Page 81 of Trickster King

“I’ve already decided he can have the filly. I know that’s probably ruining your plans for teaching those mean old equestrians what’s what when it comes to horses, but he’s showing an interest, the filly likes him, and that’s that. You’re just going to have to cope with losing another one of your rescues to our kids.”

It hadn’t occurred to me I could just hand off the rescues to our children. Like me, all of them loved horses. “Just make space in the barn, and I’ll scrap the whole idea about retiring them at ranches. The kids can have an entire herd of rescues. When it comes time to cut tails, we’ll handle it as a family.”

“We’ll have to adjust how we cut tails in the future. The kids are going to have a better understanding of what it means.”

“If they’re old enough to ask, they’re old enough to be given the answer,” I reminded my wife. “I’m sure we’ll have more than a few tantrums regarding end of life care for our horses, and the cut tails will tip them off a horse’s life is coming to an end, but it’s better this way. It’s a part of the grieving process.”

“And the hairs you don’t keep go to your programs.” My wife kissed my cheek. “And yes, I’m aware you’ve been supplying music schools with tail hairs for bows.”

Busted. “I thought it was a good idea. I keep enough to make a bracelet from each horse before sending the hairs off to be used for bows or some other craft.”

“It’s a wonderful idea. But yes, you’re busted. Your bracelets are more like necklaces, as you don’t seem to understand you can cut the hairs to make them shorter.”

I shrugged. I’d hidden my woven horse tail bracelets at the bottom of my tack box with my fishing gear. While I should have known my wife had gone digging through it, I hadn’t expected her to call me out on it. “You didn’t move my bracelets, did you?”

“I put them in the palace and had someone make sure they’re properly preserved. They’re fine. I also took the liberty of having proper name tags made for them. You don’t have to hide that you’re a bleeding heart, babe.”

“Like hell I don’t,” I muttered.

She laughed at me and kissed my cheek again. “I’m going to insist that we use one of the spare rooms to store your items of sentimental value, like Morning Glory’s halter and show saddle.”

I sighed at the reminder of our old school horse’s passing, old age having caught up with her in an unexpectedly painful fashion.

One day, she’d been fine. The next, I’d been cutting her tail and saying my last goodbyes. Hers had been the first tail I’d cut, as I hadn’t known about the custom until then. We’d lost more horses since, and I’d found great comfort in the ritual.

Somehow, it gave me a sense of closure and helped me accept the inevitability of the situation.

Of course, my wicked wife had gone out of the way and bought another palomino school horse, which she’d promptly renamed Morning Glory to maintain the tradition that a palomino named Morning Glory would be teaching our children how to ride.

And like the original Morning Glory, the latest version had come to us at over twenty years old, old but spry and solid. If I had anything to say to it, there’d always be a Morning Glory in my barn.

We’d already agreed that there wouldn’t always be a What’s the Story, Morning Glory, however.

There would never be another just like her.

The compromise suited me, and I’d enjoy the long years of having a living memory in my barns.

Once What’s the Story, Morning Glory passed, I suspected we’d be changing the name of Morning Glory to simply Glory.

It would help with the pain.

“What’s the Story, Morning Glory is still going on strong, love. You’ll have her for many a year. Baby is fine, too. So is Chocolate Cupcake and the rest of your herd.” My wife bumped her hip against me. “I know that look on your face. You’re upset because we lost Morning Glory. The new Morning Glory is doing a wonderful job of teaching our children to ride. She’s the heart horse of every last one of our kids.”

That she was. “That’s part of what I’m afraid of. She’s already over twenty.”

“And the vets say we should have her for at least another ten years. Sure, she won’t be ridden after she turns thirty, but she’ll have earned a place in our main barns. It’ll be all right.”

“I’m still going to get sentimental about it.”

“I know. And that’s what you’re supposed to do. Horse freaks are supposed to be sentimental about horses.”

“Empath.”

“Freak.”

After checking to make certain there was sufficient supervision for the kids, I turned to my wife and said, “I do believe we’re going to have to take this argument to the bedroom, Your Majesty.”

“That sounds like the best idea you’ve had all week.”

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