Leopard's Kin: The Aquarian Era Tales, #1

By Becky Norman

Lori Pate, newly-wedded and newly-widowed, is learning how to cope with the loss of her husband – and make a living as a horse trainer – when the cats on her farm start doing some fairly unusual things. And when her hair starts turning gray at the age of 21, a cougar shows up on the farm, and a Native Canadian stranger enters the picture shortly thereafter, Lori gets the sinking feeling her world is turning upside-down.

The stranger, Noel Tecumseh, and two of his eccentric friends soon show Lori that she's now part of a unique club – one where snow leopards, black panthers, lynxes and others protect and guide "their humans" from both natural and supernatural dangers that threaten the gang of four. So when a group of Jaguar Knights comes to town with the intent to "clean up" the weaker parts of the human population, Noel must instruct all of them in how to direct their thoughts to evade notice.

LEOPARD'S KIN is a blend of the philosophies introduced in works such as Conversations with God and The Celestine Prophecy but is designed to appeal to a new generation of fantasy enthusiasts. While it stands alone as a novel, subsequent books will expand on the power of thought in ushering in a New Age, utilizing a variety of legends and myths of big cats from around the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Becky Norman
• Release date: May 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987809711

Becky Norman

Since graduating from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point with a B.A. in Honors English (Writing Minor) Becky Norman has moved to Canada and graduated from Conestoga College's Human Resources Program with Honours. For the past seven years, she has been a Human Resources Advisor and is currently writing freelance articles for Suite101.com and Associated Content on such diverse topics as employment law, horse care, poetry and short works of fiction. All the Courses Run is her first novel; she is currently working on a fantasy trilogy for publication.

Book preview

Leopard’s Kin

978-0-9878097-1-1

Becky Norman

Published by Becky Norman at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Becky Norman

Discover other titles by Becky Norman at Smashwords.com:

All the Courses Run

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Prologue

It was still a clumsy business when Noel Tecumseh picked up this particular body and started using it again. He hadn’t mastered the art of spanning time and space with ease and frequently felt disjointed when he came back to a specific spot. He had to adjust to the limited dimensions of this 5’11" male body, with its indigenous overtones and heavier density. Just moments ago he was light, sound and the empty spaces between matter; the next he was taking on a lower vibration like one would drag on a heavy, woollen sweater.

When he regained consciousness, his forehead was pressed against the cool glass window of his much-loved, often-used pick-up truck. He stirred, blinking, and took a deep breath. He took a few more to get the lungs working properly then gingerly wiggled his toes inside a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. The muscles were starting to function now, too.

The truck appeared to be parked in the country - a long expanse of gravel road stretched ahead of him, framed on either side by fields of corn and soybeans with the occasional tree acting as sentinel. He could smell wet earth, a dizzying perfume of lilacs growing along the fields around him and just a hint of manure drifting down on the breeze from a farm that was visible in his rear view mirror.

Noel sat up straighter in the truck, brushing the thick, wavy strands of deep brown hair away from his forehead as he continued to look around. He was parked next to a log home just barely visible behind a screen of cedars across the road. He squinted through the branches - it was early in the dawn and the place was quiet.

He was debating what to do when he saw the big brown tabby cat heading straight toward his truck. It was jogging with a purpose, looking neither left nor right as it came on and Noel watched it, bemused.

It paused at the corner of the log home’s driveway and brushed itself against the mailbox, looking straight at Noel. He opened the truck door, the squeaking of the hinges sounding particularly loud in the dawn’s silence and he cringed. The tabby turned to look at him and Noel held still in invitation. The cat checked the roadway and then crossed toward him. Noel slipped out of the truck - still holding the doorframe for support as he adjusted to the feel of this body - and smiled as the tabby chattered at him as it approached.

Namasté, brother, Noel called softly as he watched the cat come.

They brushed against each other momentarily - welcoming each other to a new world - then the cat turned and started jogging down the road.

Noel walked around the truck several times, swinging his arms, placing his feet carefully, getting used to the capabilities of his body once more.

He was back. For what purpose, he hadn’t a clue, but he was fairly certain if he followed the cat, he’d learn the answer sooner or later.

