The Trust of One (standard:non fiction, 1757 words)
Author: E. Creely	Added: Jul 21 2001	Views/Reads: 3181/2097	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a recollection/narrative about a particular little girl who I hope I gave a lasting gift to.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

grass in his mouth. Before I let out another sound, he turns and comes 
walking toward us. At this point I climb under the fence and stand 
there, half expecting him to stop, or turn, but he keeps his ambling. A 
happy, friendly horse! 

I invite her to come next to me as this dull-honey colored horse with a
slightly dopey look to him comes and stands in front of us. I reach out 
and let him sniff my hand, and then hers. I start to stroke him, first 
on his head and then I move to his belly by the route of his neck. She 
does the same and he simply stands and sniffs and enjoys us. Oh, he is 
a sweetie. 

We are on a slope, so I tell her to grab the bucket and follow me to a
flatter area. "Will he come too?" she asks me. I nod yes and as I walk, 
he quickly turns around and bounds after me, in a lazy trot. So I jog a 
bit, and he picks up speed and before we know it, we're playing tag 
with him, darting in front and running with him following and playfully 
snorting. She is enthralled and so I stand still and she runs a bit and 
isn't showing any signs of anything but bliss as he follows her around, 
at times making me nervous because he's trotting on her heels. 

This was our first introduction to the horse who, like her, somehow got
his name bumped from my memory. We spend about an hour with him, 
brushing the dust and old hair from his body and I believe if horses 
could purr, he would've been humming with a loud one. 

For the last 3 months of my stay in the area, the girl and I would make
it out to see the horse every week or so. It should have been more 
frequent, as my finely honed hindsight suggests. 

As time passed, the horse grew more accustomed to us and would prick his
ears and give a little whinny when he saw us, running over for a game 
of tag and then some brushing. 

She began to want to ride this horse, said she dreamed of it. Towards
the end, she grew more and more open with me, talking about school or 
the horse and she was very factual and if indeed she had a façade, it 
never cracked. I think I was her only friend as I never saw her have 
friends over or her leave for the night for a sleepover. 

Many times she would walk up the stairs with the bucket and say
sheepishly 'do you want to go over?' Many times I had to say no, 
because I was either off to work, or working on school things, or had 
friends over."Ok, maybe later," she'd say trying not to sound 
dissapointed. 

The last few times we went over, I felt like she deserved a ride on this
beast who became her good friend. There was an old halter hanging from 
the wall of the house, and I felt that her wishes trumped any 
propietary issues held by the owners, who we only saw that first day. 
They simply didn't care and I was only worried about injury to her. 

I put the halter on him in a corner of the pasture where the trees grew
thick and gave us cover. He didn't mind at all. With slight 
heart-beating I hoisted her up to his back, thinking of what to do if 
he spooked, reared, ran, etc...But no, he stood his ground. I told her 
how to sit on him and to find her seat on him. I took the long lead 
rope and began walking around. She sat him well and he seemed pleased 
to be serving a purpose. I thought she was holding her breath and had 
to remind her to talk to him, let him know who she was and that they 
were not just rider and horse, but partners in navigating the yard. 

We walked around for about 30 minutes and I let him toward the end give
a little trot. Like other random, striking memories, her face lights up 
in my thoughts and it's a feeling I can't put words to. She rode him a 
few more times before I had to pack up and leave the area , because I 
was done with school. 

She knew I was leaving and before I left, I encouraged her to continue
to visit him and keep him as a friend. I left her my batch of horse 
combs and brushes so she could. What I don't know after all these years 
is if she grew the gumption to visit him alone, and whether she learned 
anything because of it. I choose to think that at some point, the 
owners let her take more responsibility and she was able to ride him on 
the trails, all the while someone encouraging and teaching her how. 

I like the rose-colored lens I choose to remember and hope for her
through. I like to believe that her fate had been changed by that horse 
and that no name-calling occurred and that she never rebelled against 
her vulnerable, sweet and developing strength of her 9-year-old self. 
No goth years, no dreadful makeup, no trading in affection for sex, no 
booze. No. No.No. Just a girl who became a woman because of a horse. So 
simple, so good, so there... 

So the picture of her brushing him, freezes for me a moment of trust
that I was able to witness, and remains one treasure to find 
unexpectedly from the chaos of my pictures. 


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