by Becky Norman
“Yeah, and it’s been quite a day at that,” she answered. “Is there anything I can get you for the drive home or to show you how much I appreciate what you did here today?”
He shook his head and smiled with just a hint of a dimple showing. His face looked so much like Cody’s in that moment that her heart caught in her throat. “No, I’m good. It really is enough, just to know that you’re set until October and that I could help you out.” He came forward towards her with open arms and gathered her in for a hug. “Have a good night, sister-in-law. Make sure you get into that soaker tub of yours tonight or you’ll be sorry tomorrow.”
She hugged him back in silence, holding on to the comfort of another human being for a second longer than Anne probably would have preferred, then released him and stood back.
“Bye, Jesse. Thanks again.”
Lori watched him drive away and knew it would be a long, long time before she saw him again.
Chapter 6
Lori mounted up on the scrappy little buckskin and started to do some bending exercises with it in the warm-up ring. He was a hot-blooded little thing and she knew the best plan of attack was to let him move, but keep changing directions with him so he never got a chance to grab the bit and take off. She had been employed by a “horse show mother” to settle this barrel-racer down in the chute. Her daughter, the primary rider of the horse, was only 12 and was having a difficult time getting the animal under control before he did his run. It was a common problem with barrel-racers – they got so used to sprinting out of the chute and heading towards that first barrel that they would start fighting their rider in a variety of ways. Their antics in anticipation of being turned loose to run could result in rearing, bolting, bucking and had even cost some champions their title because they couldn’t get them lined up properly and under control.
Back and forth they went, Lori asking for an ever-changing combination of figure 8’s, tight circles, backing and rollbacks, until the horse had settled down a bit and wasn’t moving with the frantic energy he had started with. Luckily, they had been given permission to work in the chute itself today, since it was three days before the actual competition was to take place and there weren’t a lot of people around.
Once Lori felt confident she had some semblance of control in the warm-up ring, she nodded to mother and daughter, who were watching from the rail, and pointed to the show ring. “Let’s head over to the chute now and I’ll explain to you what I’m going to do.”
They fell into step next to her as she rode over, the daughter jogging alongside to keep up with her horse, and Lori smiled down at her from the saddle. “What we’re going to do is get your horse thinking the chute means something different than what he’s used to. See, right now, the chute is just a place where he gets worked up and then shoots out of it like a cannonball, right?”
The daughter nodded as she looked up at Lori and patted her horse lightly on the neck. “So we’ll make him work in the chute – not just stand there, waiting – and then we’ll try to get him to slowly jog in and out of it so that he doesn’t always think it means bolting.” Lori adjusted the reins slightly in her hands and laughed. “It should never mean bolting, really, but it should mean ‘go fast when I say to go fast.’”
The mother, who had been trying Lori’s patience since the first phone call to arrange this training, squinted up at Lori and snorted. “I don’t see what good that’s gonna do. I still say you should just hold him in there, with a tight grip on the reins, until he stands still.”
Lori clamped down on her temper and counted to five before responding. “Because I’ve already told you – you can’t make a horse stand still. And in fact, the more you try to do it, the more he’s going to move around. I can guarantee it. I’ve been barrel racing for a long time and I know what challenges your daughter is facing.”
The woman gave a scornful little laugh and moved off to stand near the chute fence. Lori watched her go in stony silence but kept herself from muttering anything inappropriate with the daughter still nearby.
She looked down at the girl and shrugged her shoulders with a brief smile. “Do you still want to try what I’ve suggested?”
The girl nodded, casting furtive glances at her mother along the rail.
“Okay. I’ll work with him first to get all the ‘ugly’ out of him and then you can get on and I’ll explain what you need to do,” Lori said as she reined the horse’s head around to the entrance gate.
It was exhausting work – the buckskin had one thing – and one thing only – on the brain and that was RUN, so Lori’s arms were aching and trembling with all the pulling and redirecting she had to do. Plus, to get him to work at the appropriate energy level in the confined space of the chute, she really had to push the gelding to go by squeezing with legs, slapping with reins, and pushing with her seat. Anybody who said riding horses was an easy day’s recreational hobby had never been on a poorly-trained barrel racer.
By the end of the day, though, she had a sweaty horse under her who was more than willing to just stand in the chute with head lowered and wait for his next cue; a confident daughter who felt she could get that horse to run while she maintained control; and a horse-show mother who’d eaten crow in a big way as she slapped the check into Lori’s hand. And that, Lori thought with a small smile as she dusted off her cowboy hat and headed back to her car, was the greatest reward of the day.
**********
The girl won her events the following weekend and her friends started calling Lori in a steady stream when they saw what she had done with the buckskin gelding in one day. Between that and the demonstrations she continued to do at her farm and Shannon’s, Lori had a full agenda throughout the summer.
She also had a petite liver-chestnut 2-year-old mare on the property that belonged to Rick Meyer. He had asked her to break the filly to saddle and was paying the full amount Lori normally asked for 90 days’ training, so she didn’t refuse – even though she knew Rick was probably asking her to do it out of pity. He could certainly break his own colts – she’d watched him do it many times. She had resigned herself to the fact that she needed money and if other people had it and were insistent on giving it to her for her services, then she’d take it.
It was when Rick had dropped off the filly that she had learned about Rita Dennymede’s lawsuit. She hadn’t spoken to the widow since the day at the airport when they had learned about Cody’s and Sam’s deaths. Rita lived a good distance away and Sam’s funeral had been around the same time as Cody’s so each woman had their obligations close to home.
Rick had asked if Lori was going to be involved with the class-action suit against the airline. He told her that Rita had been doing some investigating with the help of a shrewd lawyer and they had discovered that the preliminary findings pointed to a faulty mechanism in the auto pilot which sent the plane crashing.
Lori had stared at Rick for a moment then slowly shook her head. “I hadn’t heard anything about this,” she said.
“Well, I know it’s still in early stages, but you guys might be entitled to a lot of money,” he answered. “Not that it will make up for the loss of Cody or Sam by any means, but still...if it was negligence on their part, they should pay.”
Lori stared off into the distance, trying to settle her heartbeat. She was quietly terrified of the idea of lawyers feeding off of her pain and having to hear personal statements – and having to make her own – about that horrible day back in June. She wanted to put that day in a little tiny drawer in her heart, keep it closed tight and never think about it again. Did she really want to be a part of all that agony, dug up one more time? Still, if it would mean being able to keep the farm – the place Cody had planned to spend the rest of his life with her – then maybe it was justifiable, after all.
She was aware Rick was looking at her, concerned he’d said something that hurt her, and she gave him a small smile to lighten the mood.
“I guess I’ll have to give Rita a call one of these days,” she offered.
**********
With typical southern Ontario weather for August, the days of rainfall trickled off and it was soon nothing but “hot and dry” in every TV and radio station’s predictions. The crickets were in full swing every night, keeping Lori company with their incessant creaking. In the evenings, after everybody else’s horses had been trained, Lori would saddle up Piper and take a quiet stroll around the property with her best friend. They would check the fence lines as they went, Piper’s head a steady bob in front of her as he strode along, the third Mecate rein swinging gently to his gait.
Lori would now and then pick up the reins and do some shoulder-in, shoulder-out work or practice Piper’s collection but it was only to maintain him and keep him in practice; he was long past the stage of learning anything new down the trail. His ears would perk at the occasional rabbit or grass snake that darted out in front of them through the long field grass, but otherwise he kept an even pace, trusting in his rider to keep him safe from any harm they might encounter. She brought a couple bottles of water, granola bars and chocolate for quick energy, her cell phone, a hoof pick, an emergency blanket and a basic first aid kit for both horses and humans. She had been out on too many “quick” trail rides that ended with someone getting dumped off their horse or the horse getting injured to assume nothing would happen. Better safe than sorry, especially now that she always rode alone.
They came up a grassy incline and Lori stopped at the top to look around, sighing at the view. The sun was just starting to lean toward the west and the shadows from the stand of birch trees at the back of the property were getting longer. She would have a couple of hours yet before sundown so didn’t push Piper to go any faster. It was enough to look over the land – her land – and watch Ebony and Rick Meyer’s filly cantering down across the pasture together while the birds nearby started their evening song. As Lori listened, she ignored Piper’s occasional snort in order to pick up the birdsong she could identify: there was a red-winged blackbird nearby and some blue jays and crows were battling it out in the stand of pine trees across the way. The killdeer were out in the pastures, protecting their babies as they ran about on stilted legs, and she heard a red-tailed hawk screech high above her head. Lori shook her head slightly to dislodge the strand of black hair that blew across her face in the evening breeze. She reluctantly squeezed Piper gently with her legs in cue to start walking again and whispered the same, soft prayer she did every night: Please God, don’t take this away from me. Help me find a way to keep it going.
**********
When she returned to the house after putting Piper’s saddle away, rubbing him down, seeing him tucked into his stall for the night and feeding the kittens their kibble, she saw that someone had left a message on the phone. It was a representative from the airline responsible for Cody’s death; they wanted to settle. She took a deep, shaky breath and phoned Rita Dennymede.
“Don’t agree to anything yet, Lori,” Rita insisted when she heard the news. “What are they offering you? A couple thousand dollars? That’s nothing compared to what we’re going after them for. My lawyer is convinced they were completely negligible – he’s gotten hold of a report that shows they knew about that auto-pilot long before Sam and Cody’s trip and they continued to ignore it...to save a few pennies.” She snorted derisively. “Well, guess what? It’s gonna cost them a lot more than that now.”
Lori was taken aback by the anger in Rita’s voice. She’d never heard the older woman so enraged – or so vindictive.
“Okay,” she responded hesitantly. “What do I have to do?”
“Nothing right now,” Rita assured her. “We’re getting the paperwork together, now that we have substantial proof. I’ll be filing on behalf of all the passengers on that plane – you’ll get something sent to you that explains it all, along with an opt-out form. But I would strongly recommend you not opt out, Lori. We’re going to make them pay.”
