Promises

Throughout the day as the horses were sorted, inspected, wormed and vaccinated, Shannon kept her eye on the little golden colt. At a short break for lunch Shannon's father came looking for her. He had cut the little black and white filly and her mother out of the main group and placed them in a holding pen.

"Come have a look," he said to Shannon as he put an arm around her shoulder and lead her over to the pen. "Isn't she a beaut'?"

Shannon looked into the pen. The little filly was even more stunning close up. She had a sweet, gentle look to her face. Her large, dark eyes set wide on her forehead.

"She's gorgeous dad…," Shannon replied her voice trailing off.

"But?" Shannon's father said, sensing some indecision in his daughter's voice.

"Well, sir," Shannon hedged a bit. She knew he was offering her one of the best mares to come out of the Crooked K. "I guess I kinda like another one better. I don't know why, but something says he should be my choice."

Shannon lead her father over to the holding pen where the colt and his mother were contentedly munching on some hay along with five or six other mares and their offspring.

"See that little colt there," she said. "The palomino with the bonnet. He's the one I want."

Shannon's father looked at the little colt intensely. Shannon saw the little crease between his eyes appear, the one that usually meant trouble. He studied the colt for a long time, only his mustache twitching now and again. Then without looking down at his daughter said, "we'll see," and turned on his heel and walked back towards the lunch gathering.

Shannon's heart dropped. Why wouldn't she be allowed to choose? Mike had chosen, and Patrick before him. All the emotions of the day overwhelmed her. She headed for the barn trying to fight back tears. She entered Sugar's stall where she had hastily left him. Guiltily she picked up a brush and began working the sweat marks off of his back. Brushing him helped to calm her.

"The best thing for the inside of a person, is the outside of a horse," said a gravelly voice outside the stall.

Shannon turned to find her Uncle Jack leaning over the half door. "Hi, Uncle Jack," she said with little enthusiasm and turned back to brushing Sugar.

"What a sad face for such a great day," her uncle said. "What's eating you, Short-Stack?" he inquired using his nick-name for her.

Shannon fought back the tears with courage. She hated wearing her emotions so much on the outside. Shannon leaned her head against Sugar's shoulder. There was no hope. She was going to cry again. Uncle Jack stepped into the stall and put his arms around his niece.

"Easy does it," he soothed. "I've got an idea what this is all about. I saw you eyeing that little yellow bonnet-top colt."

Shannon looked up at her uncle through teary eyes, the uncertainty pouring out. "I don't understand Uncle Jack. Dad said I would be the one to choose. I saw the look in his eyes. He's not gonna let me keep that colt. He wants me to take that little black and white filly."

"And a fine filly she is too," uncle Jack broke in. "And some might say you're plum crazy for turning her down. But," uncle Jack continued when he saw the hurt in his young niece's eyes, "When it comes to choosing a horse, well sometimes it's the horse that does the choosing. You can get on and ride just about any broke horse, but something's different when the horse chooses you. I'd say you felt something special in that colt and you should follow your heart. Now you need to see if he's feeling the same about you."

"But how can I do that, Uncle Jack?" Shannon asked. "I saw the look in dad's eyes. As soon as he's weaned he'll be out of here."

"Well now let me tell you a bit about your dad, which I'm guessing you already know, but must have forgot," he said. "Have you ever known the man to go back on his word?"

"No, sir," she said as she looked down at her boots. If there was anything Shannon knew for certain about her father it was that he was a man of his word.

"I didn't think so," Uncle Jack said as one bushy, red eye brow arched up nearly to his hat line. "But I do know he doesn't want you to have that colt, and probably hopes he never sees another one like it. No, the look you saw on his face was probably his own self warring inside knowing he's got to keep his word, no matter how he feels about it."

"I don't get it, Uncle Jack," Shannon said. "He's a fine looking colt. Scrub some of that grime off of him and he'd be about as flashy as that little black and white filly."

"And that's the truth," said Uncle Jack. "You've got your father's eye for horse flesh and that's for sure. But he's also the spitting image of old Warrior. A horse your father and this entire family might want to forget."

"Warrior?" Shannon said frowning and remembering the stories about an untamable rogue stallion. "Why I thought that was just an old story Grand-daddy O'Connor used to tell. He's not a real horse. Is he?"

"Oh yes," said Uncle Jack. "He's real or was anyway. My guess is that devil is still around haunting these very hills. Anyway, any foal born on the Crooked K looking anything like that old rogue has been sold off. No questions asked."

Shannon took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "Gee, Uncle Jack. Just because he's got the same markings doesn't make him the same horse. Does it?"

"Well, no I guess it doesn't," said Uncle Jack. "And the way I see it, you've got exactly one month to prove it."

Shannon smiled and wrapped her arms around her uncle. For a man that had never been married and never had any kids, he always seemed to know what to say. Shannon gave Sugar a pat and she and Uncle Jack walked out of the stall together. Shannon was soon surprised to see the palomino mare and her colt set aside in another pen. Her father was as good as his word. They spoke briefly later that day, a tenuous agreement put into place.

"This wouldn't be my choice for you," he said. "But I guess it's not my choice to make."

"Thank's Dad," Shannon said as she wrapped her arms around his wiry frame.

"However," he said as he pulled Shannon back to arms length and looked her in her eyes. "Like all horses on the Crooked K, he's got to prove himself. Just because he's got blue eyes and a flashy hide doesn't make him worthy to wear the Crooked K brand. You halter break him and gentle him along with the other colts, and if he shows he's got a quality mind to go along with those looks, then we'll register him under your name. Agreed?"

Shannon took her responsibilities seriously. "Yes, sir," she said. "If he's not what we expect from our line then I won't argue when you sell him."

"That's an O'Connor talking," Shannon's father said with pride.

As Shannon went back to her post at the vaccination station she felt both relieved and uncertain at the same time. She had to prove the little colt was not the same rogue stallion that once plagued the Crooked K. She knew in her heart that he could not be, but something that her Uncle had said tickled at the back of her mind. What if the little colt did not choose her?