Chapter 12: Baron's First Horse Ride

The first four years that followed were a blur of growth and adventure. Baron grew from a small infant to an awkward and clumsy, but strong toddler, his feathers thick and glossy from the nutritious meals Becky prepared and the love that filled their little home. The farm became his playground, a vast expanse of prairie fields to explore and conquer. Each day brought new experiences and challenges, like the time he had found himself face to face with a charging goat. His heart had raced as he stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet until he managed to flap his wings and jump the fence high enough. The goat had stopped, looking over at him with a mix of confusion and annoyance before trotting off.

And there were the chickens, a flock of feathery bullies that ruled the barnyard with their sharp beaks and squawking calls. Baron learned quickly to keep his distance, especially when they decided to play their favorite game of "tag, you're it" with any creature that dared to cross their path. His shrieks of laughter could be heard from the house as he outsmarted them, darting through the chicken coop with surprising agility.

But then there was the horse, a wild-eyed beast named Thunder, that truly tested Baron's courage. Every time he approached the fence over at Clarence's ranch during a visitation there with Avery and Becky, Thunder would charge, kicking up clouds of dust and making the wooden barricade tremble. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating, and Baron felt a strange kinship with the creature that seemed to understand his own boundless energy and curiosity. He would sit on the fence for hours, watching Thunder gallop across the fields, dreaming of the day he could ride him. He loved to ride with his father on Checkers so far, wanting his own horse. But Avery insisted that Baron was not ready to handle a horse responsibly which takes time and practice.

While Ruby was away with Harmony, visiting her relatives in the distant town of Sweetwater, Clarence had been left in charge of the ranch. The burly hawk had always had a soft spot for the Buzzard family, and he took it upon himself to give Baron a taste of what it was like to be a rancher. One particularly warm afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the field, Clarence called out to Baron. "Come here, young'un," he shouted, his voice carrying over the sound of the nearby creek. "There's something I want to show you."

Baron's curiosity piqued, he stumbled over, his little legs carrying him as fast as they could. "What is it, Mr. HawkTail?" he asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

Clarence grinned, his beak curving upward. "Remember that wild horse we caught last night?"

Baron's eyes grew even wider, and he nodded vigorously. "Thunder!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing with the same excitement he felt every time he saw the creature.

"Now, remember what I told you," Avery called out, his tone firm but not unkind. "Thunder is a full-grown horse, not a pet for you to play with."

Baron nodded, his eyes not leaving the majestic creature. Thunder was a wild mustang, his coat a dark, brooding color that matched the storm clouds that often rolled through High Wind Gulch. His mane and tail were a stark white, fluttering in the breeze like a flag of freedom. The horse was the talk of the town, a symbol of the untamed spirit that dwelled just beyond the borders of civilization.

Baron nodded solemnly, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. He watched as Clarence approached the fence, his movements slow and deliberate. The horse's ears perked up, and he snorted, pawing at the ground. Clarence held out a handful of oats, speaking in a low, soothing voice that seemed to calm the creature. Thunder took a tentative step forward, his eyes never leaving Clarence's.

"Now, Baron," Clarence said, not taking his eyes off the horse. "You remember what I taught you about horses, don't you?"

Baron nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving Thunder. "They're big, and they can be scared of little things," he recited.

Baron nodded; his gaze still glued to Thunder. "But he's so fast," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I want to ride him one day."

Clarence chuckled. "And you will, son," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But first, you've got to learn the ropes. Can't just jump on a wild horse and expect him to know what you're thinking."

The next corral over, a gentle pony named Daisy grazed contentedly, her brown eyes flicking up at the commotion. She was a sturdy little creature, with a coat as soft as Becky's favorite quilt and a disposition as sweet as her namesake. Clarence led Baron over, his hand steady on the young buzzard's back. "This here's Daisy," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "She's been around the block a few times, knows a thing or two about giving rides to young'uns."

Baron looked up at Daisy with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She was smaller than Thunder, yes, but she was still a horse—a real, live horse. He could feel his heart racing, the same way it did when he saw Thunder galloping across the fields. "Can I ride her?" he asked, his voice small but hopeful.

"Just around the corral," Avery said, his eyes firm but gentle. "We don't want any accidents." He helped Clarence with a small, worn saddle to place on the pony's back, and the young buzzard looked at it with trembling wings. "Remember, start slow, and keep your balance."

Baron nodded, his excitement bubbling over as he was helped onto the pony's back. Daisy was indeed smaller than Thunder, but she was still larger than any creature he had ever been on. He felt a bit wobbly at first, but as Clarence tightened the reins and gave him a gentle push, he began to get the hang of it. The pony's plodding steps were nothing like the thundering gallops he had seen from the wild mustang, but it was a start.