Chapter 1

The horse was doing a lot of rearing as Lori Pate stood at a safe angle and kept the pressure on, asking for him to longe in a circle around her. It made for good theatrics as she demonstrated these natural horsemanship training techniques to the crowd of 8-10 adults watching. Good theatrics, but it was tiring for both her and the horse as he towered over her once again and she remained ever-vigilant of those lethal, striking front hooves.

Now remember, she shouted out to her audience as she side-stepped back into position and continued tapping the big gelding on the side of the neck with her training stick, stay at a 45-degree angle to his shoulder – that way, you’re out of reach of both the front hooves if he tries to strike and the rear legs if he tries to kick.

She tugged hard on the lead rope and rope halter as he came down from the heights, keeping his head tipped towards her, and avoiding his powerful hindquarters. Her other arm was getting tired from the tapping, but she gritted her teeth as he popped into the air again and kept going.

"See, we can’t stop him from rearing. But he’ll get tired of it soon – it takes a lot out of them to do this. He’s learned his whole life to intimidate people this way, so we can’t stop now or we’ll be teaching him this is the answer. We have to keep applying pressure until he tries something else – until he finds the right answer."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the gelding leapt forward and to the side, starting a brisk, trotting circle around her. Lori immediately dropped her stick hand into a neutral position and breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that she got a brief respite.

There! she affirmed. He got the right answer; immediately remove the pressure. That’s his reward.

Lori kept her eyes focused on the gelding, waiting for him to settle a little more before she would ask him to stop and try the departure again. He was a beautiful horse: a tall, red chestnut with flaxen mane and tail. Anglo-Arab, they called the breed – a Thoroughbred/Arabian cross. He floated above the ground as he trotted around her, his tail arched like a flag behind him, the crest of his neck all Arabian, too. Gorgeous, maybe. But a powder keg waiting to explode if he wasn’t trained properly.

She pulled him up, with cues she’d already taught him, and rubbed on him with the stick while she let him get a little of his wind back.

Lots of rubbing with the stick between his eyes serves two purposes. It shows him the stick is nothing to be afraid of and it reinforces the idea in his brain that looking at you equals a rest.

The gelding’s eye softened a bit and he lowered his head imperceptibly. That was Lori’s cue to try a second time.

Okay, let’s start again, she said as she adjusted the lead rope and stick in her hands. Remember that it’s always ugly in the beginning and horses usually pick something up on the third try, so we’re on our way.

The horse snapped to attention as she raised her right hand into the air this time, his nostrils flaring at her active body language.

So what are the steps? she asked her group. First?

Point up high in the direction you want him to go, somebody called out.

Second? she asked as she started swinging the stick with her left hand.

Swing the stick in a circle three times, another voice responded.

That’s right. You’ve got three chances to move, buddy, and then we up the pressure.

On the second swing of the stick the horse gave a half-rear and started looking for a way out. Lori completed the third arc with the stick and the chestnut still hadn’t moved away and to the side.

You’re out of chances – move! Lori said as she moved towards the gelding and tapped him on the side of the neck.

He thought about rearing again – Lori could see it in his eyes – but at the last second he leaped to the right and started his effortless trot around her again.

"That was a lot better, Lori informed the crowd. Just one little rear this time and then he remembered the answer. He might be what they call a ‘hot’ horse, but he catches on quickly. A few thousand more times and this horse will be a pro."

The group laughed politely and the training continued.

It felt like hours later when Lori finally took a break. She stopped to lean against one of the rails of the roundpen and chugged a second bottle of water down. Removing her dusty, worn cowboy hat, she shook her long, thick black hair out of its ponytail and revelled in the breeze that pulled at it. She massaged her scalp briefly, put some water in her hands and rubbed that through her hair, too, then gathered it all back up to be wrapped with the elastic band.

Lori? Shannon called to her, as she approached with a check in her hand. I know we agreed on a hundred dollars, but there’s a little extra in there since you had to do so much with Renny today.

Renny – short for Renegade – was the big chestnut gelding and Shannon was his owner. Lori had met Shannon only a few short months ago, when Lori had moved to the area after getting married, but the two had become fast friends. Shannon was a petite, nutmeg-haired, refined-looking lady. Her delicate features and slim build gave a false sense of fragility that was shattered for Lori the first time she had visited Shannon’s barn. When she arrived on this sprawling 100-acre compound known as FairWind Farms, Lori had seen Shannon working with a massive Warmblood stallion in their outdoor ring. Aside from instructing others, Shannon was an accomplished rider in her own right, focusing primarily on dressage, and her effortless way of commanding the 17-hand stallion to do intricate manoeuvres in tight collection had impressed Lori. This little woman was no one to trifle with.

