GoLightly Fiction - Part 5 & 6

Thanks to all who read this. My latest epiphany came again this weekend. Wish I'd had more of these flashes of intelligence as I was growing up. My dislike of the horse industry in general, and the "great divide" between the disciplines, heck between rescue people, is never more evident than in some of the posts on Fugs blog lately. I've tried to "get back into it", several times. I just can't deal with the type of people I meet. I have learned to be quiet, for the most part. I do not rise to any bait. I do not question stupidity, or bad riding, as it is no longer my place to speak. I will continue to write letters to my "powers that be", and hope someday animals will finally be re-discovered for the wealth of information they can give us, everyday. Nature, and it's beauty and ugliness, can teach the human race so much. By denying our animal state, we deny ourselves.
I am denying myself the joy of any horse, because I can't bear the despair. Part of the training I gave myself. Feel nothing, it hurts less.

I have a picture of my dear Mom, at around 19 years old, looking so beautiful, with a broad shadow of despair on her face. She was born wealthy, as I've mentioned. She had black servants, and a coach house full of horses, until the automobile came along. I remember her speaking of kittens in the barn, and her shock and grief, witnessing one unlucky kitten being squished underneath a carriage's horses' hoof. She was always afraid of horses after that. Both my parents were not thrilled by my early and utter obsession with horses. I was never encouraged to speak or write or talk about them. My Parents never abused me for my interest, yet I never felt supported. What happened at my first barn changed how I would look at the world.
Instead of telling my parents what happened, I kept it my dark, terrible secret, because of my fear I would lose the right to see horses. Horses were everything I ever wanted in life. One dark secret seemed a small price to pay, for such a gift.
I turned inward, became silent, even more shy, even more in my own small world. I don't blame my parents for what happened. How could they know what evils abound at a simple horse barn, for an 11 year old, horse-faced, shy dreamy child?

Christmas time is always hard for me. I lost my Mom twenty years ago, and each Christmas since, I need to cry for her. I never know when it will happen. Sometimes, I'm in a mall, sometimes, as now, I just cry. Love your Moms, people, if they loved you at all. My Mom deserved so much better in her life. Her kind, gentle nature still writhes with despair in me, when I read the more terrible stories of reality.
This is a part of why I have written the GoLightly Fictional Story.
I need to own a happy ending, somewhere.


GoLightly - A story of love, hope and luck.

Part 5
Alllaflame was spectacular in the grand prix, but an unlucky rub cost them the big prize for the Sunday class. Gen took Fly out for a last hack before loading up the van for the long drive home, and let his electric personality recharge her smile. Samson was hot, and tired from his week of working the show, the first time she’d ever seen him admit he was pooped, as he lagged behind them up the gentle slope. Gen loved these show-grounds, nestled into a valley with sandy, well-drained light soil, and lots of trails through the fields and forests surrounding the place. The horses always enjoyed this show, almost a holiday for them really, she mused as Fly cantered happily up the hill. The DragonFly snorted, checking his stride a split second before attempting to spin a 180. Gen laughed, catching him with her leg and weight and balance. She gentled Fly back into his original cadence and circled to a halt in front of the Fly’s excuse to spook.
“Hello, Craigie.”
“Hey, Gen!!! How’ve you been?”
“’bout the same, I guess. How long have you been out?”
“Oh, about a month now. Got a job working for Rickie Thomlinson, you know him?”
Unfortunately she did, RT was one of the worst vets on the planet, responsible for uncountable equine breakdowns due to his admiration for phenylbutazone and acepromazine. She’d used him briefly, when her regular Vet had health problems, but never used him again. The horses loved RT, that much could be said, but horses don’t always know what’s good for them.
“Sure, Craigie. Good for you! Well, got to keep moving, this baby needs his fun time everyday… “
“Yeah, sure Gen, I was just wondering if I could stop by your stalls for a minute, my daughter would love to meet you.”
Samson had finally caught up, and immediately alerted straight at Craigie.
Trying to sound nonchalant, she said, “Sure, give me a half hour or so, okay?” Samson, thinking she hadn’t noticed his response, barked, but Gen persuaded him to follow by cantering off again, Fly happy to comply. Once they were out of sight, she congratulated her brilliant dog, for his Samson power.
Gen’s mind was racing as she tried to calm herself down, knowing Fly would soon start to mirror her mood. Samson, very pleased with himself, had raced ahead of them. Fly’s Thoroughbred blood was game for the chase. She quieted them all down, and they walked thoughtfully back to the show stalls.