The corral was dusty and small, the wooden fence seeming to close in around him. Yet, as he sat atop Daisy, the world felt vast and open. Each step she took was a step into the unknown, a step closer to the freedom he had only dreamed of. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear, "Let's go fast, Daisy. Like Thunder." The pony, sensing his excitement, picked up her pace slightly, her hooves clopping rhythmically against the packed earth. Baron squealed with delight, his grip tightening on the reins. He had never felt anything like this before—the wind in his feathers, the power beneath him, the sense of boundless possibility.

Avery watched with a proud smile, his eyes never leaving his son's wobbly form. Becky hovered at the fence, her own heart in her throat, as she watched her little boy grow before her eyes. "Keep your balance, Baron," she called out, her voice a mix of excitement and fear.

Baron nodded, his eyes looking at Thunder from afar, who had stopped his pacing and now watched the young buzzard with curiosity. "I will, Mama," he called back, his voice muffled by the saddle.

The moment Becky and Avery turned their attention to Clarence and Thunder, Baron's thoughts drifted back to the thrill of speed. He leaned forward and whispered into Daisy's ear, "Let's go faster, girl." Just as he was about to give her a gentle kick, a sudden movement caught his eye. A small green snake slithered into the corral, unaware of the commotion it was about to cause. Daisy's ears shot up, and she let out a high-pitched whinny, rearing up on her hind legs.

Panic surged through Baron as Daisy bolted forward, the reins slipping in his grip. The world became a blur of dust and wind as they shot out of the corral, the fence a mere afterthought in their path. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the thunder of Daisy's hooves against the ground. He could hear his parents' cries of alarm and Clarence's deep, authoritative shouts, but they were all swallowed by the roar of his own fear.

The pony's eyes were wide with terror, her breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. Baron knew he had to do something, had to regain control before they reached the open prairies and the endless horizon that beckoned them. He leaned back, his feathers ruffling in the wind, and tugged hard on the reins. "Whoa, Daisy!" he screamed, his voice high and desperate. "Pa, help me!" He cried for his father.

Avery and Becky were already running, their eyes fixed on the fleeing pony and their son. Avery shouted instructions, his voice carrying on the wind. "Pull back on the reins, Baron!" he called. "Pull back and lean to the left!" Behind them, Clarence rode on his horse Colonel, hoping to reach forward and steer Daisy away from the outskirts of town.

Baron heard the commands, but fear had his thoughts jumbled. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of dust and confusion. He managed to lean back, feeling the saddle dig into his wings, and pulled back on the reins with all his might. Daisy's eyes remained wild, but she responded to the pressure, her gait slowing slightly. The chase was on, a heart-pounding race against time and the vast prairies that loomed ever closer.

The thrill grew within Baron as the wind whipped past him, a heady mix of fear and exhilaration. He could feel the power of the pony beneath him, a power he hadn't realized was there before. It was like nothing he had ever felt, not even when he had watched Thunder run. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him reveled in the chaos, the rush of speed and the challenge of staying on Daisy's back.

"This is fun!" Baron shouted over the thunder of hooves, his laughter a sharp contrast to the panic of moments before. The wind tugged at his feathers, making them flutter like a flag in the breeze. He had forgotten the snake, forgotten the fear, and all that remained was the sheer joy of flying over the ground. Even Daisy forgot about being afraid and instead thought of running free here and there, despite Sheriff Clarence ready to cut them off.

Avery and Becky watched, their hearts in their throats as Clarence closed in. The sheriff's strong, steady hand reached out, gripping the pony's bridle, and with a gentle but firm pull, brought Daisy to a stop. Baron, unprepared for the sudden cessation of movement, tumbled off, landing in a heap of feathers and giggles, luckily in a soft spot of grass. The farmhands looked on with a mix of amusement and relief, the tension of the moment dissipating like the storm clouds that had just passed.

Clarence dismounted Colonel, his eyes a mix of exasperation and concern. "What on earth got into you, boy?" he asked, his tone gruff.

Baron looked up at him, his eyes still sparkling with the thrill of the ride. "It was fun!" he exclaimed, his laughter bubbling up from deep within his chest. "It was like flying! Can I do that again?"

Avery's heart skipped a beat as he watched his son roll around in the grass, utterly unfazed by his near disaster. He stomped over, trying to keep the fear from his voice. "Baron, that was not a game," he said, his voice stern. "Horses are not toys to be played with."

Baron looked up at his father, his expression a mix of confusion and defiance. "But it was fun, Pa!" he protested, his eyes shining with excitement. "Daisy went so fast!"

Avery sighed, kneeling down beside his son. "Baron," he began, his voice gentle but firm. "Riding a horse is not just about fun and games. It's about trust and respect."

Baron looked up at him, his eyes wide with innocence. "But Pa," he protested, "Daisy didn't get hurt!" Being only four years old, Baron didn't know any better about what it means to respect the horse he was riding, but he listened to his father and Clarence about the importance of patience and respect.

