Gunner by Judy Andrekson Page B

his feed with vigor again and beginning to play with the other horses when he was turned out. He was skittish on his blind side now, and they had to be more careful about how they approached and handled him, but he seemed to be adjusting and finding his way back.
    Competing wasn’t even a thought for Heather that year, with Gunner or any other horse. Between rebuilding their lives in Laurel, working in what remained of New Orleans, and caring for Gunner and Wes, there seemed little room for anything like play. Heather was much like Gunner. She had survived the ordeal and was healing, but she was looking at life through a new set of eyes. It would take a while before she found where she fit again.

    It was hard seeing the reality every day – the thousands of people who had lost family, homes, pets, and all they had cherished. So many of them didn’t have the resources to rebuild their shattered lives as she had been so lucky to be able to do. She was enormously grateful for the blessing of still having all of her family and even her horse returned to her, but she was changed, like everyone and everything around her.
    If some things had been torn apart by Katrina, friendships had been forged and strengthened. The people who had worked alongside Heather at Touro Hospital for all those desperate months had become as close as family to her. They knew each other’s stories and had shared many tears, hugs, laughs, and life-changing moments together. One of these friends, Brent Becknow, had heard Gunner’s story and was keen to meet this miracle horse. One day, in June 2006, he finally did, and it would mark a new beginning for Heather and Gunner.
    It was a pleasantly warm afternoon, and Gunner was outin his field with Buttermilk, grazing contentedly like a horse that’s never known a care in the world. Brent was not a horseman and admitted that he would not have been able to pick Gunner out from any of the other horses. He could see nothing wrong with him from where he stood. He was certainly striking … his gleaming golden coat with its odd splashes of white caught the eye, but beyond that, he saw nothing unusual. At least, not until Heather called to him.
    At the sound of her voice, his blazed head shot up and turned so that one fierce blue eye faced them. The look was intense and, for a second, Brent felt goose bumps rise on his arms. Gunner arched his neck and, tossing his pretty head, nickered deeply, breaking into a trot to meet them at the fence.
    As Brent watched the greeting between Heather and her horse, he saw, for the first time in his life, what a horse/human partnership – one might even say
friendship
– looked like. Without words, the pair was communicating clearly, and the affection between them was unmistakable. It wasn’t merely human affection for an animal that was owned, but a genuine affection for a partner and friend, and Gunner returned it in kind.
    To Brent’s further amazement, Heather and Gunner began what looked to him like some sort of a dance. Shemoved a hand; he took a step back. She stepped to one side; he stepped the other way. She turned and jogged down the fence line; he immediately broke into a brisk trot and followed at her side. She turned; he turned. She faced him and he stopped, alert to her every move. She pointed a toe, and he shifted a hoof. Brent was spellbound.
    “What was that?” he asked when Heather was once again beside him.
    She laughed self-consciously and answered, “Oh, it’s just a bit of showmanship stuff. We mess around with it all the time. He seems to like it. He’s always liked to play games like that.”
    “You mean that’s the sort of thing you’d do at a show?” Brent pressed.
    “Yes, sort of … in the showmanship class at least. It’s all about anticipating each other’s cues and moves. It’s fun. It’s too bad that his show days are over. He was really good.”
    Brent looked puzzled and asked, “Why are they over? He’s looking great from