The Colt with the Purple Diamond Eyes
I woke up shivering from a strange dream I’d just had. The pale light under my window shade told me it was much too early to get out of bed. The readout on my digital clock said the same thing. Good. I wasn’t ready to get up for school. I needed time to think about my dream. I wasn’t even sure if I’d dreamed I was a horse with sparkling purple eyes or I’d dreamed I was me riding the horse. It was galloping against a soft, warm wall that seemed to have it trapped. Horses don’t usually do that, but everybody knows dreams are funny. As I rode the horse, or galloped the like one, I saw brief images of people who looked pretty unhappy. The odd thing was, I knew some of them. I saw Kirsten Walters, and later I saw Micky Munson. I was surprised to see Kirsten looking so sad. I didn’t know she had any serious problems or anything, but then I’m so wrapped up in the things wrong with my life that I don’t notice other people much. But I sure noticed Micky Munson and wished I didn’t. I knew all too well that he’s got problems and with him, that means other people have problems too. I didn’t have any idea what the horse had to do with wither of those to. I saw other faces of people I didn’t recognize. No problem. But then I saw a face that was a huge problem for me: the face I see in the mirror every morning, messy brown hair dropping down over my forehead and all. Me. Myself. Kenny Laurens. I looked as unhappy as I feel most of the time. Who wouldn’t with a father who yells at me all the time whether I did anything or not? That’s why hardly any kids at school like to be around me. It’s just that I don’t usually dream about seeing myself. As far as I know. Somehow, I knew the horse was galloping so hard against the wall because he wanted to reach the people with the sad faces. Including me. The horse reared its front hoofs and tore at the wall so hard he broke through it and landed in cold darkness that stabbed me like a frozen knife. That cold was so horrible, I still felt it even after waking up. A rough, moist, and warm thing moved along my body and gave me some relief from the cold. It felt something like a corrugated towel; a little rough on my skin. I was still feeling the warm towel, too, even though I was awake, or thought I was. The warm corrugated towel got my forehead, then stopped. It lifted itself away from me with a snort of deep disgust, horror, and rejection. I was left alone and freezing in the strange new cold. I felt the cold so sharply I thought somebody had snatched my blankets. But I could feel them wrapped around me. How could I still be dreaming if I could feel the blankets and see the readout of my alarm clock? And if I was awake, why was I shivering as hard as I would be if somebody had thrown me outside the house in my pajamas.
Kenton! Help me. I am cold.
Kenton? That name and the cry for help struck my insides like an icy hammer.
“I’m not Kenton, I’m Kenny,” I whispered.
How could he call me Kenton? Getting called that gave me chillier chills than the dark outside in the dream was giving me. It’s true that Kenton Miller Laurens is the name on my birth certificate, but nobody calls me Kenton. Nobody. Not even my parents. Everybody calls me Kenny. Nobody even knows that my name is Kenton except my parents.
You are Kenton. Please come! Now. I am freezing.
“Who are you?” I asked. “How do you know my name is Kenton?”
I am Korniel. I know all true names. Please come! Now. I am freezing.
I knew that Korniel was the horse I’d just dreaming about and kind of felt I was dreaming about.
“Where are you?” I asked.
I am here. Come quickly!
“Where is here?” I asked, almost loud enough to risk waking up my parents.
Come! Quickly! You will find me.
I didn’t even think of staying in bed a second longer. I tore off my covers and dived for my jogging suit.
***************
I closed the kitchen door so quietly that a mouse couldn’t have heard me, and leaned against the side of my house. I let my slender ten-year-old body and jogging suit blend into the woodwork as I waited for Korniel to tell me where to find him. I’m good at making myself invisible. With a father like mine, I have to be.
“Where are you, Korniel?” I whispered.
I am here,” Korniel answered.
“Where is here?” I whispered. “Are you at one of the horse farms close by?”
I sure hoped Korniel was close by. With a couple of horse farms just up the road moving further away from town, there was a chance he was.
What is a farm? Korniel asked.
I felt like pounding my head the way you do when somebody says something stupid, but then I realized that a scared and freezing colt who’d probably just been born shouldn’t be expected to know much.
“Are there lots of other horses where you are?” I asked.
Yes. Please come. Now. I am freezing. I am scared.
“I’m coming.”
And I was off. Two purplish spots that looked like eyes appeared just ahead, then disappeared as soon as I’d seen them. I knew they were Korniel’s eyes because they looked just like the horse’s eyes in my dream. I picked up speed, now I was sure I was running in the right direction. The sun was rising just enough to give enough light to see where I was going as I jogged along the road. The country road was mostly deserted with only one car coming along to make me step into the ditch as it scooted past. The dew soaked my running shoes and pants in no time. That was enough to make me really hope that this rescue trip was going to be worth it. As I ran, I shivered from what had to be a lot more than the chill dawn of an early spring day.
Come quickly. I am freezing.
“I’m coming, Korniel!” I gasped.
It took me just a few minutes more to reach Garret’s Horse Farm. I was hoping this was the place as I was already feeling tired from running. I slowed my pace and peered over the fence. A few horses were out grazing some distance away, but I didn’t see any that looked the horse in my dream. I wondered if should go straight to the house and ask permission to go out to the pasture to look for Korniel, or if I should just trespass on the farm. Common sense told me both options were unthinkable.
“Where are you, Korniel?” I asked. “Are you here?”
I am Here. Come quickly. I am freezing.
The two purple eyes appeared again in the middle of the pasture for a couple of seconds. That was I needed. I carefully wriggled my way between the wires of the fence, making sure I didn’t touch them and get an electric shock. Fortunately, the fence was made to keep horses in, not keep boys like me out. As soon as I’d gotten through the fence, I ran toward the place where I’d seen the purple spots. The neighing of a distant horse froze me for a few seconds. It scared me so much I was ready to run back home and hide under my bed, but I was too afraid to run away. You see, although I live within a mile of this horse farm, I’m no more used to horses than I am to elephants or tigers. Besides, I’m a coward. Pure and simple.
Come!
Korniel’s call for help overrode my fear of the other horses and I dashed to the spot where I thought the call was coming from. There, on the ground, was a small, white colt. His body and head was striped with blood and slimy afterbirth.
“Korniel!” I cried.
Somehow, he turned his head in my direction.
“Woah!” I cried.
Korniel’s eyes looked at me with purple diamonds made of fire, just like the eyes that appeared to me and guided me to the colt. I knelt down beside him and started to push the afterbirth off of him. It felt so cold to the touch that I knew it was making Korniel shiver so much. All that afterbirth should have grossed me out, and any other time it would have, but I was too worried about Korniel to worry about what was gross and what wasn’t. I was shivering myself, and I was getting pretty short of breath, although it had been just long enough since I stopped running that I shouldn’t have been. Then I noticed that Korniel wasn’t breathing very well. And no wonder, being a colt abandoned in a pasture on a cold spring morning, I started to rub Korniel’s flank as hard as I could to try and warm him up. I didn’t seem to be doing him any good.
“I’m sorry, Korniel,” I said, “I’m not good at this.”
Of course, what I was really thinking was that I’m not good at anything.
Your love is guiding your hands, said Korniel. Do not let the stallion who yells at you rob you of knowing your worth.
