Willy and Patches (need new title)

      “Good boy!” I said, as I patted his neck, his warmth steaming up my glasses, “We’ll make an eventer out of you yet! He’s going to rock cross country come spring, right Mom?”
         “The way his jumping is coming along, I doubt he’ll disappoint you. If he keeps it up, you’ll be doing your first mini event this Summer.” She reached out to scratch his forehead. “You’re turning out real nice Mr. Willy, aren’t you bud? Walk him out. I’ll go grab his cooler.”
         “You’re more than nice,” I said, as I ran up my stirrups, “You’re one in a million.”
         Willy was my five year old, bay Trakhaner. I had owned him since he was a yearling. Athletic, brave, great conformation, an outstanding temperament, sometimes I felt as though I was dreaming.  I knew he was my once in a lifetime horse. I knew he would take me far. The years ahead were going to be wonderful. I had gold. I kissed him on the forehead. “You’re fabulous Willy, absolutely fabulous.”
         I sat at the kitchen table, chewing my pencil , engrossed in a difficult problem.  I jumped when my dad called my name.          
         I looked up from my chemistry homework. “Yeah Dad?”
      “I’m on an important phone call. Can you go do night checks?”
         “Sure,” I said.
         “Be sure to put on a hat and gloves,” he called as I headed for the door.
         Hay, water, stalls latched. The first barn was set for the night. I can’t wait to get back inside, I thought, shivering.
         Sedona, check. Echo, check. Kato, check. Cricket, check.  Zeus, check. Willy…
         There he stood, sweaty, pacing, and biting at his sides. My heart sank lower as he lay down and began to roll. “No, no, please no!” I cried. Not Colic!
         I rushed out of the barn, and began to run as fast as I could up to the house.
         “Dad, Dad!” I yelled as I yanked open the door, “You got to call Dr. Wayne, Willy’s colicing!”
         His face darkened. “I’ll call him and get down as soon as I can. Get that horse walking.”
         I ran out the door and back to the barn, and quickly placed the halter on Willy as he paused in his rolling. I started towards the indoor arena. “Come on,” I said, “We need to get you walking. You’ll be fine.” Right, He’ll be fine, I tried convincing myself, Just fine.
         My dad came down ten minutes later. “Dr. Wayne is in Richmond, He’s on his way.”
         “Richmond! That’s an hour away! What about Dr. Slieter?”
         “He’s in the middle of an emergency cow surgery. I’ll try to get hold of Mom. Keep on walking, It’ll be alright.” 
         I continued to trudge around the arena, toes and fingers numb. Willy managed to drop one time. He thrashed so violently I had to jump out of the way. I had never felt so frantic in my life as in those few agonized seconds before I got him back up. “Please don’t do that again,” I whispered, “you’re too big.” He nickered at me halfheartedly. I hated this, seeing my horse in pain and not being able to do a thing.
          The hour seemed crawl by at a ridiculously slow pace, until finally, I heard the sound of tires in front of the barn. I stroked Willy’s neck. “Dr. Wayne is here. He’ll make you better.”
         “I’m in here Dr. Wayne,” I called at the approaching footsteps.
         “It’s your Mother. Dr. Wayne is almost here.” She looked me squarely in the eye and grabbed Willy’s lead rope. “And you, Miss Nora will be going up to the house for fifteen minutes. It’s less than ten degrees out here. Go warm up, now.”
         I could not stand it after twelve minutes. When I got back to the arena, Dr. Wayne was squirting something in Willy’s mouth.
         “I’ve got some good news Nora. He’s not twisted. I’ve just given him some banamine, and we’ll tube him, but I think he’ll be fine.”
         Suddenly, Willy lay down. “Get him up!” I yelled.
         “He’s not rolling,” Dr. Wayne said, his brow furrowed, “the banamine doesn’t work that quickly.”
         “What’s wrong?” I asked.
         “Hold his head for me while I tube him,” he said, ignoring me.
         I knelt down and supported Willy’s head as Dr. Wayne inserted the tube. Red started to dribble out Willy’s nose. Dr. Wayne muttered something and began to reexamine Willy. My tension rose with each passing minute. Why was he so worried?
         He stood up and looked at me. I had seen that expression before, when our old goat had to be put down.
         “No!” I screamed, “You can’t, you have to save him!”
         “I can’t save him…his intestine ruptured.” I saw him and my mom exchange glances, and then he headed out to his truck.
         “Nora…” my mom began, but instead just sat next to me, petting Willy, her quiet tears contrasting my noisy sobbing. I held his head in my lap, stroked his face, and told him I loved him again and again. Five minutes past, and Dr. Wayne returned.
         My mom looked at me “Alone?” she asked. I nodded. “Bye Mr. Willy,” she choked, as she patted him for the last time. I nodded at Dr. Wayne. I knew this was the right thing to do, but still, it took everything in me not to jump up and knock the deadly syringe out of his hand, not to scream ‘horse killer’ in his face. He scratched Willy and sighed as he made the injection. It hurt him too.
