Scared or Mad/Tally

Things seem to be going OK with Bill and Tally.

She was tense and fearful all of the time, but she tolerated him and was getting easier to handle every day.

Bill would come into the arena in the evening as I was gearing down for the day. Tally would go to her corner and bury her head as far as she could.

Bill had gotten her to accept a halter and a saddle pad. She would stand trembling as he slid the pad on and off of her.

On this night he carried a saddle in and slung it over the panels of the pen. Tally skittered up the wall in a half rear, but Bill was able to talk her down and pretty soon she was haltered and tolerating the pad.

Bill stood at her shoulder with the lead rope slung over his arm and gingerly placed the saddle on her back. Tally froze.

Nothing twitched, you could barely see her breathe. He reached under her belly and caught the cinch. He talked to her soft and slow.

His niece, Taylor, came quietly into the arena, crawled up on the fence and perched over the water tub.

Taylor was one of my favorites in the pack of kids that roved the barn. She was a dark and broody thing, but she could ride with the best of them, was intent during her lessons and was kind to my daughter. At 12-years-old she was starting to give her mother a run for the money, but mainly, she was a good kid.

Tally was saddled and cinched and I hadn't seen her move a muscle.

The sharp smell of nervous sweat filled my nose. The air crackled with tension. The sweet sing-song of Bill's crooning seemed as out of place as a hymn being sung at a gunfight.

I was quick to move my last two horses into the alley. I tied them off and stood with my arms folded on the top rail of the far pen. I wasn't sure what was going to happen but I didn't want to miss it.

I was so focused on Tally I didn't notice Taylor until she pushed her hair away from her face. The eternally thick coat of arena dust that covered every inch of the indoor had covered her hands as she sat on the rail. A dark smear of mud streaked her cheek.

I thought through why her hands were sweaty about the time I saw her uncle nod his head at her.

I started coming around the corner as she carefully slid into Tally's pen.

"Bill, what the hell....," I said as I tried to head them off.

Bill stood with a solid hold on the lead-rope and Taylor quick-stepped up to the stirrup. Bill grabbed her arm and swung her on Tally's back.

Tally crouched to the ground and came uncoiled before I got my hand on the gate. She threw herself in the air so high I thought she was going to flip, but she twisted and landed cat-like for a brief moment before she launched again.

Taylor was still on but she had never gotten both her stirrups. She threw a terrified look to her uncle and then centered herself in the middle of the saddle as best she could.

Even in my panic I had a brief moment of pride, she was staying calm and thinking in the middle of an out of control storm.

She didn't have a chance.

Tally threw herself straight at Bill. He reached for Taylor but he was crushed up against the wall before he could grab her.

Tally bucked again and her hind legs rose above the stock panels. She hooked her flanks and came crashing to the floor of the make-shift stall. The panels bent under her weight and came down with her. Tally lay in a heap. A horrible, honking wail came out of her with every breath.

Taylor went flying into the water trough and was smart enough to stay there.

I saw Tally's back cinch was twisted around one of the panel pins. The lead rope was flipped around one of the bent rails. Bill started toward Tally's head to get the lead rope.

Tally exploded upward and brought the panel with her. She blew into the arena with the panel tied to her head and saddle. Blood spurted from her chest and legs as the panel banged and tore at her body.

She was able to buck her way loose when the back cinch broke.

I breathed a sigh of relief. We were all in one piece and Tally seemed to have survived the ordeal.

But Tally wasn't done. She continued to buck so hard she slammed off the walls of the arena. Her wailing turned to a rhythmic grunt and was only interrupted when she hit something. The broken saddle began to slide and she bucked all the harder.

I pulled Taylor out of the water tank and the three of us retreated to the remaining pen. She let me wrap my arms around her and shivered into me. We stood in awed silence as the panicked horse bucked and threw herself at the walls and the ground trying to get rid of the saddle. The dust churned so high and thick we could barely make her out when she wasn't right in front of us.

Finally the saddle slid over her haunches and to the ground. Tally bucked around the arena until she collapsed.

She staggered to her feet and stood spraddle legged. She almost went down again as she turned to face us.Her head hung to the ground and her legs shook. Blood trickled from her nose and mingled with a thick rope of saliva hanging from her slack lower lip.

"Bill, you stupid son of a bitch," I said in a low voice, "what were you thinking?"

I took Taylor up to her grandparents house and told the boss what had happened. On my way home I kept thinking about Tally. If she wasn't crazy before she sure would be now, but I was stunned by her strength and power. She was amazing.

The next morning I came in late. I walked into the arena and saw Tally was gone. I stepped outside and looked in the pens.

I didn't see her anywhere. My stomach dropped.

I hunted up the boss.

"Where's Tally?" I asked.

"Bill loaded up his horses and went home," he told me, "he figured it was time. He took Tally too, I don't know why he likes her so much. That mare is going to hurt someone."