GoLightly Fiction, end Part 1, Part 2

Back into Fiction Land again.
Here's the end of the first, and all the way to the end of Part 2.
Thanks for reading, any and all.
Thanks for being there, with your horses.

GoLightly - A Story of Love and Hope.
Part 1 continued.


GoLightly’s name was his happiness, finally expressed. Golly! became his easy-going barn name, for his expressions.
It belied his appearance, a huge, solid 16.2 hand CUI-Completely-Unknown, -maybe-Irish-bred?, and many commented on his unlikely name, until they saw him moving. Golly’s huge hooves were like India rubber, bouncing over the ground. He couldn’t maintain his airy movement for long at first, his muscles so wasted from lack of freedom. Gen took pictures of him monthly, and at the end of the first year, they were like an animated cartoon, so gradually and strikingly did he change.
Her life apart from him was a busy one, juggling a job as a struggling rock-star, (she’d been there, but she’d been branded a “one-hit wonder”), and as a professional rider, with a training and sales barn. Business was fair to good. Gen made the national team for three years straight, unheard of in her country, and was short-listed this year for the Olympics with her good chestnut mare Allaflame. Her platinum hit “Joanie’s Gamble” had brought her into the high income-tax bracket, but it was always consumed, and she knew how quickly it could disappear, with one bad step.
She’d audition her new songs with Golly, and his eyes & movements would reveal new words and chords and rhythms. During one particularly hectic week, when she’d been away with her band, her barn manager, Billy, called her on the road, announcing that Golly finally had a girl-friend. Emily, a fine piebald jenny, was rescued from particularly brutal circumstances as well, and she had instantly recognized Golly’s peculiar odour. Her sweet, curious, persistent nature had finally broken through Golly’s refusal to make eye contact, mainly because she was only 11.5 hands. Billy suggested letting the unlikely new pair out with her miniature herd. Gen pleaded with him to wait for her return, a little jealous that she’d missed Golly’s first contact. They videoed the couple’s grand entrance together, one holding the camera when the other couldn’t stop laughing. Emily paraded out towards the centre of the field, Golly rooted to the spot beside the fence where they’d loosed him. His great head touched the ground, smelling the hooves of his new pasture-mates, and he trembled with his fright. Emily stopped, looked over her shoulder, and brayed a sound Gen had never heard from the donkey, in 12 years as best friends. The other equines didn’t take one step towards the stranger, although they were keenly, clearly interested. They milled amongst themselves, not-so-casually grazing, their eyes trying not to look at Golly. Emily turned around, and very gently, almost as if she was simply blowing his great bulk along with her breath, cajoled him to follow her. As Golly slowly realized the other animals weren’t going to attack him, he gingerly followed in the tiny jenny’s footsteps. They proceeded out to the greenest part of the field to feast, the small leading the large, Emily’s flattened donkey ears the only signal necessary to warn the others away.
Emily had always been far from the CEO of her barn’s corporation, but Golly’s arrival catapulted her to the top. Gen’s herd was comprised of 4 boarded/in-training show-horses, 4 lesson horses, 2 donkeys, 5 horses in training/sales and “several” retirees, ranging from a slightly disabled old appaloosa called “Moon” to the oldest of her old friends, “Dakota Joe”, a truly ancient thoroughbred polo pony. Joe was her first rescue, and she loved how quickly Golly learned to trust Joe as well. Emily, Joe and Golly became their own little herd. They were the top of the pecking order, from then on. Emily had finally found some back-up.

(Fact, yeah i skipped this part in my first post, goLLEE)

Gen watched and laughed as Golly's new experiences taught him how to behave like a horse. His first neigh came out embarrassingly donkey-ish, but he practised with Joe, a cheerful chuckler, and soon Golly was greeting her with his voice as well as his eyes & nose. Golly's voice was like a "Hahuhahahah", sometimes ending in "whee". Golly learned the joys of wither-scratching, head-to-tail fly-swatting, and rolling in dust (to his rescuer’s chagrin). He'd plume his stringy tail with excitement, a very comical sight. Like a wispy, wizened black broom, sprouting from his huge haunches. Every new sound, smell and sight became something to investigate, thanks to Emily’s own natural “snoopiness”. Emily toured the farm with him, imperiously granting visitors the chance to scratch her long ears first.

