The Stable Boy

Young East Driscoll had spent the past year on walkabout. He was tired.

It was Christmas Eve when he wandered into this little town called The Glen and there was something in the air. He could hear the sound of a man’s voice and the joy in it made him smile. He’d never felt that before. Was it fate that he landed here?

Following the sound of the voice, he came upon a small church. East wasn’t one to worship and he’d never really spent much time pondering faith. He had no parents to guide him so it stood to reason that he walked his own path, drinking to excess when he had the coin to do so, dallying with women of lesser virtue when the mood struck him and owing nothing to anyone but himself.

On this evening he stopped to listen to the sound of the voice.

"Bless them all" he heard and he wondered who they were. Who would be worthy of such a gift?

"You ain’t one of them, Driscoll." he spoke to himself. "Ain’t got a roof over your head or even a pot to piss in. Worthless."

He stood there for several minutes listening. This warm summer night was black as pitch until that very moment. There seemed to be a gradual change and when he looked up he noticed a bright star shining down on him.

"Yer wastin yer time up there. Not gonna convert me for sure."

Slinging his pack over his shoulder he moved on. A short distance away he noticed that the air was filled with a familiar smell. Horseflesh. If there were any creatures on earth that East Driscoll related to, it was horses. They understood him and he understood them.

He followed the magnificent scent as it mixed with the wonderful smell of sweet feed and fresh hay. If there ever was a gift to make East happy it was what he came upon next.

It was a grand stable and there didn’t appear to be anyone around. They were probably all busy at that church he’d passed so it made it easy for him to sneak in. He could be gone in the morning by the time someone showed up. He just needed a place to lay his head. If he could read he’d have been able to decipher the word Meridius on the door of the stable but to him it was just letters.

Easing the door open he stepped inside to the familiar sound of horse’s wickering a greeting. They knew, they could tell by his scent that he was nearly one of them. He was a horse whisperer by gift but he didn’t know to thank the God who bestowed that upon him. Maybe he never would.

East found the barrels of grain as he moved along in the dim light. He opened one that was full of molasses laden oats. Putting some in his mouth, he filled his pockets with more. He carried his find down the shedrow, stopping at each stall to greet the occupant with a loving pat and a handful of sweet feed. There were fine horses here and East reckoned the owner loved them as much as he did. The stalls were clean and piled high with thick straw for the animals to rest in. Some chose to lie down and other stood to sleep, ankle deep grass.

Once every horse had some attention, East found an empty stall. He lay his pack down then he piled some straw up to make a bed for himself.

Sleep came fast to the young horseman. Who knew what the morning would bring but tonight he was in his element. He was a stable boy since birth and would be until the day he died.