The Wild Horse of the West

As I walk to the west
in fear of wind and rain and snow,
grant O Great Spirit
that I may always walk
like a strong woman,
and return strong to my clan.

The wild horse of the West

There was once a horse which was so wild that hundreds of men had tried and failed to tame her over the years. The horse belonged to a farmer named White Feather who lived in Manitoba in western Canada, and she spent her days in a strengthened hut which often had to be mended. Every time a man heard about this horse he would go to the farm where the horse was kept, and try to ride her. But even if the men managed to get a saddle on the horse, which was very rare, for she kicked and bucked whenever she was touched, they could never climb onto her and ride her.
The horse became so well known across the country that she was called the wild horse of the west. And what a beauty she was - as dark and glossy as a chestnut, with keen eyes and a proud mane and tail.

One day a young girl called Amy heard about the wild horse of the west. Her family were descendants of the Mohawk clan of the Iriquois, who had lived near the lake of beautiful water since the shadow of time was invented. She shared with her parents and her grandmother a long wooden house in a village in the snowy eastern wilds of Canada we now call Ontario.

One cold Spring morning Amy's father had ridden into town to buy some provisions from the general store, and had heard some men talking about the strongest spirited horse they had ever seen, and how one of their number had been thrown across the paddock some days ago and was now nursing a broken arm. The men, though laughing said the horse was a burden to his owner as hundreds of men turned up at the farm every year to try and tame it and the farmer was unable to get on with his everyday work as so much time was taken up trying to saddle and tame the creature.

Amy's father hurried home and told the story over dinner that night. Amy had always loved animals - since she was a tiny child she had played in the forest with animals. An only child, by the time she was five years old she could communicate with all the birds and animals who lived near her house. She had even made friends with a brown bear who she had rescued from a hunter's trap when he was a cub. Some of the Iriquois women in the village even whispered that Amy ran with wolves by moonlight, although no one had ever actually seen this.

Horses were animal she had always found exquisite, and although the only ones she saw regularly were the ones lent by their neighbours for urgent errands, or which drew a carriage around the nearest town, she often dreamt about having her own horse. She imagined riding through the forest bareback with the wind in her hair and only the sound of the galloping hooves beneath her. She knew from her time with other animals that she would be able to speak to the wild horse and find out why she was so frightened, and become her mistress.

Amy was so fascinated by the story of the wild horse of the West that she asked her father to tell it many times that spring and on into summer, and he did, each time adding new details which he thought would entertain her. She drew horses during her lessons at school and had decorated the cover of her school book with pictures of a horse with flowing mane, galloping into the wind. She even used to dream of riding the wild horse of the west, of thundering through the forest in the snow with her hair flying behind her until she slowed the horse with just a gentle pull on the rein and they walked by the frozen river together, the horse nuzzling her neck and softly whinnying.

Amy was growing up fast, but still she carried the thought of the wild horse with her every day. Her parents had stopped explaining why they hadn't the money to buy her a horse of her own, and on her 14th birthday they told her that they had not the money to give her a fine present, but that they had an idea. They had spoken to a friend whose eldest son, Hawk, was heading west to look for work, and who was happy to take a passenger aboard his horse and carriage all the way to the farm in Manitoba as a gesture of goodwill. Amy had known Hawk since she was a child and Amy's parents knew he could be trusted to look after her on such a long journey. They asked her if she would like to go and finally meet the horse she felt such an affinity with.

Amy could not speak for excitement, but she also felt scared. What if the horse didn't like her? Although she felt sure she would be able to communicate with her as no other had clearly done, she felt worried about leaving her parents for the first time too. But she was an independent girl, full of spirit and pride herself, and she told her parents she would be ready the next morning. Her mother packed enough food to last them for two weeks, and rolled up in her knapsack flints for lighting fires, and a small tepee which would keep them warm the nights they had to stop and camp.

The next day dawned cold and bright. It was March, almost two years since the family had heard about the wild horse and the snow was thick on the ground and would be for a couple of months. Amy was wrapped up well in animal skins, waiting by the front door for the horse and carriage and their friend's seventeen year old son. She stood tall, her long chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders, and her proud dark eyes scanning the horizon.

