hold onto him when he starts run-nin’ around. In fact, I want you both
in the stable, not out in the paddock with him. I’ll get Lady and take her around to the pasture. Gypsy’s out there, ain’t
she, Mary?”
Mary was almost too upset to reply. “Yes, she’s out there, Willie. She’ll be glad to see Lady. But, Willie, are you sure we
have to do this today?”
Willie was already halfway across the paddock with the lead rope, and Jody had already taken the saddle off. The girls obediently
went into the stable, looking out into the paddock from the stable door.
Willie hooked the lead rope to Lady’s halter and walked her toward the gate. Star was at her side in an instant, expecting
to go out of the gate with her as he had done so many times before on their trips around the farm with the girls. But this
time, Willie hurried out with Lady and turned, shutting the gate before Star could follow.
“Oh, I can’t stand it,” Jody said, covering her eyes.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Willie called to the girls.
“Don’t do anything until I get back. And stay in that stable.”
The experience of watching Lady walk away from him was a first for Star; he had always been by her side. He threw up his head
in surprise, then turned and looked at Mary and Jody, as if to say, “Hey! Get over here and open this gate!”
But Mary and Jody, as much as they wanted to go out in the paddock, stayed where they were. Star stood stock-still, head up
and staring as Lady and Willie turned the corner of the dairy barn on the way to the big pasture. The moment Lady was out
of sight, Star shook his head, snorted once, and let out a high-pitched whinny. An instant later, Lady answered from the pasture.
“I was hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear Lady from the pasture, but he can hear her loud and clear,” Mary lamented. “This
is going to be terrible!”
Star whinnied again, Lady answered, then Star began galloping around the paddock, kicking and bucking, stopping only long
enough to whinny once again, then taking off for another round.
“Mary, he’s going to either run himself to death or hurt himself trying. I’m going out there to try and calm him down,” Jody
said, pushing open the stable door.
“Don’t you do no such thing,” Willie said. He had come silently into the stable and was watching Star from the aisle behind
the girls.
“But, Willie, he’s going to break a leg!” Mary cried.
“No, he’s not. His legs are a lot sturdier than you think they are. He’ll run around until he gets tired, then he’ll stop,”
Willie said simply.
Mary and Willie continued to watch Star gallop and whinny, but Jody sat on a bale of hay in the stable with her eyes closed
and her hands over her ears. She suddenly felt a warm wet tongue on her face. Finnegan had come into the stable to see what
all the commotion was about and was doing his best to cheer her up.
“Oh, Finney,” Jody cried, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his fur. “I can’t watch. When is it going to
stop?”
As if on cue, the whinnying did stop, and so did the sound of hooves beating against the hard clay of the paddock. Jody sat
up on her bale and looked at Mary and Willie, who still had their backs to her as they stared out into the paddock.
“What’s happening?” Jody asked fearfully. “Is he all right?”
“Just like I told you. He’d run till he got tired, and then he’d stop,” Willie replied calmly.
“Jode, I don’t think you want to see him right now.” Mary warned, “Better wait a few minutes.”
Of course, that statement made Jody jump from her bale and rush to the door. What she saw across the paddock brought tears
to her eyes.
Poor Star had run himself into a lather, and he was standing by the gate, head hanging to the ground. Having no more voice
left, he made snuffling noises that sounded to Jody like crying. And she began to cry herself.
“Oh, Willie,
Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood