and white stockings. She pressed her nose to the colt’s side and nudged him. Rose didn’t like this too well, so in return she nipped Ginger in the neck. Ginger dashed across the pasture towards the stalls. Rose checked to make sure her colt was alright. Jeff made his way over to the mare and colt, followed by his sister. Jeff had been working with Shane branding cattle in the wee morning hours.
“Look a here sis, looks like we got us another colt.”, Jeff said while patting Chisim on the rear. Maddie smiled and began to stroke the colt’s back. Maddie had long black hair, with green eyes. She was tall and lean, and looked a lot like her mother Kate.
“So, another colt off ol’ Hurricane? Maybe I’ll be able to handle this one, think I could break him?”, Maddie’s voice was ringing in the colt’s ears.
“Sis, breaking horse’s ain’t for girls,” Jeff said. “I am very capable of breaking a colt. I seen how ya’ll do it…I can do it just as good as any of ya’ll.” Maddie told him, almost in a scolding voice.
“Look, Sis-”
“There’s no look to it…now I want my chance a breaking a colt…and that’s final.”
“Do you really think pa would let you?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Well, you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“Noth‘in …but you be ask’in him…not me.”
With a few final pets, and a carrot for Rose, Maddie walked back to the house and Jeff went away to work more cattle.
Maddie would have at least two years to prove her self tough enough, for Chisim wouldn’t be old enough to break for a while.
As night fell over the small ranch, Toby, Hank, Jeff, and Shane fed-up the horses for the second time. They curried each horse, then turned them back out. Chisim looked toward the night sky as he rest on the lush golden hay. The colt looked toward the studs’ pasture…there at the edge of the fence was Hurricane. The large, dapple gray stallion watched Chisim…the stallion knew that the colt was his own. Chisim knew it was his father also. The scents of each horse were similar, and they shared many traits. Chisim nickered to his father, but the stallion was silent. Chisim timidly walked toward the pasture, there was a small path in between the two fields…just big enough for a truck to get through. Chisim stuck his head through the fence, which was all he could get out. The large stallion arched his neck and pawed the ground. Then the stallion reared and dashed away toward the barn. Chisim slipped his head back through the fence…his small chocolate colored eyes looking for his mother. Rose was under a oak tree not far from him…so the colt walked over and began to nurse, and soon was asleep.
As light scanned the land, the colt awoke to nurse once again. He had awoken many times to nurse during the night…each time his mother was awake, like she never slept. As Chisim looked toward the ranch house, a woman and a small boy were coming through the gate. The small boy, Todd, exclaimed as soon as he lay eyes on the colt.
“Chisim Mommy, Chisim!”
“Yes, that’s him…”
“Rose, Rose had Chisim!”
“Yes Rose is his mother.”
“Me ride Chisim, Mommy, Me ride!”
“No he’s not old enough, Todd.”
“When will he, Mommy?”
“When your seven…”
“Mommy, too long…me want ride!”
“You can ride Honey…”
“Me ride Honey…?”
The boy patted Chisim’s head, the rubbed his neck. The boy had blond hair, and wore boots, a hat, and a small riding shirt…and a belt as big as he was. On the belt was the picture of a bull, and the word Champion across it. Toby had given Todd that buckle, for at one time he was a bull-rider. Toby seemed to like the small boy, for he was always taking him fishing on times he could…or letting the boy ride Honey. Honey was a golden quarter horse mare of twelve. She was a trail horse for the kids, for the other horses were high strung for years of cattle work. Honey, was also the choice horse of Maddie…who often rode her to town and on trail rides…unless of course Todd wanted to ride, Then Maddie rode Ginger. Ginger, soon to have Hurricane’s other foal, was a beautiful mare. She was, however, a little high-strung…not much, but enough for a tie down. Kate had resented the idea of Maddie riding her, but the girl’s father knew should could handle a high strung mare. Maddie could ride any horse she wished…but she couldn’t break them. Her father had always told her that breaking horses was a man’s job…but the girl highly resented that.
That night as the family and cow-hands sat down to eat the large supper Kate had prepared, Maddie asked her father if she could break the colt…come time.
“No-not Chisim…a colt may be to hard to break for you…how about a filly?”
“Father I am perfectly capable of Chisim…”
“No…”
“Father how about a deal?”
“Huh?”
“What about I take care, break, and ride Moon Light‘s foal…”
“Well…”
John looked over to Kate who nodded.
