Melinda’s horses must have bedded down someplace alongside the road or in a nearby field. They must have found their Horsey Motel 6, because they were well rested this morning. I went down the edge of the driveway after scooping poop in our place, renamed Fort Knox, and looked to my left. The two renegade horses were trotting at a brisk pace, going into and out of neighbor’s yards. The two still-imprisoned horses repeatedly neighed for their buddies. The two on the lam stopped every so often and neighed back. Raudi let it be known she wanted in on the action, by calling out to them all. And this all got Rainbow and Jenna to start barking. Then the neighbor dogs joined in.

Mother and foal at Rafter T's

I went down-road, to see what was up. And the horses came uproad to see what was up. We all met in front of Melinda’s truck. Melinda, petting the gray Arab, began talking. In almost the same breath, she said that “my horses are family,” “I’m taking them down to the Kenai,” and “They’re all for sale. I posted a message on Craig’s List, but haven’t yet put up pictures.”

I’ve heard said that likes attract. For example, glasses wearers gravitate to other glasses wearers. And people who dress similarly gravitate to others who dress similarly. Melinda and my relationship is a case in point – we both (today) were wearing wire rimmed glasses and farm jackets, denim pants, and work boots. We also have a similar build, meaning, we are slight.

Yes, I got this sense that she thought we were kindred spirits. I didn’t give her any reason to think any differently. But what went unsaid was that I then, and still now believe that Melinda is crackers. After all, no one in their right mind dumps horses on swamp land, throws up a few strands of barb wire, has a shelter built, and then takes their sweet time about gathering up and moving roving horses.

Melinda thanked me many times (for dog knows what) and before parting, gave me a hug. I saw this as a pivotal moment in swamp romp history. I says to her that should the land she’s been housing her horses on come up for sale, to let me know. She replied that she’d do this, and then asked me what my asking price might be. We actually dickered a bit. Bingo.

Melinda hadn’t yet departed by 7:15 p.m. this evening. As far as I know, she may have still been putting in and taking things out of her trailer. I find it hard to believe that the horses are going to fit in there with all that plywood. Guess she’ll have to make a few trips.

And so, questions remain unanswered – like – what’s to become of Melinda? What’s to become of her horses? What’s to become of her son Chad’s place? I haven’t a clue. This all gives a person a lot to thing about – indeedy, yes it does.

Next: 311. 10/17/12: Horse Crazy