Sociopath? (38 page)

“We got a black stud colt that would be right
up your alley, Rafe. Problem is the old man would never agree to
let you have him. In fact, I think he’s decided the only safe thing
to do is have him put down.”

“Why? What’s up with him?”

“He’s mean as a rattlesnake. Bites, kicks,
bucks. The stable hands all hate him. Too bad ‘cuz he’s gorgeous, a
true black, and you know, that isn’t so common. Perfect
confirmation. Bloodlines out the wazoo. We originally thought we’d
show him, then keep him for breeding but Dad said he’d never want
to pass on that kind of disposition. Thought about gelding him, but
he’s been a pure little bastard since he was born and seems
unlikely anything is going to change him. Anyway, Dad decided if he
hurt anybody, he’d feel responsible so I think he’s a goner….”

“You’ve still got him now though?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to at least come out and take a
look.”

“Well, it looks like we’re both about to get
done here. Why don’t you follow me back to the farm. I’ll show him
to you but I warn you, I don’t think you’ll get beyond that with
Dad.”

Roger grinned, brown eyes sparkling, knowing
he’d piqued Rafe’s interest. The two had started school together
clear back in kindergarten, although Rafe had jumped ahead of him
when he’d been skipped those two years. Roger knew if you told Rafe
he couldn’t do something, he wouldn’t be able to resist trying to
figure out a way to do it just to prove it could be done. Roger
remembered when they’d played football together in high school.
They’d all been sitting around taking a breather during a practice.
Someone had pointed out the tall announcer’s box and said wouldn’t
it be cool if they could sneak in and replace the school flag on
top with a banner that said, “fuck the Falcons”. If no one official
noticed it until the last minute, people would begin coming into
the stands and a lot of them would see it before the administration
could get a maintenance guy out to take it down. They tossed the
possibilities around for a while before sensible heads prevailed,
pointing out that a) it was almost impossible to get over the high
fence that enclosed the field (there had been a vandalism incident
once and the current fence was, if anything an over-reaction on the
school’s part) and b) it would be even more difficult to climb to
the top of the peaked roof of the announcer’s stand to reach the
flag pole (when the school needed to get up there, they used a
cherry picker, for God’s sake). Eventually, everyone gave up on the
idea, or at least, they thought everyone had given up.

But at the next game, the one with the Ferris
Falcons, Thad Curless had poked Roger in the ribs and whispered,
“look at the flagpole but don’t let anyone see you do it”. And
there, flying in the breeze, was a white banner that simply said,
“RAFE” in large black letters. Of course, it would be Rafe’s style
to bypass the smart-ass sentiment like, “fuck the Falcons”, just to
make a personal statement. Word about the banner passed from
student to student. Clumps of giggling kids wondered how long it
was going to take the adults to discover Rafe’s flag. They were
thrilled that he’d managed to pull off a coup against the
administration. By the time one of the teachers noticed and brought
it to the attention of Principal Jacobs, the game was getting ready
to start and since it didn’t say anything offensive, he made the
decision to leave it until afterwards. So, Rafe’s name floated
above the field during the entire game which was fitting at the end
when he made the winning touchdown for Benedict.

Naturally, although they’d let it pass
temporarily, the bureaucracy was not happy and Rafe got called into
the principal’s office first thing Monday morning. The school
grapevine went into overdrive. Soon every student knew.

“Hey, Rafe’s in Jacob’s office. Wonder what
will happen?”

“Probably wants to know how he did it. You
know, he’s wasting his time. Rafe’ll never tell.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t even tell any of us and we
begged him.”

“But we don’t have the kind of leverage
Jacobs has. He can threaten to call Rafe’s old man or give him a
million years of in-school detention or something.”

“Won’t matter. I’ll bet you ten bucks he
won’t get Rafe to talk. If he has to, he’ll just take his
punishment.”

“Maybe he’ll throw Rafe off the team.”

“Ha-ha! Like Coach would ever let that
happen!”

