Antonia, the Horse Whisperer

by Elisabeth Zöller

  Whenever she thought about her mother, Antonia felt an emptiness that made her feel helpless and endlessly sad.

  Nobody had been able to console her—with the exception of Snow White, who, in her warm, soft way, had filled a little part of this emptiness with life.

  After that, everything had been okay. Antonia felt as if she were one with Snow White. More and more she wanted to intensify the jumping instruction and improve her skills.

  “Please don’t put so much pressure on yourself, my girl,” Papa had said. “You’re still just a child.”

  “It’s okay,” Antonia had answered and laughed. “For me, there’s nothing better than practicing with Snow White.” And as often as she could, she disappeared into the riding ring to set up the cavalettis. A few months ago, Grandpa and Grandma had given Antonia a book about the height-adjustable hurdles.

  Since then, Antonia and Leona had read a lot about cavaletti drills and had tried them out. It was so much fun! Caroline was a specialist at it already. And because of that, Antonia tried especially hard not to miss a practice with Caroline. Her sister was awesome; she could learn a lot from her.

  On her horse Rush On, Caroline moved almost serenely in the saddle. Her jumps were so elegant, as though nothing could be simpler. Caroline would sit in absolute harmony with Rush On, erect on his back, smiling at Antonia and Leona, and a second later she would be completely focused on her horse and the next jump.

  Together with Mr. Sonnenfeld, Antonia and Leona had devised a detailed training plan of their own. First, with the help of the cavaletti drills, her horse’s muscles would become limber and free of rigidity in order to build up more muscle. And Thunder, Leona’s lively Arabian gelding, got more relaxed and stronger day by day. Snow White had also looked forward to every lesson. Until that day, six weeks ago, everything had been wonderful.

  Again and again, Antonia thought back to that horrible day. It was a Sunday morning. Antonia had arranged to meet Leona in the outer paddock. They wanted the quiet of the morning for a training session, before visitors or the owners of the other horses came, as happened so often on weekends.

  Leona was on time, as usual. On this Sunday, however, she ran to meet Antonia, extremely upset.

  “Snow White!” she shouted, out of breath. “Snow White is hurt! I was just riding my bike along the pasture and was going to say hi to her. That’s when I saw it. Come quickly!”

  Antonia and Leona ran to the fence. There stood Snow White, thrashing her head back and forth in panic, her eyes wide with fear. Immediately Antonia saw that Snow White’s right hock was extremely swollen. She kept lifting her leg painfully in order to take the pressure off it.

  What had happened? Yesterday they had done two easy jumping exercises, but afterward, when Antonia had curried and brushed her, everything had been fine.

  “Easy,” said Antonia, caressing Snow White’s nostrils. She stroked along her leg, ran her fingers through her mane, and pressed her head into her neck. “Snow White, sweetie,” she whispered. She had to calm herself too. Antonia had an enormous lump in her throat, and her heart was pounding. Once more she carefully felt Snow White’s leg.

  She must have overlooked something. She tried to recall the individual jumps from yesterday. Had Snow White not taken off correctly one time? Or had she gotten caught on a hurdle? Had she been injured that way?

  Snow White was trembling. Antonia stroked her back and belly. Was she shaking from pain or was she just agitated?

  Antonia took a step closer to Snow White so she could whisper soothing words in her ear. Then the horse’s foot slid into a deep hole.

  Antonia was horrified. “That must have been it! Snow White stepped into this stupid hole, all nicely overgrown with grass, but very dangerous.”

  Everyone knew that holes like that should never be in meadows where horses were kept. Every evening, Antonia inspected the meadow thoroughly with John and Felix. Where had this hole come from?

  At that moment, the sound of barking echoed over the meadow. Antonia grumbled, “There, listen to Trix; he’s chasing horses again. He probably dug the hole and, of all things, it had to be Snow White who stepped in it. My poor baby, come here. Oh, Snow White!” She stroked the horse’s neck. At that exact moment, the neighbors’ dachshund, Trix, came around the corner, eager to run through the meadow.

  Antonia stormed up to him and grabbed him by the collar. “Out!” she said firmly, pointing with her outstretched arm toward the neighbors’ property.