When Hawk and his carriage came into sight he smiled and waved and Amy felt a wave of happiness lurch in her chest. This was an adventure, and she realised she was very grateful that her parents were letting her go. She knew she would return, but she had the strangest feeling that it might be some time before she once again worked in the fields with her mother and helped her father to cut logs for the fire. In tears she bade farewell to her mother and father and grand mother and in the tradition of her forebears as she left her village she spoke aloud the Iriquois poem of her ancestors.

As I walk to the west
in fear of wind and rain and snow,
grant O Great Spirit
that I may always walk
like a strong woman,
and return strong to my clan.

Sitting up on the carriage with a heavy woollen blanket over her knees she waved goodbye to her parents until they were just a speck in the distance.

It took Amy and Hawk three long weeks to get to the farm of the wild horse of the west. The adventures they had on that journey would fill a school of children's heads for a year, but perhaps we will save that for another time. They were running low on food and arrived starving and thirsty, although pleased by how much warmer it was in the west. As they bumped down the muddy track towards the farm Amy took off her fur boots and was barefoot as she climbed down from the carriage and ran towards the farmhouse to find the farmer called White Feather. Hawk turned the carriage round and headed to the nearest town to get some provisions for later. Amy was alone.

She wasn't expecting what she found. White Feather was old and tired, sitting by the fire in his kitchen, with only one candle lit. He raised his head as she entered but did not stand to greet her. The horse had broken him. After years of proudly owning a horse no one could tame, he was now so disappointed that no one had ever managed to ride her it showed in the way he carried himself. But there was something about Amy that made him smile, a thing he had not done for a long time. She was a bright, spirited girl with a broad smile and eyes that shone with excitement. She reminded him of someone or something, he could not remember what.

"I've come to ride your horse" said Amy. The man laughed, a low deep rumble in his chest. "I know," he said.

Amy and the old man walked towards the stable at the back of the farm. She felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle with excitement. As the farmer opened the stable door she closed her eyes.
When she opened them, the most beautiful horse she had ever seen was standing in the far corner of the stable, tied with a rope to a ring in the wall.

The horse looked at Amy and a shiver went down her spine. She locked eyes with the horse, and in the silence they gazed at each other in surprise. The old farmer was puzzled. Usually when he brought strangers to the stable the horse began to kick and buck, as if she knew what was going to happen. Yet here she was now, quiet and still. Amy put out her hand. The horse walked forward. At that moment the farmer realised who Amy reminded him of: the horse she now stood next to.

Amy put her hand on the horse's neck and softly patted her mane. Then, to the old man's astonishment, she leant forward and whispered gently in the horse's ear. The horse moved closer to Amy and nuzzled against her shoulder. "I would like to ride her now, if you are happy for me to try," Amy told the farmer, who only nodded silently..

White Feather opened the stable door and the girl and horse walked out towards the paddock. But when Amy saw the paddock, a small area fenced in with a five bar gate and heavy lock, she gasped. It was no wonder the horse did not want to enter that prison. She pointed towards the hills. It almost looked to the farmer as though the horse nodded, and then, almost magically, Amy was atop the horse, bareback and with her hair flowing behind her like a horse's mane as they galloped towards the far away mountains.

When Hawk returned from town he found the farmer sitting on his porch gazing out over the land around his farm with a contented look on his face. "Where's Amy?" asked Hawk. "Out there...." whispered the old man, pointing, "...With her horse."

***

Two months later Amy's parents received a letter from their daughter, full of stories about the wild horse of the west and her time at the farm and how she was riding every day and was planning to return home soon.

Six months later they received another letter, telling them how she and Hawk had started repainting the farmhouse to thank the farmer for having them to stay. It would not be long, she promised, until she would return.

A year later they received a short note from the farmer, saying that Amy and Hawk had not returned from a trip across the mountains.

Over the next few days Amy's parents talked about what to do and after a week of late nights when they changed their minds each night and back again, they began to pack for the long journey. Hawk's father had bought a new horse and carriage earlier that year and he said he would allow them to use it to find Amy if they also promised to track down his son, of whom he had heard not hide nor hare for the two years he had been gone.