Stallion? Since when has a horse yelled at me? That’s what my father does all the time. I tried to warm Korniel by rubbing him, but felt pretty clumsy about it.
Over here.
And somehow, I seemed to know where Korniel wanted me to rub him. The more I worked on him, the more I seemed to know where to rub, how hard to rub, and for how long. That gave me a little more confidence in what I was doing.
“Why did your mother abandon you?” I asked.
Not her colt.
“But you must be her colt if you were born out of her!” I insisted.
Born out of her. But not her colt.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
The thing that did make sense was that I had keep on warming up Korniel as best I could, so I kept at it. Korniel’s mane and his head were in the worst shape with the most afterbirth, and the going got really tough and slimy and sickening.
Do not touch, Korniel warned.
“Ow!
He warned me too late, and I got a horrible shock from touching Korniel’s forehead. I wrung out my hand to get my circulation going again and tried to figure out how a colt’s forehead could do something like that. I saw a bump there, but that didn’t explain anything.
“It looks like you’ve got a bump on your forehead,” I said. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
But I had a feeling the bump was the reason the colt’s mother rejected him.
It is what makes me Korniel.
I wanted to asked Korniel what that meant, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t give me an answer I could understand.
I am sorry that the touch hurt you, Korniel apologized.
“That’s okay,” I replied.
With my dad knocked me around sometimes, almost any amount of pain was okay. Korniel looked at me with those purple diamond eyes of his and the pain went away almost instantly.
You have done all you can do to warm me,” said Korniel. I need more help.
“Where?”
But I already knew what he meant. I had to run to the house or the stable and find Mr. Garret or one of his farm hands and ask them to go take care of Korniel. I was petrified at the thought, but since Korniel’s life depended on it, I knew I was going to have to do it anyway. I’d never thought much about the words I hear in church, “love casts out fear,” but suddenly they meant a lot to me as I ran across the pasture with the wet grass slowing me down. When I got to the house and stable, I saw a man going about his chores. With his heavy build and short hair, he looked like a marine.
“Hey! Mister!” I called out.
He gave me a look that would have shrunk me into the ground if I wasn’t so worried about Korniel.
“What are you doing here?” he asked me.
“There’s a colt out there, abandoned my his mother, who’s freezing to death!” I cried.
“Look it, kid, a mare doesn’t abandon her foal. Second: we didn’t have a foaling last night, and we weren’t expecting one. If this is your idea of a joke . . .”
“I don’t joke about abandoned colts!” I cried, practically on the verge of tears. “Korniel says he’s not her colt—that’s why she rejected him.”
“Don’t you know the facts of life better than that!”
“I know the facts of life and I know what I see it with my own eyes,” I sobbed. “Korniel’s been abandoned and he’ll die if you don’t take care of him.”
I’d never talked to a grownup like this in my life, and I couldn’t believe I was doing it then, but I was pretty desperate about saving Korniel’s life and I didn’t know what I’d be able to do if I couldn’t get the farm hand to take me seriously.
“Who’s this Corn-neal you’re talking about?” the farm hand asked.
“It’s the colt’s name,” I answered.
“And who said you could name our colt?”
“I didn’t name him. He told me that’s his name.”
As soon I said that, I knew I’d made a mistake.
“I suppose you want me to believe that colts talk to you every morning before breakfast,” said the worker.
“I don’t care what you believe,” I said, “just go and take care of him before he dies!”
“I’ve had enough of this!” said the worker. “I suggest you get off this property before somebody meaner and tougher and with more authority comes along.”
“But you have to help Korniel!” I insisted.
“Look, the only person around here who gives me orders is Mr. Garret. Is that clear? If you want to tell me what to do, go buy this farm, and then you can boss me around.”
I felt totally defeated. And felt mad enough to bang on the farmhouse door and yell at Mr. Garret himself to get him to go out and take care of Korniel or make his worker to do it. I was practically at the steps to the back door when the door opened. A heavy-set teenager stepped out and looked me over. That stopped me. I recognized him as John, Mr. Garrett’s oldest son. He was a highschool senior and a star on the football team.
“Woah!” John cried. “What’s all this yelling about.? You’re disturbing my mother’s breakfast.”
“I found this abandoned colt in your pasture and I came to tell you to help him,” I said.
“I don’t see how we can have an abandoned colt out there when we weren’t even expecting a foaling,” said the worker.
John gave me a searching look. He looked a lot less unfriendly than the worker, but I was still pretty nervous.
“All I know is that I saw him,” I said. “I know he needs help. Now.”
“Do you go wandering in other people’s pastures like this all the time?” the worker asked.
“No, just this morning. I didn’t mean to trespass, but please help Kor—that colt.”
John pursed his lips. I didn’t blame him. He didn’t need to have to go rescue a colt right when he had to get ready for school.
“I’ll check it out,” said John,.“What’s your name?”
“Kenny Laurens.”
“I’ll know whose parents to call if this turns out to be a joke.”
“I promise it isn’t,” I said.
“Time for you to skedaddle,” said John.
I was plenty ready to do just that. I didn’t need to complicate my life further by being late for breakfast.
Thank you for getting the help, said Korniel.
Those words gave me warmth and energy to getting home in record time.
**********
“Don’t slam the door like that! You know what your father is like when you wake him up this early.”
That was my mother’s way of wishing me a good morning when I came in through the back door. Her voice always sounds like someone has tired up her throat. Everything about her is tight: her face, her movements, well, like I said, everything. It makes her dark hair look darker and her face harder. She was already dressed for work in a suit that looked like a strait jacket and she was darting all over the kitchen to get things done and get to work on time so that our family wouldn’t go bankrupt, since my dad couldn’t hold a job anymore. I knew all too well what my father was like any time of the day, and I knew early morning was the worst if something woke him up.
“I didn’t make as much noise as you did by telling me not to slam the door,” I said.
“Stop tracking all this dirt on the kitchen floor!” my mom added.
“Sorry!”
I slipped my feet out of my mud-soaked running shoes, tore several sheets of paper towels off the roll and went to work on the floor and on my shoes.
“Where have you been this early in the morning?
I wanted to say “none of your business, but there is a limit on how rude I can be with my mom, even when she’s being rude to me.
“Running.”
“You don’t usually go running at the crack of dawn.”
“So? I did today. Any rule against it?”
“There’s a rule against not being ready when I’m ready to go to work and take you to school.”
I’ll be ready,” I said as I grabbed a blueberry muffin to take to my room where my back pack was waiting for me.
***********
“Earth calling to Kenny Laurens.”
I hate the sharp edge of sarcasm Mr. Miller’s always got in his tone of voice. I also hate the way my classmates grin at me when he does this to me.
Yes?”
“Is there any reason why you cannot pay attention in math class?” he asked me.
There were lots of reasons why I couldn’t pay attention math class. My life was too big a mess for me to pay attention to numbers in a book or scrawled out on the blackboard before Korniel came along. How could I be expected to concentrate on anything when I’m so worried about the abandoned colt, and I was still feeling shivers that I was pretty sure the colt was still feeling? But I couldn’t tell my math teacher about that.
“I guess not,” I said in a low voice, hoping I could shrink again below his radar screen.
Mr. Miller went on to say some things to me that sounded just like my dad, the kind of things that make me feel like I’m being cut to ribbons.
Somebody is helping me because of you, said Korniel, his words cutting through everything Mr. Miller was saying.