  Head hanging low, Trix trotted away. He should know that he had no business here.

  “That horrible dachshund . . .” Antonia shook her head and hurried back to Snow White. Even though she thought she knew how the accident had happened, it didn’t make anything better. The horse was still hurt.

  Gently, Antonia leaned her head on Snow White’s neck and stroked her back. She always liked that a lot. They stood there that way for a while. When Snow White had calmed down, Antonia put on the halter that Leona had fetched.

  “Will you help me get her back to the farm?” Antonia asked Leona. Bravely and with a number of pauses, Snow White limped with both girls to the Rosenburg farm.

  A little later, Antonia’s father had called the veterinarian.

  “A tendon tear,” Dr. Kemper had said after a thorough ultrasound examination. Then he had explained what that meant. Antonia could have screamed.

  Even now, sitting on the fence and stroking her carrot-chewing horse, it still shook her up, just like it had on that horrible day. Snow White snorted softly and nudged Antonia gently with her soft nose.

  A few days later, the sisters were playing Scrabble. Antonia couldn’t concentrate and didn’t form a single word.

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Caroline, laying her hand tenderly on Antonia’s arm.

  “I did everything wrong,” sighed Antonia. “Crud.” Frustrated, she swept the letters off the table.

  “Now you’re being crazy, sis,” Caroline snapped at her. “Stop, already. You didn’t train her wrong, you didn’t dig the hole—none of that. It was an unfortunate fluke,” she said somewhat more gently. “You explained about the hole and Trix.”

  Easy for Caroline to say; she had it all: her horse, her jumping, her success. Although there were enough horses on the farm, Antonia didn’t want any of the others. She didn’t even accept Leona’s offer to go for a ride on Thunder.

  Caroline didn’t ease up. “Look, Antonia. If you really want to be a show jumper, you’ll have to get used to a new horse more than once. For example, Snow White was just right for you as a first horse.” She looked at Antonia in a very adult-like manner. “But Snow White wasn’t a good jumper from the beginning. You would have had to look around for a new horse soon anyway.”

  “You’re so nasty,” Antonia interrupted her.

  But Caroline didn’t get worked up. “And even with the new horse, it won’t last,” she said, unfazed. “Because the better you get, the better your horse has to be. That’s the way it is if you ride jumpers and want to advance. Many of the most famous riders have several horses they train and take to competitions.” She put her arm on Antonia’s shoulder and dragged her into the living room where their mother’s trophies and pictures stood on a bookshelf.

  “See here? There Mama’s riding on Abadi, and in the background Papa is holding Bagira’s reins. This picture,” she continued, pointing to a gold-framed photo, “is from three years later, and Mama is riding on Cairon.” Caroline’s voice grew softer. “You can believe me. Mama loved her horses as much as you love Snow White. Of course, you have to establish a close relationship with your horse. But you also have to be able to leave it at some point for another. That’s the way a rider’s career usually goes. Closeness and good-byes and closeness, time and time again. And in-between are riding and jumping.”

  “And loyalty,” Antonia added.

  Caroline nodded. “Yes.” She gave Antonia a big hug. Then the girls strolled across the farm. At times li
ke these, Caroline was the best sister in the world. Antonia looked at Caroline from the side. She was three and a half years older than Antonia. Antonia wanted to be as pretty as Caroline someday. Caroline was a head taller than she was, slender, and already had a real bust. When she wasn’t riding, she always wore her long brown hair down—it fell in light waves over her shoulders and framed her narrow face.

  Just then, Aunt Maria rushed up to both girls along with Leona, who jumped off her bike, completely out of breath.

  Aunt Maria stood in front of the three of them and gushed, “You won’t believe it. The famous French show jumper, Marcel Bonhumeur, is going to leave three of his horses with us for a few months.”

  “Is he the one with the stable near Paris?” asked Caroline. When it came to horses, she knew everything! She read every horse magazine she got her hands on; and when riding allowed her some free time, she also looked up more information about riding on the Internet.

  “That name was easy for me to remember because it’s so cheerful: Bonhumeur means ‘good mood,’ doesn’t it?”

