Old Ted and Alex
Date posted: September 26
Jewel Cartwright
[scrollbox]I couldn't help but notice the way Old Ted had been watching Alex these past few days. Ted's been around horses—and people—for longer than most of us have been alive, and he's seen it all. Or so I thought.
But the other day, as Ted and I leaned against the fence, watching Alex work with Saltarin, one of our more temperamental horses, Ted shook his head slowly and said, "I haven't seen anything like it in my many years of teaching."
Coming from Ted, that was saying something.
It all started when Alex had taken to Saltarin like they had some kind of unspoken understanding. Saltarin wasn't the easiest horse to handle—he had a reputation for being a bit unpredictable, even with our most experienced riders. But from the moment Alex started working with him, there was a shift. No rough handling, no sharp commands. Alex just moved around him, almost as if they were communicating through body language alone. Salt seemed calmer, more settled—like he finally found someone who understood him.
Ted's eyes narrowed as he watched. "That boy... he's got something. Reminds me of someone I used to know."
I looked at Ted curiously. "Who?"
"Your great-grandmother, Emily," he said quietly. "She had the same quiet way with the horses. Could read them better than anyone else. Never had to force anything. It's like she was born with it."
That comparison took me by surprise. Emily McGregor had been a legend at Southern Lights Station for her connection with the horses. She could understand their quirks, their moods, and bring out the best in them when no one else could. And here Ted was, saying Alex had that same natural talent. It wasn't something you could teach, Ted always said. Either you had it, or you didn't. And Alex... apparently, he had it.
Ted nodded towards Alex, who was now running his hand down Saltarin's mane, whispering something softly. "He's got a past, sure, but there's something about him. Horses don't lie. If they trust him, there's something good in there."
Watching Alex, I had to admit, Ted was right. Despite the rumors, despite the whispers around town, Alex had proven himself where it mattered most—here at Southern Lights. He was quiet, but his actions spoke volumes. There was a calmness about him when he was with the horses, like all the noise and chaos of life melted away.
As Saltarin relaxed under Alex's touch, I saw it too—the way the horse responded to him, like there was a bond forming that went beyond rider and horse. It was rare, and it was special.
Ted chuckled under his breath. "Who would've thought, eh? That boy's got more horse sense in him than most people I've trained. He might just teach us a thing or two."
I smiled at that. Old Ted didn't hand out compliments easily, especially when it came to handling horses. But Alex, with all his quiet mystery and his rough past, had earned Ted's respect. And that meant something.
Ted straightened up, adjusting his hat. "You did right, giving him a chance. I don't know what he's running from, but whatever it is, it doesn't matter here. He's good with the horses—that's what counts."
I nodded, feeling more certain than ever that I'd made the right call. I still didn't know much about Alex's past, and I wasn't sure if he'd ever tell me. But in that moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was that he had found something here at Southern Lights—maybe a purpose, maybe a second chance. And with the way things were going, I had a feeling he was going to be just fine.
Watching him with Saltarin, I couldn't help but feel like there was something more to Alex than any of us had realized. And maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what the station needed.
Happy Trails!