“O good!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself.
That brought Mr. Miller to a halt, and I was in worse trouble than ever.
“Do you mean to tell me, you’re glad you’re flunking math?” Mr. Miller asked in a soft voice filled with steel knives.
It was hard to concentrate on talking to Mr. Miller when I felt Korniel’s thoughts and feelings inside my head. But then Korniel calmed me down, as if he kind of knew I was in trouble and was getting upset.
“I’m sorry I’m not doing better,” I heard himself saying. “I don’t mean to make it a hard day for you. I’ll work on the math tonight and see if I can do a better job.”
“Well, you’d better, Kenny. I’ll be calling on you in class again tomorrow.”
That wasn’t a good start to the school day and I was pretty sure things were going to get worse with Korniel giving me a running commentary on how he was doing. And they did. During history class, I suddenly felt saturated with a warmth that started to drive the chill away.
Yes, said Korniel before I could form the question in my mind. A warm light is making me warm. Thank you so much for coming, Kenton.
“My name is Kenny,” I reminded Korniel.
That drew a strange look from Ms. Moore and more smirks from the other kids.
“Kenny, there was no General Kenny in the First World War. Are you dreaming of being a great military hero?”
“No,” I mumbled. “I don’t want to fight any wars.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Ms. Moore.
Being a pacifist gets me off the hook every time with her. Besides, I really don’t want to fight any wars.
When Kirsten Walters got called on in English class, I noticed her for the first time. That’s how wrapped I was with Korniel that I hadn’t even looked around to see how she was doing. Looking at her then, I knew she wasn’t doing well at all. I hoped she didn’t have a father like mine. As Kirsten started to answer Ms. Kirkland’s question, the rough voices of some men suddenly drowned out her voice. They talking about me as the heat continued to pour over my body. They talked about how odd that bump on my forehead was and no wonder my mother abandoned me.
“Maybe we should put him out of my misery right now and not waste any more time and expense on him.”
Those words sent a chill into my bones that the intense heat couldn’t warm up.
“I’m not miserable!” I insisted. “Don’t do that!”
“Kenny!” Ms. Kirkland called out. “You know it’s rude to interrupt when somebody else is speaking.”
At this point, the other kids didn’t even try to hide their giggling and laughter. Kirsten didn’t think it was funny. Her face collapsed, the way I feel my own collapse when dad talks to me.
“I’m very sorry, Kirsten,” I said. “I—I have some things on my mind.”
“Do you have any room in your mind for English class?” asked Ms. Kirkland.
“I’ll try to make room somehow,” I replied.
************
I scooped my books out of my locker, rushed out the door, climbed into the school bus and grabbed a seat right at the front.
“How are you doing, Korniel?” I whispered to the colt.
I Am alive, Korniel answered. Are you coming?
“Of course I’m coming,” I answered.
I felt another wave of warmth shoot through me. At least Korniel was warm now. Then a body slammed my arm into the window, hard enough to bruise it. That snapped me out of my dream conversation.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” said Kirsten Walters. “What I mean is: I’m as sorry as you are for lousing me up in front of the whole class.”
“I really am sorry about that,” I apologized.
“Glad to hear it.”
The bus driver looked at us but didn’t say anything. Probably because he thought it was okay for a girl to beat up a boy. So much for my strategy of taking a front seat to make it harder for Micky Munson to torment me. Kirsten turned away in a huff and buried her face in a paperback. Normally, I would have done the same but, with Korniel still sick and Kirsten so upset with me, there was no way I could concentrate on reading anything. I couldn’t help but think about Kirsten appearing in that dream. Now that I’d gotten around to noticing her, I was pretty sure that Kirsten needed Korniel’s friendship as much as I did and that made me really hope that Korniel would get better so he could do that.
Micky Munson got into the bus and gave me a look that told me Kirsten had just saved my life by sitting next to me. He’s is a plump, clumsy boy who is strong enough to do some damage with his fists. That’s why I avoid him as much as I can. I took a look at him as he walked by. Not only did he look mean, but I noticed for the first time that he looked as unhappy as he did when he appeared in my dream. If Korniel was going to try to help him, he really had his work cut out for him. I stared out the window again as the bus started up. My reflection stared back at me—No! it was Korniel, looking at me with his purple diamond-cut eyes!
I am so glad you are coming, said Korniel.
I opened my mouth to tell Korniel there was nothing I’d rather do than to visit him, but I remembered just in time that Kirsten would hear me and think I was off in Cuckoo Land.
The colt next to you is also troubled, said Korniel.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“How did I know what?” Kirsten asked me with a look that dared me to answer her question.
I gulped.
“Quiet back there!” the bus driver yelled.
As usual, the bus driver’s command had no effect on the volume of yelling and screaming in the back of the bus.
“Wonder why he keeps yelling at us when it doesn’t do any good,” I muttered, hoping to distract Kirsten from what she heard me say to Korniel. “I guess yelling makes him feel better.”
“Maybe,” was Kirsten cold reply.
“Something wrong?” I asked before I had even thought to ask the question.
“None of your business.”
“Okay. Don’t mean to be nosy.”
I looked away toward the window. To my surprise, I was wondering what Kirsten had done to make herself so unpopular. She had just been rude to me, but I would be just as rude to her if she’d asked me nosy questions.
A lot of people feel better if there’s somebody they don’t like, said Korniel.
“They do?” I asked.
“I said, it’s none of your business,” Kirsten repeated.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to keep at it,” I mumbled.
As I stared out the window some more, I thought about what Korniel had just told me. and that got me thinking about Micky Munson. Much as I hated Micky, was I also kind of glad that Micky kept me from being the only unpopular boy in my class? Did hating Micky make me feel better about myself? Did Micky hate me because that made him feel better? I didn’t like thinking about that.
But it is good that you think of these things, said Korniel.
“Really?” I asked.
“Really what?” Kirsten asked me as the bus stopped and she got up to get off. “You’re really a loser.”
“Sorry, talking to myself,” I said. “I hope things get better,” I said.
Kirsten shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
I couldn’t see how Kirsten took that remark as she had her back to me by then and she didn’t look at me. How I’d worked up the nerve to even try to say something helpful to Kirsten was beyond me. I’m never good at talking to anybody.
Good try, said Korniel.
So, he was encouraging me to talk to Kirsten. No wonder.
When the bus stopped where I usually got off, I started to get up out of force of habit before I remembered I was going on to the Garret farm. Only then did I realize I didn’t know where the nearest stop to the farm was. I looked back and saw John Garret talking to a couple of girls. So much for that problem. It wasn’t much longer before he got up along with his kid brother and sister and I had to hurry to get off with them. Marcia Garret didn’t bother to notice me. Jimmy, a slightly-built ninth-grader who was rumored be a dope smoker gave me a very hostile look.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Did you come to see that colt?” John asked me, looking a lot more friendly then I dared hoped for.
Jimmy gave me a very poisoned look behind his brother’s back.
“Yes.”
“Thanks for telling us about him,” said John. “I still don’t understand how it happened, but you were right. I had to help Harvey bring it in before he drowned in his afterbirth or froze to death.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” John replied. “We’ll have to go see.”
“Can I see him? Please!”
“Of course,” said John with a friendly shrug, “but it’ll have to be brief. I’ve got a lot of homework to do.”