He didn’t tell, and he did not get thrown off
the team, but he did get an entire month of in-school suspension
(no one had ever gotten as much). Jacobs thought it was a
punishment to sit in a small room each day, isolated from his
fellow students, but, of course, he didn’t understand that to Rafe,
this wasn’t the case at all. In fact, he could do his reading and
his homework better in this quiet place than in class. He was
almost sorry when it was over.

*

All this was why Roger was hoping that Rafe
might be the beautiful black colt’s salvation. He figured that if
anyone could handle the little hellion, it would be Rafe….if they
could talk Roger’s dad into letting him try.

“Hey, you know what else, Rafe?”

“What?”

“This guy’s grandfather? Desfino, Destiny’s
brother.”

*

Max Corning was an older version of his son
or maybe that was vice versa. Both were short and wiry with arms
and legs muscled from years of riding horses. Both had
sun-weathered complexions, although the father’s face was aged like
old leather. Both had brown eyes that could size up a colt in an
instant and both usually had ready smiles, although the elder Mr
Corning’s smile wasn’t in evidence just now.

“What are you up to, Roger? You know I’ve
already made my decision. There’s no sense trying to talk me out of
it. I’ve got Doc scheduled to come next week. I’m not going to let
a horse with his temperament waste food and stall space….or ruin
Legacy Ridge’s reputation.”

“I know, Dad, but I was telling Rafe about
him and he just wanted to see him.”

Rafe and Roger leaned against the paddock
fence, each with one booted foot propped up on the lower rail.

“We leave him out in good weather. It’s just
too hard on the guys fighting with him to get him back and forth to
the barn.”

“Jesus, Roger, you’re right about him. He’s
fucking awesome.”

The colt was running along the far end of his
fence line, muscles rippling under his ebony skin, long black tail
floating behind him. When he slowed down, he snorted and shook his
head at the men, black forelock bobbing. He obviously didn’t like
them being so near, watching him. He had the distinctive dish face
of the full-blooded Arab. Right now, his ears were pinned back in
anger. He screamed out a warning for Rafe and Roger to keep their
distance, stamping his front feet to accentuate the threat.

“It’s not really safe to leave the long lead
on him. He could step on it and trip himself when he’s running but
it’s the only way we can catch him without a big hassle,” Roger
told him.

Rafe watched the colt, thinking he probably
wanted the challenge of trying to seduce this horse as much as he’d
ever wanted to seduce any woman. He admired the young stud’s
unwillingness to submit. Of course, in order to survive, he’d have
to learn to keep the wildness hidden, fooling people into thinking
they’d tamed him. They would kill you off if you didn’t. He’d had
to learn that and the colt needed to learn it too.

“Please, Mr Corning, just let me try. One
week, give me one week. If I’m not riding him by then, I’ll admit
defeat and you can do what you want to do.”

“No, Rafe, absolutely not. I can just see me
informing Renny that one of my horses has hurt his son while I just
stood back and let it happen, knowing how unpredicatable he
was.”

Rafe grinned. “Okay, do it this way then.
Call my Dad and ask him. See what he says. If he gives his
approval, then you let me have my shot. What do you say, Mr
Corning? That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“Come on, Dad, please. I think he can do it,
I really do.”

With both Rafe and Roger pounding on him, Max
Corning gave up.

“I’ll call your father, Rafe, but I’m going
to be completely up-front with him about how dangerous I think this
horse is and that there’s a serious risk to you.”

Rafe nodded in agreement.

And when Max briefed Renny over the phone, he
was dead honest.

“I’m opposed, Renny, but I promised Rafe I’d
let you make the call.”

Renny was silent for a moment and then Max
heard a sigh coming through the phone.

“Let him do it, Max. Trying to keep Rafe safe
is a lost cause. Over time, I’ve learned to have faith in him. He
won’t take stupid chances. If he thinks he can win over your colt,
he probably can.”

Rafe and Roger stood listening to Max’s end
of the call. If Renny had faith in Rafe, Rafe had as much faith in
his father. He would have bet any amount of money that Renny would
say yes although that decision seemed to shock old Max.

He hung up the phone and turned around.

“One week, Rafe. You’ve got one week. If that
colt isn’t a perfect gentleman by then, Doctor Hammond still comes
on schedule.” He frowned at the boys. “I want you both to know I’m
not happy about this and I feel like you scammed me, especially
you, Roger, bringing Rafe out here after my decision had been
made.”

