They called him Cash at the prison. Although only two, he had a few scars from being ridden with poor equipment. The prisoners were donated second hand tack, usually of the cheapest quality, and his big body wasnít made to fit the standard. In most cases they were learning as much as the horses, and so their balance and style didnít minimize the discomforts. Not only did Cash carry the standard white patches along his withers of an oddly shaped riding horse, but his cinch line was also whitened and rough.
The woman assumed he would be difficult about saddling, but only his facial expression gave way to his discomfort with the cinch. He stood politely and tensely as the saddle was placed onto his wide back. The cats meandered about, and he snorted at the new creatures wide eyed.
The man and Beamer stood to watch the woman as she stepped up. She was as tense as the colt. In the beginning, he didnít understand her hands. He was quick to learn though and intelligent, and soon enough he was trying to find the right answers.
People stopped in the yard to see what Cash was about. They were surprised at not only his size, but also the kindness which radiated for everyone to see. He wasnít pushy, for he didnít know about being petted on and spoiled, but he enjoyed being pampered and relaxed being rubbed.
The womanís father stopped by and also stepped onto his back. When he trotted out of the yard the woman stole Beamer from her husband and trotted off to see where they went. Cash was snorty going through the next yard and into the brush, but he never did anything wrong. He wasnít lonely or distracted, he went where he was asked to go.
When they rode back into the yard the woman was impressed. The big colt only tried to please. His feet were tender though, and so the man nailed his first set of front shoes onto the big hooves. He would do the hinds the next day. Ever pleasing Cash stood as well as he could for the new experience. Occasionally his patience would flounder, but the man understood that the colt was simply learning and mirrored the kindness he saw. Hopes were high from all about Cashís future.
Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you? - Balaamís Donkey