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It was a trick. Valerie realized that as soon as Martha had finished helping her get the harness buckled onto Sir Charles, the donkey, and said, “You keep doing that, and I’ll go finish up feeding the smaller animals.”
Valerie was standing behind the donkey on the long, snowy driveway, fences on either side, thick leather reins in hand. As Martha disappeared to continue the morning chores, Valerie did what they’d discussed and tapped the reins gently, clicking her tongue. “Get up.”
He didn’t move. She peered around his butt at his face. “Hey buddy, that means to walk forward.”
She tried the tap again, this time instructing, “Walk on.”
Craning his neck back, he looked at her. She could swear he was mocking her as he twitched his lips and stared.
“Come on, we have to get you ready to be nice to everyone and have kids crawling all over you. And I think they’re draping a robe over you.”
When he didn’t move with further coaxing, Valerie dropped the long reins and stalked to his head. Her big boots—which she’d finally changed into after several long disapproving looks from Martha—crunched loudly in the hard snow. Sir Charles’s ears perked up and, as she reached for his halter, he bolted. The reins whipped around behind him and, before she could blink, Valerie felt something wrap around the heel of her boot. The sky spun above her and, with a yelp, she landed on her back, flailing as she skidded over the snow behind the donkey as he raced along.
“No! Charles, st—” Her call was cut off by a flying ball of snow he kicked up. She spluttered as the cold wet ball smacked into her mouth, and she waved her arms, trying to get it off her face. Sir Charles turned, and she was slung sideways, rolling over a patch of packed down snow and ice before she stopped, face down in the snow. Peeling her head and shoulders from the frosty cocoon they’d been ensconced in, she brushed snow off her. “I am going to kill that donkey.”
Jacking herself up until she was no longer eating snow, she saw Sir Charles had dug out a patch of snow all the way to the ground and was munching on whatever was underneath. She growled. At the noise, he looked over at her.
She glared back and stumbled to her feet, the big gear and boots somehow even heavier now that she’d been dragged several yards through the snow.
“I’m tempted to leave you here and let the wolves get you.” But even with how mad she was, she couldn’t do that. Instead of grabbing his halter, she latched onto one rein, using it as a lead. One tug on the bit in his mouth and he walked along with her nicely, all the way back to the pen. Valerie grumbled under her breath the whole way, casting side glances at the donkey. His head bobbed as he walked beside her like a nice big dog. As if.
When she got him back into the pen, she took off the equipment, unlatching several straps and sliding the heavy harness off, then heaving it onto the top railing of the fence.
Sir Charles nosed her hand. She jerked away as if he were a venomous snake. “No treats for you.”
With a snort, as if to say he was disgusted with her, he turned away and walked leisurely over to the pile of hay the horse was munching on, as if he hadn’t just tried to kill her.
The crunch of snow announced Martha, who smiled at her over the fence.
“Good to see you’ve finished with Sir Charles pretty quickly. It must have gone well. Next up is Peony, the sorrel—brownish red—pony. She’s not as nice as Sir Charles, so just be a little more cautious, but I’d love it if you’d do the same with her that you did with Sir Charles.”
Valerie’s jaw went slack, and she stared after Martha as she headed off, unable to utter a response.
She contemplated the ponies in the next pen, wondering if she should cry now or later. “This evening I’m searching for a new job.” She sighed and shuffled out of the gate, latching it securely. No way was she going to let that donkey loose on the world.
On the other side of the fence, she grabbed the harness. Stomping toward the second pen, her body aching and her ankle where the rein had caught it feeling particularly sore, she didn’t pay attention to the dangling straps. One boot stomped down on a loose strap, and Valerie found herself once again snuggling with the cold, wet snow. Blowing out a hot breath sent snow fluttering away from her and she rolled to her back, letting her head flop back into the cold powder.
“Valerie, for heaven’s sakes, what are you doing?” Martha had come back.
Valerie brought her head up long enough to say, “Taking a nap. Please leave me in peace. If I’m lucky, I’ll freeze to death.”
Martha didn’t say anything, but Valerie felt something pour down onto her back. She pushed herself up and craned her neck.
Wearing a big grin, Martha was scooping snow onto her back.
“What...?” She stared at her aunt.
“Trying to insulate you so you can sleep without freezing.”
“Yeah, right.” Valerie pushed herself onto her knees and scooped snow into her mittens. Martha’s eyes widened, and she held up her hands, backing away. Not fast enough to miss the snowball. It landed squarely on her shoulder, nowhere near where Valerie had aimed.
With a laugh, Martha launched one back, and Valerie jumped up, taking it to the side as she scooped up her own snow.
For several minutes, the women ran around and laughed and threw snowballs at each other until they were both exhausted. Martha laid in the snow and Valerie sat down with her back to a fence. She’d had enough of being flat in the snow.
“Martha, let’s face it. We don’t need to work with that donkey to ‘get the grumpy out of him,’ like you said earlier. You need a priest for an exorcism.” Valerie brushed snow off her pants and sent a glare in the direction of the donkey’s pen.
Martha laughed, still breathless from the snowball fight, and rested her hands on her abdomen. “You can’t tell me he was that bad.”
“Oh, yes, I can.”
