Funerals for Horses

Cover Funerals for Horses
Genres: Fiction
The sun peers over the horizon with no spoken threats.
Then, as if looking into a mirror, the old mare comes to bump my face with her muzzle. She’s a battered white paint, short bristly mane, prominent ribs, chocolate patches on her neck and withers. She knows she is at home here, and questions me only slightly.
I wish her a good morning and run my fingers up her face, into her forelock.
Everett Ankeah comes out to wish me the same, bringing hot soup and half a wheel of fry bread.
“So, I see yo
...u and Yozzy are acquainted, and I needn’t make introductions.”
I thank him for the breakfast, and sit up to take the hot soup. I look around me and ask what keeps Yozzy close to home. “I don’t see any fences.”
“That’s because there are no fences. I don’t fence my wife in, but she stays with me. And if she didn’t, what could I do? All down this road you’ll see signs: Watch for animals. The sheep and horses range free. They know their homes.”
He sits with me while I finish my breakfast, though there seems nothing more to say.
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