Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Next he gives me a tour of the stables and other paddocks. I get to meet the horses, all of whom are far gentler spirits than Samson.
Also, horses are way bigger in person than they look in the movies.
Like, way bigger.
And I’m pretty sure Xavier introduces me to the smallest one first.
“This is Lulu. Raised her up from a foal. She was born right here in this stable. Who’s my good girl?”
Lulu all but breaks down the stall door of the stable in her excitement to get to Xavier. When he lifts up his hand to her, she nickers and nuzzles into him. He leans in close and she buries her muzzle in his neck.
And Xavier?
It’s like a transformation comes over him.
Well, not completely. But his entire demeanor… I don’t know exactly how to explain it. He… softens. The hard lines of his jaw loosen. His stern brow finally goes soft. His whole body relaxes. It’s as if he’s releasing all the tension he seems to perpetually carry around as he scratches at the mare’s cheek and then strokes down her neck. Like I’ve been missing some key part of him until I saw him in this context with these animals.
“That’s my good, good girl.” Even the quality of his voice is different. It’s pitched softer with a gentle croon to it.
Though I can’t say I’ve never heard it like that before.
No, with a startled shock, I realize it’s the same tone he’s used with me after I’ve complied in the bedroom. Or… the bath.
That revelation’s about as welcome as Lulu seems to find having another female around her favorite man.
When Xavier tries to introduce me to her, her ears constantly flick back and forth. She blows out a loud huff of air through her nostrils, pulling away and turning her head toward Xavier like, who dis bitch?
I yank my hand back since I’m not especially inclined to lose a finger before lunchtime. Or, you know, ever.
Xavier clicks his teeth at her and she ducks her nose, chastened. She butts her head into him again and he soothes her, then attempts the introduction again.
By the end of the introduction, Lulu reluctantly sniffs me, which earns her a carrot from Xavier’s pocket. When did he get those? Looking down, though, I see his pockets are stuffed with them.
Guess he’s anticipating I’m going to be a real hit with his fan club.
Because it’s not just Lulu that he seems to have such a special bond with. He introduces me to a string of other animals, all of whom react almost the exact same way Lulu did. Ok, that’s not fair. Even as a person who doesn’t know a thing about horses, I can already begin to make out little personality differences. Though, by the time we get to the back pasture I’m not sure I’m getting all their names right.
There was Pioneer, Sundance Kid, Holy Hellfire—I remember him because he was one of the pasture horses who looked so old I was shocked he was still standing upright. Then there was Tornado, Bob—that’s right, just, Bob, and Paddyshack. Not Caddyshack, I double-checked. No, it’s Paddyshack.
Xavier tells me the stories of some of them. Pioneer threw his owner so hard, he broke his leg. The owner was threatening to put the horse down, so Xavier took him in. Several others are retired racehorses past their prime.
“Is Holy Hellfire one of those?” I ask as we walk past another low building—another set of stables, I’m guessing. As grouchy as I still might be about being led around like a pack animal, I have to say this is all sort of interesting. And Xavier’s spoken more this morning than during the entirety of my time with him so far. That seems like something to encourage.
He shakes his head at my inquiry, the right side of his mouth tilting. “No, he just spent his whole life being ornery.”
That surprises a laugh out of me. “What do you mean?”
“Ever heard of a racehorse called Bierbaum?”
“If he didn’t make Page 6 in the Post, it wasn’t in my sphere.”
He shakes his head at me. “Think Secretariat or Man o’ War.”
At my continued blank stare, he tosses his hand in the air. “Seabiscuit?”
“Oh,” I perk up. “Wasn’t that a movie?”
He draws in a long breath as if searching for patience.
“Okay, well just picture one of the greatest racehorses of the twentieth century. That was Bierbaum. And Holy Hellfire was one of his foals. Everyone in the racing world expected great things of him.”
“And you…” I look out in the direction of the pasture where we met Holy Hellfire, “or your family, bought this foal? Or your parents owned the mare or whatever?”
Xavier shakes his head. “No, I didn’t get him until much later. It was one of the wealthiest and most prominent racing families back east who bred him. They had all the best trainers work with him. But whenever they tried racing him… nada.”