It only rings twice before Bob picks up. “Mon, girl, how are you doing?”
His cheerful voice always manages to soothe me and isn’t failing me today. “Hey, old man. I’m doing okay. Cleared for light physical activity, finally.”
“That’s good. Does that mean you’re coming back?”
“Not yet, there’s a few things I promised to help out with here.”
“You trying to finally build a relationship with your family up there?” I can hear the pleased smile in his tone of voice, and I hate disappointing him, but I also don’t want to lie.
“No, but finding closure. I’ll never fit in with these people, no matter how hard I try. All they’ll ever see is my mother’s daughter who did all those terrible things in the past, not the person I’ve become. I don’t plan on living in someone else’s shadow for the rest of my life, even if it’s my own.”
“Montana—”
Hearing the sadness in his voice, I interrupt whatever he was about to say, not wanting to deal with that specific can of worms today. “Bob, that’s not why I was calling.” I steel my voice, making sure he hears I don’t have any intention to ever talk about any of this.
“Okay.” His sigh is deep and filled with disappointment, but there’s nothing I can do about that. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I agreed to work with one of Wayne’s three-year-olds. He doesn’t seem to like anyone but me when he’s in the stall. He even let me near him to pet him, so I agreed to try and work with him. But as soon as I got him into the round pen, he became wary of everything and tense, like he’s waiting for something to jump him.”
“Was he abused?”
“I think he was. He was rescued six weeks back from this abandoned farm by a local lady who specialized in rescues. But from what I remember, her mother is sick, and she couldn’t spare the time. And since he looks just like Wayne’s old stallion, Saint, he agreed to take him. He doesn’t like either him or Kade to the point where he shows some aggression toward them, but he’s never done that to me. I’m just not sure how to do this, and since you rescued Sammy, I thought you might be able to help.”
“Well, Sammy was never as bad as what you’re describing. But he certainly had his issues. The one thing I learned, however, is to treat him like you would any other horse.”
“Seriously?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, he might have his issues due to what happened to him, but underneath it all he’s still a horse with all his natural instincts intact. And that’s something you know you can work with. He’ll never be comfortable around you until you start playing on those instincts and let him figure out the right behavior by being consistent. Sounds to me he was never given the opportunity to figure out the rules of the game, so that’s what you must teach him.”
“So what you’re telling me is for me to not treat him any different than I would Whisky?”
“Well, not exactly. You play the same games you do with any horse in the round pen, except you must go slower, have more patience, and the reward must be there for every little step he does toward relaxing his state of mind.”
“Baby steps.”
“Exactly. You can’t be too pushy, or you’ll never gain his trust.”
“I see,” I say, my mind already whirling with ways to get Lucifer to trust me. “I won’t change my behavior around him then. I just adapt my speed.”
“Essentially. You’re good at this, Mon. Whether you believe me or not, you’re a natural. You’ll know how to do this. Trust me.”
“I hope you’re right. I wouldn’t want to make it worse.”
“I know, which is why you’ll do everything in your power to help him.” His voice is filled with pride. He always has faith in whatever I do.
“Yeah,” I say, distracted by Lucifer perking up, intently staring at something behind me. When I turn around to scan the area, I don’t see anything. Shrugging off the weird feeling we’re being watched creeping over my skin because of Lucifer’s behavior, I turn back around, a plan formulating in my mind. “I’ll think of something. Thank you for the advice.”
“You’re welcome, Mon. I hope you find what you’re searching for up there.”
“We’ll see.”
I hang up after we exchange goodbyes, and my eyes wander back to Lucifer, who hasn’t relaxed at all during my conversation. Deciding to take Bob’s advice to heart and treat him like every other horse I’d train, I pick up the lunging whip leaning against the round pen. I move toward the center, increasing the pressure, making him move around the perimeter.
For the next twenty minutes, I work with him like I would any other horse, except I have to keep reminding myself to be patient. And even though he’s still wary and skittish, by the end of it I got him to relax enough to pet him on the shoulder. A major step considering when I started I couldn’t even take a step in his direction.
Deciding not to push my luck, and to end on a good note, I release all pressure and pet him before I clip on the lead and slowly lead him out of the round pen and the short distance through the arena to the hallway leading to the stalls.
I grab a few cookies after giving him a brush down, trying to reinforce the good memories instead of the bad ones he’s been given in the past.
As soon as the