Still uncertain by the vehemence in Rita’s tone, Lori phoned her parents to get their opinions. While they weren’t quite as bloodthirsty as Rita, they thought Lori should wait before signing any agreements, as well. Lori’s dad asked her to notify them of everything pertaining to the accident and they would get their own lawyer to look it over. They wanted to make sure she at least got what all the other affected family members got. That sounded more reasonable to Lori and she agreed.
**********
Lori was young and strong; she had grown up on a farm and had been training horses long enough now that her muscles were becoming quite formidable. Having a thousand-pound animal drag her around an arena necessitated that she develop the strength to pull its head around or she went land-skiing. She had been able, for the most part, to do the daily farm chores with or without Cody.
But she wondered, as she stood in the corner of the garage where Cody had stored the water softener salt, how she was going to get the 40 kg bags into the basement. She had forgotten to ask Rick to help her yesterday when he had stopped by to check on his filly’s progress and she didn’t want to bother the neighbours with something like this since she didn’t know them very well. She had to start looking after herself – no excuses.
She grabbed the first bag and was startled at how immovable it was. She had lifted some heavy things in her life, but this felt like trying to shove a boulder from where it was sunk in the ground. She tried a couple of different angles and muscle groups to get inertia working on her behalf but couldn’t get it to budge. She grunted with the effort of trying to pull it off the pile and was panting heavily after a few tugs with limited results. She moved behind it and had better success pushing it off the top, but cringed as she heard it fall to the concrete floor of the garage. She came back around the pile with trepidation, expecting to see the bag split open and spilled on the floor but it was only slightly torn.
In inspiration, she grabbed a heavy-duty tarp and put it down near the bag then kicked the salt with a series of well-aimed blows so that the bag rolled over onto the conveyance. Then grabbing a corner of the tarp, she picked it up and started to pull, walking backwards at the same time. It was still hard work, but she managed to slide it over to the house steps 75 feet away in pretty good time. When she got there, she collapsed on top of the bag, sitting with head between her legs and panting at the exertion. And she needed to get four of these into the basement? She was starting to doubt her abilities.
She decided it made more sense to get the other three bags out of the garage first and after catching her breath, went back for bag number two. By the time she finished getting the fourth bag to the house porch, her lungs felt like they had been bathed in warm blood and she was gasping for air. Her arms were like wet noodles as she brushed a wisp of black hair out of the way and she sat down again to wait for her shaking muscles to relax from the strain.
How am I going to do this? she thought as she looked up at the front door, which seemed as far away as the top of the CN Tower. Somehow, she had to get these bags lifted, carry them up the porch steps, through the house and down the stairs to the basement. She hadn’t even been able to get them into her arms yet and she was going to carry them down the stairs?
She pushed herself up to a standing position then bent over the first bag, sitting at the base of the porch. It was almost as though it were waiting for her, mocking her attempts to pick it up. Lifting didn’t work – she couldn’t get a good grip on the shiny plastic and she couldn’t get her legs under her enough to push it up. Instead, she tried crouching down and rolling it onto her shoulders. She succeeded with that, but it took an interminable amount of time to go from kneeling to crouching to standing. She finally got upright, the bag wrapped around her shoulders like some giant tiger wrapped around a lion-tamer’s neck, and on shaky legs she walked up the four steps to the front door.
Lori was almost sobbing un
der the crushing weight and felt the muscles in her lower back being compressed with each step. She opened the door, breathing heavily, and made a bee-line for the basement stairs. She was almost there when Luke scooted under her feet, throwing her off-balance and causing both her and the 40-kg bag to come crashing down on the floor. Lori hit the ceramic tiles with a grunt like being punched and heard the solid thunk of the salt as it, too, slammed into the floor.
Luke skittered away, unharmed, as Lori bellowed his name in exasperation, then came back cautiously to check on her when she rolled over onto her side and began to cry hopelessly.
“I can’t do this,” she muttered softly. She felt the powerlessness of her situation – not only with the salt, but also with the loss of Cody – and a surge of anger washed over her with a self-pitying intensity. She kicked out in frustration, as though throwing a temper tantrum, and Luke jumped back again. “I can’t do this!” she railed at whatever was listening out there in the universe. “Enough, already!” she screamed as though she were being attacked. She began to sob with a fury that possessed her as she struggled to her hands and knees and crawled over to the salt bag so that she could flail at it with both fists.
Soon the yelling became nothing but a serious of primal screams as she continued to punch the salt, her knuckles bruising as they connected with the unforgiving weight. “It’s...not...fair,” she muttered between clenched teeth as she delivered three more blows. Then another scream came from her belly, filled with all the anguish of someone being tortured, her lips gaping in a contortion of pain as she sought revenge against that unseen thing that had taken her happiness away. With that, she fell over the bag in sheer exhaustion and moaned softly as she rocked back and forth.
When the last of the anger had seeped out of her and the kittens had both approached her with ears back and eyes wide in alarm to ensure she was okay, she sniffed hard at her tears, feeling drained. “It’s too hard,” she whispered quietly. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