“Well, then, we’ll just have to keep working with him until he’s better.”
Valerie suspected the “we” was a reference to her. She would have to find a better way of starting out with the belligerent animal, or she’d be one big bruise. She felt like she already was.
Martha pushed herself up, and Valerie took the cue and followed suit. Her body was already feeling stiff.
“I thought about it and came to make sure that Peony let you catch her.”
“It would be helpful if she acted as sweet as her name.”
“Oh, no. She’s a sassy little thing.”
Of course she was.
They walked together toward the pen.
“You remember Ila, right?”
Valerie smiled fondly. “Yes, she was my pony as a little girl. She was a bit sassy too.” She’d been a little fireball but super sweet to Valerie, for whatever reason. Valerie had crawled all over her as a little girl and ridden her around the neighborhood when she got old enough. Once, Ila had smelled something she didn’t like—later on, her parents had determined from tracks that a bear had been in the area—and had bolted, sending a young Valerie flying. It had taken a few minutes, but Ila had come back for her and stuck her nose in Valerie’s tear-stained face. She missed Ila.
“Why don’t you just start with walking her? You don’t need the harness for now. I’ll get it on my way out. I haven’t been able to get to walking them individually, so I think it’s a good start with her.” Martha made a face. “Plus, she doesn’t like a lot of dangling straps, and it would be a lot of work to get the harness onto her.”
“Delightful.” Valerie took a snowy lead rope from where it hung by the gate. The clasp was frozen, and she took her hand out of her glove and gritted her teeth at the cold feel of the metal. A few seconds and she was able to get it working.
“Here we go, Peony,” Martha cooed as she went up to the pony and rubbed her shoulder. The pony nosed her hand, and she took hold of her halter and glanced back at Valerie. “Lead rope ready?”
“Yeah.” She clipped it onto the halter, and Martha let go.
“Okay, I’m going back to finish up cleaning the goat pen.” Martha headed off.
Valerie eyed the pony. Not nearly as big as the donkey, and with huge brown eyes that looked at her with intelligence, she didn’t think the cute little ball of fur would be as painful to work with. She hoped. Taking a breath, she tightened her grip on the rope. Yeah, she could do this. It was just a little pony.
“Come on.” She stepped forward. The pony didn’t move. “Come on, Peony.”
She stretched her head and neck as long as they would go at the tug, but her hooves stayed planted.
Valerie frowned and stepped up to her side, taking her halter in hand and firmly pulling. She did move, but not to step forward. She sidestepped, her stout hoof putting a shocking amount of weight on Valerie’s foot.
With a yelp, she let go of the rope and shoved the pony’s shoulder so she’d move the weight off her foot. Once free, she hopped on one foot away from the pony.
“What happened? I heard a yell.” Martha appeared around the shelter and stepped in through the gate.
“This awful animal stepped on my foot!”
“Aww, don’t call Peony awful to her face.” Martha walked over to the pony and caressed her fuzzy cheeks, baby-talking to her. “I’m sorry she called you names. You’re really a good girl, I know.” The animal nuzzled Martha as if she hadn’t just plotted to break Valerie’s foot. “Here...” Martha held the rope toward Valerie.
She didn’t take it.
“Come on. At the very least, she needs to be taken down the driveway. And it sounds like you two need to bond.”
“Tell that to my foot!”
Martha laughed. “If I stopped everything just because I got stepped on, no work would ever get done.”
Valerie sighed and hobbled over, taking the rope. “She won’t let me lead her anywhere.”
“She’s never resisted being led before.” Martha stepped back. “Go on.”
Valerie would be happy to prove her wrong. She started forward. Peony followed. Her startled look at the pony turned into a glare. “You’re a fat, bratty pony,” she whispered, knowing it was childish but feeling particularly put out with the animal, as her foot throbbed and Martha eyed her skeptically.
“Well, you two have fun.” Martha strode off with a wave, leaving Valerie wondering once again how she’d been on the corporate ladder, enjoying her fashion, heels, and silk tops, not even a week ago. And now she was dressed in shapeless clothing that rivaled Frosty the Snowman, dealing with obstinate animals.
Taking a step back from the pony, Valerie knelt down, one knee on the ground so that she was next to Peony’s face. “Hey, little girl, let’s be friends. I used to have a sassy pony like you, and I guess I just lost my touch there for a minute. I get it...you don’t wanna be jerked around and told what to do. I don’t either. But it will probably feel good for you to stretch your legs, so let’s try that, huh?”
Peony’s ears were perked toward her, listening. It was probably stupid to think that any of what she felt or said was conveyed to the animal, but somehow, she did. Ila had always somehow understood her. Or, at least, she’d thought so at the time, as a child.
She pressed her head against the soft fur of Peony’s cheek, breathing in the scent of hay and grain. The pony’s nostrils flared, breathing in her scent.
Valerie got to her feet and stepped forward, not tugging or pulling but just seeing if the pony would follow her lead without having to use the rope, which she now held loosely in her hands. She wanted to squeal in delight when Peony followed, her ears tipped forward. eyes interested. Of course, she didn’t say or do anything, just continued to the gate and led her out. She couldn’t help the big grin on her face. Maybe she still had it after all.