Free Galloping Gold by Terri Farley Page B

while Jonah approached the gelding.
    â€œHe thinks it’s a game!” Ann couldn’t help calling out a reminder.
    Jonah heard and gave a short nod, then pretended to jog away from the horse. He looked over his shoulder, and though all three pintos watched him, Sugarfoot didn’t come a step closer.
    Jonah sauntered, jogged, and strolled all over thepasture, trying to provoke the horse into a charge. Darby noticed her grandfather always stayed near the fence, in case he had to jump over or roll under.
    Sugarfoot wasn’t pretending to graze anymore. His breaths came in loud huffs and his flanks darkened with sweat. He yearned to go after Jonah, even though he sensed it was a trap.
    Finally Sugarfoot gave in and charged.
    His first strides were full of fire and grace, but when Jonah put his hands on his hips the paint’s gallop slacked to a lope, then a trot, and then he stopped.
    â€œHe’s looking past Jonah, like there’s something lots more fascinating just beyond him,” Darby said. “Is Sugarfoot embarrassed?”
    â€œHe knows Jonah’s not going to run,” Ann said with a sigh. “If we could just get everyone to act that way, Sugarfoot wouldn’t get himself into any more trouble.”
    Jonah strode to the section of fence closest to them. Without glancing back at Sugarfoot, he asked, “What does he do for exercise?”
    â€œHe chases people,” Ann answered, half-smiling.
    â€œSeriously,” Jonah asked, “how often is he ridden?”
    â€œEvery few days or so,” Ann said.
    Ed offered an excuse: “We’ve got seventeen horses to work.”
    â€œHe doesn’t care,” Jonah said.
    Darby knew he didn’t mean to be rude. He wasjust speaking up for Sugarfoot.
    â€œIt’ll be more often now that it’s summer,” Ann put in. “My mom and I have already talked about it.”
    â€œTruth be told, Ann’s the only one who likes to ride him,” Ed admitted. “He’s a lot of work.”
    â€œBut there’s not a mean bone in his body,” Ann insisted.
    â€œAnd how is he with other horses?”
    â€œFine,” Ann said. “They understand it’s all a game, but people…”
    â€œSee a half ton of horse barreling down on ’em and panic,” Ed finished for her.
    Jonah shrugged, then said, “Before I’d get rid of a nice horse like him, I’d try working him as hard as he can stand. He’s forgotten why he’s charging. It’s just a habit he can’t give up because he’s crawling out of his skin with nerves. Teach him something new. Demand something from him. He needs to work his brain and his muscles.
    â€œLook at where he comes from: Arab and Morgan. Those horses didn’t start off as pets. You got your Arab charging through deep sand, keeping pace with camels whose legs are twice as long. Your Morgan? He hauled logs and buggies before he was a police horse and da kine.
    â€œTired horses don’t cause much trouble. If he’s worked, he—” Jonah’s lecture ended as Sugarfoot caught his attention. “Watch him,” Jonah said, pointing.
    Sugarfoot didn’t seem to be doing anything.
    Watch what? Darby was thinking, when her grandfather said, “Watch closer .”
    She did, and all at once she glimpsed what Jonah was talking about. Even though Sugarfoot’s restlessness was confined to ear-twitching, stamping, snapping at invisible flies, and swishing his tail, the gelding was never still.
    â€œHe’s got a good life as far as food and shelter goes, but no one’s made him grow up,” Ed said.
    â€œSo you start now,” Jonah said with a shrug. “There’s got to be something around here for him to do. Make him work for his ‘good life,’ and this game of his will stop.”
    Jonah’s words rung with such certainty, Ed shook his hand.
    â€œMy advice is nothing,”