Haji's Exile

By Alan Chin

Nathan has cared for horses all his life, but Haji is the first he’ll train on his own. When the Arabian stallion arrives at Bitter Coffee Ranch, Nathan thinks he is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And then he lays eyes on Haji’s handler, Yousef. Nathan has much to learn about horses, about pride, and about love, but with the ranch’s hopes riding on Haji, he’ll also learn that all things have their price.

A Bittersweet Dreams title: It's an unfortunate truth: love doesn't always conquer all. Regardless of its strength, sometimes fate intervenes, tragedy strikes, or forces conspire against it. These stories of romance do not offer a traditional happy ending, but the strong and enduring love will still touch your heart and maybe move you to tears.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Jul 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781615819355

Alan Chin

Alan Chin writes unique, gay-themed stories about the human heart at war with itself. Alan graduated from the University of San Francisco with a Master’s Degree in creative writing. Since publishing his first novel in 2008, Alan has published a total of five novels, with two more working their way to print. Alan’s first novel, Island Song (2008), won QBliss Magazine’s 2009 Excellence in Gay Literature Award. His second novel, The Lonely War (2009), swept the 2010 Rainbow Literature Awards, taking first place in four categories: Best Fiction, Best Historical, Best Setting, and Best Characters. Alan’s third novel, Match Maker, took first place in the 2011 Rainbow Literature Awards for Best Contemporary Fiction. Alan has published two other novels: Butterfly’s Child (2010) and Simple Treasures (2011), and has also authored three original screenplays: Flying Solo, Daddy’s Money and Simple Treasures. Alan retired from corporate America in 1999 to become a full-time writer and part-time world traveler. He and his husband of eighteen years currently travel the globe half the year, and call the deserts of Southern California their home.

Book preview

Haji’s Exile

TO AN owl or an eagle or even the lark, man must seem a rather pitiful and forlorn creature; he is condemned to crawl the earth alongside only two friends. The dog and the horse are the only exceptions to man’s universal unpopularity. Man points with pride at these two contrarians and naively believes that both are equally proud to call him friend. Look at my two companions, says man, they are dumb, yet loyal. I have always maintained that they are tolerant at best, and if man didn’t feed them, they would quickly join ranks with the majority.

I have nevertheless depended on the tolerance of horses and dogs since my childhood. I believe with all my fiber that until a man has loved an animal, a large part of his soul remains unawakened. Even now at my advanced age, if I were deprived of the gratification of caring for either dog or horse, I would lose all that I hold dear. I should feel as adrift as a Muslim who had lost touch with Allah.

Horses in particular have been as much a part of my history as breathing. I define every phase of my life by which horse I owned then, or ones my father owned. Some were intelligent, some valiant, while others were rogues. None were alike. Some won the big handicap races and some won the smaller unimportant races. My family’s red and blue colors have swept past grandstands from Santa Anita to Bay Meadows. Some horses my father brought from the Eastern Seaboard, where old money and long bloodlines defined the sport. But one horse my father brought all the way from North Africa.

That stallion’s name was Haji.

When he came to the Bitter Coffee ranch, I was a straw-haired boy who had recently graduated high school, with a lanky body and wide, blue eyes. He was an Arabian stallion, part royalty and part desert whirlwind. I was awed by his self-possession, and I couldn’t help wondering what he thought of me.

He arrived at daybreak, descending the ramp from a two-horse trailer with the slow and dignified steps of Bonaparte in exile. With his head held high and nostrils flaring, he breathed the thin air of the Nevada high desert for the first time. Like me, he was a bit slender in the chest, but unlike me, he had strong legs as clean as limestone.