MordechaiAlex stood six feet from the fence as he watched his newest challenge come out of the trailer and into the “introductory paddock”, as he was prone to call it. The bay was a little older than he was used to working with, but he’d also trained far older and stubborn… though this one had a few rumors floating with him. He’d been told the big stallion may have injured - if not killed - at least one, possibly two people, and showed more aggression than the average honey badger with anger management issues. Common sense would have told him to cut his losses… but he’d never really listened to that, anyway, and doing so hadn’t steered him wrong yet.
The stallion took to the fence immediately, breezing - or almost so - his way around and around the enclosure. Exploratory circles, mapping the new territory - he’d seen it in some of his other cases. Normally, he’d be a little closer to the fence, letting the animal approach him of their own volition… that wouldn’t happen, here. As sure-footed as the horse was, he wouldn’t hesitate to lash out with just as much power as a truck doing eighty.
The limp Alex had also been told about wasn’t obvious, unless one knew what they were looking for. A moment’s hesitation in putting weight on his front right leg, a minute twitch there, just a slightly higher angle when the leg came up - it wasn’t bad, and it was clear he was used to it, but it would probably lead to joint problems later on, if it wasn’t already.
Settling into the lawn chair that he’d hauled out, Alex popped open a can of soda and watched over his new charge doing his endless laps, slowly petering out to a still-aggressive walk by sundown.
So. The only thing that surpassed the stallion’s energy was his fury. Good to know. Alex hoped he could work past that, somehow, and maybe have the boy ready for presentation (albeit, at a distance) to the rest of his family by Easter.
The horse - now named Mordechai - glared uneasily at Alex. He’d been working with the animal to get close, to at least accept a carrot. Touch was obviously out of the equation, but if he could at least calm him into a less violent state of mind and get him to accept a vocal command, he’d take it. So far, he could get Mordechai to turn his head and start to approach, but then he’d have to throw the treat because the horse would either show his teeth or just stop, depending on his energy levels - and for that reason, he’d been encouraging the stallion to continue his pacing, walking around the outside of the fence, if need be, to keep him going until he cooled down.
Easter wasn’t far off, but the little baby steps they’d made were a promising start.
It might have been his imagination, but Mordechai hadn’t shown as much aggression toward him, lately, other than displaying his teeth. He’d still glare, still huff and stamp a little in frustration when the carrot wasn’t being immediately thrown in his direction, but he wasn’t lashing out or charging the fence as he had when they had first started. Slowly, while Mordechai watched, he approached the fence, ready to spring back at the first sign of those not-so-pearly whites, and held out the carrot, so that the end was technically within the fence.
Adrenaline pumped through the man as, slowly, the animal turned, and took step after cautious step toward him, hesitating slightly as the distance ebbed away.
Six feet.
Four feet.
Three.
Oh god.
Alex felt every muscle tense as, without notice, the big red head ducked down and snatched the vegetable from his hand, before all four of those wicked hooves danced away from him, leaving only puffs of dust in their wake.
Maybe there was some level of trust, there, now.
It took longer for the pair to manage a way to communicate signals for speed, but Alex came up with a way while watching Mordechai do his daily pace-out, two weeks later. Two tongue clicks to catch the horse’s attention, a high whistle, and the man started running, coaxing the horse into a faster trot. A pause for a treat, then two more clicks and, “Yeah!” - before he started off in a jog in the opposite direction.
The stallion was no Easter bunny, but he was going to be ready to see the family.
By the time Easter Sunday arrived and the eggs were hidden throughout the grounds, Mordechai was still classified as dangerous to everyone except potentially Alex, who at least could get him under control, albeit by setting him into a run to wear himself out.
The kids were excited to see him - they’d heard their brother, uncle, cousin (however many times removed or generations between), or whatever familial term for him that they’d adopted - had taken a new horse under his wing, and that he was very mean to pretty much everyone else, so they needed to stay back from his paddock.
Alex’s mother and sister, who jointly oversaw several different divisions of Moose Trail stables, including the one he was currently helping out at, were also there, ready for a bit of a show. And so, surrounded by hidden specks of color that the kids somehow weren’t taking notice of yet (as nobody had told them the Easter Bunny had done his duty), Mordechai was given the stage. The stallion was wary, but the man that had been his companion was calm - Alex hoped it’d be enough. He set him through his paces, first, to get out that mad energy that bunched up the nerves under that bright red coat and made him more ornery. Two clicks and a whistle -- a fast pace, showing off the speed and utter power of the creature before them, and making short work of so much of that battery that had to fuel Mordechai.
Two more clicks and a sharp “Yeah!” -- and he was brought down to the steady, breezing trot, with only a protesting huff. He still wanted to go fast. So, Alex let him.
A few more pace changes, and Mordechai was brought to a halt, tempted by the carrot offered between the bars of the fence. He’d been good. He’d been so good.
As the treat was devoured behind him, Alex turned to his family, taking in the approving smiles.
Maybe he hadn’t done quite so bad, either.
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I think I got it all done correctly, bumping for a quick check. C:
