Dreaming Dove Stables Debut

All cleaned up...

Name: Caramel Sauce Smores
Barn Name: Mel
Breed: Norwegian Warhorse
Sex: Mare
Age: 7 years
Height: 17.1hh
Coat: Bay Tobiano
Genetics: Ee/Aa/TT (possibly? I'm new at this...)
Discipline Prospects: Equine assisted therapy

Reba Dalton was thirty, depressed, and hiding too many secrets to count when Dreaming Dove Stables fell into her lap. That old codger - did she even remember his name? - had kicked the bucket and left the place to her in his will. Maybe he thought she could do something good with the land and the horses. Maybe he felt like he owed her something. Maybe he just had a thing for curvy redheads.

With nothing else commanding her attention, she chose an overcast afternoon to survey her newly acquired property. The ranch hands, what few were left, all avoided her as she hiked through the overgrown paddocks and dimly lit stables in her too-clean blue jeans and unscuffed city boots. This suited Reba just fine.

A plaintive nicker sounded from somewhere in the shadows. Reba paused, uncertain. She intended just to evaluate the worth of the property so that she could sell it as soon as possible. The woman had not considered that there might still be livestock left behind. Composing herself, she ventured further down the stable aisle, where she suddenly found herself staring at a velvety pink nose.

A warm brown eye peered at the two-legger curiously. It took only a moment before the NorWar decided that she liked this unfamiliar human; after all, she was a marvelous judge of character. And that might be peppermint that she smelled…

“Mel…” Reba read from the brass nameplate on the stall door.

The large horse bobbed her head encouragingly, sending her long forelock tossing. Reba cast a look around and, feeling almost as if she were trespassing, slid open the heavy stall door and slipped inside with the massive horse. The smell of ammonia and muck stung her eyes immediately; the stall had not been properly cleaned in too long. Despite the odor, she moved closer to the horse and very slowly extended her hand, speaking softly, “Good horse...good Mel… No biting, now. Understood?”

Mel blew a huff of air through her nostrils; as if she would ever consider biting a human! But this human was afraid, though she was trying hard to appear brave. Mel knew just what to do. She had taught children how to behave around horses, surely she could do the same with this woman. With a forward flick of her ears and a gentle offering of her muzzle, Mel tried her best to say that she wanted to be friends. She had been so lonely since her old master went away…

How long had it been since Reba had felt this young? Since she had felt this vulnerable? Here was this huge, powerful creature, bowing her head and whuffling gently and encouragingly at Reba’s outstretched hand, making her feel like a child on her brother’s farm again. After a few moments of awkward patting and quiet murmuring, out came the peppermint from her back pocket and Mel got the first treat she had tasted in weeks. She plucked it out of the woman’s hand with ladylike grace and munched contentedly while Reba further inspected her.

Muddy and matted feathering around her hooves...that would had to be snipped off. Reba felt a sad pang about that. And she could do with a good brushing. But otherwise the mare appeared healthy enough. And incredibly sweet. Mel touched her nose to Reba’s hip and seemed to look at her inquisitively. What was to become of her?



Ref by *fillyrox