Brian Rathbone - The Dawning of Power

The colt watched her enter his pasture, and he raised his tail as he trotted in a wide arc, challenging her to catch him, but she did not even look at him. Ignoring him completely, as if he did not exist, she walked into the pasture and sat on the ground. With the noose in her lap, she picked blades of grass and inspected them as if that were her only reason for being there. The men stood at the fence, and no one spoke a word. A tense silence hung in the air.

For a while, nothing happened, but Catrin was in no hurry; she had all day if that was what it took. After she picked the spot in front of her nearly clean of the coarse grass, though, the colt became curious. He approached her from behind and nipped at her shoulder before charging away. Again, Catrin ignored him. He returned two more times, and each time he stayed longer and became bolder. At one point, he put his head over her shoulder and nudged her with his nose, but an instant later he wheeled and snorted.

Catrin hoped his inquisitive nature would continue to get the best of him, and so it did. On his next return, he stuck his head into her lap and nearly knocked her over, which was the exact moment she had been awaiting. Quick as a striking snake, she looped the noose over his head and rolled away from him as he panicked. She was not quite quick enough in her escape and received a clout on the head for her troubles.

Her goal, though, had been achieved. The colt fought, wide eyed, against the rope that held him fast. The stop-knot prevented him from crushing his own windpipe, and the post remained firmly rooted, much to her relief. She watched and waited as his struggle became wild, and he threw himself against the restraints with abandon, but still the post held, though it did begin to move a bit more with each yank.

In a desperate move, the colt tried to get a running start, but when the rope went taut, it knocked him from his hooves, and in that moment, Catrin sprang, leaping onto him and straddling his neck. With her weight firmly settled just behind his ears, the colt could not get enough leverage to stand. He continued to flail, but Catrin spoke soothingly into his pinned ears. After a few more moments of struggling, the colt surrendered and stopped fighting.

The yearling halter was already cutting into the colt's growing flesh, and Catrin could see that Rolph was right: left on any longer, the flesh would have grown around the overtight halter. As gently as she could, she undid the buckle and pulled the halter from his head.

"Have you a halter?" she shouted, and the stunned men sprang into action. Rolph returned moments later with a much larger halter made of leather and brass. He handed it to her and let her do the honor of placing it on the colt. Careful to avoid the newly exposed flesh, she slipped the halter on. The colt struggled under her weight but was still unable to rise.

"Lead line," Catrin said, and it came out as an order, but Rolph didn't flinch. He just handed her a lead line. Once she had it secured to the halter, she pulled the noose from the colt's head. "Have you a stall ready?"

"Yes'm, and I'll have the aisle cleared," Rolph replied, and Catrin prepared for the most dangerous part of her task. Using her hand to keep weight on his neck, she climbed off and stood. As soon as she took her hands from his neck, the colt stood. He tried to fight her for a time, but she was skilled at avoiding his kicks and strikes, and she refused to let go. They spun in circles, and she slowly edged him toward the gate.

The men backed away and allowed her room to move as they left the pasture and entered the barnyard. Still they spun, and still Catrin moved him toward the barn. When she tried to get him through the open doors, the whites of his eyes showed and his panic increased, but much of the fight was out of him.

"First stall you can get 'im into will be fine," Rolph said, and she made for the first stall on the right. The door was narrow, and the colt balked. He strained against the lead line and halter, which Catrin knew must be painful on his raw flesh, and the pain increased his frenzy.

"Smack 'im on the rear," she shouted, and Rolph rushed to comply. In an instant, the colt went from resistance into a leap. He struck his hip on one side of the doorway and nearly trampled Catrin in the process, but he was in the stall. With a quickness born of skill and fear, she unhooked the lead line and fled the stall. Rolph slammed the gate shut behind her. The colt paced the stall restlessly, still blowing from the workout, and Catrin dropped to the floor, blowing nearly as hard as the colt. Benjin and Rolph reached her side as soon as she hit the ground and checked her for injury.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just winded."

"We owe you a great debt, Elma. You saved that colt, and you've given us back hope. With 'im available for breeding, we can replenish our stable yet. Didn't even have to shoot 'im," Rolph said with a broad smile. "Never seen the likes o' that, I tell ya. Yer a clever girl indeed."

Catrin blushed at his compliment, and her stomach practically roared in hunger.

Rolph heard the rumble and seemed to recall himself. "Ye've not even eaten yet; shame on us. Come, let's feast to yer success," he said, and she gladly followed him inside.

As Rolph entered the cottage, ducking his head under the low door, Collette stepped in behind and cuffed him on the back of his head. "You great oaf, how could ya let that poor girl catch yer colt on an empty stomach." Rolph made no argument, and Collette turned to Catrin. "I saw what ya did out there, Elma. Yer brave and smart as can be. Couldn't be more proud of ya. To celebrate, I pulled out our last cured ham. We'll eat well this day, for ye've given us back our livelihood. Ya don't even know how many times those men tried to catch that rascal, and here you pluck 'im in a single mornin'. Tickles me," she said, and she gave Catrin a warm hug.

"Did ya see that, Gramma?" Jessub asked as he stormed into the house, and rather than wait for an answer, he acted out the entire scene. His antics sent laughter into the air, and it was one of the most joyful moments of Catrin's life; she had truly helped these good folks, and it warmed her heart. Still she felt guilty eating the last of their meat.

"Are you certain you wish to serve the ham? Soup would be fine."

"Nonsense! Ye've earned a good meal, and I'd say the first foal born should be yers as well," Collette said in a tone that left no room for argument.

The meal she served was nothing short of spectacular, given the circumstances, as she broke out the best of their stores: ham, bread, and cheese were accompanied by sugared nuts and apple cider. Very little was said as everyone enjoyed the meal, but it was a merry silence. A weight seemed to have lifted from Rolph's shoulders, and he looked younger than when they had met.

"Ye've got to name that colt now," Collette scolded Rolph. "I don't think 'No-good rotten son of a common hussy' suits him anymore."

Rolph laughed from his belly, and his laughter was contagious. Catrin's full belly soon hurt, and joyful tears ran down her cheeks. "I think I'll call 'im Elmheart. What d'ya think of that, Elma?"

"I think that suits him just fine. I'll take pride in his naming."

"That ya should. That ya should," Collette said, nodding her head.

"As much as I hate to leave your hospitality," Benjin said with a hand on his full belly. "We should be on our way. We've a long way to go."

"I'll not send y'off on foot. No sir, I won't. I may not have a horse to spare, but I've an ox and an old oxcart. If ye'd be willing to help me fix up the cart, I'd say ya more than earned it," Rolph said, and Catrin's jaw dropped open.

"That's far too generous a gift for us to accept," she said, and Benjin nodded his agreement.