Jimmy gave me another nasty look before going off to the house with Marcia.
“Hey, Harvey!” John called out as we got new the barn, “how’s the baby!”
“Right as rain for the most part” a man answered back.
When I got to the barn, I found that Harvey was the worker I’d talked to that morning. He didn’t look any too pleased to see me, but with John with me, he didn’t say anything. As soon as I got through the barn door, my eyes went straight to Korniel. He was laying on a bed of straw, surrounded by heat lamps that turned his white fur into various shades of orange. He turned his head to look at me with his purple diamond-like eyes.
Thank you for coming, said Korniel. I am warmer now because of you.
“I’m so glad they found you and brought you in,” I said as I knelt down to touch the colt.
“Better not touch him yet,” Harvey growled.
I swallowed my disappointment and apologized silently to Korniel.
I know you want to touch me. Our minds touch, said Korniel.
“Yes, they do touch, don’t they?” I said.
“What touches?” John asked.
“Oh,” I said. “Just talking to the colt.”
“Could you get it to take any milk?” John asked.
“Yes, amazingly enough,” said Harvey. “I was afraid he’d balk at a baby bottle, but he took right to it. You’d think he knows which side his toast is buttered on.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked.
Of course I will be okay, Korniel answered, because of you.
“We’re taking care of the exposure,” Harvey answered, “but there’s another problem, it seems.”
“What’s that?” asked John.
“There’s this bump on his forehead that feels like it might be a tumor. Gave me quite an electric shock when I touched it. I think you’re dad called the vet about it. Might be why his mother rejected him.”
What is a vet? Asked Korniel.
“Can the vet find out what caused the bump and make him better?” I asked, hoping that might help answer Korniel’s question.
“A vet’s like any other doctor,” Harvey replied. “Sometimes he can figure out what’s wrong and do something about it and sometimes he can’t.”
John gently touched the bump and, then jerked back his hand, much the way I did that morning.
“I warned you,” said Harvey. “I don’t know how it happens. Never heard of an electric tumor before.”
“Well, if a colt’s going to be weird, I guess it might as well be weird all the way,” said John.
He touched the spot that makes me Korniel, said the colt.
I still didn’t understand what Korniel was getting at, but I still had to try to explain him to John and Harvey.
“The bump is—it’s important,” I stammered.
The looks I got from John and Harvey made me feel incredibly stupid, but the look in Korniel’s eyes reassured me.
“Can you tell me what you mean by that?” Harvey asked.
“No,” I replied.
I felt like a worm squirming away from a bird, but I wasn’t about to back down on anything that concerned Korniel.
“We’ll see what the vet has to say about it,” said John.
“There’s another funny thing about this colt,” Harvey added. “His feet aren’t shaped right. We’ll never get any horseshoes on him.”
John stooped down to look at Korniel’s hooves but hastily drew back his hand when Korniel threatened to give him a good kick.
“Looks half-mountain goat, half-horse, maybe half-something else too,” said John. “I don’t know how he’ll ever gallop on those feet.”
I will never wear anything on my feet, said Korniel. I will fly above the ground.
“Uh—you don’t have to worry about his feet,” I said.
Harvey stiffened and stared at me with his hands on his waist.
“And how do you know that young man?” Harvey asked.
“Have you noticed his eyes?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.
“What about them?” asked Harvey.
“Are they—uh—normal for a colt?”
“Yea, I guess so,” said Harvey, but he wasn’t really looking Korniel in the eyes.
John did look, and I could see it had an effect on him.
“Kind of expressive for a colt,” said John. “Looks like he thinks he knows everything already.”
“I thought you were too level-headed to let your imagination run away like that,” said Harvey with good humor.
“Me, too,” said John, “but then our cats act like they know everything, and maybe they do. Come on Kenny, I’ve got to hit the books, and you’ve got to get home and do the same. Need a ride?”
“No, I can walk and run. Thanks for letting me see Korniel.”
The looks on John and Harvey’s faces told me I’d made a mistake.
“That’s his name,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Funny name for a horse,” Harvey muttered.
“You seem to have bonded with this colt in a strange way,” said John.
“I guess so.”
“Well, it happens.”
“Can I come back again some time to see him?” I asked.
“I’ll have to check with my dad, but I think it can be arranged.”
***********
Next day, during lunch break at school, I leaned against a tree and watched other kids at their games. I’m not the best kid at sports but I’m not the worst, either. That’s not the problem. The problem was that I didn’t talk to people because I couldn’t talk about my dad. I couldn’t talk to my mom about him for that matter. So I’d gotten in the habit of not talking to anybody about anything. Kirsten Walters was off by herself, pointedly keeping her distance from me after our little talk on the bus. As usual, I’d wolfed down my lunch and gotten out of the lunch room as fast as possible. I didn’t have anybody to talk to there and I didn’t like eating alone. When I watched the other kids play, I sank into the tree as far as I could. Nothing unusual about that. But then the children turned into colts. They were staggering about in the pasture on their shaky legs while one colt stood at a distance from them. It was Korniel!
“What are you doing in the pasture so soon?” I asked him.
I am being Korniel, he answered. Watch.
Looking as sturdy as a full-grown horse, Korniel started to trot over to the other colts, but they shied away from him as best they could and their mothers moved protectively in front of their colts. I was about to ask Korniel how he could walk so well when I remembered what he said about flying just above the ground. I looked more carefully at his feet and, sure enough, he was standing on the tips of the grass.
“What a bunch of crummy colts these are for not playing with so wonderful a colt as you,” I said.
“How did you out here?”
That was Harvey’s voice, and his real words weren’t as nice as the way I just wrote them. When my head slammed against the tree, I thought for a second that Harvey had done it to me. But Harvey and Korniel were gone and it was Micky Munson glaring at me.
“How dare you call me a crummy colt?” Micky.
The first thing I wanted to do was sink further into the tree and tell Micky I didn’t think he was crummy at all. But I saw a lot of fear mixed with his anger. I didn’t feel like sticking with the status quo with him. So, I returned Micky’s hard look with a long, cold stare of my own and did not answer his question until Micky wavered ever so slightly.
“Maybe it’s because you are pretty crummy,” I said.
I almost regretted saying that when Micky slammed my shoulders against the tree a second time. Almost, but not quite. I couldn’t believe I was standing up to Micky even this much. Oddly, I noticed that tufts of hair were sticking out of Micky’s head, the sign of a very bad haircut, probably the work of a parent who didn’t want to pay a barber to do the job.
“Who are you to say I’m crummy?” Micky asked me.
“I am Kenny Laurens,” I said, “That’s who. And I won’t take any more bullying from a crummy kid like you.”
“Since when?”
“Since now. How come you have to pick on me just to feel better about getting picked on yourself?”
Micky backed away, his face turning pale.
“Who told you about my cousins?” Micky asked.
That was a weird moment. I’d spooked Micky, but I’d spooked myself just as much. Somehow, Korniel, the sick and abandoned colt, was opening my eyes to stuff in Micky’s life even when we were a few miles apart. I had just gotten a glimpse of a couple of bigger boys beating up on Mickey and somehow knew they were his cousins.
“A little horse told me,” I replied.
Micky drew back his fist to punch me in the face.
“So I guess you know how kids feel when you beat up on them.”