Lori had, in fact, offered to do some training on one of Shannon’s yearlings that was giving her some particular problems, in exchange for some riding lessons on better seat and balance. Even though Lori’s own sport of choice, barrel-racing, seemed a far cry from the elegance of dressage, both Shannon and Lori knew that balance was balance and if you sat properly on your horse, you would excel at whatever discipline you focused on. That month of learning from each other had solidified their friendship and now Shannon called on Lori whenever she brought a new horse onto the property. Shannon had loved the suppleness and response Lori developed in her horses and wanted them to learn from the start what the expectations would be at FairWind Farms. Lori put the foundation on them and Shannon refined.

Lori took the check and smiled at Shannon.

That wasn’t necessary – I’ve had worse, she answered the older woman.

As Lori looked at the check and saw it was double the agreed-upon rate, she gasped.

Shannon! I can’t take this much – it’s only a couple days’ work!

Nonsense, Shannon said, lightly pushing the check back to Lori. You had your work cut out for you with all that rearing, you had a crowd to contend with on top of it all, and besides, I know things haven’t been easy for you, newly married and trying to make a go of it. You’re too good of a trainer to lose your business just as it’s taking off. Take the check.

Lori could only shake her head mutely as she swallowed some of her pride. She knew she was blessed to have a friend like Shannon.

Thank you, she whispered, then tucked the check into the front pocket of her dusty jeans so it wouldn’t cause her to crumble emotionally.

Shannon gave her a one-armed hug around her waist and then steered her towards a couple of other people who had observed the training. I hope you brought business cards, Shannon whispered in Lori’s ear. They were very impressed.

**********

When Lori got back to the hobby farm she and her husband had recently purchased in Delhi, Ontario, Cody’s truck was already in the driveway. She clambered out of her own, beat-up Outlander, and groaned as her 21-year-old muscles protested the fact they’d been inactive during the 30-minute drive home. It was only May – she was going to have to get her body in shape if she was going to get through the summer horse-training season.

Hey, good-lookin’, Cody called as he came from the hay shed back out to the truck. Her big, blond husband, rippling with muscles, picked up a 50-pound bag of horse feed with ease and Lori paused to admire his hard body flexing with the load in his arms. She loved the way the sunlight caught the highlights in the waves of his tawny hair. He walked over to her and they gave each other a lingering kiss before Cody adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

Come walk with me and tell me how the day went, he suggested.

Give me a second, okay? I’ll grab my training gear and take it back to the tack room.

Lori could feel his eyes on her as she leaned in through the car’s open window and snagged the duffle bag full of the tools of her trade: rope halter and extra-long lead, spray bottles full of water, hair clippers, tie rings, plastic bags and balloons – all things to desensitize skittish horses, plus receipt books and waivers of liability. She picked up the training stick with her other hand and straightened up to find Cody watching her every move and shaking his head.

What? she asked self-consciously.

Cody uttered a mild expletive with an impish grin then explained, You have got one fine body.

Oh, stop it, Lori said with a laugh. You’ll get sick of it soon enough, once the honeymoon is over, she teased.

Hardly, Cody replied as he patted her on the rump and they started walking to the shed. The honeymoon was over three months ago. I’m an old married guy now, remember?

Oh, yeah. Right. Silly of me. Lori swished the training stick through the grass as they walked along.

So, how did the training go at Shannon’s?

Good. That new horse of hers is a pistol, but if she works with him consistently, she should have good results. I handed out a few more business cards and she paid me double what I asked.

Cody adjusted the load on his shoulder. "Good ol’ Shannon. That definitely could not have come at a better time. We’ll need to get the kittens spayed and neutered soon – we should earmark your money from today for that."

Good idea. I’ll cash the check on Monday and put it in our slush fund with a note on it.

The kittens were a brother and sister set of grey tabbies by the names of Luke and Leia. At 12 weeks’ old, they were becoming tiny terrors, but they definitely livened up the place and gave Lori something to distract her when Cody was away on business trips, scouting out talent in the horse world and matching the right rider to the right animal.