  “Exactly,” said Maria, laughing. “And Marcel Bonhumeur has really good horses. If he leaves his three treasures with us for a few months, it’s a big break for the Rosenburg Farm!” Maria told about how she had first bought Elfin Dance for Mr. Bonhumeur at a white-knuckle auction and then later found Cascara and Asseem for him at another stable.

  “Elfin Dance—the name is like a magic spell,” whispered Antonia.

  “Marcel Bonhumeur,” Maria reported, “is a real big shot in the riding business, a patron of quite a few well-known riders. He’s the CEO of a big firm and gave up competitive riding. He hardly has time to ride any more, but horses mean the world to him. No matter how good-natured he seems, with his eyes as round as marbles and his little belly, and no matter how humorous his name sounds, he can get nasty when something happens to his horses! So, the greatest care is called for when he boards them here. Only our employees are allowed to look after the horses. John and Felix will ride them and, of course, Mr. Sonnenfeld. Nobody else! There will even be a contract that includes that. But isn’t this wonderful! They’re coming to our Rosenburg Stables. It’s news that is sure to spread!”

  Since 1758, the Rosenburg Farm and Stable had been in the possession of the Rosenburg family. A moat still ran along the backside; up front it had been filled in. In summer, fragrant roses surrounded the farm, which had originally been a moated castle.

  The building looked like a castle, with towers, oriel windows, and a heavy wood entry door. Antonia’s great-grandparents had added on the longhouse, with its wonderfully ornate gables. It was so roomy that they could live in it as well as keep horses.

  The von Rosenburgs were a proud family. Antonia’s father had long since given up the “von” in his name because he said that today you shouldn’t have nobility in your name, but rather in your heart. Grandpa, however, had protested and kept his “von.”

  The Rosenburg family had always bred horses on the side. But Antonia’s father wanted more than that. Together with his sister, Maria, he wanted to make the Rosenburg Farm a place for exceptional horses. For that reason, they had employed Mr. Sonnenfeld, who had previously been a jockey at the Berlin racetrack. And that meant something. Maria was the one who evaluated, bought, and sold the horses. She had a good feel for horses and a long-practiced eye, so that she immediately recognized the animals’ strength and elegance.

  She had stood by her brother and said, “Let’s make something really good out of our old Rosenburg Farm. I’ll take care of the horses. We’ll make an upscale stable. And you’ll be the principal riders.”

  With that, she had hugged Antonia and Caroline.

  Maria was small and fine-boned, with short hair and sparkling brown eyes. Since Maria had moved in with them, she had brought them a new sense of hope, even if the path they wanted to take had many obstacles. In the meantime, one famous animal or another had been housed at the farm, but the big breakthrough was missing . . . until today.

  That’s why Maria was so excited about the prospect of Marcel Bonhumeur’s horses. She hugged Antonia and Leona, talked incessantly, raved about the three horses, and clapped her hands. Maria was more of a friend than an aunt and wasn’t much taller than Antonia. She had such an easygoing way about her that she infected everyone with her enthusiasm and joy.

  At first, Antonia hadn’t been able to get used to the idea that Maria would be living with them at the Rosenburg Farm. Until then, she knew her aunt only through her once- or twice-a-year visits. Otherwise she traveled all over the world, traded valuable horses, went to competitions and stud farms, and attended auctions.

  “When are the horses coming?” Antonia asked.

  “I expect them tomorrow, at about this time. Could you both please go have a look with John and Felix to see if the new stalls at the back are in shipshape form?”

  John, who was doing his apprenticeship as a groom, rode across the farm just then. When he saw Maria with the girls, he gushed, “Have you heard? Three top horses for us. Now we’ll have to hustle and clean stalls!”

  Maria laughed.

  John headed for the row of stalls.

  Felix, a very good rider himself, arrived just then and called after John, “Make sure they are immaculate!”

  “You got it, Chief,” replied John. He knew that would irritate him. Felix hated it when John, who was only three years younger, called him Chief.