“Whew,” said Roger. “He is seriously pissed.
Don’t screw this up, Rafe, or it’s my ass.”

“Don’t worry, Rog. I won’t screw it up. Oh,
by the way, does this colt have a name.”

“Yep.” Roger smiled. “It’s Desperado -
fitting, huh?”

*

He went back to Heron Point long enough to
pack a small tote of clothes, a sleeping bag, a cooler of food and
water and some books. He changed into ragged jeans, a lined flannel
shirt and his beat-up cowboy boots, before returning to Legacy
Ridge. He went into the colt’s paddock and set up a miniature base
camp, close to the feed box and hay rack. If the young stud wanted
to eat anything but grass he’d have to come within a few yards of
Rafe. Then he simply sat in an unthreatening position with back
against the fence, reading out loud while ignoring the horse
completely. Meanwhile, Desperado maintained a position as far from
the man as he could get. If Rafe appeared uninterested in him, he
was certainly focused on Rafe, as if wondering what the hell was
going on. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

When dark came, Rafe curled up in his
sleeping bag and fell asleep. At dawn, he went behind a tree to
take a piss, ate some cheese and crackers and drank some water,
then resumed his reading.

During that day, both Rafe and the colt
maintained their positions. The stand off was a source of great
interest to everyone at Legacy Ridge at first. Periodically, they
would lounge against the fence and watch but it soon became boring
since neither of the main actors seemed to be making any
advances.

By the third day, the colt grazed his way
closer to Rafe, his ears pricked forward toward the sound of Rafe’e
voice. That evening, he ate from his feed box although he kept a
wary eye on the man seated on the ground near by.

For the first time, Rafe raised his head from
his book and addressed Desperado directly.

“Well, hey, there, Sweetheart,” he murmured
in a low voice, “you’ve decided it’s safe to come a little closer
now, have you? That’s good. I’m the only chance you’ve got,
Youngster, whether you know it or not.”

The colt snorted but didn’t move away.

That night, Rafe felt rather than saw the
black shape approaching him slowly. If horses could be said to
tiptoe, this one was, putting one hoof cautiously in front of the
other. Rafe kept perfectly still until he could almost feel the
colt’s breath in his face. Although his eyes were closed, he could
sense Desperado’s own curious eyes watching him. He didn’t want to
move enough even to smile but inwardly, he was grinning.

On the third day, Rafe took a walk around the
paddock. The colt followed him, keeping a short distance between
them. Rafe paid no attention to him.

“What do you think, Dad?” Roger asked his
father. Both of them had been monitoring the situation closely.

“It’s an unorthodox approach to say the least
but he seems to be making progress. I know you have a soft spot for
that colt, Roger, but don’t get your hopes up too much. He’s still
got a ways to go.”

In the beginning, the employees at Legacy
Ridge were going to take bets about whether Rafe could win the colt
over or not but they’d all had experience with him, so no one
wanted to take Rafe’s side of the bet. They scoffed when Rafe set
up his little camp right inside Desperado’s paddock. They scoffed
even more about the novel concept of reading a horse into
submission.

The consensus was that they’d probably come
out one morning and find the kid stomped to death.

On the fourth day, the colt allowed Rafe to
walk up to him. Rafe removed the halter and attached lead rope.
Desperado seemed startled. No human had ever removed a binding from
him before, only put them on.

The Legacy Ridge crew was startled too.

“Christ sakes, he took the goddam halter and
lead rope off. Now, we’re going to have to go through all that
bullshit to catch him again, like we did before.”

On the fifth day, they walked together,
Rafe’s arm flung across Desperado’s neck. That evening, he put the
halter and lead rope back on and led the colt around the inside of
the fence.

During the entire time, Rafe carried on long
conversations with the young stud, like they were best friends.
Rafe explained his philosophy of life to the horse, who shook his
head, as if in agreement. Sometimes, he explained mathematical
formulas and other times, he deconstructed the plots of books he’d
read. He quoted long streams of poetry (it was the first time, he’d
ever thought memorizing poetry had any practical value).