“Yeah, I know.”
“Maybe your dad was right.”
Trick’s smile turns a little sad.
“I don’t doubt it. If there’s one thing that man knew, it was horses.”
When we arrive at the long stretch of beach, Trick parks the car and comes around to let me out. I can’t help but smile at the gentlemanly gesture.
“What?” he asks.
“What what?”
“What are you smiling at?”
“The fact that chivalry isn’t dead after all.”
“Well, if you’re more comfortable operating under the assumption that it is, I can start treating you like I do Rusty.”
“Do you kiss Rusty?”
“Hell no!”
“Then no. Let’s go with chivalry.”
Taking my hand, Trick leads me along a paver path between two tall sand dunes and out onto the beach. We walk to the surf and Trick stops. We look left and right, and I’m amazed to see the clusters of horses that dot the beach as far as the eye can see in each direction.
“About how many are there?”
“I think about a hundred and fifty total, but it’s my understanding that they like to keep the population down to around a hundred and twenty or thirty. Something like that.”
“So how do you find Rags?”
“I walk the beach until I spot him.”
“Well, then let’s walk the beach. I want to see this already-famous horse.”
“Don’t mock my future greatness. Or his. We’re both sensitive males.”
“Easily-bruised egos?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“Heh, I guess not.”
Trick first leads me down the beach. As we approach each small grouping of horses, he veers further inland, toward the dunes. There is a “safe distance” requirement and he respects it completely, even though there appears to be no one around to challenge him if he chose to do otherwise. That’s kind of cool, actually. He’s a good guy, even when no one’s looking.
I look over at him. His hair is ruffled by the breeze. His eyes are narrowed as he looks off into the distance. I’m sure I’ve never seen anything sexier. Well, maybe him actually on a horse, but other than that…
As I watch him, those three bothersome little words circle through my mind again. Relentlessly, I brush them aside with an industrial-sized broom and force my mind back to the horses.
The mustangs are predominantly brown, some with brown mane and tail, some with black mane and tail. But there are a few solid black horses. They are by far the most beautiful. I can almost see proud Spaniards riding them along the beaches, patrolling the coast.
“There he is!” Trick gasps excitedly, squeezing my hand almost painfully in his as he points down the beach with his other.
I grimace a little, which he sees when he glances at me. He frowns for a second then lessens his grip on my fingers. “Sorry,” he says, cringing.
“It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.” I pause and add, for dramatic effect, “Much.”
His attention turns completely to me, his expression morphing from excitement into concern. “Are you okay? Did I really hurt you?”
“No,” I reassure him with a smile. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m just teasing.”
“Good. I’d never want to do that.”
I think Then don’t, but I say nothing.
“Let’s go see him then.”
We set off down the beach a little ways further, until we reach another small group of horses. There are four brown horses and one black one. Looking at the proud angle of his head, the massive hind quarters and the perfect posture, I don’t even have to ask which one is Rags and Apples. I know immediately. He has one vaguely star-shaped white mark on his nose to break up his inky coat, but it only makes him more beautiful. It’s easy to see that he’ll be as much a star as the shape on his nose. Now I can see why Trick is so excited.
“Stay here,” he says quietly, motioning me to stay put as he walks toward the surf, toward the horses.
He approaches them slowly. Above the sounds of the ocean and the breeze humming in my ear, I can hear that he’s murmuring something, something soothing and low. The horses’ ears flicker and they roll their eyes toward him as he gets closer.
Taking care not to spook them with quick movements or by coming around behind them, Trick stays clearly visible to the others as he nears the back of the group, to where Rags is standing.
I hear the horse puff once through his nose and his ears prick. Trick stops. From this angle, I can see his mouth moving as he speaks to the horse.
He takes another step closer. The horse shifts his weight, but doesn’t move away.
Trick takes another step, but it’s a little too soon. The horse shakes his head, backs away two steps then stops.
When Rags suddenly pens his ears back, Trick stops dead, doesn’t move a muscle. I hold my breath. Horses are large, powerful creatures that can be very dangerous if not handled properly. And wild ones are even worse.
I watch, spellbound, as Rags takes a step forward and stops. He and Trick stare each other down. I hear Trick speaking his soothing words and I hear Rags snorting as he decides what to make of Trick. It appears they’re at an impasse.
Trick stands perfectly still and waits. I think to myself that he should just give it up, that Rags isn’t going to respond to him.
But then something surprising happens. He does.
My mouth drops open when the black beauty takes three slow steps forward and drops his nose in front of Trick’s face.
I see Trick’s lips purse as he blows gently in Rags’ nostrils. The horse sniffs and blows. Carefully, Trick raises his hand and lays it on the horse’s nose. Neither moves for a second until Rags nudges his hand. Trick responds by stroking him soothingly from between his eyes down to his velvety snout.
With very slow and calculated movements, Trick shifts to one side and runs his hand along Rags’ jaw and neck. He continues dragging his palm lightly down the horse’s side, stopping before he gets to the dangerous end. Rags turns his head and watches Trick closely, but he doesn’t show any signs of fear or aggression. Just caution.
Trick moves back to his head, taking the big face between his hands and speaking right to the animal. Rags blows again and then spontaneously backs up and takes off to join his herd.
It’s over.
But he did it. Trick did it.
Trick stands and watches the horses for a few more minutes. I don’t ruin the moment for him. I can only imagine what he’s feeling. He touched a wild horse. And the horse let him.