Wanderlust Snippet // Poor Mr. Harris!

I'm super excited to share another Wanderlust snippet with y'all! This snippet is from Chapter Thirteen of the novel, which is titled "I Jumped in Head First." This snippet does nothing to explain the title of Chapter 13, which will come later, but I loved writing this story and thought you might like reading it.

~Once, in May, when Wander was a month old, a high-falutin sort of New Yorker arrived at the farm to look at weanlings before they went to the Keeneland spring sale. Fiona knew Wander wasn’t for sale, but after Elijah Harris bought three Dreamland weanlings, Dad asked her to bring the colt out, promising Mr. Harris this year’s foal crop would top the weanling foal crop and he could come back in October to buy better foals. 

Wander paraded in front of Harris, flagged his tail and flowed through prancing, high-knee action, neck arched and muscles bulging. The sun flashed off his shiny red-gold coat, and Fiona’s chest swelled with pride.

Harris looked impression. He crossed his arms over his paunchy chest and nodded his approval of the well-made animal. “Wow, Scott, you sure have a beauty.”

Fiona managed not to grin, trying to stay businesslike, and slowed her stride 

to a stop. The moment her legs stopped moving, Wander’s brilliant show paused, as well, and he came to stand regally by her shoulder without moving another muscle. He cranked his head up and gazed out into the pastureland, ears pricked. A quivering whinny trembled from his throat. Wheee-eee-eee-eee! he neighed.

Dad glowed down at short Mr. Harris. “Fiona trains him herself.”

Harris drew his chin into his neck in surprise. The fat of his skin folded into each other to resemble hot dog buns. “My, my, Miss Scott, you must be a horse trainer.”

“Actually, I am.” Fiona straightened proudly. “I help Dad with all the yearlings and 

young two-year-olds.”

“Really?” Mr. Harris went tsk-tsk and turned to pump Dad’s hand. His eyes twinkled. “Well done, Charlie, well done.”

“Thank you, Eli.” Dad slapped the man on the shoulder and moved to close the big horse van where the three Dreamland weanlings clanked their hooves on the ground and yanked hay from hay bags. Harris ambled over to Wander and slapped the colt’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be a big horse someday, Miss Fiona.”

Fiona shivered with pride. She shyly nodded her head and stroked Wander’s curly mane. “I’m counting on it. I believe he will become great.”

“Oh.” Harris chuckled and wagged his head. “Oh, I meant he’ll be tall. But yes, I can see how he could become incredible in the industry, too. You have a good eye.”

Fiona blushed, embarrassed. She ducked her head and sidled closer to Wander’s side, hoping his month-old height and bulk could hide her from Harris. 

As if scolding Harris for belittling his mistress and best human friend, Wander swung his head towards the man and stretched out his neck to whoof air into the man’s face. It made Harris blink and draw away, giving Wander the perfect excuse to snap the New Yorker’s flat cap between his teeth and lift it off the bald head.

Harris yelped. He lunged for his departed hat, but Wander flipped his nose into the air and dodged the pudgy breeder’s hand. 

“Wander!” gasped Fiona, stifling snickers as Wander chewed on the hat as if it tasted like sugar. She heard his teeth grinding the material into bits.

“Miss Fiona!” Harris’ voice was pinched with disdain. He glared at her face, his own expression all twitchy and cramped. “Take my hat from your bloody horse’s mouth so I may leave.” A huff escaped him like smoke from a chimney.

Fiona choked back a cackle as Harris’ face turned purple each time Wander pulled more hat into his jaws and continued to slurp and chew. Frothy saliva formed on the edges of the gingham flat cap.

“Yes, sir.” She turned and grasped Wander’s halter. She stared deep into his eyes. “Mister, spit that out, please.” Her tone was far from serious.

Suddenly, something snapped in Wander’s mouth. His eyes became huge. And just like Fiona had ordered, the colt’s body heaved with a wheezing cough and he spat the flat cap to the ground. Then, he kicked it aside and pounced all four hooves onto it.

Harris yowled. He waved his hands and charged at Wander. “Get off my hat, you blasted criminal! I paid good money for that hat! Get off! Get off this minute!”

Dad rounded the corner of the van and took the situation in with one sweep of his round eyes. They clouded over as they landed on a bewildered Fiona. “Fiona Joanne Scott, go back to the barn!” he bellowed.

Wander shied at the roar and smashed into Fiona. She lost her balance and slammed into the ground. At the distraught cries of Elijah Harris, she leaped up, ignoring the pain in her rear end, and pulled on Wander’s lead rope. Girl and horse dashed for the broodmare barn, girl running, foal trotting at the speed of a Standardbred in a race. They whirled around the corner and into the safety of the barn aisle, and Fiona dissolved into hilarity.

Later, Dad apologized for yelling and admitted it had been a hilarious sight to see Wander standing with all four feet tippy-toed on the gingham flat cap with red-faced Harris churning his arms at him. Dad chortled as he explained Fiona’s face. 

“You looked like you’d just witnessed a horse eating garbage,” he laughed.

It also turned out the snap had been the plastic ring that rimmed the flat cap under the fabric and gave it shape. It had done nothing but poke Wander’s tongue harmlessly. Poor Harris had returned to New York with two colts and one filly, and one very distorted, slobbery pile of gingham material.~

-Izzy-