         I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, but all I could manage was “Oh Willy…,” and he was gone. I sat there dazed, feeling like I could not breathe. My beautiful, wonderful, horse was dead. I lay across his body as my tears become torrents. I screamed and wailed, my body shook with the force of my sobs. Dead. Willy was dead.
         My mom eventually pulled me off of Willy, insisting I was going to get hypothermia. Too exhausted and frozen to resist, I followed her out, but I did not take my gaze from Willy. I would never see him again.
         It had been almost three months since Willy had died. For the first time, I actually looked forward to the end of Christmas break. At school there was not something horse related everywhere you looked, or real horses outside of your window. I had not gone back to the barn since that night, I did not know why my Mom wanted me down there, she knows I hate that place. She had told me to come down at noon, said it was important. It better be, I thought.
         “There you are,” my mom said as I entered the barn, “One of my friends owns this pony, a hunter for her daughter, and lately they’ve been having some problems with him refusing jumps.”
         “What does that have to do with me?”
         “He’s a little guy, so nobody’s been able to hop on to give him some schooling. She saw you riding the Devin’s pony hunters last October, and was wondering if you’d ride him for a month while the family is on vacation. She’ll pay you.”
         I surprised myself by actually considering the offer. I kind of missed riding, and this wasn’t a horse, just a little pony, and it was only for a bit. “I, I guess so…”
         “Great! I’ll call her, and she’ll bring him over tonight.”
         I began to have second thoughts as I saw the trailer in the driveway. Oh well, I’m stuck with it now, I thought as the pony stepped off the trailer.
         “This is Patches. He’s really not a bad pony, but Alyssa’s still getting the hang of riding him, and he needs a refresher.”
         Patches? What a stupid name! He was liver chestnut, and lacked any white markings, save for a sock on his right hind foot.  He appeared to be a Welsh Pony, and well-bred. He hardly glanced at his surroundings.  Since he was settling in just fine, I decided to take him inside and tack up. Might as well find out what I had gotten myself into.
While I groomed him, I discovered that Patches certainly was not a friendly pony. He face was grimaced in disgust, and he glared at me the whole time. I stuck my tongue out at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to be friends either,” I said, as I tightened the girth, “let’s keep it this way.”
         As I rode him over the next month, I found him to be a very good jumper. He stopped refusing after the first week. Once he realized he was not getting away with it, he was a straightforward ride to the fences, and jumped smartly and cleanly. 
         Grumpy, lazy, occasionally dishonest, and disinterested in people, he was polar opposite to Willy. I scratched his withers, and was thanked with an evil glare. “I think I’ll miss you a bit when you leave tomorrow, crazy, huh?” I did not know why I liked a pony that hated me, yet I managed to develop a fondness for the little guy. Maybe because he was the first horse I rode in a while, maybe because he had helped me begin to like horses again. “Thanks Patches,” I whispered, “for everything.”

         When I woke up the next morning, a light snow was dusting everything in a fresh coat of white.
         “Hey mom,” I said as I ate my breakfast, “do you want to go ride in the snow? I think it would be good for Patches.”
         “Why not?” She said, “We’ll go right after we finish chores.”
         I headed out to the back fields, and my mom followed on her paint mare, Cricket.  The snow fell over Patches coat, making him look like a roan. I smiled as I listened to the horse’s hooves in the snow. In was so peaceful and lovely out here, why couldn’t life always be like this? We came to a flat open stretch and began to canter. Patches ears perked forward and I saw his face transformed in to a happy expression. It was such a strange sight, I almost started laughing.
         “We should probably head back,” I said when we reached some woods, “I don’t want Patches too tired for later.”
         “I suppose I should get back to work too,” my mom said.
         We turned the horses around and proceeded at a leisurely walk. “Hey, mom, do you think I could start riding Zeus every once and awhile?”
         She smiled. “That would be fine Nora, Just fine.”
         Patches rode like a dream that evening. He nailed every line and change. He tucked his knees up smartly. He went straight towards the center of each fence and did not even think about running out. If he kept this up, Alyssa would be raking in pony hunter ribbons. I finished the course, and broke down to a trot. “Good boy Patches,” I said as I patted his neck. He glowered at me. I just shook my head and smiled. I dismounted and walked over to my mom and Patches’ owner.
         “Nora, he looked absolutely fabulous,” his owner gushed, “thank you so much.”
         “Uh, your welcome,” I muttered. “I have to go,” I said handing Patches’ reins over. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to leave. I did not want to see Patches anymore. Why did I let myself get attached? I lost one horse, and in a way I was losing another.
         I stayed out of the way until I saw the trailer leave. My mom caught me as I walking back up to the house.
         “Where have you been? Mrs. Schafer wanted to talk to you, but she had to leave.”
         “I…was busy.”
         She gave me suspicious look. “Oh well. Here’s your check.”
         “Thanks,” I said.
         “One more thing.”
         “Yes?”
         “Mrs. Schafer wants to know if you would be willing to ride Patches in a few shows this season.”
         “That’d be great,” I said.  I smiled. I may have lost a horse, but I had gained a new friend. I think Willy would have liked that.