The Wonderful Horses of Dwayne Wonderall

    Overall Dwayne Wonderall was very happy. His ranch was a twelve acre sanctuary in Wyoming. He lived alone with his two old horses, Ned Freeman, a rust colored giant, and Jerry Lewis, a black stallion. Dwayne was a sexagenarian with a protruding, spherical belly, and what people called “a kind face”.  His wife, Lisa, had died five years before of breast cancer. The couple had never gotten around to having children. A loving man, Dwayne Wonderall now devoted himself completely to his horses. He took every care of them and made their lives as pleasant as possible, often putting their own well being ahead of his own.  He loved them deeply, and strongly believed that his affections were requited by the two giants.

    Once, when Ned Freeman was ill, Dwayne Wonderall settled himself in the stable with the horse, to help him until he got well.  It was the dead of winter, and Dwayne contracted pneumonia, but never once left his horse’s side.  When Jerry Lewis became lame after landing badly on a jump, Dwayne Wonderall built the horse his own wheelchair. He oiled and cleaned daily so it didn’t irritate the stallion.  It did make a loud squeaking noise whenever the horse walked, but apart from that was perfectly functional.

    This year it was a particularly harsh winter, and after a violent snowstorm the previous night, the ground in the fields had completely frozen over.  This meant a busy day for Dwayne, who would have to plow the ground to keep it from being completely ruined.  Like every other morning, Dwayne rolled out of bed, bent over, reaching his arms around his round stomach to touch his toes.  He wrapped himself tightly in his robe, and slipping his furry sandals on his feet, made his way towards the stable.  The horses were standing still in their stalls, breathing deeply.  Not wanting to wake them, Dwayne made his way to the closet where their food was, extra careful not to make any noise.  Upon entering the closet though, an expletive escaped Dwayne’s mouth, and pierced the heavy silence.  Some critter, Dwayne wasn’t sure what, had gotten into the horse feed, which was now strewn all over the muddy floor.  Dwayne sighed and turned to the horses, who were eyeing him attentively.

“Well,” he sighed, “You boys just wait; I’ll find you something to eat.”

    He emptied the cupboards and storeroom, searching for something his animals could eat. All he could find was his oatmeal.  He had had that oatmeal for breakfast every day for fifteen years. Lisa would make him a large steaming bowl with scrambled eggs and bacon on the side.  Since her death he didn’t have the patience to make the bacon or eggs.  He sighed and grabbed all the oatmeal in the house, preparing two large pails for the horses. 

    When he served it to them, they were reluctant at first. Hunger got the better of them though, and their heads disappeared into the pails.  Dwayne sighed, and returned to the house to get dressed.  He would go without breakfast, as he was already late, and had a long day ahead of him.  Because he didn’t like putting the horses to work, Dwayne worked with a manual plow, which had caused him serious back problems. He did like the company of the boys though, and released them from their stables when he was working.  So Dwayne started, throwing himself into it, with the same determination with which he addressed everything.

    He tired fast, the cold, age, and lack of food quickly sucking away his energy.  He sat down a moment to regain strength, his breath creating clouds in the cold, grey air.  In the distance, he could see Ned Freeman and Jerry Lewis huddled together for warmth.  Dwayne worried the horses were too cold. He hurried to the stable where he pulled out all the blankets he could find, piling them on the two animals.  Satisfied of their comfort, he returned to his work. 

    By lunchtime Dwayne was completely exhausted, his limbs stiff and his back in excruciating pain.  He leaned on the plow for support, blinded by the jolts of pain rushing through his body.  Tears welled in his eyes, and he searched the grayness for his horses.  He saw their shadows, watching him.  He mustered all the energy he could and called out to them for help.  Because he had devoted himself so fully to them, Dwayne was always certain the horses would rush to his aid in a time of need.  He cried their names again and again before finally crumpling down onto the ground.  He lay there for a minute in anguish, even stronger shots of pain riding up his left arm.  He sobbed to the horses to get help, and that he loved them, before finally becoming still.  Dwayne Wonderall was dead of a heart attack.

    In the distance, Ned Freeman and Jerry Lewis watched their loyal owner collapse, and cry out in pain.  They recognized their names being screamed again and again.  When he was silent, they watched his huddled mass on the ground for a few moments before turning back to their stables for food, the sound of Jerry Lewis’s wheelchair squeaking across the field.