Cody had a natural ability in reading the skills and qualities of both humans and horses. Lori could easily vouch for that: she had first met Cody three years ago, when she was 18 and looking for a barrel-racing prospect. Cody had found her the beautiful bay gelding, Piper, who had since become her lifelong partner and champion of two seasons on the circuit. They had come home with numerous ribbons and earnings, but Lori had given up on barrel racing, at least for the present. With the chaos of planning the wedding, moving into their own place and trying to get established with income, Lori realized she needed to focus on bringing in more money than she was shelling out on entrance fees and tack. So she had turned to training other people’s horses – and teaching the humans, as well – something she had discovered she had a natural talent for, just as Cody had found his niche at the tender age of 18.

Natural Horsemanship was all the rage these days, but Lori knew the concepts and principles used in so many programs had been around for centuries. The gentler method of working with the horse had been overshadowed in the days of the Wild West by the need to get a horse broke quickly and ruthlessly. Unfortunately, most of those horses had given in to their riders out of fear, rather than respect, and the majority of well-broke animals introduced to humans in that way were essentially beaten down. Lori, instead, used a variety of different trainers’ methods that she’d studied since she was old enough to ride and became the partner of the horse. She corrected where necessary but viewed the whole experience as a teacher working with a student, not as a brute breaking the horse’s essential spirit in order to get cooperation and respect.

So far, it had worked well for her. She had given numerous demonstrations at the start, fully aware that word-of-mouth would be the best way of gaining clients. She and Cody had moved to their own farm after the wedding so that she could work with a variety of horses throughout the day and give free demonstrations on the weekends, allowing people to see what she was all about. Luckily, Piper had been a quick student of the methods she’d developed and it was only a few months after beginning his training that they were able to do elaborate at liberty programs for the people who came to see what she did.

It was impressive stuff, even to Lori. She would never have dreamed as a youngster that she would be able to turn her horse loose in a 100 x 200-foot riding arena and have that animal canter attentive, perfect circles around her in the middle of the ring. She would have laughed at anyone who would have told her that a horse with no halter, bridle or saddle could do flying lead changes and then trot diagonally across the arena from one corner to the other with only the slightest leg pressure from its bareback rider. And yet Piper was doing it every weekend for people who gasped in amazement while a smiling Lori directed him through various manoeuvres. As they witnessed how fluidly and easily Lori and Piper worked together, they wanted it for themselves and came to her afterwards, asking when she was available to come work with their horses. Lori’s agenda had quickly filled up.

On Cody’s suggestion, she had also gone to some of the local auctions and picked up four horses that had already been started and were of riding age. She got them cheap because she targeted the problem horses that were healthy and sound, but unrideable because of behavioural issues. Within a month, she had all of them ready to be sold again – this time, to a rider of any ability because of the intensive training she had put into them. With Cody’s keen eye at the auction ring, they had picked up some beauties and because of his connections, they already had two prospective buyers that would make them a handsome profit. Things looked promising and they were becoming solid partners, both in business and as husband-and-wife.

After dropping their bundles in the tack room / feed room combination, Cody wrapped his arms around Lori and gave her a deep squeeze and soft kiss on the neck. I’m very proud of you, you know, he whispered in the closest ear. You’ve done a great job with those horses. I think I might have another buyer for the palomino mare, too.

Lori returned the hug and looked up at her tall husband. "Really? Then I’m proud of you, too."

Cody laughed in his self-deprecating way and pinched her gently before releasing her. "You little bugger – is nothing I do enough for you?" he asked in mock exasperation. She laughed back at him and they walked arm-in-arm up to the house.

While Cody and Lori both came from a long line of farmers and horse people, both families lived quite a distance from Delhi, where the newlywed couple had chosen to start their life together. Cody’s father had died six years ago in a farming accident (when Cody was 15 years old) and his mother had opted to sell the farm to Cody’s older brother, Jesse, and move into a condo in Toronto last year. Jesse had offered to keep Cody on at the farm near Niagara-on-the-Lake, but when Cody had met Lori and they had begun discussing a future together, he had opted to make a clean break of it.