“OK…you’ll care for Moon Light’s foal.”
“No matter if it’s a colt or filly…?”
“No matter…”
Jeff was a little surprised, but no one had claimed the foal…well now they had. They all finished and went to bed.
Rose was grazing in the night breeze, and Chisim had laid down in the long grass. Soon Chisim had fallen asleep. It was about two in the morning when Chisim was awaken by a loud neigh of pain from one of the mares. Grace, a small black quarter horse, was foaling, and it was before her due date. Grace had been bred to Tornado, Hurricane’s brother. The mare would get up, then lay down, neigh and toss her head, until she found a place to foal. Soon a tiny bundle of gray lay in the field. The filly picked up her head, but then she laid down…her breaths became shallow. Chisim could see Grace nudging the foal, and he could see panic in her eyes. The filly grunted then thrashed about wildly…but then fell still. The only movement was that her side heaving with gasps of air…soon the filly didn’t move at all. Chisim thought the filly had fallen asleep, since it was night, so he curled back up. Dawn left small sun beams warming the colt and he awoke to see John, Toby, Shane, and Jeff around the filly. Then he noticed the filly wasn’t moving. Grace wasn’t grazing, only staring off into the dawn as the men lifted the dead filly and carried her away…
Grace was an ill-tempered mare for the rest of two months. Weaving in her stall, biting
At everyone, kicking at the other mares, and having a habit of trying to trample Chisim. Grace hadn’t been eating as she was meant too, so the mare was puny and weak. The cow-hands feared she would die, but the mare was changing back to normal. Chisim was glad of this because he knew he wouldn’t die from the mare’s hooves. Chisim was now five-months old, and his mother was getting ready to wean him. Jeff, Toby, and Hank came out into the pasture one day, with something all the other horses wore. Chisim just trotted up to them, as he always done, only to be patted and this rope thing put over his head. The colt squealed and thrashed around, thinking a rope was trying to eat his head. Chisim had two days to adjust to the halter, then they attached a lead rope to it. Chisim just looked at them as to say, “ What are you doing?”. Toby pulled the rope, and the colt only stretched out his neck and pulled back. Jeff and Hank pushed on his rear. Chisim responded by planting a hoof in Jeff’s shin. Hank pushed Chisim again, and the colt sat down…on Hank. Hank thrashed about and yelled at Chisim. All Chisim did was look at Toby as if the say, “Why is this idiot under me?”.
As the next month passed, Chisim got used to the halter. He was still a little unsure about leading. Toby would come out every day to work the colt. Once in the early morning’ hours, and then again in the later hours. Soon Chisim could be led just like his sire, Hurricane. Rose began to push the colt away when he tried to nurse…and Chisim didn’t like this one bit. The colt would squeal, kick out and run to his mother’s other side. Rose still let him nurse…but not as often as Chisim liked. Ginger was getting’ a mighty big belly, and her foal could clearly be seen kicking out. It wouldn’t be long before she foaled. Shane would be the care taker of this foal, for Ginger was his favorite mare. Before she had been bred, also to Hurricane, he would use her to work cattle. Shane was sure she was ready to foal, for it was already three days past due. In the early morning hours Chisim was awakened by a squeal from a mare…it was Ginger. While the colt had slept, the mare began to foal. Shane, Toby, John, and Jeff were looking out into the field. The fiery mare lay on the ground, twisting her tail and nipping at her belly. Soon a small black bundle, with a white blaze, and one white sock on his back left leg. Shane walked right up to the mare and foal to check out the foal. Soon his deep cowboy tone could be heard through out the pasture. “She had a colt!”, he yelled. The rest of the cowboys came up.
“Well, what yaw’ gonna call this’ in?” John said.
“Yeah Shane, your mare…” Jeff ensured his father’s words.
“Well…he’s black as midnight…”, Shane paused,” Shadowed Star…”
So, Chisim now had a half-brother…Shadowed Star. Two colts, and a filly the died…and still one mare to go.