"That's true," Clarence said, patting Daisy's neck as she calmed down. "But you can't just go galloping off like that without knowing how to handle a horse." The pony snorted softly, as if in agreement, and Becky couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, helping Baron off the ground, dusting off the grass from his shirt and pants. At first, she was scared for him, but she remained calm and patient without getting angry.

"You're right, Clarence," Becky said, her voice still shaky with fear. "But he's just a little boy. He don't understand the dangers yet. In fact, we don't the real reason why Daisy ran off so suddenly."

The farmhands looked at Becky, puzzled. "What do you mean?" one of them asked.

Becky took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "What I mean is that Baron don't know the danger of riding like that," she said, her voice still shaking slightly. "He's just a child. And Daisy ain't a wild horse, she's a gentle soul. Maybe she was spooked by something else."

One of the farmhands, a young sparrow named Billy, approached Clarence, his eyes wide with urgency. "It was a snake, Sheriff!" he exclaimed, panting slightly. "A green one, slithered right into the corral just as Baron was riding!"

Clarence's gaze softened as he took in the information, his grip on the pony's reins loosening. "Is that right?" he asked, looking down at Baron, who nodded vigorously.

"It was a snake!" Baron exclaimed; his eyes wide with wonder. "It was slithering, and Daisy didn't like it!"

Clarence's expression softened as he nodded at Billy. "Ah, I see," he said, stroking Daisy's mane. "A snake can spook any creature, especially if it's not expecting one." He turned to Avery and Becky, his eyes kind. "It seems we might have jumped to conclusions a bit hastily. It's not every day a young'un gets to ride for the first time, and it's natural for them to get carried away."

Clarence's expression softened as he nodded at Billy. "Ah, I see," he said, stroking Daisy's mane. "A snake can spook any creature, especially if it ain't expecting one." He turned to Avery and Becky, his eyes kind. "It seems we might have jumped to conclusions a bit hastily. It ain't every day a young'un gets to ride for the first time, and it's natural for them to get carried away."

Baron looked up at Clarence with wide eyes, feeling the weight of his words. "I'm sorry Sheriff," he murmured, his voice small. "I just wanted to go fast."

Clarence crouched down beside him; his own eyes filled with understanding. "I know you did, son," he said, his voice gentle. "But horses are like people—they get scared, too. And when they get scared, they can't always tell the difference between a game and something dangerous. But it ain't your fault that Daisy got scared of the snake. We all know that now."

Baron's shoulders slumped in relief, his eyes never leaving Clarence's. "Can I still ride?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Clarence looked over at Avery and Becky, his expression thoughtful. "I reckon so," he said finally. "But you've got to learn to respect these animals, understand?"

Baron nodded solemnly, his heart swelling with excitement. "I will, Mr. HawkTail," he promised, shining with determination.

Becky and Avery exchanged a look, their concern for their son's safety mingling with the warmth of his spirit and reluctance of letting him try again. They knew that the boy had a wild streak in him, one that they couldn't tame without stifling his spirit. Avery took a deep breath and looked down at his son, his feathers ruffling in the breeze. "Alright," he said, his voice gruff but affectionate. "But only if Clarence says it's okay, and only when he ain't busy keeping the peace in town."

Clarence nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of the responsibility he was being handed. "I'll make sure he learns the ropes," he said, his eyes meeting Avery's. "And he'll learn the meaning of respect, both for the horse and for the land it runs on."

Baron looked up at Clarence with a mix of awe and hope. "Can I start tomorrow?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clarence chuckled, ruffling Baron's feathers with his wing. "Patience, young'un," he said, his eyes twinkling. "You've got to learn the basics first. And I've got a town to look after. But when I've got the time, I'll come out here and teach you all I know."

The next few weeks were a blur of lessons and chores. Baron would spend his mornings helping Avery with the farm work, his afternoons with Becky in the hat shop, and his evenings listening to Clarence's stories of the old west and the importance of horseback riding. It was clear that the sheriff had a deep connection with horses, and he was eager to share his knowledge with the young buzzard.

Baron's lessons with Clarence started with the basics—how to approach a horse, how to saddle up, and communicate. The sheriff taught him the language of the reins and the subtle cues that meant go, stop, and turn. He stressed the importance of patience and understanding like the lessons from the Code of the West of a cowboy and his friend the horse.

AN: Looks like Baron has found not only an interest in horse riding, but sees Clarence, Harmony's father as a great role model to teach him how to ride and some lessons from the Code of the West about how a cowboy respects the horse he rides. Sadly, it may soon be forgotten when he grows up, but that's too soon to know. Clarence has become his first role model to look up to other than his own parents, knowing there will be times when they might get too busy with something to teach him too much. But that doesn't mean they don't still love him, only believing he should learn to get acquainted with other folks instead of just his parents. Stay tuned for the next chapter.