Micky kind of collapsed in front of me like a pack of cards. Then he pulled himself together and gave me as menacing a look as he could before sauntering off. He was trying so hard to look like he didn’t care about what I had just told him, it was pitiful.
“Korniel,” I whispered, “how do you know so much about Micky’s problems?”
I know everything I was sent here to know, Korniel answered.
“No wonder you’re so strange the other colts won’t play with you.”
I am Korniel.
That didn’t explain anything, but I was getting used to not knowing what Korniel was about.
* * *
Once again, I stayed on the school bus until it got to the Garret farm. Once again, Marcia and Jimmy glowered at me.
“Want to check on your buddy?” asked John.
“Yes, if I may—please,” I replied.
“Looks like the vet is here to see the colt,” John noted. “That’s his car over there.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but I wasn’t ready to say anything. When we reached the barn, I got a bigger jolt than I got from touching Korniel’s bump. Korniel was strapped to the ground while a man with a thick red mustache examined him. Standing next to the vet were Mr. Garret and Harvey.
Do not worry, Korniel told me, I am always free.
All I could think was that I wouldn’t feel free if somebody tied me up like that. But Korniel’s purple diamond eyes lit up to tell me he meant what he said.
“Think we should put this colt out of his misery?” Mr. Garret asked.
Misery? What misery? asked Korniel. I am not miserable.
“Korniel is not miserable,” I told the men, before I could stop myself.
The vet looked up at me. He didn’t look pleased at all. His thick red mustache bristled enough to make him look like a wild boar on the attack.
“Who’s this kid?” the vet asked Mr. Garret.
“Name’s Kenny,” said Harvey. “He found the colt in the pasture. Has some obsession with him.”
“And how does he know this colt is not miserable?” the vet asked Harvey.
“I just know,” I said.
“I’m sure that your love and concern for that colt has upgraded his quality of life considerably,” said Mr. Garret, “but I can’t let you run my business.”
“It looks to me like this poor colt has a tumor growing out of his forehead,” the vet explained. “That can’t make life a bowl of cherries for him.”
What is a tumor? Korniel asked.
“So, you think this bump on Korniel’s forehead is some growth that shouldn’t be there?” I asked, as a way of getting Korniel’s question answered.
“Since when have you ever heard of a tumor that should be where it is?” the vet shot back. Then he turned to face Mr. Garret. “Are you sure you aren’t as sick as the horse?”
“Not sure at all,” said Mr. Garret. “Maybe this kid has been watching too many horse movies. Kids don’t save horses all the time in real life.”
The growth that this stallion does not like is supposed to be where it is and it is supposed to grow more,” said Korniel. My growth will be complete soon and nobody will be able to stop me. I need a small bit of time.
“It’s not a tumor,” I insisted, “it’s something that supposed to grow. It’s the most important part of him!”
“And how do you know that?” asked the vet. “Don’t tell me you have some telepathic link with this colt,” said the vet.
I started to crumble, but somehow, I didn’t. I think Korniel was strengthening me to help me fight for him.
“Then—I won’t tell you that I have a telepathic link with Korniel,” I said right back to him. “But I have a telepathic link with Korniel whether you like it or not. And whether you like it or not, Korniel is not an ordinary colt. So get used to it!”
I don’t know who was more amazed that I talked back like that: me, or Mr. Garret and Harvey and the vet. My eyes were filling up with more tears than I could fight back, so I wasn’t really feeling all that brave. For all my defiance, I wasn’t about to win the battle. I could only hope that a horse doctor didn’t have the authority to put humans like me in the nuthouse.
“So what do you want us to do?” asked Mr. Garret in a tone of voice that told me he didn’t really want my advice. But I was going to give it anyway.
“What I want you to do is just give Korniel a couple of days and see how he does,” I replied in a steadier voice than I thought possible. “Don’t try to treat him. Just leave him alone. If he gets worse and you’re sure there’s no hope, you can . . .”
I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Sounds fair to me,” said John.
“You really think that’s a good idea?” asked his father.
“I’d rather give this a couple of days and find out if Kenny’s right, then do something now that we can’t undo and never find out.”
“Are you suggesting you think Kenny could be right? Mr. Garret asked. “That he’s really getting telepathic messages from a newborn colt?”
“Something queer is going on,” said John slowly. “I don’t know Kenny very well, of course, but I don’t think he usually goes around telling people what to do with their horses. Like I said, I’d rather wait a couple of days and see what I believe about Kenny and the colt then.”
It was pretty obvious that neither Harvey nor the vet wanted any part of this deal, but Mr. Garret looked willing to listen to his son.
“All right,” he said. “Two days. If the colt is still this sick or worse come Monday morning, that will be the end.”
Thank you, said Korniel. This end the stallion is talking about will never happen because of you.
***********
The next day was a Saturday. No school! I could spend the whole day with Korniel! I waited in bed impatiently for Mom to get off to work because I didn’t want to have explain why I was up before noon for the first Saturday in several years. She was working long hours at the time to pay the mortgage. Dad was sleeping off last night’s drinking and yelling spree. The yelling spree had kept me from getting as much homework done as I wanted. As soon as mom was out of the house, I got up, fixed myself a bag lunch and jogged over to the farm. All of the horrible things my dad had yelled at me the night before haunted me all the way. It seems that when dad gets drunk, I instantly become guilty of every crime in the universe. It also didn’t help that I dreamed of my dad wearing a fake red mustache and shooting Korniel until he ran out of ammunition. When I got to Garret’s horse farm, I was ready to forget these problems for a while.
“What are you doing here?”
That slowed me down, just as I was almost to the barn. I didn’t have to look to know that was Jimmy Garret.
“Ask your father,” I replied through my teeth as I continued on my way to the barn.
“Sorry, not on speaking terms with him.”
I shrugged Jimmy off and walked into the barn. The sparkle of Korniel’s purple diamond eyes drove last night away from me, but I could see that the bump on his forehead had grown bigger and sharper and uglier overnight. I ran over to Korniel and flung my arms around the colt’s neck.
“Oh, Korniel! I’m sure that awful vet won’t like this bump. Are you sure it’s supposed to be there?”
Do not worry about the growing part of me that is supposed to be there, said Korniel. They will never be able to harm it.
“I’ll try not to worry then,” I said, “but I’m still worried.”
You will not have to worry long, Korniel assured me, My growing will soon be complete because of you.
“But you’re just a colt,” I said.
I am not a colt, I am Korniel.
Before long, John came into the stable.
“You must be eager to see your friend if you can get here ahead of me on a Saturday morning,” he said.
“I am,” I replied.
“It’s a good thing I do the Saturday morning chores,” he said. “Dad wouldn’t like your going straight in here like this.”
“I’m not hurting Korniel,” I said.
“I know.”
John went about his work as I stroked Korniel’s mane.
“Do you really get telepathic messages from that colt?” John asked after some time had gone by.
“Yes. Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Good question. I suppose I should think you are, but I don’t. I don’t why. Except that I feel something really is different about him. I believe in science quite a lot, and science says that boys don’t communicate telepathically with colts. But I don’t see how a boy like you could get this steamed up about a colt when he usually has nothing to do with horses unless something odd had happened.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“I know,” said John.