Chisim became more curious about his half-brother as the days went on. The dun colt would prance up to the black colt and begin to smell him. The two would play fight, nip, and kick at one another through the course of a month. Chisim was still intent on nursing from Rose, so he was separated from her. He was too young to be put in the stud’s field. One day he would be together with his father and uncle, Shadowed Star would also be kept as a stud. Hurricane and Tornado were now studs and ranch horses, once they had both been great barrel racers. Hurricane was a white color, with gray tint in his coat, while Tornado was a bright sorrel with a thin strip running down his face. Both stallion threw off any color. Hurricane was know to throw off a few paint fillies and colts…but these had come off of paint mares. Tornado was know to throw off the most beautiful grays, sorrels, and palominos available. Both stallions had a bit of age on them, Hurricane being sixteen and his brother fifteen.
A few months past while Chisim stayed in a separate pen alone. He would gaze at his mother and his brother out in the pasture…but all the while becoming more curious about the gray stallion, Hurricane. Chisim would watch his sire gallop across the pasture at feed time. He was faster than greased lightning, and as he reached the barn, the stallion would slid to a stop. Then he would trot happily into his stall. Hurricane and Tornado had been sired by Rushing Winds, the greatest barrel racer of all time.
Toby came walking across the yard early one Sunday mornin’. This was usual because Sunday was the day the cowhands were off to do as they please, the only thing they had to do was feed the horses their two meals, and feed the cattle. All they did to feed the cattle was flip the switch on the feed bin. Toby had a long rope, and a whip with a long string attached. He clipped the rope to Chisim’s halter and led him to the round pen. Chisim was easy to lead around, considering he was worked with the halter and lead every day after he sat on Hank. The colt was a yearling now, and was getting close to his full height. He had all the beauty of his sire along with the attitude. He had his mother’s eyes, deep amber, not a chocolate brown as his father had. The colt’s coat was a bright dun, and his black stockings now striped at the top.
Toby stood in the center of the round pen, and slapped the ground behind Chisim. Chisim half-reared and bolted forward tossing his head. Toby slowly let out some of the rope. Chisim stopped, only to have the cowboy crack the whip behind him. This time the colt let out a loud neigh, and reared…thrashing his legs out in front of him and tossing his head. Chisim grabbed the rope in one spot and pulled Toby forward. The cowboy hollered and landed flat on his rear-in.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
A miniature bundle of golden fuzz lay out in the wide open pastures of Alamo Creek. A great sorrel mare stood above the bundle, watching over like a hawk. The little bundle began to lift it’s its head up, It was a dun colt. He had a golden coat, with black stockings all the way up his legs. He had a black strip running down his spine, and a black Muzzle. The colt was the son of Hurricane, a great barrel horse of his time, who was now only a stud horse at the age of eighteen. His mother had passed three more of the stallions foals…the colt was to be the last of her foals. The sorrel mare was Alamo Creeks best brood mare, Rain Storm’s Rose. Rose, as they called her, was once and elite cutting horse. She could keep up with the fastest calf, but a run-in with an old ranch-hand ended her career early. The ranch-hand had rode her just before a show…and while he did so, the mare spooked at a blanket being thrown onto another horse’s back. Rose took off in a dead run, and the man lost it. He pulled back hard on the bit, and to her that meant go faster…so she did. The man became ever more frustrated and dug his spurs into her sides. Rose showed out…The man tumbled out of the saddle, and was so enraged that he beat the mare with a whip. She still had scars from that day, not to mention a bad back.
About three hours after the colt was born, at three in the morning, one of the kind ranch-hands came to check up on Rose. The ranch-hand, Toby, always wanted to check-up on the mare…he favored her a lot. He knew she could foal at any day, he when he saw the young colt he knew right away it was Rose’s foal. Three other mares were due to foal, one at any day, one in about a month, and the other in a few months. The mares were kept in a big pasture attached to a large barn, the mares could go in and out of the large stalls as they pleased…but at feeding time they each had a stall all to their self. Stallions were in the same barn, but their pasture was one the other side. There mares and stallions couldn’t get to one another, for only the stalls were assessable to them. The walk-way, tack/feed room, and the aid room were all kept where the horses couldn’t get in them. Soon the owner of the ranch came to view the colt. John Alamo was a kind man, he was tall and fit…he was thirty-two years old, and had been in the horse business all his life. Alamo Creek had been passed down to him from his father, and John was to pass it down to his oldest son, Jeff. John Alamo had three kids, Jeff, the tall lean re-make of his father, Maddie, his hazel-eyed daughter, and Todd, his blond-headed five-year-old. His wife was Kate. John had six ranch-hands, Toby, Bill, Jim, Joe, Shane, and Hank. They had six mares, three stallions, and two foals so far. They had a good five-hundred head of cattle, a hen house, around ten pigs, and good land, around seven-hundred acres of it.