The snows were bad that year and it took Amy's parents nearly a month to reach the farm. When they arrived, they found the farmer sitting by the fire gazing into the flames.
"You must be Amy's parents, the people from the east," said White Feather. They nodded, frightened of what the old man would tell them.
"Don't worry, she'll be back." he said. "She's with Hawk, and her horse, both of whom would give their lives for Amy. She will come to no harm."

Amy's mother cried softly onto her husband's shoulder and the two spoke to the old man and asked about what been happening over the last couple of years with their daughter. The farmer told them Amy had grown tall and willowy, and even more beautiful. She went everywhere with the horse, and even slept in a bed in the corner of the stable some nights. The farmhouse had been painted by her and Hawk, and they were now helping the old man run the farm, very successfully. People were coming from far and wide to see the miracle of Amy riding the horse that could not be tamed - and they were paying for the privilege, which meant the farmer's fortunes were on the rise.

White Feather had clearly formed a strong bond with Amy, whom he had treated like his own daughter from the very first day. The old man had never married or had children of his own, and he loved having her around, with her mischievous laugh and wild ways he still thought she was almost like a human version of his famous horse.

Some weeks after Amy's parents had arrived at the farm, they were woken by the sound of the farm dogs barking, and a commotion coming from the barn. The sound of many hooves outside and the lowing of cows added to the excitement as everyone gathered outside to see Amy riding in on the wild horse of the west, followed by Hawk on his horse, surrounded by cattle. They had successfully driven a herd of steer they had bought from market for the farmer, over hundreds of miles of rough terrain, through rivers and valleys and forests. Only Amy and Hawk knew how hard it had been, and they both looked exhausted, if content. As if sensing she was being watched, Amy peered towards the farmhouse and saw her parents staring at her, paralysed with delight. She gave a cry of joy, slipped down from her horse and ran toward them, her arms outstretched. The three stood in the doorway of the farm, holding each other tight.

Amy, who was now sixteen, had grown up considerably in the time away from her parents and had become a beautiful young woman. Almost shyly, she held out her hand for Hawk, who now strode towards the parents of the girl he loved and shook their hands warmly.

"I was waiting to repay the farmer for giving me his horse before I came home," Amy explained. "Now I have repaid his kindness, but I don't want to leave Hawk or White Feather - this farm has become my life."

Amy's parents saw how happy their daughter was, and although they wanted with all their heart for her to return home with them, they knew she would return in her own good time, when she was truly ready. They stayed for another week, and made their farewells, with many tears. Amy and Hawk stood, hand in hand, until her parents disappeared from sight.

They stayed at the farm for another five years, often writing home and planning to return one day soon.

One autumn afternoon, a month after Amy's Grandmother had passed on to the great spirit, Amy's father was digging in the garden when he heard the sound of hoof beats. Straightening up, he was overjoyed to see coming towards him his beloved daughter, and Hawk following behind. There appeared to be a third person riding behind Amy, but he could not be sure.

As she approached her father let his spade drop to the ground and began to run towards them. Her mother also came running out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron. Amy jumped down from the horse and they could both now see a small child wrapped in a blanket on her back.

"This is Ayasha," (which means 'little one' in Iriquois) said Hawk proudly as he took the beautiful dark haired girl from Amy and handed the bundle to her parents.
When the family had stopped hugging each other, the mother and father stealing glances at the little girl peacefully sleeping in their daughter's arms, they went into the house and Amy told them that she was back and intended to stay. Her mother and father were overjoyed as Amy's younger brother had left home two years before to make his fortune in the south.

Now 21, married to Hawk and with a newborn child, Amy had decided to return home to bring up her little girl in the Iriquois village in which she had been raised. That night there was much rejoicing and telling of the old stories, and as Amy sat by the fire with her baby girl on her lap, she remembered that day when she had left for the farm in the west, eight years ago. Smiling across at Hawk she handed Ayasha to him and went outside to check on her horse. She was resting after the long journey alongside Hawk's horse in the barn and nodded her head to tell Amy she was fine. Amy ran her hands through her wild horse's mane and turned and went back to join her family.

And that is the end of the story of the wild horse of the west.