Spirits soared at her little barn, watching GoLightly growing into himself. In the second year, Gen started introducing him to ground work, round penning and little cavaletti, and through it all he never questioned anything she’d ask of him. His gentleness when moving around her was so kind she’d choke back a tear through her smile, loving him completely. His skin and hair-coat had finally healed itself, so thin and sensitive that she could never use anything but the lightest touch when grooming him. Her biggest problem at that stage was finding tack that wouldn’t rub his newly grown hair off.
Gen scoured the second-hand stores for cast-off silks, and wrapped his bridle, girth and breastplate with a rather garish variety of the fabric, much to Billy’s delight.
We should rename him GoBrightly, he’d crow gleefully, and she had to admit that Golly’s blond peach fuzz/dark-skinned tufts of bay with blinding lime green scarf was a little hard on the eyes each morning. Gen didn’t care; his gaits were tremendous, so a little bad taste was perfectly acceptable.
GoLightlys’ behaviour finally started to resemble a young horse, which he was. His previous history had matured him, and helped him to appreciate how good his new life was. Gollys' gratitude towards his human and equine herd maintained his gentle nature, even when Gen could see how young and free Golly felt within himself. He’d learned to buck and play, watching her young horses, and his gigantic contortions when he was first turned out each morning left her weak with laughter. Most striking was how silently he moved, even during his biggest crow-hops and grand-standing leaps towards the sun. Golly patted the ground like a cat, springing into the air, as if he had trampolines instead of hooves. Gen looked forward to showing Golly he could jump, for she knew almost from the start that he was her next big star. Golly had always watched her schooling Allaflame. Billy swore he was studying, and taking notes. Golly would blow his nose noisily each time they landed from a particularly difficult gymnastic line, as if he’d been holding his breath.
Gen swung up onto Golly’s broad back the first time when he was four and a half. After riding all of her life, on some very fine horses indeed, she instantly felt she had finally come home. They custom fit each other, to a "T". Gen was tall, and slim, while Golly was tall & strong. She’d backed him with her saddle, of course, but for his first true ride she elected to go bareback, to assure them both that nothing was going to hurt him, including even her well-placed saddle. GoLightly’s skin would never be tough enough to endure long periods under tack. Gen left the saddle in the barn, over Billy’s half-hearted protests. GoLightlys' chest puffed out, and instead of humping his loin at the extra weight, he raised his withers, rounded his back slightly upwards, lightening naturally in front & re-balancing. Golly looked back at her almost indignantly, as in “it’s about time you sat on me, too!” GoLightly loved her, and carried her, pointing his toes, slowly offering a natural passage around the round pen, pluming his wisps of tail hair over his back with excitement. Gen sat him fluidly, marveling at the power she felt beneath her, a huge grin from ear to ear. “In three years, Spruce Meadows!” she sang out to Billy, and Billy laughed with delight at the picture of synchronicity in front of him. Gen & GoLightly were synergistic. They moved as a centaur would. The two hearts became one being.
Gen never doubted words that she spoke, and in two & a half years they were winning whenever they competed, creating sheepish downcast looks among her competitors whenever she pulled into the show grounds. Her musical career was strong and steady, and so she was financially able to turn down vast sums of money for him. GoLightly could never have been for sale. Like Allaflame, he was only for her, but it was still wonderfully empowering to say, “No, thanks a million, though!” They swept through the competitions, winning all the big prizes. Golly was compared with the horse show-jumping legends Milton and Big Ben, for his great size and wonderfully light, elastic movement. He was compared to The Natural and Apollo, in concert. Golly was Gem Twist, without the buck, or the foolish bravado. Golly's bravery was from his heart and his trust in his Gen.
As the offers grew larger and larger, so did GoLightly's talent. A way has to be found to stop them, a few muttered, how are we to justify our own expenses, if we know we can’t win against them? A plot, sickened by the harsh & often desperate greed of the horse show world, was slowly hatched.
(end part 1)

Part 2
GoLightly was nine years old when he disappeared at a show, coming into the prime of his life. His unheard of success in the show-ring made him a vulnerable target, although Gen hadn't comprehended that until he was gone. Gen never believed in any type of security system for her little paradise. At the shows, she trusted the show management’s security. It had never occurred to her to be paranoid.
How stupid/naïve, she raged at herself, trusting her fellow humans not to try and hurt Golly again! Emily & Joe were inconsolable, and Rusty kept her little nose pressed to knees for weeks, trying to cheer everybody up. Gen posted “horse stolen” notices everywhere she could think of, and called the police station every week, but no-one had seen/heard anything, it seemed.

Gens’ dreams became nightmares, as she tossed herself to sleep each night, frantic with worry for her horse, blaming herself alone. Who would have stolen him? Where was he? Gen had never been far away from Golly at shows, his stall was her six-horse trailer, and “guarded” by the presence, if not the demeanour, of her old shepherd, Simon.
Simon was found unconscious, with a bump on his head, and traces of Phenobarbitals still in his blood. Gen thanked her spirits that he was at least found alive. It drove her slightly crazy thinking about how she’d slept while her horse and dog were struggling with some unknown assailant. Her music and her business stuttered and flickered, and her fans and friends could offer little, other than compassion. Compassion wouldn’t find Golly though.
Gen rescued another German Shepherd, and set about, with her trademark single-minded obsession, to training him as a tracking dog. Gen named him Samson, for he had a truly Herculean task awaiting him at his “graduation”. Samsons’ story was typical, birthday present, father not home, mother at home with baby, so no time for the dog, which naturally started inventing important tasks for himself to do. Sam was returned to an animal shelter, with the complaint, “He lets himself out, he won’t come back unless he’s ready, he buries everything, he finds disgusting, smelly stuff and brings it home..” Samson was perfect for the job she needed done

Gens’ music got angrier, and her riding and training suffered for what seemed forever, to her. The constant worry robbed Gen of her sleep, and her exhaustion slowed her instincts down. Gen finally let Billy finish Sam’s training. Little red nurse dog Rusty did her best to cheer Gen up daily. Rusty started hanging out with Emily, Golly's donkey, whenever she felt ignored. Driving onto to Gen's property, one would come across an unlikely if incredibly affecting sight, the one silhouette, eight-legged, two long eared, two shorter ears, sitting/snuggling, watching the road, waiting for their buddy to come home…

Sam was rapidly becoming a genius dog, under Billy’s patient, careful tutelage, and took the credit for making Gen truly laugh again. His great shepherd head, with comically gigantic radar ears, never failed to lighten her heart. Sam would twist, first one way, then the complete other, straining to catch every micro-syllabic decibel that came from Billy’s mouth. Sam decided to bring back anything of same-scent that he might find in a day, stashing little proud piles around the barn, digging mightily in the manure pile and the ploughed fields, to save his treasures from harm. Sam would invariably return all the items found, (if asked). They wouldn’t deny him the trick, as it was (very) basically what Billy was trying to teach him… Sam would probably outgrow the digging and burying behaviour, (they could only hope) and after all, he only did it when they gave him brief free time to be a dog. Sam was the first dog Gen had ever met that would rather not nap after serious play and work-time. The gardens were never quite the same again. Gen watched him make up his games, fascinated by his thought processes, as Sam sauntered down the stable aisle. Sams’ great nose would casually touch something, like a pail, or a brush, although he would always snuffle a sweater or blanket if given the chance. That was his signal to start casting the air, sniffing/whuffling the air through his long snout. It was as if he was taking a great breath, and sorting out which way the next scent was coming from. He’d disappear, which was no small feat for such a large dog, and return with first, a halter or another brush, and then perhaps a dried ball of dung, etc. All would be carefully piled, beside the scent’s stall, or truck, or nest, for that matter. If no interest was shown in his prizes, Sam would bury them, with a look of profound concentration and much looking back, to exactly memorize where they were.
Finally, Billy announced “Sam is ready.” Gen had of course kept all of Golly’s “clothes”, and stopped herself from washing them, when realization dawned. They started casting Samson out, using Golly’s saddle-pad, at home, and he’d come back with a hurt expression, as if to say “What, THAT far?!”

