Dante of the Maury River by Gigi Amateau Read Free Book Online Page A

up, and I stepped back. The Texan began to piece together a real monster of a stick. He called it his measuring stick. I called it Trouble. I trotted sideways and back.
    Junie grabbed ahold of my halter. “Steady, now. Steady.” His grip was full strength and full-on.
    “He don’t like new things,” said Red.
    “He also don’t appear to be a very intelligent animal,” Junie replied.
    Now, a half hour wasn’t nearly up, but was I going to let him get away with insulting me like that? Not a chance. I started pawing and scraping my front hooves along the ground. First my right, then my left. Wanted to let him know I meant business and that I possessed the agility to go with either a left or a right kick. I brandished one leg, then the other.
    The Texan tightened his grip on my lead, yanked my head down, and stepped in close to me. A tad too close for me to set my aim upon his shin, but I tried.
    Junie didn’t care for my behavior a lick. “What else have you got to show me, Tom? This colt isn’t all I’d hoped he’d be.”
    I didn’t cover Doctor Tom his half hour. The appointment didn’t take anywhere near that long. Red took my lead while Junie packed up his stick. I danced and trotted right back to my box and sputtered my great relief to be done with Junie.
    Before my door was shut tight, Doctor Tom piped up: “How about I show you a different colt with even more potential than the black one? Great breeding, big heart. Also a grandson of Dante’s Paradiso.”
    “What color is he?” Junie asked.
    “All chestnut.”
    “No white?”
    “Not a speck.”
    Junie rubbed his palms together. “I do love a redhead. Let’s get a look at him.”
    Covert Agent accepted the measuring stick and Junie’s hard grip without a stammer. In return, Junie stroked a smooth check for seven figures to Doctor Tom. Looked like my cousin was now the top foal of the season. Not me.

I ’ll be a crossbreed if pretty soon after Covert left, every one of the remaining foals in my barn didn’t get loaded up and hauled off to one September sale or another.
    All I could do was stand and watch. Helpless, moving toward hopeless. The only colt or filly left in the barn? Yours truly. Little Dante.
    Marey was the first one I thought about, and it made me sad for her that I was a disappointment. I looked out over my stall door, hoping maybe there was a private trailer waiting to take me to Lexington, too.
    “You’re not going, so whatcha lookin’ at, Boss?” Red said to me. “Not to any of those fancy sales. This mess is your own doing, I’m afraid. Lucky for you, the Edens are old-school. Every now and again they keep ownership over a foal for themselves.”
    He scratched my neck, and even though his hands were rough enough that he could have curried me with his bare palm, I let him. I watched the cloud of dust from the horse trailer zip down the drive. Good-bye to the chestnut filly, the bay, and the brown, and all the other colts.
    “Chill, my man. You’ll go away, all right,” said Red.
    Sure enough, my turn came.
    No sooner had I inhaled my grain the next morning than did I hear Red — that hard-to-knock-down bull of a man — out in the drive, scrapping and cursing the truck. He influenced the engine with his brute force, I’m certain, and pretty soon the old rig sat idling in the driveway, right next to Grandfather Dante’s statue.
    Some kind of business was about to unfold. With no foal left in the barn but me, I figured I’d know soon enough, so I kept licking my feed bucket to calm my nerves, biting the plastic rim, too.
    I smelled Melody’s bubble gum before I saw her at my door with my halter. I knew why she’d come. Right behind her stood Mrs. Eden and Doctor Tom. Everybody had come up to the barn to say fare-thee-well. I traded breaths with the old horsewoman, and I didn’t kick or bite Doctor Tom.
    Melody led me out herself. “Take your time, Little Dante. I’ll never forget you. Even if you never get back