John walked up to the now sturdy legged colt, and looked him over.
“Think, we outta call this’n Chisim.” He told the other’s her nodded.
“Sure does look good, huh John?”, Toby said.
“Kind of puny to me boss.”, Hank had come over to the colt as well.
“You sure we want to use him? Rose has had a lot of foals…many not be able to produce no champ any more. Ol’ Whisper should give us a good one…”, Hank kept on. “Hank, He’ll make a good horse…look at his pa, thought he never shape up. You will ‘in to be wrong twice?” Toby corrected him.
“Look here Toby, I ain’t come down here to be questioned…yo-” Hank was cut short by John’s booming voice that said, “That’s enough boys, Hank you’d had no business coming down here to pick…now go tend to the cattle.”
Hank gave Toby a look as if he could shoot him right then and there, but it was true…he had been wrong about the colt’s father.
“Toby, I want you to Currie up ol’ Rose, and start handle’in that colt…”, John gave Toby his first job for the next few months. Toby was going to be the trainer of Chisim, since Rose was his favorite mare. Toby hooked Rose to a rope and lead her to the barn, Chisim, only being a newborn had an instinct to fallow his mother. Toby closed the stall door behind the colt and began to groom Rose. After this task was complete, he stalled the rest of the horses for their morning meal. After giving each horse their right amount, and type of food he came back to check the colt out. Rose was very trusting of humans…so there was no problem with her. Toby felt the colt’s whole body, making sure the foal hadn’t the need for a check-up this early. He sensed no problem. After the horses were through eating, Toby let them back out to graze.
Chisim nursed, then took a sound nap under one of the giant oaks. The colt was beautiful, he was the same color of his great grand-sire, Alamo Cowboy. Chisim awoke and nursed again, then the colt began to trot. He look almost like a young deer full of life, dashing around the vast pasture. All of a sudden Chisim’s legs slipped from under him. The colt landed hard one is side. Chisim lay there a minute, then his head popped back up in the tall grass. He extended on leg out, but it slipped under his weight and sent him down again. Chisim, this time, lifted himself off the earth all at once. Chisim looked around and saw he was a ways from his mother. The colt dashed for his mother, and then nursed again. Ginger, another mare that was to foal any day now walked up to the mother and colt. She was bright sorrel with a white blaze, and white stockings. She pressed her nose to the colt’s side and nudged him. Rose didn’t like this too well, so in return she nipped Ginger in the neck. Ginger dashed across the pasture towards the stalls. Rose checked to make sure her colt was alright. Jeff made his way over to the mare and colt, followed by his sister. Jeff had been working with Shane branding cattle in the wee morning hours.
“Look a here sis, looks like we got us another colt.”, Jeff said while patting Chisim on the rear. Maddie smiled and began to stroke the colt’s back. Maddie had long black hair, with green eyes. She was tall and lean, and looked a lot like her mother Kate.
“So, another colt off ol’ Hurricane? Maybe I’ll be able to handle this one, think I could break him?”, Maddie’s voice was ringing in the colt’s ears.
“Sis, breaking horse’s ain’t for girls,” Jeff said. “I am very capable of breaking a colt. I seen how ya’ll do it…I can do it just as good as any of ya’ll.” Maddie told him, almost in a scolding voice.
“Look, Sis-”
“There’s no look to it…now I want my chance a breaking a colt…and that’s final.”
“Do you really think pa would let you?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Well, you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“Noth‘in …but you be ask’in him…not me.”
With a few final pets, and a carrot for Rose, Maddie walked back to the house and Jeff went away to work more cattle.
Maddie would have at least two years to prove her self tough enough, for Chisim wouldn’t be old enough to break for a while.
As night fell over the small ranch, Toby, Hank, Jeff, and Shane fed-up the horses for the second time. They curried each horse, then turned them back out. Chisim looked toward the night sky as he rest on the lush golden hay. The colt looked toward the studs’ pasture…there at the edge of the fence was Hurricane. The large, dapple gray stallion watched Chisim…the stallion knew that the colt was his own. Chisim knew it was his father also. The scents of each horse were similar, and they shared many traits. Chisim nickered to his father, but the stallion was silent. Chisim timidly walked toward the pasture, there was a small path in between the two fields…just big enough for a truck to get through. Chisim stuck his head through the fence, which was all he could get out. The large stallion arched his neck and pawed the ground. Then the stallion reared and dashed away toward the barn. Chisim slipped his head back through the fence…his small chocolate colored eyes looking for his mother. Rose was under a oak tree not far from him…so the colt walked over and began to nurse, and soon was asleep.