The show caravan was loaded, and Gen worried over last minute instructions to her friends and family for taking care of her mostly ancient little herd. Most of the sale horses were gone, and she regretfully had to ask her few boarders to find new accommodations. Gen had let her extra staff go after Golly disappeared, so as not to cast doubt on any of them, telling them she’d be calling once she was back on her feet. They all knew she meant when Golly was back. Gen and Billy were going horse-showing, as far as anyone else knew, bringing some sale horses and students, as they had often done before. Gen was bringing Allaflame, the mare still had quite a few good wins left in her. Flame had always been a little aloof with GoLightly, and she got worse with him as he started winning everything. Golly had always admired Flame, and his dogged crush had only grown with time. (Gen hoped her mare would be able to smell Golly, too…)
She & Billy took turns driving, and with two bed ‘n breakfasts ‘n stalls booked, they made great time, arriving well rested & refreshed. After all, they only had four horses and two dogs to care for; this was going to be a breeze!!
Her students met her at the show, and helped with set-up, exercising /hand-walking and feeding, freeing their time to casually introduce Samson to the show-grounds. Sam was clearly intrigued by all the sights and smells, and they were glad they’d (almost) tired him before they got there. Sam wasn’t the least concerned with all the other horses and people, and enjoyed meeting some new friends, introduced by Rusty, an old hand at shows.
They woke early, and bustled about, readying her sale horses for their first “baby-green” classes, letting them get used to their braids on the longe. Her favourite of the little band was DragonFly, his blue-black gleaming coat like dark, polished hematite. Fly loved to travel, and enjoyed lots of activity surrounding him, so she knew he’d be a natural for the show life. DragonFly puffed himself up when he was braided, showing off his long, curved neck and broad shining chest, pointing his toes like a ballerina. They laughed as Fly begged for his hoof-polish, admiring his toes. Gen left his warm-up to last, as she knew he’d need no extra time.
Gen watched a few rounds as a treat to herself, letting her students take care of the two babies for a change. The youngsters were well-broke, but their new experience was affecting them both, in their own individual ways. SeaBreeze was the quietest and most lethargic, not really caring where she was, as long as the hay and grain kept coming. Royal Chocolate was nervous of everything, needing soothing words and steadying routines. She’d kept her student’s personalities in mind when assigning them their charges, and was very pleased by the harmonies she saw. High-strung Michelle galvanized Breezy to brighten, while calm and cool Nancy was perfect for Coco's case of nerves.
Gen would ride Fly herself, to savour his first trip as a show horse, and to guarantee he’d look forward to his next.
Billy warmed Fly up for her, and she enjoyed watching his delight with the top youngster’s proud antics, Fly practically bowing to his audience. “Do I ever look good!!” laughed Billy as they pranced past, Fly’s tail plumed with excitement, trotting on air. Gen set some fences, rolling out ground-lines for her amateurs, helping them find comfortable, consistent rhythms to jump from. The day flew by, with Fly completely brilliant, an easy" first year green" champion. Her students placed very well in their divisions, improving the value of her young horses, demonstrating how well they could go for amateur riders.
Showing done for the day, she took Flame out, to limber up her mature, ring-ready mare. Billy grumbled only slightly when told his turn had come for de-braiding, and sent Samson with her for “protection”. They both laughed, half-heartedly. She wore her wrap-around sun-glasses, a little dark, but the mare knew these grounds like the back of her dainty hoof. While Flame watched where she was going, the "surveillance team" would casually look around. Gen relaxed into the tack, and allowed the mare to choose her own road. The famous pair ambled through the grounds, stopping to chat with the mare’s first owner, Karen, Flame giving the soft sigh she reserved for dear friends. The mare perked her lovely ears and followed the sound of her friends’ voices, her eyes widening and softening as they spoke of her and Emily and the animals they loved. Ready for more movement, Flame decided to move on. Gen, Karen & Flame promised to catch up later. Samson, bored, had been pacing impatiently while they were stopped, and instantly went back on smell duty, gigantic nose on the ground, in the air, circling and twitching as he sifted scents, aromas and auras. Gen let Flame follow, as it always sparked equine blood to follow a gigantic dog on a scent. Gen remembered her old amateur jumper Kondor, rescued, and so lethargic she nick-named him Eeyore, for his “oh, well, maybe tomorrow” attitude. Kondor was so wearied with life that Gen deliberately started aiming him at her dog. Simon thought this was great sport, and would happily run ahead. Kondor started winning everything, and she learned never to school him at home, always letting him have fun with his pack. He became quite animated, to the astonishment of his previous owner, who had hoped Kondor had lobotomized himself in a trailer “accident”.
Kondors' previous owner, Craig, had recently served 3 years for insurance fraud. Craig had followed the horse shows. Gen received much teasing for “her fan-mail from jail”. Gen was looking for Craig this evening, knowing he was out of prison again. Gen asked herself for the millionth time, Why would anyone steal her horse?? If GoLightly was shown, he’d be recognized, so "they" just needed him out of the way, to re-distribute the show prize income back "their" way. Would "they" use him in a school? Gen's mind stopped, and her horse and her dog stopped with her, feeling her sudden flash of agonized emotion. School-Horse? Golly would be difficult & dangerous, she guessed, unless they tranquilized him, for he would be grieving the loss of his friends. Who would want to keep such an ongoing problem? Was he dead? Gen had been asking herself such questions for almost a year now, and it never seemed to make any more sense to her. Why? Gen had become convinced it had to be someone within her competitive circle, someone who’s income had been severely affected by her horse. She couldn’t believe such animosity could come from a sport with a foundation supposedly built on the love of horses. Golly! She’d give anything, almost anything to get him back, or at least to put him to rest, so she could properly grieve the loss. Would she find him at shows? Impossible? Could Samson find his traces? Sam had decided to snuffle noisily up ahead, tracking the scent? Did Sam understand, in his doggy head, what he was searching for? Samson had only smelled Golly, he’d never met him. Could his motivation continue, with such an uninteresting target? Gen shook her head, clearing it of the cobwebs, unconsciously sending Flame forward into a little canter. She wished again for clairvoyance, anything that would help her sort this problem through. They settled, trotted and cantered through the beautiful old show grounds, both completely absorbed. Allaflame always loved to loosen up on a free rein. Gen, as always, let her be.

End Part 2


Thanks for reading.