“I do not mean to undermine you,” I replied.“I am just saying that Angel does not seem aggressive.Just scared.”
“Aren’t scared horses the ones to be afraid of the most?”Danica asked.
I shrugged one shoulder.“Maybe.But I will be right there.I do not think Angel will harm Sam.She needs to learn to trust.She needs to learn love.”
“Please,” Sam persisted.“Please, Mom.”
I could already see that Danica was resigned to letting her daughter come in with me, but I stood there patiently, waiting for her to verbalize it.Sam wasn’t nearly as patient, and I found that humorous.
“Fine, but … you listen to Tom, okay?”
Sam nodded with excitement.“I promise.”
I unlatched the stall door, causing Angel to huff and snort in distress.She backed herself into the corner furthest away from us, stomping her newly trimmed and shoed hooves as the whites of her eyes gleamed under the warm barn lights.
“Shhh …Tranquilla, bella mia,” I whispered to her, approaching her slowly from the side so she could see me.“Brava ragazza, calma… Adesso basta paura… sei libera.” She had a gentle bridle on, but no bit.I grabbed the bridle for a small amount of gentle control.I pressed my forehead against her cheek, her nostrils still flaring with ragged breaths.
“Wh-what did you say to her?”Sam asked softly.
“Hmm?”I glanced over at her.
“What did you say to Angel?She … she seems calmer.”
I smiled.“First, I said, ‘Easy, my beauty.’Then I said, ‘Good girl, calm down.’And finally, I told her that she has no more fear now, that she is free.”
“The f-first one.Tran-tranquilla—”
“Tranquilla, bella mia.Easy, my beauty.Si.”
With just a slight tremble in her hand, the young girl reached forward toward Angel.Angel kept an eye on Sam the whole time, but her breathing eased a little and her muscles relaxed just a touch.“Tran …”She swallowed.“Tranquilla, bella mia,” Sam said, finally making contact with Angel’s forehead.The smile on the little girl’s face made the entire barn brighter.
Angel dipped her head a little and pushed it toward Sam only a few inches, but I took that as a good sign and released my hold on the reins slightly.
Sam stepped closer, growing bolder and continuing to pet Angel.“Tranquilla, bella mia,” she said again.
“Ben fatto,” I said gently.
“What does that mean?”
“Well done.”
She beamed, but only for a moment, then her gaze turned sad.“I hate that I can see her ribs.”
“Si.Me too.”
“Why isn’t she eating?Can we try apples?Or something else special?Maybe she doesn’t like the straw.”
I shook my head.“Hay is for eating; straw is for bedding.But no,piccola,the carrots were just to get her out of the trailer.She could get sick if we introduce her to special food or treats while she is this frail.I have good hay and good alfalfa for her to eat.A calming salt lick and plenty of water.”
Sam’s gaze roamed the stall until she found the hay cage on the wall.She went to it and pulled a bunch out, returning to Angel and holding it to her nose.“Come on,bella mia.You need to eat.For you and your baby.”She went back to stroking the long bridge of her nose.
I smiled at the little girl’s continued use of Italian and how easily it flowed off her tongue, not to mention the gentle accent she added, unlike some Anglophones who butchered my language when they tried to say words in Italian.
A tickle at the back of my neck prompted me to glance behind us at Danica, who stood there on the other side of the stall door, patiently, quietly watching us.The will for Angel to eat was as clear in her eyes as it was in her daughter’s.
“Please,” Sam almost whimpered, leaning forward to press a kiss to Angel’s velvety nose.“You need to get strong.”
Angel’s lips twitched, and I held my breath in hope that she was going to go for it.
