The Deal

“There she is.” The older man pointed a thick, calloused finger to a small wooden corral. The man standing next to him nodded silently, with his arms crossed. He studied the scene before him. Dust was flying, hooves pounding and shaking the hard ground as the horse circled the corral. Her wide eyes saw the two men standing, and she wheeled around and skid to a stop with her front legs stretched out in front of her. Her muscles rippled and sweat glistened on her dirty white coat as she stood still and stared, nostrils flaring.
“She sure is wild.” He said matter-of-factly. “I bet you $100 if I don’t tame her in a week.”
The older man laughed. “Always knew you were stupid.” He considered him. The man was young, mid-twenties perhaps, with a brown dusty cowboy hat and faded shirt and jeans. Maybe he was just reckless, but his confidence struck him. The old man stuck out his hand and said, “You have a deal.” They shook hands, while the mare watched, and snorted angrily.
The next day, the young man climbed the fence and into the corral. The horse stood on the other side, alert and ready to go into a frightened panic. Her ears were pinned back, and her neck was taut. The man stood there for many minutes, not looking at the horse but rather at the landscape of dry, flat desert and blue-grey mountains behind her. She was a statue, frozen in terror. Slowly, she sniffed the air, keeping her eyes on him. He pushed his hat over his eyes and began walking along the fence, and keeping his interest on a wooden post, his leather gloves, picking up a clod of dirt and pretending to study it. She skittered away after every move he took. After a while, her ears slowly pricked forward, and her head lowered a fraction. He did this for a little bit longer and then climbed out.
The following day he did the same thing. After he walked around for a few minutes, he turned his body away from the horse and stood still, looking outside the corral. He lowered his hat over his eyes again. He could hear her heavy breathing and restless pacing from the “catch me if you can” game she believed they were playing. Slowly, ever so slowly, he listened as she quieted down and watched him. The young man smiled to himself as her hooves slowly and inquisitively approached him. One step after the other, the mare walked to that mysterious man standing on the other side. She couldn’t help herself, the curiosity was too much. Finally, she stretched out her neck and blew a warm, hay scented breath on his neck. The man slowly turned around, and faced the horse. Her ears swiveled back and forth, unsure what to make of him.
“Just couldn’t stay away from a handsome fella like me, could you?” He joked. The mare was apprehensive, one move forward and she would jump away. He little by little raised his hand and rested it gently on her velvet nose. She jerked her head back.
“Shhhh.” He reassured her, keeping his hand in the same place. “It’s alright, girl.” She lowered her head until just the short whisker-like hairs on her nose touched his hand and sniffed. She let him rub her nose. The man took a daring step and reached to pet her neck. She suddenly jumped back.
They repeated this process several times, until the horse finally trusted him enough to stroke her strong neck.
He did the same thing the next day. There was a subtle difference in how the mare reacted to him. She still nervously shied around him, and pranced about, but she was quicker to trust him.
He brought a medium-length rope with him, as he climbed the fence again. Walking around, he fiddled with the rope, and gently twirled it about. She couldn’t help but notice the perfectly ripened, shiny, red apple in his hand, as well.
“Well, you see, we’ve got this scary lookin’ rope here,” he told her, lifting it up. “But…we also have this very tasty crunchy apple.” He held it out on the palm of his hand in front of him. “Your choice.”
The mare trotted back and forth, kicking up little clouds of dust. She stopped in front of him, and hesitantly reached for the apple. She bit in as he raised his hand and rested it on her neck. He patiently tried over and over again, using up four more apples as she jumped around him. He praised her when she allowed him to lay the rope over her neck, on top of her matted grey mane.
Later, he did the same thing with an old green halter and rope. He worked on getting her used to them around her face. Time after time, he continued unwearyingly while sweat poured down his face and he tasted the dirt in his mouth. He would come so close only to have her bolt away. He would then calmly speak to her, and she would listen with perked ears.
Finally, a week later, an astounded little crowd gathered around the corral to watch this young man work his magic on a mustang. They held their breath and stared as he slowly slid the halter over her head, while murmuring softly. The old man stood by himself, fascinated, as she let him scratch behind her ears. The young man noticed him and walked over with a smile.
“Well, you had me fooled.” The old man said. He handed him a wad of twenty dollar bills and gave him a friendly slap on the back.