I offered to help John with the chores and he took me up on that, with the result that I spent the next hour or two working a lot of muscles I never knew I had and getting many nostrils filled with the smell of you-know-what. Being around Korniel all that time made the work a lot more fun than most anything I had done for as long as I could remember.
“Do you think we could try taking Korniel out to the pasture?” I asked John when we had finished our work.
Yes! Korniel exclaimed with enough excitement to almost knock me over.
“Hmm, we’ll have to be careful, but we could give it a try. Harvey said the your colt wandered outside the barn yesterday on his own when he thought his legs were too weak for that.”
I wanted to tell John I had seen that for myself, but I had to settle for smiling to myself.
“Maybe another reason to think there is more to Korniel than we think,” I said.
Before either of us knew it, Korniel was on his feet and walking to the stable door. His spindly legs looked so weak, I didn’t see how he could do it, but he walked on out of the stable with no problem. I tried looking at Korniel’s feet to see if they moved flew above the ground like he said they would, but his feet were too much of a blur for me to see what was happening.
“He sure is moving along pretty well for having feet that shouldn’t support him,” John remarked.
“That’s why I think there’s more to Korniel than meets the eye,” I said.
Yes, said Korniel, but you see much more than most stallions and colts.
We brought Korniel to the near edge of the pasture, and then John left us to ourselves.
Something else worries you, said Korniel after we had settled ourselves.
That brought back a flood of stuff I didn’t want to think about, but it was pretty clear that I wasn’t going to be able to hide anything from Korniel. I was also starting to feel like I’d wanted to tell somebody what was happening to me for years and there was nobody to talk to.
“Well, my father got wild again last night,” I admitted.
Was he drinking the water that washes his mind away again? Korniel asked.
My face turned red. Even with Korniel, it was hard to admit to the problem, but I had to do it, so I started spilling the beans.
“Yea, that’s the problem. He’s fine when he doesn’t drink. But it seems that he’s always drinking and he’s never fine.”
You have to make your stallion stop.
“I know. I know. But how do I do that?”
You look into his eyes with eyes like mine and you tell him to stop drinking the water that washes his mind away.
“But I’m just a kid,” I protested.
You are Kenton. You are not just a colt, you are Kenton.
“What do you mean?”
Act like Kenton. Do not act just like any colt. Act like Kenton, and you will know what I mean.
By this time, I was resigned to his calling me Kenton. It still felt weird, but it also made me feel like a different person than Kenny. I didn’t understand what Korniel was getting at, of course, but I was still starting to feel better about my father and to think I would be able to do something about it, impossible as it still seemed.
I stayed with Korniel until I only had just enough time to run home for dinner. We didn’t do much of anything. We didn’t have to. It was the best day of my life so far. The only thing that kept it from being perfect was my worrying about Korniel’s bump and what would happen to him because of it. It didn’t help that I was pretty sure it was bigger and bonier and uglier when I left that it was when I came that morning.
*********
Sunday morning. I was in church, hemmed in a pew between my parents, like I always was. Pastor Groves was going on and on about something up in the pulpit. When my mind started to wander, as it always does during long sermons. I hope Jesus doesn’t hold that against me. I’m not bored with Jesus; I only get bored by lots of talking that I don’t understand very well. Of course, that Sunday morning, I had something pretty big to let my mind wander to and pray about. Deborah and her mother were sitting just a few rows in front of me. Thanks to Korniel, I knew she was worried about something, and she looked it. So I was praying for her, too. There isn’t really anything wrong with praying during a sermon, is there? I was also hoping that Jesus didn’t think I was acting like a heathen by praying for a colt. The Bible doesn’t seem to answer that question and, nice as Pastor Groves is, I’m afraid to ask him that. Then, while I was praying for Korniel, I thought maybe I saw Korniel’s purple diamond eyes look at me through the stained glass window of a washed-out lily. It amused me because he was kind of peeking out over that flower. It also reassured me that maybe it wasn’t so bad to think of Korniel in church. Then I remembered that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a colt on Palm Sunday, and I felt better still about it.
“I’ll bet Jesus would have chosen you to ride on if you’d been around back then,” I said to Korniel inside my head.
Yes, he would have, said Korniel. He has sent me to you and to many others who need me.
Those words startled me and I jumped a bit in the pew. Dad glowered at me and gave me a hard poke for not paying attention to the sermon.
Do not worry, said Korniel. Jesus knows where your heart is, even if your stallion doesn’t.
Thanks to Korniel, my dad didn’t make me feel as much like a damned heathen as he usually does when he stares at me in church. He hardly looks very much awake himself after the drinking he did the night before.
The service ended with one of those rousing hymns that make me feel good. Then we all got outside the church and dad turned on me like he always does after church.
“Kenny, if you want to go to Heaven, you’re going to have to be more respectful in church than you were this morning,” said dad.
Same old words as last week, but this time, I didn’t cave in.
“I was paying attention to Jesus,” I said, surprised that I was talking back to my father.
“Kenny,” said mom in that warning tone of hers, “just pay attention as best you can next time we’re in church.”
“It didn’t look like you were even trying paying attention to anything but your daydreams to me,” said dad, his anger rising. “It seems to me that all you care about is dreaming. Why don’t you care about reality? You don’t care about reality because you’re too selfish to think about anything but your daydreams. Do you know where selfish little boys like you end up?”
I knew the answer I was supposed to think about real hard, but not say out loud.
“Good morning, Mister Laurens,” said Pastor Groves.
The pastor seemed to have come out of nowhere to save the day. He does that once in a while. Being a heavy-set man himself, he’s a match for dad physically, and the pastor is one person my dad is always polite too, no matter what.
“Pastor Grove, I apologize for my boy,” said dad. “He’s got to learn to pay more attention to your good words before he gets lost on the wrong path.”
I shrank inside as Pastor Groves looked down at me.
“Is that so?” said the pastor. “Well, sometimes kids know when we use up too many words.”
What a relief! Pastor Groves was turning out to be a cooler guy than I thought any pastor could be. Next thing I knew, Pastor Groves was shaking somebody else’s hand, and my dad was left with no wind in his sails. At least for the next couple of hours, anyway.
************
As soon as Sunday dinner was over with, I hit my school books hard to get through the rest of my homework so I could go visit Korniel. I was feeling pretty angry at my dad for making such a ruckus Friday night that I couldn’t get my work done then. If it wasn’t for that, I could have gone over to the Garret farm as soon as dinner was over.
Come! Help me!
Korniel’s cry hit me as forcefully as if he had flown in through my window and shattered the glass.
“What’s the matter?” I asked
Come now! I am surrounded!
I felt a blow across my face that made me think Dad had just come into the room and belted me one, but he hadn’t.
“Are they hitting you?” I asked.
Yes.
For a few seconds, I saw a group of boys, Jimmy Garret among them, swinging sticks. I pulled away from my desk, grabbed my jacket, and scooted out of the house before Dad could look away from the basketball game on the TV long enough to ask me if I’d gotten my work done.
I was so anxious to get to the farm to help Korniel that it wasn’t until later that I realized I’d gotten there a lot faster than it was possible for me to run that far. It’s like I took a few quick stride and I was closing in on Jimmy Garret and a few of his friends. Each of the boys wielded a tree branch, and they were circling around Korniel in the pasture.
“Come on, horsey,” Jimmy taunted Korniel. “Come and get your medicine.”
