The commotion was timely. Eerily so. The stink man next to me just missed having my mare's hooves rearrange his face. This near collision sent the man upward to the top bench, far enough from my mare's reach. He was not interested in bidding on my mare any longer.
The auctioneer had yelled at the boy, "Get her out of here!"
The boy still hanging onto the lead line, having been lifted up off his feet, gladly allows the other boy handlers to come to his rescue and pull my mare away from the audience. Now pointed toward the metal barn door, my mare rushes forward pulling the three boys with her into the dark frozen outside.
The auctioneer, hiding his worry, breathes into his microphone, "Well now that was a show wasn't it?"
The audience laughs and I get up to find my mother.
I leave the auction ring through the door near the hot dog vendor, and entering the bitter cold, I consider returning to the horse pen to see how the boys are treating my mare. But I think better of it, If I did see them lay a hand on her I would find myself getting in trouble by returning their abuse. The only safe option for the mare and I is to make sure my bid and purchase went through. I had to cash out and claim my mare.
I find my mom in the auction office, waiting, so I take my place in line in front of her. She ruffles my hair and smiles. I didn't want to share the excitement my mare just made in the auction ring, so I just shrug and smile back at her quickly, keeping my attention on the check out line.
The auction secretary was on the phone, taking bids on the horses. One of the redeeming things about this auction was that it allowed established horse-rescue groups to post online photos and short bios of the horses coming through their lot on their social media channels. People from around the world interested in saving horses could phone or paypal a bail-out fee or, like Mom and I did, come in person and pay directly.
We stand in the cramped office where the wood stove blazes and the kill-buyers sit, slurping their coffees, goggling at us with creepy eyes.
"Anybody have room for a horse going near Saratoga?" I ask.