As light scanned the land, the colt awoke to nurse once again. He had awoken many times to nurse during the night…each time his mother was awake, like she never slept. As Chisim looked toward the ranch house, a woman and a small boy were coming through the gate. The small boy, Todd, exclaimed as soon as he lay eyes on the colt.
“Chisim Mommy, Chisim!”
“Yes, that’s him…”
“Rose, Rose had Chisim!”
“Yes Rose is his mother.”
“Me ride Chisim, Mommy, Me ride!”
“No he’s not old enough, Todd.”
“When will he, Mommy?”
“When your seven…”
“Mommy, too long…me want ride!”
“You can ride Honey…”
“Me ride Honey…?”
The boy patted Chisim’s head, the rubbed his neck. The boy had blond hair, and wore boots, a hat, and a small riding shirt…and a belt as big as he was. On the belt was the picture of a bull, and the word Champion across it. Toby had given Todd that buckle, for at one time he was a bull-rider. Toby seemed to like the small boy, for he was always taking him fishing on times he could…or letting the boy ride Honey. Honey was a golden quarter horse mare of twelve. She was a trail horse for the kids, for the other horses were high strung for years of cattle work. Honey, was also the choice horse of Maddie…who often rode her to town and on trail rides…unless of course Todd wanted to ride, Then Maddie rode Ginger. Ginger, soon to have Hurricane’s other foal, was a beautiful mare. She was, however, a little high-strung…not much, but enough for a tie down. Kate had resented the idea of Maddie riding her, but the girl’s father knew should could handle a high strung mare. Maddie could ride any horse she wished…but she couldn’t break them. Her father had always told her that breaking horses was a man’s job…but the girl highly resented that.
That night as the family and cow-hands sat down to eat the large supper Kate had prepared, Maddie asked her father if she could break the colt…come time.
“No-not Chisim…a colt may be to hard to break for you…how about a filly?”
“Father I am perfectly capable of Chisim…”
“No…”
“Father how about a deal?”
“Huh?”
“What about I take care, break, and ride Moon Light‘s foal…”
“Well…”
John looked over to Kate who nodded.
“OK…you’ll care for Moon Light’s foal.”
“No matter if it’s a colt or filly…?”
“No matter…”
Jeff was a little surprised, but no one had claimed the foal…well now they had. They all finished and went to bed.
Rose was grazing in the night breeze, and Chisim had laid down in the long grass. Soon Chisim had fallen asleep. It was about two in the morning when Chisim was awaken by a loud neigh of pain from one of the mares. Grace, a small black quarter horse, was foaling, and it was before her due date. Grace had been bred to Tornado, Hurricane’s brother. The mare would get up, then lay down, neigh and toss her head, until she found a place to foal. Soon a tiny bundle of gray lay in the field. The filly picked up her head, but then she laid down…her breaths became shallow. Chisim could see Grace nudging the foal, and he could see panic in her eyes. The filly grunted then thrashed about wildly…but then fell still. The only movement was that her side heaving with gasps of air…soon the filly didn’t move at all. Chisim thought the filly had fallen asleep, since it was night, so he curled back up. Dawn left small sun beams warming the colt and he awoke to see John, Toby, Shane, and Jeff around the filly. Then he noticed the filly wasn’t moving. Grace wasn’t grazing, only staring off into the dawn as the men lifted the dead filly and carried her away…
Grace was an ill-tempered mare for the rest of two months. Weaving in her stall, biting
At everyone, kicking at the other mares, and having a habit of trying to trample Chisim. Grace hadn’t been eating as she was meant too, so the mare was puny and weak. The cow-hands feared she would die, but the mare was changing back to normal. Chisim was glad of this because he knew he wouldn’t die from the mare’s hooves. Chisim was now five-months old, and his mother was getting ready to wean him. Jeff, Toby, and Hank came out into the pasture one day, with something all the other horses wore. Chisim just trotted up to them, as he always done, only to be patted and this rope thing put over his head. The colt squealed and thrashed around, thinking a rope was trying to eat his head. Chisim had two days to adjust to the halter, then they attached a lead rope to it. Chisim just looked at them as to say, “ What are you doing?”. Toby pulled the rope, and the colt only stretched out his neck and pulled back. Jeff and Hank pushed on his rear. Chisim responded by planting a hoof in Jeff’s shin. Hank pushed Chisim again, and the colt sat down…on Hank. Hank thrashed about and yelled at Chisim. All Chisim did was look at Toby as if the say, “Why is this idiot under me?”.
