When I come to the barn the next day, Heartbreak isn’t running. When I get out of my car, he doesn’t start running. When I walk up to the fence, then duck under the fence, then walk over to him, he still doesn’t start running.
It’s wonderful. It’s success; it proves he’s getting comfortable; it proves there’s hope for him. And it does make me happy. But on another level, a deeper level, it makes me sad—sad that he’s giving up. There was always something cruel to me about breaking horses, and it was more than the use of the word “break;” it’s the act of taming something so wild and free. It’s what we’re doing to him, whether we use force or not.
I know all about it. Most people who know me now—maybe Joey included, maybe not—probably think I have a lot of fire in me—a lot of spirit. I spea
