Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Horse Tails


Mordecai Spells Mayhem

Waiting to geld Mordecai, shouldn’t have been a big deal. He wasn’t dangerous in his pen, all by his lonesome, and that pen was substantial. He would strut his stuff, every chance he got. Up and down the length of his pen, he would go. Showing off, tormenting his sire, the stallion on the other side of the alleyway that separated their pens. I would tell Charco, the senior stallion, not to be bothered by the posturing of his son, but it didn’t help. The sight of Mordecai flaunting and daring him, was simply too annoying, then depressing. I didn’t have another pen to move Mordecai to, or I surely would have. Within a week of having Mordecai across the lane from him, poor Charco, truly became depressed.

Arriving home from errands in the city, I drove to the back gate, instead of going to the house first. Hubby would be coming home soon. It was the job of whoever was home first, to open the back gate for the semi. It was simply a nice gesture that we could do for one another.  As I opened the gate, I glanced over towards the stallion pen, and my poor heart, darn near stopped. There was Charco, standing at the gate, intently watching me.  Something he always did, when I was anywhere in sight. Behind him, well behind him, in a far corner of the same pen was Mordecai.

I had no idea, how he ended up in the same pen with Charco, but it was potentially deadly to either horse. Why they were standing so far apart and not fighting, was beyond my comprehension. I fully expected them to be tearing each other apart, with the enthusiasm of two dragons, fighting to the death. I wasn’t about to dwell on it. Jumping into the pickup truck, I raced to the pen. I can’t remember parking, yet I clearly did. In no time at all, I was grabbing the halter and lead down from where it hung on the outside of the fence. As obliging as always, Charco dropped his head into it. Just like that, I had him out of the pen and away from danger. The danger averted, I had the chance to examine the lovely horse. He didn’t have a scratch on him, yet he was covered with sweat and foam. It made no sense, yet it certainly appeared that, he’d fought a good fight. If not that, then he’d certainly done a good deal of running. Satisfied that he had no serious injuries needing immediate attention, I put him into the barn for safekeeping. There was still another horse, to deal with.

Picking up another halter and lead, I headed back to catch Mordecai. For some strange reason, I didn’t expect him to have suffered injuries. I was wrong. Apparently, Charco had cleaned his clock. Though none of the injuries would leave lasting issues, they were significant. One particularly long, deep gouge on the top of his rump, caught my attention. I was sure it was caused, by the bottom of the chain link fence. The darn horse had pushed under it. No simple feat on its own. I put him into the round pen, before going to see how he’d managed to escape. Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist, to figure out how he’d gotten loose. The gate was off the hinges. A quick fix, I had Mordecai back in his pen, in two shakes of a dog’s tail. That was when my attention was caught by, the team of Belgians in the small pasture behind Charco’s stallion pen. Something wasn’t quite right. Pat was down. Tom was standing over him. Going to check on the pair, I was horrified to find, Mordecai surely must’ve been in their area first. Poor Pat. He was so beaten up. All signs were that Mordecai had him on the ground, and had been intent on killing him. I got him up and brought him to the front. I needed a vet. There was going to be some stitching that needed doing.

Several hours later, as well as several hundred dollars lighter, the horses were all doctored up and on the road to healing. Mordecai’s gate was beefed up. There was no way, he’d lift it off the hinges, not again. The only good part of the whole fiasco was, Charco got his mojo back. The old boy had kicked his son’s butt, of that there was no doubt. All the threats and posturing that had depressed him, were no longer of any consequence. He’d shown his arrogant son that he, the king of the farm, still ruled. The difference in Charco was incredible. Where he’d been depressed, he was now the one to strut around, like he was the most special horse on the farm. You know what, he truly was and remained so, until the day he died. He’d shown that upstart Mordecai where he stood. From that day forward, Mordecai never threatened Charco again.


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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB