Four hours in the truck. And one bad meal later, I was staring my summer project in the face.
The yearling mustangs were swirling in their pen like ink in water. Chestnut,Bay,Red Bay, Sorrels. Moving like one big blob.
"That one is yours- 9999" said the lady who was in charge.
"Aw the big one, that one's my favorite" said the scruffy wrangler as he stuffed another dip in his lip and stretched.
What in the world have I gotten in to? I thought to my self. I hid behind my obnoxious sunglasses and watched the colts stir. The drag ropes tangling and the hooves clattering.
The wrangler caught  a dirty black rope, and at the end was a blind fury. Rearing and running this little colt hauled him around the pen. After a struggle they stuffed him in the squeeze shoot. Brittney and I pulled the trailer doors open.
The colt was brown. A sweet red brown like the cedar trees that grow in the pasture at my house. His mane was surprisingly thick, black with  an overlay of sun streaked red. His forelock was like a cap pulled low on a sleeping mans head. The wrangler popped the lead rope on his rump to push him on. The colt rushed up to the trailer then hesitated.
"Come'on bud." I said
His elegant neck snaked toward me, he pricked, then pinned his ears. The look on his face said "Don't tell me what to do."

Then in a very dignified manner, he hopped in the trailer. We swung the doors closed, and secured them. The wrangler smiled at me and wished me luck. The colt began to protest loudly, striking the trailer and neighing.

I was excited of course, and we all talked about him.

I decided to name him Gatsby. After the novel The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. My dad laughed because he and my brother had just built the Great Gatsby's stall. Forty miles later we stopped at a fruit stand, Britt and I picked out the best bruised apples for Gatsby. As we sorted through them, I realized, this horse has never had an apple..or green grass or any other  yummy joy my horses at home enjoy. I had my dad slice up the apple, and I popped the trailer window open. Inside I expected to find a panicked baby. Instead I found a charismatic, sweaty yearling, with a curious face and sweet eyes.

"Hi Gatsby  Baby , look what I gotcha." I said to him.

Slowly he creeped up to the window, snuffling at the strange fruit. He didn't take it from me, so I threw it in the pile of hay.

We stopped a couple of times on the way home.

Finally got home and got him in the pen.

The people suggest that we wait three days to go in with the horse. I was in as fast as I could climb the panel. I stood in the fluffy dirt watching my new muse.

That was yesterday, I stood out in that round pen right around the time the sky goes dim. The daisys and wild sweet peas made the night air sweet and easy to breathe. I moved to Gatsby's side with as much confidence as I could. I push my boot down on the end of the drag line and stretched my arm to his shoulder. When my fingers hit the red brown fur, he did not jerk away this time. He stood with half closed eyes and sleepy posture. For the first time, he did not look wild and proud. He looked like a baby. I rubbed and itched him all over, wrapped my arms around his girth, scratched his belly, his ears. Then slowly down his legs. He held still and seemed to enjoy the love. I left it at that.

Today I was gone all morning and afternoon for the Rodeo Queen pagent. I came home exhausted. My neighbors came over to see Gatsby. They stood on the barn side of the round pen and I stood on the pasture side. Gatsby was aggitated. Tossing his head and pacing. My 23 year old gelding who thinks he's three, JB came up by me on the outside of Gat's pen. I pushed him away. Gatsby must have wanted him to stay, he whinnied and reared, coming down too close to the fence. He struck his hoof on the panel. He he never took even one lame step. No scratches or anything. But it was still gut wrenching.

"It takes two to make an accident."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, Ch. 3

I played with him for another hour, he now walks up to me if I cluck and pick up his rope.

I am excited to spend three months with him.

I'll write soon

Raime.