Jessie was thrilled for too many reasons, and since she was trying to calm down, she listed them. She was 1) with her dad, who worked with horses, 2) at a famous horse show, 3) with famous horses everywhere and 4) she was about to meet Gentian MacFarland, only one of the best, most famous riders in North America! Jessie was trying to become a quiet steadfast horse, in her imagination, so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. A big strong Clydesdale she was now, beautiful bay, four white stockings full and soft, feathers, what an appropriate name for them! Jessie smiled, and sighed quietly, feeling the power of her body as she pulled a huge wagon. Sometimes, Jessie was a race-horse, flying down the straightaway, pulling away from the others to win, but she usually dreamed she was Allaflame, a tall, bright red chestnut mare, built to run and jump forever. The owner of Allaflame would be here any moment! Jessie dreamed of her horses, and in the tack room, surrounded by the heavenly scents of horses, she was calmly and completely happy. Jessie was a natural born horsewoman, gifted beyond talent and ability and sense. Jessie was an equine prodigal daughter.
Jessie was blissfully unaware of her audience, immersed in her horse world, until a prodding of her foot, and then a very large wet & whiskery sniffing nose pressed her hand. She opened her eyes, and saw a huge german shepherd cocking his ears at her, her hands half as big as his ears.
Her father, laughing, said “Gen, where did you find him?? That’s the longest, tallest Shepherd I’ve ever seen!”
“Another pound rescue.”
“Of course!!” Gen and Craig said in unison, and Jessie laughed, just to let them know she was still in the room. Jessie was introduced to Gen, who graciously showed her around her show stalls, and best of all, Jessie patted Allaflame’s silky red nose. They chatted a bit, Gen describing how Samson had come to them, that he’d been a difficult dog to train for a small family, but that he’d found a new job that he loved. Jessie’s dad started to look restless, and it seemed to Jessie that Gen was very excited about something. Samson hadn’t left Jessie’s side, sniffing her, sitting in front of her, staring pointedly first at Jessie, then at Gen, until he’d bark, and Gen would say “Good Sam!! Good boy!!”
Jessie asked Gen what Sam’s new job was, for he still seemed to be working.
“Horse hunter” said Gen, grimly.
Her father said, “Right! GoLightly was stolen while I was gone, wasn’t he? I’d forgotten that, sorry, Gen.”
“Yes, and he’s been pointing at your daughter, Craig, and he pointed at you too, when I met you out hacking”
“What?” Craig protested. “I just got out of jail. I mean, my training program last month, and I’ve been at Rickie’s since then. I’d recognize your horse, big bay, no white, scrawny mane & tail? He’s hard to miss, ya know, Gen.”
“Well, he’s still missing, Craigie, and it’s been over a year since he was stolen. Has Jessie been near any other horses?”
“Just with me, to Rickie’s and here.”
Gen sighed, more deeply than she realized. Craig started to apologize, and father & daughter left, Craig promising to let Gen know if he thought of anything. Jessie said something about a pony ride, but Gen didn’t hear them, lost in her thoughts.

“Remember my pony ride last month, Dad? That horse was huge!”
“Sure, honey, but he had a bald face and 2 white feet, and he was quiet as a mouse. GoLightly was abused before Gen got him, he could be a real bad actor if he got scared.”
So much for Craig’s powers of observation. He’d never been as gifted with horses as he was with making a quick, dishonest buck. He was far better at lying about horses. Craig could sell any horse, as anything the seller wanted. He'd always forgotten horses. Craig made his living that way.
Jessie was scrolling back through her memory of her first real horse-back ride ever. Her horse, with his impossibly high head, his broad back, her legs barely reaching halfway down. The horse had a swaying motion, especially when he turned, as if it was difficult to go straight again. He was a bay gelding, she knew THAT much, even if she was 12 years old. The horse’s mane had been chopped off, and his tail was a solid tangle of burrs & knots, so it was difficult to tell how thick or thin it was. His white marking were dirty, and his white face had seemed like a frosted coating. The gelding’s nosepiece seemed to rub the frosting off. A light flashed in Jessie’s mind and she stopped and said “Dad! It was GoLightly, I’m sure! That mean lady painted him, so he’d be invisible!”
Craig laughed, and ruffled her hair.
“Oh, Jess! Forget it! I know horses, and you don’t, not yet!!”
“But, Dad!!” She gave up, knowing how fruitless an argument with her father was. Once he decided, that was it.
But Jess couldn’t get the big horse out of her mind….