Lori’s family farm was situated closer to the American border near Windsor, and like Cody, there were older siblings who would be first in line to get the established farm. Instead, Lori and Cody had done some research and found a nice plot of land, with 10 acres of good horse pasture outside of Delhi, which allowed them to be equidistant from all the people they loved. Since they were new to the area, they had to learn as they went such things as which contractor was reliable when building the 8-stall horse barn, and who would fix their wood furnace at a reasonable price. There had definitely been a dramatic learning curve for the two 21-year-olds, but they were in love and resilient and every day was treated as a new adventure.

The house itself was a starting point and nothing fancy. It was a small log cabin, with a good-sized master bedroom and two smaller bedrooms that they were currently using as offices. The bedrooms were upstairs, allowing the main level to be designed in an open concept, with the kitchen and dining room to the left of the front door and the living room to the right. It was modest in size and the majority of the appliances were out-dated but even then they never would have been able to afford the place if their parents had not pitched in some of the money and added their names to the mortgage.

The real value was in the land: lush, improved-grass pastures that had been left behind by the former owners, who had bred Friesian horses. It also came with a much-coveted indoor riding arena to the left of the house and an outdoor sand riding arena behind that, where Lori had already been doing her demonstrations. The barn where the Friesians had been kept was in disrepair so Lori and Cody had taken the large gamble of razing it to the ground and building the horse barn and tack-and-feed room combination instead, directly behind the house. That had set them back almost as much as the initial mortgage, so financially it was going to be tight for awhile but they had high hopes for the use they would get out of the 8-stall barn. Between renting it out to others who were sending their horses to Lori for training and using it to house purchased horses that Lori would train quickly and re-sell in high turn-around, they were hoping the barn would pay for itself within five years. The only two horses that would actually be a financial burden were their own – Piper, Lori’s 7-year-old Quarter Horse, and Ebony, a black Percheron mare that Cody had purchased impulsively for jousting.

The two horses were an unlikely combination, Ebony standing almost a foot taller than Piper at the withers, but they had fallen instantly in love and were inseparable now. If Cody had bought the mare as a joke in one of his wilder moments of fantasy he was now forced into keeping her by an enamoured little Quarter Horse who insisted on following the heavy black mare everywhere she wandered.

The two horses were standing at the gate of the pasture to the side of the house as Lori and Cody walked by, so the couple went over to say hello before heading into the house. Ebony, in her typical fashion, was all lips, searching for treats in Cody’s pockets, expecting her due as a beautiful Percheron. Cody laughed and gently pushed away the mare’s big head. Go away, you greedy thing, he said lightly.

Lori shook her head with a mild degree of censure while she scratched a grateful Piper’s ears. You know, you really should get after her more for that. It’s not a game. One of these days, she might bite down on one of those pockets and the Cody Pate line will come to an end.

Cody grinned and shook his head dismissively. "Nah, she’d never do that. She’s a gentle giant. It’s only your horse that has carnivorous tendencies."

Hey, don’t pick on the Quarter Horse. That was over two years ago that he bit me and he’s learned some respect since then. Unlike your big behemoth, Lori stated as she pushed Ebony’s questing lips away a little less gently.

With a final pat to both, the couple said farewell and resumed their path to the house.

Chapter 2

Lori waited at Pearson International Airport with Cody’s favourite brand of coffee on the following Thursday evening, pleased to be welcoming him back from another business trip. Balancing the cup behind him as she got a long, tight hug, she took a deep breath in and exhaled with contentment. He smelled of his favourite cologne with just an underlying hint of horse and leather. The perfect cowboy, she thought to herself as she released him and stood back to present the cup.

He laughed in delight and kissed her lightly on the nose. How’s everything at the farm? he asked as he picked up his carry-on and tossed it lightly over his shoulder.

All’s well. Horses are good, kittens are tiny terrors like normal, Shannon’s thinking about buying a really expensive Arabian to use for Competitive Trail – I don’t know where she gets these ideas, but they always seem to work for her – and Sam Dennymede called while you were gone. He says he has a ‘proposition’ for you. I shudder to think. I invited him and Rita over for supper tomorrow night, if that’s ok with you?

Cody steered her towards the exit doors and they made their way over to the parking garage. Should be alright. I don’t think there’s much going on, unless you plan on doing a demo at the house this weekend?

