Charlie looks at me, his face lighting up. “Yeah!”
He jumps up and down a few times, then takes off running toward the stables, his little legs pumping. His excitement is contagious.
We reach the stables, and I grab a couple of lead ropes. I toss one to him, showing him how to loop it over his wrist.
“Like this,” I tell him, my hand guiding his as we secure it on the post.
He mimics me with a serious look on his face, as if this is the most important thing he’s ever done. It’s a funny thing to watch, a five-year-old taking something so seriously.
“Now, let’s grab a brush,” I say, leading him toward the new tack room. He practically skips along, grinning up at me. “You think you can help me brush down Daisy today?”
“Uh-huh! I like Daisy!” He bounces in place, almost as excited as I am to get started.
I lead him out to the pasture where Daisy stands, her coat shining in the sun. Charlie runs up to her, his tiny hands patting her gently.
“Hey, girl,” he says in that sweet, innocent voice.
The horse lowers her head, sniffing him, trying to figure out this little human.
I stand back, giving them space, but my chest feels full watching the two of them. Charlie’s got this natural way with animals, a calmness to him that’s rare for someone his age.
It’s as if he knows how to speak their language, even if he doesn’t fully understand it yet.
“Want to show me how you brush her coat?” I ask, reaching for the brush in his little hands.
Charlie nods eagerly and starts to work, his tiny strokes brushing through Daisy’s coat with a confidence I can’t help but admire.
“She likes it when I do it slow,” he says, and I chuckle under my breath.
He’s right, though. Daisy’s eyes soften as he works, enjoying the gentle touch of his hand.
I squat down beside him, showing him how to work through the thicker spots. “There you go, just like that.”
We’re quiet for a while, the sound of the brushes against the horse’s coat filling the air, along with the occasional neigh or nicker from the other horses in the pasture.
It’s peaceful. And for once, everything is exactly where it should be.
When we finish, Charlie steps back and wipes his brow with the back of his hand. “She’s all clean now, huh?”
I stand up, looking at the horse’s shiny coat. “Yep. She’s ready for a good ride now.”
“Can I walk her? Like a cowboy?”
I grin at him, pride swelling in my chest. “You sure can, little cowboy.”
Charlie grins back, his face lighting up as he pulls the rope taut and starts walking beside Daisy, leading her toward the open field. His little legs barely keep up with the horse’s longer strides, but he’s determined.
I follow along, keeping a watchful eye on him. He’s got the spirit of a rancher, that’s for sure.
This boy, he’s a lot like me in some ways.
We make our way back to the stables, Charlie still walking Daisy happily. When we get there, I set up the feeding troughs and hand Charlie the bucket of oats. “You want to help me feed ’em?”
“Yeah! I wanna give ’em all the oats!” Charlie says eagerly, already balancing the heavy bucket with both hands.
I show him how to distribute the oats evenly. His small hands fumble a little at first, but soon enough, he’s feeding the horses excitedly.
“Careful now,” I warn, “don’t overfill the trough. They’ll waste it.”
