Sanders is fifteen years old. His dark blonde hair is kept on the shorter side. It’s wild and crazy in a way that only naturally wild and crazy hair can be. His eyes are the gray of a summer storm and they sparkle with intensity.
He smells of horses and leather. His hands already bear the calluses of hard work. His clothes, though tidy, are covered in dirt and debris. He nervously picks flecks off of himself as silence fills the room. He clears his throat and looks around, committing everything to memory.
After the silence has become too much for him he blurts out that he is learning to make hackamores from the apprentice at the saddlery in town. He’s been practicing as much as he can. He boasts that his family’s horses seem to be enjoying them.
He loves horses. He runs wild with them in the pasture when they turn them out to graze. Most nights he can be found curled up in Sweet Princess’ stall. She was a gift from his father and is by far his favorite. He takes his time grooming her; brushing the dirt and debris from her coat and keeping her main and tail smooth and tangle free.
Laura Bell helps, sometimes. She puts bows and ribbons in her hair, and, occasionally, she braids it. Those are the days that Sweet Princess prances around the stall or out in the yard with a gait worthy of her name. Her eyes alight with a smile and there is no denying that she’s feeling pretty.
Sanders treats her to apples off of the trees. She thanks him with nuzzles to his face and neck.
Every chance he gets, he saddles her up and takes her for long rides. They run along the cliffs, through the woods, and along the river beds; where they stop to rest and enjoy a cool drink before enjoying a more leisurely stroll on the return home.
He’s learning to make saddlery so that he can make Sweet Princess a custom designed set befitting a girl of her beauty and grace. He plans to some day own his own saddlery and stables so that he can make a living doing what he loves surrounded by his favorite animal.