Lori shook her head and tucked a resulting loose strand of hair back behind her ear. "No, I had advertised one for next weekend in the Horse Trader so I’ll take my time getting ready for that one."

She watched him put his bag in the back of the Outlander and nudged him lightly with her elbow.

What about you? Did you get that colt for Rick? She made her way over to the passenger side of the car and waited for him to unlock the doors.

Nah, Cody said as he slid into the driver’s seat. Prices are really starting to skyrocket for Pepto’ babies and I couldn’t justify what they were asking for what Rick is going to do with it. It was a good-looking colt, though – Rick definitely has a vision. I told him I’d keep my eyes open for prospects and let him know if anything pops up.

The next evening felt like déjà-vu for Lori, as she sat at their dining room table, speaking to Rita and Sam Dennymede about bloodlines once again. Sam and Rita had been long-time friends of Cody’s father and had made the 2-hour drive on a Friday evening to speak to Cody. Lori knew only something near and dear to Sam’s heart would have convinced him to make such a trip.

He got to the point as she was serving up the chocolate fudge bundt cake, coffee and tea after supper. I’ve decided to get out of the roping horse business, Cody, and focus on my reiners, the grizzled, older man said as he leaned back in his chair and patted his belly.

Lori had always thought of Sam as an older version of Hoss from the TV show Bonanza. He worked hard but he also lived well and had the paunch and heavy jowls to prove it. That was a mighty fine supper there, Lori, he said as he winked at her and took the proffered cake.

She smiled back at him and then turned to Rita. I’ve got ice cream, too – would you like some on your cake?

Rita was much slimmer than her husband and more delicate of feature, but a rancher’s wife for all that and tough as nails behind the make-up and layers of jewellery. She’d also spent years in the sun and had the dark, leathered look to her skin that such women sported. She shook her head vehemently at Lori’s offer. Oh, Heavens no. That’s the last thing we need, is more calories!

Lori handed her a plate and then served up Cody’s while Sam continued on with his plans. "I’ve been going to a lot of horse shows this year with the grandkids, you know, and I’m telling you, Cody – reining is going to be the next big thing in this country. You should just see the amount of money those competitors are dropping on their tack, their riding outfits and their horses."

Cody nodded and stirred his coffee reflectively. You’ve got a few nice mares in your herd already, Sam, that I think you could use.

Sam leaned forward and slapped Cody on the shoulder. Already ahead of you, son, he crowed. I’ve got them bred to Smart Chic Olena lines this year but I want my own stallion to bring along.

Cody raised a fair eyebrow at him. "That’s pretty ambitious, Sam. You sure you want to get that involved with this?"

Rita looked up at him with a blend of curiosity and caution. Why? Do you have concerns with that, Cody?

Cody gave Rita a gentle look then lowered his eyes to the tablecloth, deep in thought. Not really. I agree that the reining market is starting to boom, but a stallion.... That’s a huge commitment. You’re essentially getting back into the breeding business full-time when you do that. Are you sure you want that kind of responsibility at—? Cody stopped abruptly, realizing how the question would sound.

At our age, you mean? Sam boomed out a laugh as Cody turned red. I’m only in my sixties, kid – I’m not dead yet! Besides, I’ve bred before – I’m pretty sure the stallion and the vets have most of the work cut out for them, right? He winked again and shovelled a huge forkful of cake into his mouth with a grin.

Cody smiled over his coffee cup at Lori and subtly shrugged his shoulders at her. She knew he was wondering where this was leading. It sounds like your mind’s made up then, Sam. What do you need from me?

Sam rolled his eyes. Well, I thought that was obvious, son. I need a stallion! Now, mind – it doesn’t have to be well-established or anything like that. I can’t afford millions, you know. No, I’m just looking for a two-year-old – or weanling, even – that I can develop into the next great sire. And I know you can spot potential better than anybody in these parts. What kinds of lines should I be looking for?

Cody leaned back in his chair and exhaled softly. Well, let’s see...aside from the obvious, like Smart Chic Olena and Wimpy’s Little Step, you’ve got Topsail Whiz, Hollywood Dun It, Nu Chex to Cash, Custom Crome and Shining Spark. But you know what? Cody said with more excitement in his voice, as he leaned forward again and let the idea carry him, I think I’d be inclined to look more at something like Highbrow Cat, Skipper W or maybe even something from the Driftwood line. They’re great, versatile horses.