  Love at First Sight

  The next day the time had come. In two hours, the precious cargo was to arrive. Certainly Mr. Bonhumeur wouldn’t be there for the delivery of the horses—he intended to come to the Rosenburg Farm sometime later—but the people delivering the horses had his complete trust; they would see to the terms of the contract and pass on their impressions to Mr. Bonhumeur.

  So, despite the heat, the farm bustled with activity. Everyone knew exactly what needed to be done. John and Felix, along with the girls, had cleaned all the stalls, Grandma was baking a cake, and Grandpa was straightening up the office for the tenth time. Everybody was hoping that with Mr. Bonhumeur boarding his horses here, the Rosenburg Farm would finally be seen far and wide as an exceptional stable.

  Aunt Maria suddenly slipped Antonia a small package. It was a tiny wrapped gift.

  Maria often brought back something for Antonia and Caroline from her trips. Antonia ripped the paper off immediately and opened the box; a little elf charm made of rose quartz lay inside. Wasn’t one of Mr. Bonhumeur’s horses named Elfin Dance? Is that why Maria had bought her the pendant? But before she could ask, a whistle sounded across the courtyard and a silvery, sparkling, elegant horse trailer drove up to the farm. Everyone lined up quickly. As both horse handlers jumped out of the driver’s cab, they were greeted with loud hellos. They looked around the Rosenburg Farm admiringly and nodded their approval.

  Maria promised to show them around after the horses had been transferred to the stable.

  Finally the tailgate was lowered and Cascara stood impressively on the ramp. She was dark and fiery, with a black mane, and only her white coronet markings gleamed. Cascara raised her head and whinnied a friendly greeting to everyone.

  “Come, girl.” Felix approached her, carefully took the reins, led her down the ramp, and walked with an almost ceremonious stride to the stables.

  A second horse—Asseem—climbed majestically down the ramp. Now the Rosenburgs nodded in admiration. That was a horse! John welcomed Asseem, who approached him elegantly. Asseem had a completely spotless coat, a round white faint star on her forehead, and a black mane and tail.

  Then came the third horse—a long-legged chestnut gelding with a stripe. He neighed wildly, performed a dance, rolled his eyes, and repeatedly avoided Mr. Sonnenfeld’s slow attempts to get close to him. Mr. Sonnenfeld talked softly to the gelding and patted his neck and flanks, but the gelding would not calm down. Maria sprang toward him; John and Felix also wanted to help, but Mr. Sonnenfeld held them back.
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br />   “Quiet, there, there,” he said over and over. The horse threw its head back and forth wildly.

  “That must be Elfin Dance,” said Antonia’s father.

  Antonia, who was standing a little behind him, observed the horse intently: a skittish, brown bundle of energy, defiant as a little child, powerful, and surely very fast. He also had a wildness that wasn’t consistent with his elegance.

  And as if automatically—later she wouldn’t have been able to say why—she called very gently, “Elfin Dance!” It was almost a singsong. She called once again, softly, but clearly, “Elfin Dance!”

  And then Elfin Dance stood still, listened to the gentle words, turned on the spot as if he were looking for the owner of the voice, and met Antonia’s gaze!

  Antonia stopped, thunderstruck.

  “Are you my friend?” she wanted to whisper. Instead she said, “Come,” and, with a questioning look at her father, who nodded affirmatively, took the reins as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Together with Mr. Sonnenfeld, she led the horse in the direction of the row of stalls. She knew for a fact that she wasn’t technically allowed to take care of Elfin Dance—that was Mr. Sonnenfeld’s job. But she had barely let go of the reins when Elfin Dance reared up. He looked at Antonia reproachfully and refused to budge from the spot.

  “Go to him and stay with him until he’s in his stall,” murmured Antonia’s father. Elfin Dance pranced, and she took the reins once again. Slowly she went with him toward the stalls.

  “I’m here, Elfin Dance,” she whispered. “Welcome to the Rosenburg Farm, you beauty.”

  Her hand stroked his neck and finally stopped, staying calmly on his cheek. Antonia felt a great strength well up inside her, something irrepressible. She looked at him at length.

  “We’ll get to know each other,” said Antonia, already knowing that she had found a new friend.