“Love and respect?” I say. “How am I supposed to love a horse that tried to kill me?”
“You don’t start with love, you start with respect,” Will says. “You respect the fact that he’s huge, powerful, and capable of killing you, that he’s a wild creature. Respect that, but don’t fear it. He is, at the core of his instincts, a prey animal. Prey animals operate out of fear, and you use that. You’re the predator. He will respect you, but you have to earn it. And that starts by getting over your own fear and making him do what you want.”
“Why can’t we just let him go?”
“Because the rest of his herd is in there,” Will says, gesturing at the pen. “He’ll go nuts if he’s kept apart from them, and so will they. They need their alpha, and he needs them. Once he’s in there, he’ll calm down a bit, but his instincts are telling him to not let himself be cornered or caught.”
I breathe slowly and force my legs to stop shaking. I lift my chin, and stare at the massive black stallion. He is, honestly, an incredibly beautiful animal, a creature of raw power and grace. He’s…regal. A wild king of horses.
I force my foot forward. Toward the horse. “All right, Demon,” I murmur. “You scared me, but I’m over it.”
“Demon?” Will chuckles.
“That name popped into my head when he started charging at me,” I explain.
“Demon.” Will nods. “Works for me.” He has his whip coiled in his hand now, and he’s watching me, watching Demon. “Keep going. Talk to him, and walk toward him. Don’t take your eyes off him not for a second. Soft body language. Don’t march at him, don’t stomp, just go easy and quiet.”
Soft body language? Working with horses is a lot more complicated and sophisticated than I’d imagined.
I try to remain calm, to keep my breathing slow and steady. Soft and gentle. I mimic the calming tone I’ve heard others use to talk to horses. “Come on, boy. Let’s back up into that pen, Demon. Go on, now. Get in there with the rest of your herd. You know you want to.” I step forward, keeping my movements slow and obvious—not spooking him is the key, I realize. If he thinks he has reason to fear me, he’ll start up with the defensive act.
Demon snorts, shakes his head, swishes his tail. He’s not taking his eyes off me any more than I am him. When I step forward, he steps back. Step, and step. Step, and step. I keep talking, saying whatever comes to mind.
“You think you’re big and bad, don’t you? Big old bully, that’s all you are. I’ve dealt with men like you, all bluster and bravado. But something tells me you have the balls to carry through with your actions, don’t you? Not like those crusty old businessmen I’m used to. They’re all bark and no bite. Show ’em you won’t be cowed or intimidated, and they’ll quit trying to bully you. Not so different from you, huh? Except you actually do have the bite. I prefer you, to be honest.” Another step forward, and this time, Demon doesn’t back up.
His ears swivel forward, pricking up and facing me, whereas before they’d been laid back on his head.
“Wait, wait,” Will mutters. “Hold up, Brooklyn. Don’t move.”
“I thought we wanted him to back up.”
“Yeah, but look at him. His ears are up and facing you. His back is down, and he’s looking right at you. He’s curious.” Will digs into his pocket—I can just barely make out his movements in my peripheral vision. He hands me another of those peppermint candies, keeping the wrapper from crinkling. “Offer him this. Flat palm, like a plate. Don’t shy away. Just let him approach you.”
Oh hell no.
I don’t want this vicious brute of a horse anywhere near me. I want him in the pen and I want to go home and figure out something else. This was a stupid idea, and I’m in way over my head. Bravado and bullshit…that’s me, clearly.
I snarl to myself, silently: No. I am the ice queen. The bitch you donotmess with. You don’t intimidate me, no matter who you are.
I do not intimidate, and I do not back down, not for men, and not for horses.
I make a show of unwrapping the peppermint and hold it on my palm, arm extended.
“Bring your arm closer to your body. Make him come to you.”
Posturing, it is all posturing.
I lift my chin and bring my hand closer to my body. Demon’s ears swivel, and he shakes his head and looks around.
“Hold your position,” Will says. He’s now turned around, facing the horse. “Patience.”
My heart is thundering in my chest, and my whole body is trembling like a leaf. I ignore the fear, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat. Demon lifts his head high, turns it to one side and looks at me with one eye. Dances forward a step, two steps. Extends his neck, and I can see his nostrils flaring, ears pricked, lips wiggling for the treat. I almost laugh at the sight of this big, dominant, scary animal wiggling his lips trying to get the candy without having to come too close.
“Let him take it.”
I lock my knees to prevent them from giving out, and ignore my watery gut. Demon shuffles forward another step, his head shaking and looking around, ears moving and pricking, always returning to focus on me. He snorts, whickers low in his throat. And then whiskery lips tickle my palm and I feel the warm wet swipe of a huge tongue, and then Demon is happily crunching the candy.
Will presses a few more wrapped candies into my hand. “Give him more. Lure him closer. See if he’ll let you touch his neck or nose. Slow movements. Don’t startle him.”
