A big, beefy man was auctioneering; his voice was booming across the marketplace at an unusually loud level. In the circular pen was a man leading a horse around by its tether. The horse, a brown and white spotted stallion, was showing a lot of resistance to the tether.
‘Here we’ve got a male spotted appaloosa for you, ladies and gentlemen. Fifteen hands, weighing in at one-thousand and one-hundred pounds. Only four-years-old, and a mighty fine horse for riding,’ the auctioneer boomed.
Jack heard a pair of men muttering to his left.
‘That’s old McCloud’s horse, that is. I heard it’s as stubborn as a mule.’
‘Aye,’ the second man agreed, ‘Ain’t a good working horse, that’s for sure. Probably why he’s selling it.’
‘Bet it’s a fast runner, though.’
‘Yeah, but what use is that?’
Jack looked back at the spotted horse trotting reluctantly around the ring while the auctioneer struggled to keep the bidders' attention.
‘C’mon folks, if this horse sells for less than fifteen gold, it’ll be a steal. Don’t let this opportunity pass you by.’
The men snorted with laughter.
‘I wouldn’t pay ten gold for a horse too stubborn to work.’
‘Are you all done here, ladies and gentlemen? No bids for this fine specimen? We’ve got a nice ride here, can run like the wind, this one.’
Jack bit his lip, and before he knew it, he was shouting, ‘Fifteen gold!’
A few people turned in his direction to see who was foolish enough to buy the stubborn steed. The men beside Jack sniggered, but he ignored them.
‘Thank you, sir! And we’ve got fifteen gold. Fifteen. Do I hear twenty? Who wants to make it twenty? Twenty gold for this horse. I’ll take eighteen if that’s all you’ve got. C’mon now, don’t let this one get away. We’ve got a current bid of fifteen with this young gentleman over here.’
The auctioneer went on and on, spouting gibberish at an incredible rate.
‘Fifteen going once. Twice. Last chance, folks. No? Aaaaand SOLD to the gentleman with the red scarf.’
Jack was both shocked and impressed with himself. He’d bought a horse. True, no one else had bid on it, but it was the last horse of the day. Most buyers would have spent their budget on other horses already. That’s what he’d like to think, anyway.
Making his way to the stand, Jack pulled out the pouch of money his father had given him. He counted fifteen gold pieces into his palm and slapped it into the auctioneer’s hand.
‘Congrats, Son,’ said the auctioneer. ‘Enjoy. This ones got … uh … real personality.’
Ignoring the auctioneer, Jack entered the ring and met with the horse's owner.
‘You’re the lad who bought him?’ asked the middle-aged farmer.
‘That’s me,’ said Jack.
The farmer handed the reigns to Jack, and the horse pulled impatiently.
‘He’s all yours.’
Jack wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but the farmer seemed pleased to be rid of the horse.
‘You had much experience with horses?’ asked the farmer.
‘Uh, I’ve had a little experience around Pegasi.’
The farmer’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? You’ve seen a Pegasi?’
Jack nodded. ‘Yeah, I used to work at a manor that had a whole stable full of them.’
The farmer removed his hat, revealing a balding head, and wiped his brow. ‘Well … he ought to be no trouble for you then. Is it true Pegasi can be violent?’
‘The wild ones can, I guess,’ replied Jack, ducking away from the horse as it sniffed inside his ear. ‘But there aren’t many of those around anymore, are there?’
Jack didn’t tell the man that he’d only ever ridden a Pegasi on one occasion, and that Camryn had always been there when he interacted with them. Camryn could control the beasts expertly, while Jack didn’t know the first thing about horses.
‘Well … enjoy,’ the farmer said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Jack asked.
The farmer shrugged. ‘Nothing. It’s just that Merry Legs here has a little more energy than the other horses.’
‘Merry Legs?’ Jack repeated.
‘Yeah. That’s his name,’ said the farmer, slapping the steed on the back. The horse huffed, seemingly annoyed.
‘Why that name?’
‘You’ll see.’ And with that, the farmer gave Jack a wink, a tip of the hat, and left him with the horse.
‘Merry Legs. You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Jack muttered to the horse, whose ears perked up at the sound of his name. There would be no use in changing it if the horse had already identified itself with the name.
‘C’mon then, Merry,’ said Jack, tugging on the reigns. The horse dug it’s hooves into the ground and refused to walk.
Jack tugged harder. ‘Come on, Merry,’ he said forcefully.
The horse eyed Jack beadily, challenging his authority.
Jack had a strange feeling that this had been a terrible idea.
Chapter Thirteen
Hawthorne’s Secret
AVALON REDDING