A Countrywoman’s Journal: The Case of the Stray Horses by Carolyn Rahe This new addition is dedicated to my city-dwelling friends, some of whom enjoy living a bit of the country life vicariously through my stories. If you have any tales of your own to submit, send them to [email protected] and we will consider publishing them in future issues. The Case of the Stray Horses Early one morning a few weeks ago I woke up and opened my eyes long enough to realize that it was still too early to get up, and that it was raining. Perfect. I could pull the covers back up and roll over and get a good long sleep. A warm, dry bed always feels best when its cold and rainy outside. Just as I started to doze off my husband peeked in and said, “Hey, you didn't bring home a couple of strays with you last night, did you?” “No, why?” I murmured, trying not to be roused too far out of my half-sleep. “There are a couple of horses in the yard. I heard something banging around on the porch and opened the door and there stood a horse!” “Oh, geez. Not again,” I thought. “They'll probably find their way home by the time I'm up.” I tried to go back to sleep and tell myself it was a dream, but no luck. How could I sleep knowing there were two lost horses in the yard!? I didn't have to be at work until that afternoon, so I crawled out of bed and put on a warm coat and rubber boots. Sure enough, there were two black horses grazing on our still-green grass. They looked up for a moment when I stepped outside, then went back to ignoring me and our three barking dogs who didn't take the situation nearly as nonchalantly as the horses did. I walked up and petted them, and they went back to eating. One horse seemed to be older and bigger than the other one, and they were both wearing halters, but of course they didn't have “tags” to help me identify them. I thought about calling the sheriff, but I had learned the last time there were horses in our yard that He's not in at 7 a.m. I would have to call 911 if I wanted to involve the authorities, and this didn't really seem like an emergency. So I got in the truck and drove two miles to the closest village. Several of the people in the village have horses and small pastures out back, and I thought maybe someone would know whose they were. I spotted one house with the lights on and the curtains opened to reveal two women in housecoats sitting at the table drinking coffee. They were surprised by the knock at the door, but when I told them there were a couple of lost horses in my yard they perked up. They looked out back, and saw their horses were still at home. They called some other folks from up the road, but they claimed their horses were safe at home too. I stopped at every house I knew of that had horses - even the scary people's house, although I heeded the “Keep Out - This Means You!” signs and sat in my truck and honked the horn. They ignored my beeps, so I drove further. I stopped at the only farm in the area that has actual livestock, and they said none of their horses were wearing halters. After driving around for an hour I stopped back at home to make sure they were still there. They were still there, only now they'd moved on to greener pastures closer to the woods. So I drove off in a different direction. Finally I decided to drive up the back way, through the woods where there are only a few houses. I’d never seen horses at any of these places, and they would have to be a few miles from home if they lived back this road. Just then I saw a young boy riding a Shetland pony. They had to be his. I asked him, “Are you out looking for some lost horses?” “Yes! My pony’s trying to track their scent!” Just then his parents and little sister pulled up in their car. “We’ve been looking for them for two hours!” “Well, follow me - they’re in my yard!” The car, followed by the boy on the pony, followed me up the muddy gravel road. As I pulled into our driveway I realized that the horses were nowhere to be seen. “They must have gone into the woods, “ I told them. “You take one trail and I’ll take the other.” What I didn’t tell them was there are hundreds of acres of woods laced with intersecting trails. It was also deer season, and I was afraid a horse could come upon an over-zealous hunter if it wandered too far from our house. The little girl and her mother took one trail and the boy followed me on his pony, who was doing his best to “track” his stable-mates, although he seemed more and more confused by the other smells in the woods. Finally I looked down and in an especially muddy area I saw hoof prints. “They’re over here! Come on!” I yelled. The parents, the little girl, the boy and his pony and I ran through the mud. By now the area was swampy enough that we could easily follow their tracks. The pony looked relieved to resign as leader of our search party. All at once we looked up and saw the horses, standing happily in the mud just waiting for us. The family was back together. We watched as the father climbed on the biggest horse and tied ropes to the halter to use as reigns. The mud-soaked boy smiled and said, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna miss school today!” “Oh no you’re not! You’re gonna be late for school today!” his mom told him as we all tromped out of the woods. As the father rode the big horse out, the younger one followed, and the boy “giddy-upped” his pony back into action. Update: Just last week on another early morning I heard the dogs barking and looked out the window. The family was back, corralling their two horses again. This time I knew they could handle it without me, and crawled back into my warm dry bed.

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