Disclaimer: I do not own Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron
Well, here's chapter two. Reviews are always appreciated. :)
I woke up early in the morning, like the other stable boy, to go and feed the horses. The way the post was set up there was one large stable to the right of the entrance of the post. Next to the stable, along the wall, was where my father stayed. Straight across from there were a few hitching posts. A large lookout surrounded the cavalry post which provided a shelter along the perimeter of the wall. You couldn't reach it without a ladder, and men stood up there to keep a lookout for Indians. Hence its name. There were many small buildings along the sides of the wall, and they were mainly used for eating, sleeping, and storage.
We had well over 60 horses in the big stable, so looking after them was a job. Luckily, I wasn't the only stable hand at the post. There was an older boy who'd held the job longer than I had: a tall, kind boy named Calvin. He had dark blonde, sort of shaggy hair, an oval face, soft brown eyes, and that loyal sort of dog like personality. He was around seventeen years of age, and he'd been working as a stable hand for a while now. As we finished up our first job of the day, Calvin and I made eye contact. He was about to give me one of his toothy smiles when a loud shout breached through the air.
"We caught a hostile!" Our heads snapped into the direction of the entrance where two soldiers were leading—practically carrying—an Indian man into the post. Calvin and I exchanged glances before I ran out of the stable towards the scene. Calvin rolled his eyes at me, leaned the pitchfork he was holding against the side of the stable, and followed me more slowly, calmly.
"Bring him back this way!" one of the men said, and the two soldiers dragged the Indian over towards the Colonel, who was right outside his sleeping area. My father watched them calmly and carefully. The soldiers thrust the hostile to the ground, and he groaned. Some of the men around him chuckled.
"Well, what do we have here?" my father asked, taking a step forward to look at the hostile.
"We caught him by the supply wagon, sir," the soldier to the hostile's left reported, pulling the Indian's head back. The hostile looked up at the Colonel with more curiosity than anger.
"Ah, a Lakota," my father said coolly. "Not as tall as the Cheyenne, not as fine featured as the Crow." As he spoke, the Indian man's gaze turned more adverse. "Take him away. Show him our best." I took a few more steps forward, and my father saw me. He gave me one of his calm looks, before turning his attention back to the Lakota.
"Corporal, take him to the stockades," one of the men said. My father's eyes rested on that man.
"Not the stockades," he told him. "The post. No food or water." I furrowed my brow as the two soldiers shoved the hostile along. I wondered how long it would be before we gave the Indian food or water, and what we were going to do with him. Then I decided that my father must have a plan, so I went with it. I took a few more steps towards my father. He didn't notice.
"C'mon!" The voice drew my attention back to the Lakota. He'd slowed down to take a look at the stallion. Finally, the soldiers got tired of it, so one of them thrust his head away from the mustang.
"What are you looking at, boy?" he growled at him, and pushed him along. The men chuckled as the put him on the post. I cracked a small smile.
"Well, that's an exciting way to start the day." I looked over my shoulder to see Calvin standing there, wearing his crooked smile. I hadn't even noticed him come up.
"Yeah, no kidding," I agreed. He continued to smile as he gestured towards the stable.
"Come on, we should get back to work." I grinned and followed him back to the stable.
The rest of the day was otherwise almost the same as any other day at the cavalry post. I mucked stalls, groomed a few horses, and fed them while the men kept a lookout or rode their horses in formation. There was the occasional moment where one of the men would act like a complete goof and do something stupid, usually ending up in a puddle of mud, a pile of dung, or like today, in a water trough. As the sun set, the men made their way to their sleeping quarters. Calvin and I started to follow them.
Before I entered, I turned around to get another look at the stallion standing out in the corral. He looked bored as he pulled on the rope tying him to the post half heartedly. I sighed, feeling almost sorry for the horse. I heard the sound of a wolf, followed by an owl as I walked into the sleeping areas. I furrowed my brow at the sound. No, I told myself, it must be a coyote, and I walked inside.