|One summer saturday afternoon in my 11th year, big brother Ike told me he needed me to go to town with him.This was our normal routine. We get to town, Ike gives me some money for the movie matinee with instructions to come to Tommy's tap, a few doors away from the theater, and wait for him after the movie. There, I would sit quietly at a corner table and sip a root beer while Ike finished shooting pool or drinking. Then I would drive us home. That saturday morning dad and gramps took the truck and headed for a farm auction a few miles away. Ike and I did our usual business in town. As I headed Ike's old model 'A' up the lane to our houe we noticed the truck in the barnyard, the whole family gathered around. We walked over to investigate.|
In the back of the truck stood a medium sized gray gelding. Gramps, who dearly loved horses, was grinning like a 'possum and Angel couldn't wait for the horse to be unloaded. She had already named him. 'He's beautiful. Just like a gray cloud. I'll call him cloudy'. 'Why not just gray'? Ike snorted but was ignored.
Cloudy was unloaded and gramps led him around the barnyard a bit, then suggested someone ride him. There was no question who that would be. Angel requested a boost up. Then dad grabbed Daryl, hoisted him aboard in front of Angel, telling him to hold tight to cloudy's mane. Daryl looked scared and took a death grip on as much mane as he could. Angel took the halter rope, kicked cloudy in the ribs, and nothing. Cloudy just stood there. Another kick, a 'giddyup', nothing. Ike stepped forward, still clutching the quart bottle of Drewey's he bought at Tommy's, for the road, hauled off and slapped cloudy on the rump with a slap that cracked like a shot. Cloudy reacted instantly with a jumping run and took off like he was late to dinner. Angel did an amazing back flip off cloudy, landing on her feet. Daryl, well, he didn't fare so well. Cloudy ran around the barnyard, looking for a way out, Daryl hanging on, screaming like a siren for all he was worth. As they ran past the corn crib, old wacky our dog, joined in, running and barking after cloudy. We all ran after them but, too late. Cloudy ran full bore toward the wire fence, saw it and slammed on his brakes. Poor Daryl was catapaulted over cloudy's head and right into the fence. 'Ya kilt 'im' gramps yelled at Ike as we all ran to Daryl's aid. Cloudy had retreated to a far corner of the barnyard and Wacky started tugging at Daryl's leg. We got the squalling Daryl untangled from the fence and dad carried him to the house. I hung around for the dabbing of home-made whiskey on Daryl's cuts and scratches. Daryl sure hit some high notes when the whiskey bit him. He looked like a mummy after mom and granny bandaged him up. Well, Ike was on the s**t list for awhile and I was forbid going anywhere with Ike for some time. All in all, Daryl survived childhood well enough.
Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-10