“How come you’re stumbling like a drunk?” another boy asked him.
“Got your nose into Garret’s liquor cabinet?” asked another.
I stood where I was, scared stiff. What could a little kid like me do against all those kids who were bigger and meaner than me? I’d known that Jimmy Garret was a bad sort, but I didn’t know he was this bad.
He is bad, said Korniel, but one of the colts with him is worse and is making this happen.
Once that Korniel had said that, I could see for himself that one of the other boys had a hard, sadistic gleam in his eyes, and Jimmy himself was going along for the ride.
“You’re not being very respectful of us,” the sadistic boy taunted Korniel, “You’re not even getting on your knees to apologize. I guess I’ll have to knock you down on your knees.”
“NO!” my voice rang out.
Jimmy and his friends froze for a moment. Then they turned around slowly and faced me. I just about melted and they glided over in my direction. What was I doing getting so far out of my league?
“Who—is—this?”
Asked the toughest-looking boy in the group.
“Oh, haven’t you been introduced to the biggest jerk in the country?” said Jimmy. “I think that this jerk has come to defend his little baby. Is that right?””
“Don’t you dare hurt Korniel,” I ordered.
Jimmy made a mock puzzled face.
“Who are you talking about?”
“The colt. Don’t hurt him. Your father won’t like it. You’ll get in trouble.”
“My old man doesn’t care about this colt. He’s going to put him to sleep tomorrow. He’ll never get any money out of him, so he doesn’t care what happens to him.”
“Well, I care what happens to him!”
The boys all gave me cold, mocking looks, except for the one boy who was shrinking away from the others.
“Poor Kenny,” said Jimmy with mock sympathy. “Has no friends and so he has to stoop to making friends with a sick colt. Poor Kenny, doesn’t know how to mind his own business. Poor Kenny is about to turn into a pool of jelly.”
I thought of trying to make a run for the house and get Mr. Garret or John. But Jimmy and his friends already had me surrounded with sticks raised. At least I was saving Korniel from a beating. For a few minutes, anyway. Until I got beaten to a pulp. I thought of dropping to my knees and begging them to spare me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of doing that. I clenched my fists, ready to fight back. I wasn’t about to go down easily.
Do not hit these colts, Korniel admonished me.
“Then what am I supposed to do, let them hit me?” I asked Korniel.
They will not hit you, Korniel answered.
I didn’t see how Korniel could stop them, but I didn’t have the heart to doubt my friend. Not after all I’d been through with him. I collected my strength and stood as straight and tall as I could, and let my eyes burn the way Korniel’s eyes burn when he looks at me.
“Too sissy to fight back?” Jimmy asked with his stick raised above my head.
“Too sissy to fight one-on-one with your bare hands?” I asked in return.
Next thing I knew, half a dozen sticks loomed over me like a canopy and I resigned myself to going down with a body covered with bruises. But that did not happen. I still have no idea what happened next. Something like a white cloud or a white sheet whirled around me and screams exploded like so many firecrackers. A few seconds later, all of the boys were on the ground with varying expressions of rage, fear, and amazement on their faces. Korniel himself looked too weak to move, but the purple sparkle in his eyes was stronger than it had ever been. Korniel half-trotted, half-limped toward Jimmy. He slid backwards on the grass, then sprang to his feet and backed away.
“Just you wait until I tell my dad about this,” said Jimmy through his teeth. “This colt will be out of his misery and mine before you can shake a stick.
Jimmy made a mad dash to the house, and the other boys ran off, leaving me alone with Korniel. I wrapped my arm around his neck and stroked his mane. His bump looked a lot worse than it did just the day before. It was enough to make my heart swim.
“Korniel, you didn’t really need me to defend you, did you?” I scolded him.
I needed you to defend the colts. It was the only chance to keep them from getting hurt for what they were doing.
“They deserved to get hurt a lot more than they did.”
I was not sent to hurt anybody for any reason, said Korniel.
And as I stroked his mane, Korniel brought the faces of those boys back into my mind, and I sort of started to understand what he meant. Getting shocks like they got was not a good thing, no matter what anybody deserved.
Thank you for coming, said Korniel, but you need to return to your stable before you get in trouble with the stallion here and your own stallion.
“I want to stay with you,” I said.
Come back later.
“I will, Korniel.”
************
Sunday evening, I was back in church, doing double duty for God. It’s like that every Sunday with our church. Sometimes I think it’s too much of a good thing, but this time, I was praying real hard for Korniel, so I was glad to be there. This time, my father wasn’t there. He’d already gone out to the bar. That made it easier for me to pray for Korniel while Pastor Groves was preaching.
The stallion who is saying these words can help you make your stallion stop drinking the water that makes him crazy, said Korniel.
“What?” I asked.
My mom and Several other people around us turned to stare at me. I’m sure my face turned very red.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
As embarrassing as that was, I was encouraged by what Korniel had just said. But I was also worried about Korniel and what might happen to him. Would Mr. Garret really have Korniel put down because of Jimmy? I wished I knew. I wished I knew how afraid I should be that Korniel might not live long enough to help me make my dad stop drinking. During the last hymn, I suddenly felt like I’d been all tied up with a rope. For a few seconds, I couldn’t move a muscle. That made me yelp for a second. Fortunately, it was another rousing hymn so I didn’t attract much attention. A few seconds later, I could move again. When my mom looked at me, I sang louder and that seemed to satisfy her that I was okay. But I wasn’t, because I knew Korniel wasn’t. I was pretty sure he’d been tied up again by that horrible vet.
Once the service was over, I desperately tried to think of something I could say to Pastor Groves on the way out of church to get him to help make dad stop drinking. At the same time, I was afraid to get near him. While I was stalling, Deborah’s mom rushed up to Pastor Groves to talk to him with Deborah at her side. That gave me a little more time to try and work up the nerve to say something myself.
Talk to the stallion now, said Korniel.
There was no arguing with Korniel when he got that way. I caught a glimpse of Korniel’s eyes as I felt his thoughts pushing me in Pastor Groves’ direction.. Korniel looked worried about something. I hoped he was worried about my father and not about himself, but I was afraid it was both. As soon as Deborah’s mom had said what she was going to say, I pulled my mother just close enough to Pastor Groves for him to notice us.
“Hey, Martha, where’s Burton?” the pastor asked my mom.
“He had a bit of a headache and couldn’t come,” mom lied.
A typical lie like what mom was always telling when dad was too drunk to do something. I was awfully tempted to swallow the words burning on the tip of my tongue like I’d done for years, but I knew I could never face Korniel again if I backed down this time.
“Maybe dad doesn’t have a headache now,” I said to Pastor Groves, “but he’ll have one when he gets home from the bar with a hangover.”
“Kenny!” mom cried.
Pastor Groves narrowed his eyes at me. That made me afraid he was about to blow me off the face of the earth.
“Are you saying that your father drinks too much?” asked Pastor Groves in a quiet voice.
“He just needs a drink once in a while,” said mom before I could answer the pastor.
“He needs a drink all the time,” I insisted, “and then he yells at me all night and slaps me around.”
“Is that so?” asked the pastor.
“Kenny’s exaggerating,” said my mom
“I am not!”
Pastor Groves held up his hand.