As the next month passed, Chisim got used to the halter. He was still a little unsure about leading. Toby would come out every day to work the colt. Once in the early morning’ hours, and then again in the later hours. Soon Chisim could be led just like his sire, Hurricane. Rose began to push the colt away when he tried to nurse…and Chisim didn’t like this one bit. The colt would squeal, kick out and run to his mother’s other side. Rose still let him nurse…but not as often as Chisim liked. Ginger was getting’ a mighty big belly, and her foal could clearly be seen kicking out. It wouldn’t be long before she foaled. Shane would be the care taker of this foal, for Ginger was his favorite mare. Before she had been bred, also to Hurricane, he would use her to work cattle. Shane was sure she was ready to foal, for it was already three days past due. In the early morning hours Chisim was awakened by a squeal from a mare…it was Ginger. While the colt had slept, the mare began to foal. Shane, Toby, John, and Jeff were looking out into the field. The fiery mare lay on the ground, twisting her tail and nipping at her belly. Soon a small black bundle, with a white blaze, and one white sock on his back left leg. Shane walked right up to the mare and foal to check out the foal. Soon his deep cowboy tone could be heard through out the pasture. “She had a colt!”, he yelled. The rest of the cowboys came up.
“Well, what yaw’ gonna call this’ in?” John said.
“Yeah Shane, your mare…” Jeff ensured his father’s words.
“Well…he’s black as midnight…”, Shane paused,” Shadowed Star…”
So, Chisim now had a half-brother…Shadowed Star. Two colts, and a filly the died…and still one mare to go.
Chisim became more curious about his half-brother as the days went on. The dun colt would prance up to the black colt and begin to smell him. The two would play fight, nip, and kick at one another through the course of a month. Chisim was still intent on nursing from Rose, so he was separated from her. He was too young to be put in the stud’s field. One day he would be together with his father and uncle, Shadowed Star would also be kept as a stud. Hurricane and Tornado were now studs and ranch horses, once they had both been great barrel racers. Hurricane was a white color, with gray tint in his coat, while Tornado was a bright sorrel with a thin strip running down his face. Both stallion threw off any color. Hurricane was know to throw off a few paint fillies and colts…but these had come off of paint mares. Tornado was know to throw off the most beautiful grays, sorrels, and palominos available. Both stallions had a bit of age on them, Hurricane being sixteen and his brother fifteen.
A few months past while Chisim stayed in a separate pen alone. He would gaze at his mother and his brother out in the pasture…but all the while becoming more curious about the gray stallion, Hurricane. Chisim would watch his sire gallop across the pasture at feed time. He was faster than greased lightning, and as he reached the barn, the stallion would slid to a stop. Then he would trot happily into his stall. Hurricane and Tornado had been sired by Rushing Winds, the greatest barrel racer of all time.
Toby came walking across the yard early one Sunday mornin’. This was usual because Sunday was the day the cowhands were off to do as they please, the only thing they had to do was feed the horses their two meals, and feed the cattle. All they did to feed the cattle was flip the switch on the feed bin. Toby had a long rope, and a whip with a long string attached. He clipped the rope to Chisim’s halter and led him to the round pen. Chisim was easy to lead around, considering he was worked with the halter and lead every day after he sat on Hank. The colt was a yearling now, and was getting close to his full height. He had all the beauty of his sire along with the attitude. He had his mother’s eyes, deep amber, not a chocolate brown as his father had. The colt’s coat was a bright dun, and his black stockings now striped at the top.
Toby stood in the center of the round pen, and slapped the ground behind Chisim. Chisim half-reared and bolted forward tossing his head. Toby slowly let out some of the rope. Chisim stopped, only to have the cowboy crack the whip behind him. This time the colt let out a loud neigh, and reared…thrashing his legs out in front of him and tossing his head. Chisim grabbed the rope in one spot and pulled Toby forward. The cowboy hollered and landed flat on his rear-in.
