Entering into the barn, the sweet scent of straw and hay, plus the sound of crunched grain pervaded her senses. The drumming clatter of rain on the metal roof made this the most perfect place. As she strode down the hallway passing each door, the nickers grew more insistent. Those magnificent bobbing heads emerged to greet and receive the honey dipped slices of expected apples they hadn't tasted for months. It was a long time since Spring Break.
She had trained them for Dressage and Stadium Jumping, the monster black Friesian [Noble Inheritance] and the sleek liver chestnut crossed bred Welsh Cob/Thoroughbred [Superman's Reward]. Dad had taught her from the age of 3 or 4 everything she knew about horses. The memory of his leaving was dim .... a Chief aboard the Franklin in the Pacific Theater WWII .... the picture above the two stalls was his burning ship.
The rain had stopped; the hall filled with "Noble Inheritance" and "Superman's Reward". Brushed, loved, saddled, three heads turned at the sound of the baritone voice. "Did you think you would ride both at the same time?" Her laughter caused both "Noble and "Re" to nicker tossing their mane and heads. She had spent hours working out their names. As they were descended from Medieval War Horses, synonyms of the legacy of heroes seemed appropriate. "No, Dad [her biggest hero] ..... thought you might go with us; afterall, it is Memorial Day."
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