Gen rubbed Sam’s gigantic ears, lost in her thoughts. Her disappointment hung on her like a dark cloud. She asked Sam again, "What did you find, Samson?"
He barked, and Gen cried, a little.

Everyone dreamed of Golly that night.

Rickie Thomlinson was uneasy, and he had figured out why. Craig was a good worker, if not great, and he could be counted on to keep his mouth shut. But RT saw Gen & Craig talking outside her stalls, Gen and her huge shepherd looking very intently at Craig. RT hadn’t thought of this.

Part 6
Ian groaned, and rolled out of his cot, shivering. It was 4am, time to start his 19 hour day. He could hear the horses stirring below, hungry, aware of when their barely meager feed was due. His big horse started the morning routine, and the dogs were quiet, knowing their rations were coming. He needed to hurry. Letitia had ordered him to pick up at the feed mill, a rare privilege he’d lose if he didn’t get all his other chores done first. Letitia had been drinking more heavily than usual, and she was far too crafty to risk a DUI.
Ian gave the big bay horse a good head rub, and finished his chores in record time, trying not to look happy at the prospect of leaving the farm for a while. His last time off the property was the previous year when he’d left the track to come to his new job. What a long time it had been! It was odd how time had changed since his life with horses began.
The feed mill was busy; trucks lined up and down the street. Even better, Ian thought, and went to the doughnut shop for a coffee. As he returned to his truck in the feed mill’s lot he heard a dog barking behind him, which he ignored. He loaded his small order off the dock, closed the tail-gate and heard a woman’s voice saying firmly “Samson, come here!”. Ian turned to see a gigantic German Shepherd charging towards him, barking excitedly. Seeing the dog had no aggression in him, he knelt down and murmured “Hey, Samson, how ya doing?”
Samson immediately rolled over for a belly scratch.
“Wow! How did you know he wouldn’t bite?” said the woman and as Ian looked up to answer the question, he had to force himself to stand, for his knees tried to buckle before this incredibly beautiful woman. His face flushed, and he shyly muttered “Oh, he wasn’t angry, just excited.”
“Well!” beautiful woman said. “Not many people would know the difference. Are you a dog trainer?”
Ian tried to swallow, failed and managed to stammer a laugh. “No ma’am.”
“Please, call me Gen.” She said too quickly, because Sam was staring straight at this man. Gen wanted him to keep talking, but he looked so tired and thin and worried.
“Do you work around here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where?”
“I’m not allowed to say, ma’am, my boss is a little strict about things.”
Gen’s mind raced. “Do you work with horses?” She couldn’t see into his truck, and couldn’t tell what he’d bought.
“Well, I’m sorry ma’am, but my boss says it’s my job over, if I talk to strangers. I’d better get going now, I’ve chores to do.”
Gen could sense she had frightened him somehow, and never felt more helpless in her life as she watched him walk back to his truck. “Well, come visit my dog sometime! TouchWood Rescue, we’re in the book!” She’d added the rescue just to see if he’d react, but he only turned and drove away. Gen wrote down his license number, and quizzed the feed mill guy, but no-one knew of him. What a fluke! she mused to herself. If we hadn’t forgotten Sam’s food at the show, we’d never have stopped there. What barns were around there? Billy couldn’t think of any, just on the outskirts of the city, so close to being developed into houses anyway. A search of the license plate would turn up nothing. “What did you find, Samson?” Sam wagged his tail, proudly.

Ian drove back, unaware of the chaos he’d left behind, replaying every word the beautiful Gen had said. He wondered at how her eyes had flashed when he’d refused to talk to her. Why did he feel so badly? Letitia had been very clear when she’d hired him – no outside contact with strangers, no information offered, ever. It never occurred to him that someone would even want to know about him, much less be offended if he refused. Ian was a nobody, in his tired, lonely mind. No friends, no family. Why would the beautiful Gen want to know anyway? He unloaded the truck, and set about mucking the stalls, enjoying the luxury of doing it later than usual. TouchWood Farms, her trailer lettering spelled. Why had this beautiful woman said rescue? Softy, his favourite big bay, nudged his hand, and blew a long low whistling snort, perking up harder than Ian had ever seen before. Ian went back to work, but he started changing Softy’s water every day. Surreptitiously, of course, but rescuing comes in many forms, from the smallest of gestures.

Gen decided to advertise again, in the area of the feed mill, but nothing came of it except the usual crank calls. She wishes GoLightly home every night, and her nightmares dream it is forever.

end Part 6.


To Horses. To Joy on Earth, good will towards all animals. Humans are animals, too.