“You know, Martha, sometimes it’s hard to tell when a person needs a drink once in a while and when he needs a drink all the time. Perhaps the two of you should come see me sometime tomorrow after school, and we can talk about what is actually happening.”
I could hardly believe my ears! Korniel was right. This stallion was really going to help me and mom do something about dad. I could see right away that Pastor Groves knew a lot about people drinking too much.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said mom. “We’re getting along.”
“It is too necessary, and we are not getting along” I said. “I’ve had it up to here. And Korniel says we have to make him stop.”
As soon as I said Korniel’s name, I suddenly felt very dizzy. I heard Pastor Groves ask who Korn Neal was but I was too weak to answer.
Help me! Korniel cried out.
I stumbled, feeling as drunk as my dad. Only I wasn’t stumbling on the floor of the church, but I was stumbling over the straw in the stable. I saw Mr. Garret’s grim face and Jimmy’s face full of fear and hate. Then Pastor Groves and another guy in the parish caught me before I fell to the floor.
“What’s the matter, Kenny?” asked mom.
“I don’t know.”
A fog started to fill my head. Again, I felt like I’d been strapped down on the floor and I couldn’t move. Pastor Groves and some other guy carried me to a pew in the back and laid me out across it.
“Let’s see if you’re feeling okay in a few minutes,” said the guy who had helped the pastor.
Those words faded away as I was plunged into the fog. I felt like I was falling into a bottomless pit, but I never landed anywhere. The faces of Mr. Garret, John Garret, Jimmy, and the vet, all swam about me. No wonder Korniel had cried for help. But how could I get to the farm in time to do anything?
“I think that tumor is doing things to his brain,” said the vet.
“It is not!” I cried out.
To my surprise, to my shock is more like it, I kneeling in the straw next to Korniel. Mr. Garret was standing just a few feet away. Next to him was the vet with a gun in his hand. There was no question it was for Korniel.
“What are you doing here now?” asked Mr. Garret.
“Please don’t put Korniel away,” I pleaded.
Mr. Garret shook his head sadly.
“He attacked Jimmy out in the pasture this afternoon,” he said.
“No! Jimmy and a bunch of his friend attacked Korniel!
“You should have seen the crazy look in that colt’s eyes when he attacked me!” Jimmy exclaimed.
I wanted to ram my fist into Jimmy’s nose but I was too weak to do more than hang on to Korniel’s neck for support. A big help I was going to be to him.
“There’s just no way I can keep this colt without losing a ton of money,” said Mr. Garret.
“So let’s put this horse out of its misery and get it over with,” said Jimmy, much too eagerly .
“Look kid,” said the vet, “this colt has a very serious problem. Even if this tumor is benign, we’ll still have to take it out. That’s an expensive operation right there, and there’s no telling what brain damage there is already, let alone how much brain damage there will be after surgery. If it’s malignant, chances are even worse. Now I have a special gun for cases like this. It kills the animal instantly, painlessly. This poor colt won’t feel a thing.”
“N-O-O-O-O!” I yelled as I flung my arms around the colt’s neck. “Please let me buy him!”
“I know some people can bond pretty close to a horse,” said Mr. Garret, “and I’ve done it myself a few times, but this takes the cake. Do you have any idea how much money it will cost you just to keep me from losing money on this colt?”
“I’ll save up for a hundred years if I have to,” I said with tears in my eyes.
Not that I had any idea how I could ever raise enough money to pay for Korniel.
Mr. Garret shook his head.
“I won’t be around that long.”
“But Korniel is special!” I pleaded. “This bump isn’t a tumor. Leave it alone. It won’t hurt him. I promise!”
You’ve done it! Korniel exclaimed. You have given me the strength to finish growing. You have saved my life. Hang on!
The next few seconds were so confused, I have no idea what happened. Suddenly, everything turned white for a few seconds, and then I was blinded by a golden light. I heard some men screaming. I screamed, too. But almost as soon as I screamed, I felt a sense of peace I couldn’t believe. Maybe it was the peace that passes understanding that Pastor Groves talks about. I sure didn’t understand it. After a few seconds, the golden light didn’t blind me anymore. The golden light swirled in relaxing patterns that soothed my eyes. That was when I knew what I had known all along, but just couldn’t believe was really true. A golden horn rose from Korniel’s forehead where the unsightly bump had been. The ropes that had tied him down broke. Korniel was free, and I was mounted on his back, ready to go wherever he wanted to take me.
“Incredible!” John Garret cried out.
“Impossible!” Mr. Garret exclaimed.
Jimmy was long gone, and good riddance to him.
“Kenny, you were right,” said John. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t believe you.”
“Y-you can keep him,” Mr Garret stammered.
“Nobody owns Korniel,” I said, my voice steadier than I thought it could be. “Korniel thanks you for saving his life and he thanks you for not killing him tonight. However, it is time for Korniel to go. He will not cost you any more money, and he will do a lot of good for a lot people. If ever you need any encouragement, Korniel will return and look in on you.”
“Kenny, you’re the darndest kid I’ve ever seen,” said John.
Those words melted away as Korniel trotted into a cloud just outside the barn and then speeded up into a gallop. By this time, my head had cleared up completely.
“Where are we going?” I asked Korniel.
We will be there faster than I can tell you, Korniel answered.
No sooner had those words passed through my head than the cloud cleared and I saw a couple of boys advancing on Micky Munson in the back yard of a house. Micky screamed. The two boys turned around. When they saw Korniel and me, they screamed and ran inside the house.
“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you,” I said to Micky, “as long as you don’t hurt anyone.”
Micky’s face tightened with rage and fear when he saw me looking down at him. I was tempted to gloat, but I knew Korniel would not approve of that.
“What are you doing here?” Micky asked.
“Ask Korniel,” I replied.
“Who the. . .”
Micky choked on the next word he was going to spit out at me when Korniel locked his eyes on Micky’s. After a minute or so, Micky’s eyes grow pretty wide, then he nodded soberly and rose to his feet. He didn’t look like he knew what to make of it all.
“See you later,” I said.
I wished I could have said something more meaningful, but it’s going to take some time for me to learn how to talk to a kid like that.
“See you,” said a subdued Micky.
The cloud swirled around Korniel and me again. A few seconds, later, I saw the church and Pastor Grove talking earnestly to my mother in front of the door. I dismounted and waited for the few people lingering outside the church to make a ruckus over Korniel, but nobody seemed to notice him except Deborah. She stifled an outcry, then listened to Korniel for a moment. When Korniel finished with what he had to say to her, her face lit up.
“I hope so,” said Deborah.
“There you are!” said mom.
“Feeling better?” asked Pastor Grove. “I see you’re on your feet again.”
“Yea, feeling better,” I said, but I was still wobbly in the legs.
“Kenny,” said Mom, “Pastor Grove says that you’re right. We have to sit down and have a long talk tomorrow about your father and how we can become a real family again.”
For a second, I felt like saying “I told you so,” but a second later, I knew it was better to settle for giving mom the best hug she’s had from me in years. As I looked over mom’s shoulders, I saw Korniel looking in at me with his purple diamond eyes.
You will tell your stallion to stop drinking the water that makes him crazy in a way that makes him listen, said Korniel.
“Do you mean it?” I asked him.
“Of course I mean it,” said mom as she gave me the best hug I’d from her in years.
I mean everything I say, Korniel replied.