Horse Stories/Sonita/ Chapter 2

Before I get into Sonita, I need to ask you guys something. Will some of you actually try my training tips, and then tell me if they work?
I can see them in my mind, I can teach them if you're with me, and we're both on a horse.
I have never tried to write down how I train.
In my head they're perfectly clear, but I don't know if that means my written version of TOF makes any sense.
Talk about a writing exercise!
If you guys find holes in my sequence let me know, please! I'll try to fix them.
Thanks.

Sonita/Chapter 2

I got another call from the Goober.
"That filly crawled out of my round pen and went over the barb wire again. Her leg is really torn up. I'm bringing her out today."
"Wait a minute. How bad is she?" My heart was slowly sinking to the vicinity of my stomach.
"Bad enough that I don't want to doctor it."
"So you're going to sell me a crippled horse?" My heart fell into my acid filled stomach with a gentle plop.
"No," he replied testily, "I'm bringing you the horse you already bought.
Then I'm taking home the other horse you bought, and decided you didn't want."
"Just hold on a sec," I knew I was getting screwed somehow, but the sound of my heart doing the back stroke around my stomach made it impossible to think.
"I thought you were trading me. Can't I look at those other colts?"
"You're brand inspection is done. I'll be there in an hour."
The Goober hung up the phone. My heart flipped over once and sort of gurgled it's way to the pit of my stomach.
I had just enough time to call the vet, and have him meet my new investment at the barn.
We all knew when Sonita had arrived. The sounds of kicking and banging on trailer walls rattled down the canyon, well ahead of the grinding gears of the Goobers truck.
Of course I had an audience.
I was the new trainer at the facility.
I rode the pleasure and all around buckskin horses they raised.
The Big Chief wanted to see what I had decided to buy instead of one of his horses.
It seems his wife and grand kids did too.
A few assorted boarders, clients, and friends managed to show up, just to round out the gang.
I put on my best, "Of course I know what I'm doing." face, and opened up the big door of the indoor arena.
The Goober pulled in, hopped out of his truck.
"Get ready to catch her, she isn't tied."
I stood at the back of the trailer, arms spread, knees slightly bent.
"OK, I'm ready."
"You catching a horse or a fly ball?" The Chief asked.
"She's going to go over like a bowling pin." The vet added.
They leaned against the rail, arms folded.
I'm always up for providing a morning's entertainment.
The Goober opened the stock trailer door and my little filly peeked out into the arena, broken lead rope dangling.
Her bugged eyes were white ringed. Her sides heaved, and she was soaked in a nervous sweat.
It occurred to me I had never seen Sonita not soaked in sweat.
I straightened up.
"Come here baby." I crooned. "This is all a little crazy, isn't it?
Let's get that leg looked at, OK?"
She let me lead her out. She swung her head around, snorting, but she stood by me as I rubbed her withers.
The Goober wasted no time picking up his HYPP positive colt and loading him back into his trailer.
"He looks good. Nice doing business with you." He grunted. He was swung his rig around and motored on out of there.
I think we came to a mutual, silent agreement that this was our last business transaction. The finger I chose to wave at him, as he climbed up the road, clinched it.
The vet came over to look at my new filly.
Her leg was a mess. Most of the muscle in her forearm was gone.
He poked and prodded around the wound.
"There's a lot of old scar tissue here. She's hurt this leg more than once. My guess is that barb wire fence wasn't the first one she's jumped. Every time she gets hurt, it's harder to raise this leg high enough to get over. So she hits it again."
"Is she crippled?" I asked.
"For now. I've seen horses get along pretty good with injuries like this. You're lucky you don't need a lot of lift in her stride. She'll be able to swing that leg forward just fine."
"How do I care for it?"
"Keep her clean. There's nothing to stitch. We'll just have to wait and see how it does.
Keep her in a stall and run, she'll try to jump out of the pens."
The Chief started to laugh, just a little.
The stalls were three times the cost of the pens. My investment was just humming along.
"What have you done?" The Chief put his hand on my shoulder.
Sonita settled in to life in a run as best she could.
She paced up and down, looking over to the other horses.
She was afraid to come into her stall.
It became pretty apparent she had never seen a barn.
At feeding time she would trot into her stall, grab a mouthful of hay, and trot back outside to eat it.
Her leg was weepy and raw.
Still, Sonita had something about her I had never seen before. Every aspect of her conformation tied into the next in a sweet, smooth line. She was a tight, compact, athlete. There was a fluidity in her nervous energy that made me itch to ride her.
Her wild rolling eye would settle on me, and soften.
She was gentle and quiet when I doctored her.
She would nicker when I came into the barn.
I became almost frantic in my desire to heal her.
I had, what in my humble opinion, was a flash of genius.
I paid a visit to some friends who worked in occupational and physical therapy.
I explained Sonita's situation and asked for some help.
They got out their books, and we worked out a plan.
They taught me a lot about lost muscle tissue, scar massage, and wound care.
The scar massage was the most important. They gave me hope that the pretty little filly would be usable.
They gave me something to do.