Sam had a huge smile on his face as he looked over at his wife. You see? I told you he’d be able to rattle off a couple hundred names for us, just like that. He snapped a meaty thumb and forefinger and chuckled.

Lori beamed at her husband, but then gave a mock groan as he untangled his long legs from under the table and got up. In fact, Cody said as he walked away, I’ve just recently received some information from the AQHA about the Western States Horse Expo Sale going on in Sacramento in June. There were a bunch of horses with those lines coming up for sale, I saw.

Cody retrieved several sheets of paper from a stand they kept by the door to hold mail and brought it back to the dining room to show Sam. I printed this off last week – it’s a list of all the horses entered into the sale.

Lori and Rita sighed with resignation and removed the plates from the table. Both women had been around horsemen enough to know when an idea sprang to life in this way, there was no hope for it but to let it run its course. By the end of the evening, as Rita and Sam were standing at the door and saying their farewells, Sam and Cody had already firmed up plans to fly to Sacramento in three weeks’ time.

Chapter 3

The days grew longer and the sometimes-cool evenings of May gave way to a June full of sunshine and warmth. It rained just enough for the hay to grow, but not enough for it to be an inconvenience when cutting and baling, and Lori and Cody were able to lay claim to two thousand small, square bales of high-quality grass hay from a local supplier. Cody grimaced as he wrote the cheque then made arrangements for it to be picked up in instalments. They would need to break it up into July, October, and December shipments since their outbuildings weren’t large enough to hold more than 800 bales at a time. Reluctant he may have been to part with so much money at once, but Lori felt nothing but relief in knowing that they had enough feed to get their horses through a full year.

Considering they still had about 50 bales left from the stash of last-year’s hay they’d convinced Cody’s brother, Jesse, to sell them, Lori felt optimistic they would have enough to see them through until she picked up the new shipment in July. She filled a wheelbarrow full of the older hay and rolled it out to sit beside the feed room door, in preparation for the evening’s feeding. Horses were sensitive creatures, needing the same food and the same routine on a daily basis in order to be truly healthy. Knowing this, Lori planned to gradually integrate the old hay with the new when it arrived and then gradually wean them on to nothing but the new hay by the end of July.

She also ensured that the horses’ daily routine was kept to a minimum of disruption. Awakened at 6:00 a.m. with Lori’s entrance to the barn, they listened to her preparing the good stuff – traditionally a warm bran mash, or soaked beet pulp – in the kitchen of the feed room. That was usually enough time to get a horse like Ebony drooling in anticipation and caused even the more relaxed members of their herd to shuffle or pace in their stalls. She would then make a tour of the barn, throwing a couple of flakes of hay in each stall to keep the horses occupied until the food that required water had time to soften up. As she dumped the hay, she would do a quick visual inspection of each horse to ensure all four legs were still on the ground and they looked healthy and alert.

Then it was back into the feed room to stir the mash or pulp and add any necessary vitamins or supplements, specific to each horse’s needs. Those were dumped into feed buckets labelled in marker with each horse’s name, and wheeled around in another cart. Dumping this into the corner feeders in each stall also gave Lori the opportunity to train the horses on manners at feeding time. If it required haltering them and working them in the stall to back away and come up only when invited, then she would take the time to do it. They usually caught on quite quickly that if they wanted to get fed, they’d better honour her space when she arrived with the food.

While they ate, Lori would clean tack or tidy the barn and by 9:00 the horses were ready to be turned out for exercise. If they were trained well enough, she would take two at a time to speed the process up; if they were new in the barn she would take them one at a time and use it as another opportunity for training. Today, the four horses up for sale were out in the riding arena. With the grass still young and bright green, early in the summer, she would only allow them to graze in small increments at a time. It took some adjusting for their stomachs to get used to the rich, fresh grass after eating hay all winter and she was cautious not to risk a bout of colic or laminitis by letting them gorge too early in the year.

Ebony and Piper had a two-tiered pasture for this reason, as well. The one was smaller and considered a sacrifice area – no grass grew there any longer, but it was large enough that the horses could get into a canter if they felt the urge to kick up their heels and stretch their legs in the winter. At the back of this area was a fence that opened up into a 3-acre pasture