Out of the Frying Pan

Jack

While I was busy going around from one animal to the next, the dung brothers took notice of me. Lenny asked, “What are you doing?” I told him that I was waiting on Grandpa to call me so we could get the eggs from the chicken coop.

“So,” Lanny piped up, “you mean you’re about finished?”

“Yep, remember what Grandpa said last night, when we get done with our work we can start decorating. I’d rather smell the Christmas tree than what you’re shoveling.”

They looked at me for a moment, then began to work faster. Grandpa called my name and I flew with anticipation to where he was. “Yes, Grandpa?”

“Now hold on, I’m not quite ready yet. I need you to take Jack out back and put him in the corral so he can stretch his legs a bit.”

“What about Patches?” I asked.

“No, she would be a little tough to get back in, and we don’t want to waste any more time, do we?”

“No, sir!”

Grandpa was right, Patches was so playful, that if I took her outside, we’d have a time trying to get her back into the barn. She was a beautiful Appaloosa, about sixteen hands high.

Then there was Jack, short for Blackjack. He was solid black, not a white spot on him anywhere. He stood about eighteen hands high to his withers. He was a handsome horse and he knew it. He gave me the feeling that he thought I should feel honored if he let me pet him. With Patches, I could pet, hug, and brush her all I wanted to.

I got a rope and then climbed up the slats on the door to Jack’s stall and asked him if I could slip the rope over his head. Patches looked over at me sorta pitiful-like, so I told her I’d ask Grandpa if she could go out tomorrow. After Jack agreed to let me put the rope on him, I climbed down and opened the stall. Jack came out easy and I felt proud walking beside him like Gene Autry next to Champion. With one little difference, though. If Jack wanted to take off, I would have been hanging onto that rope for dear life.

I opened the barn door and led Jack out, asking him nicely not to do anything unexpected. He followed me, waiting patiently as I opened the gate to the corral and then led him inside. I shut the gate behind him and he took off running.

He was so graceful to watch; he would stop abruptly and change direction, trampling and flinging the snow with his hooves. I climbed up onto the top rail of the fence to admire his beauty. He slowed down and surprised me by trotting over to where I was. I reached out to pet him, and he blew snot and slobber on me then took off again as if he was laughing at me.

“Dang horse!” I muttered as I reached into my back pocket to fetch my handkerchief. I should have known. As I was still wiping my sleeve and hand, Grandpa called out to me to help him get the eggs. I jumped down from the fence and hurried toward the chicken coop. About halfway there, I turned and looked back at Jack. He stopped and looked back at me, then began to dance around the corral again.

“Dang horse,” I muttered again.

Grandpa and I retrieved the eggs and went back to the barn. To our surprise, Lenny and Lanny were done and were putting away the last bit of hay from the loft. They didn’t even make a mess of things, not even of themselves. Grandpa laughed and said, “You boys sure are on fire today. Why, it’s not even eleven o’clock! I reckon we can go back to the house and eat lunch nice and slow-like. We’ll let Jack run around for a bit longer while we eat, then bring him back in after lunch.”

The three of us boys deflated just a bit.

“Then I guess we can start getting the decorations put up.”

With that said, we were grinning from ear to ear. We gathered our things and then headed out of the barn. For once, my brothers were keeping up without pushing and shoving or even flinging snow at one another. That was a strange feeling, having them quiet behind me like that. Grandpa probably felt it too.

As we were walking the path back to the house, Mr. Mitchell came walking up. He lived on the next farm over and had worked with my Grandpa for years. He was a good friend to everyone in our family.

“Merry Christmas!” Mr. Mitchell hollered out to all of us as he approached. We all replied with the same cheerful greeting.

Mr. Mitchell said to Grandpa, “It’s all ready for you, John.”

Grandpa said, “Thank you, Tom,” then asked him if he wanted to stop for a spell and have some lunch.

“Lunch? Why, it ain’t noon yet, John.”

“I know,” Grandpa said, “but I told the boys when they got their work done they could put up decorations, so they worked really hard and fast and got it all done. So we are going to TAKE OUR TIME and have an early lunch. You’re welcome to join with us, if you want, Tom.”

“I guess I could come in and warm up to a cup of coffee, but I rode Billy over.” When I looked over that way, I could see Mr. Mitchell’s horse tied up to the porch post in the front of the house.

Grandpa turned to Lanny. “You go and fetch Billy and take him over to the barn. Make sure he’s fed and watered.”

Mr. Mitchell spoke up, “I don’t want to put anybody to trouble when—“

Grandpa cut him short. “There’s no trouble, we have plenty of time.”

I was sure glad when Grandpa told Lanny to do that. Billy got his name from butting with his head like a goat if you didn’t walk fast enough. That’s all I would have needed, another dang horse doing something to me today.