by Becky Norman
She flipped through it, seeing courses like “Nature Literature,” “World Religions,” “Biology,” and “Business Math” and thought they would be not only beneficial, but fascinating and fun. She sighed, wondering how she would get the money, but then in a moment of defiance, shrugged her shoulders and grabbed a pen to fill out the application form for some of the part-time night classes.
To heck with it, she thought. You won’t know ‘til you try.
Chapter 13
After a couple of days for the new horses to get settled on the property, Lori started with Curtis’ colt first and regretted it almost immediately. The chestnut stallion was as hot-headed as they came and refused to settle down when he got in the roundpen. She tried every trick in the book she knew to get the horse to relax and tune into her body language and cues, but he wasn’t having any of it. When he wasn’t shaking his head at her in defiance or kicking up his feet at her requests to go faster, he was running crazily around the circle, the whites of his eyes showing and great clods of sand flying into the air from his hooves.
There finally came a time when she simply stood in the middle of the pen, giving the horse no direction whatsoever, since he wasn’t paying attention to her anyway, and just let him burn out all that energy. She kept an eye on him, to be sure, so that he didn’t decide charging her was a good idea, but otherwise she kept her head down, her posture relaxed and acted like she didn’t care at all that he was being a complete and utter idiot.
The colt had a good set of lungs on him, anyway. He ran around the pen for what seemed like forever; if Curtis had purchased this colt for his cross-country courses, he’d definitely made a smart buy. If he could ever be guided and directed, he would be able to run for hours. It was just up to her to get him amenable to being guided and directed.
Finally, the chestnut slowed his gallop to a canter and appeared to be taking an interest in his surroundings within the indoor arena. Lori took advantage of that by stepping in front of the colt’s driveline and trying to catch his eye, encouraging him to turn towards her and follow what she was doing. She thought she had him for a single moment – an ear flicked in her direction and he stuttered a bit in his step, as though he might stop, but when she backed away and tried to draw him to her, he raced past her vigorously, kicking up his heels dangerously close to her face as he did so.
“Right,” she muttered under her breath. “You are not going to make me lose my patience, horse.”
Lori knew that when it started to become a game with a horse, it was time to up the pressure, so she waited until the next time the colt threatened to kick her and then went in towards him with some serious purpose. She slapped the ground energetically with the string of the stick as she ran towards the colt, pushing him forward with her energy level and determination. The only way he’d learn that kicking at her was unacceptable was to see that every time he did, it caused him to work extra-hard. Unfortunately, it also made Lori work extra hard and her lungs were heaving with exertion as she corrected the colt.
He slowed a bit again while Lori caught her breath, she walking a small circle inside while he cantered a large one on the perimeter. She panted, trying to get her lungs some much-needed air, but saw with some satisfaction that the horse was starting to breathe heavier, as well. She tried again to step in front and draw the horse off the circle, but the little demon blew past her again, kicking his heels up as he went.
Lori roared as she went after the colt again. “Unacceptable!” she bellowed, slapping the ground. She was appalled to see the colt take a dramatic detour across the roundpen at that point, running past her with a few feet separating them, and actually jump at the roundpen fence. He cleared the 6’ steel panel with just a few inches to spare, but he made it out.
“Hol-y cow,” Lori breathed as she watched his landing on the outside of the pen. Thankfully, he was in the indoor arena so he had nowhere to go but Lori cursed herself for putting too much pressure on the horse. Sometimes, she didn’t read them quite right yet and these types of spectacular events were the result.
Born out of the excitement of escaping, the colt was now running laps around the arena, taking the corners at such a high rate of speed that he almost fell over a few times as he sought to get his balance and plant his hooves in the soft loam footing. Lori knew there was no hope for it at this point but to let the colt work himself out and slow down of his own volition. She stayed in the roundpen where it was safer from those flying hooves and waited.
As she did, she started making some mental notes. She’d now have to work with the colt on a line, since he had learned to escape her by jumping the roundpen. She never liked to do that if she could help it – she wanted the horse to turn towards her of its own volition – not because she was pulling on its head – but sometimes you had to help them along. She also made a mental note that the amount of grain this beast was getting was going to be reduced as soon as possible. This colt had as much sugar coursing through its body as a toddler who drank cola all day.
Finally, when the colt was drenched with sweat and was gasping for air so dramatically that you could see the rise and fall of his belly, he stopped. Lori waited until he was truly done in and then grabbed the rope halter and came out of the roundpen. She still walked in a zigzag pattern as she approached, trying to be as unthreatening as possible, and took the necessary steps to have the horse pay attention to her fully before she put the halter on. He had definitely had a work-out, though, and seemed more than willing to allow her to approach and lead him away.
Except Lori knew they weren’t finished yet. Back into the roundpen they went and she did some preliminary desensitizing while the colt stood in the center of the ring, more than grateful to “air up” while she threw the leadrope over his back, withers, neck and rump. He didn’t try to run, either, while she threw the rope around his back legs, letting it wrap around them and then slide off over and over again. He raised his head with a bit of concern and lifted one leg momentarily as though he was going to kick, and Lori made note of it. He was skittish there – she’d have to do a lot more of that until he stood perfectly relaxed. She knew if the horse wasn’t so tired right now, he’d be panicking at the feel of the rope wrapping around his legs.
She desensitized both sides of the animal while he continued huffing in the middle of the arena and finally stopped when he was breathing more normally and the sweat had stopped dripping from his belly into the sand. They ended the session with Lori standing in front of him and tossing the leadrope over his head, then unwinding it and tossing it the other way. He didn’t seem head shy, which assured Lori all was not lost with this horse, so she even went up to him at the end and simply rubbed on the colt’s face for a few minutes, showing him how pleasurable it was to be near a human.
He was calm and submissive as she led him away and she decided to turn him out in the outdoor ring for the afternoon so he got a bit of fresh air in his lungs. The first of October had started quite cold, but by the time she took his halter off and released him to roll in the sand, it had warmed to a perfect temperature for working horses and Lori impulsively grabbed Piper’s tack, called her best friend over to the gate, and went for a ride.
**********
It had been a few days since Noel had left Lori, but he wondered about her often. There was no reason he could think of to call her, but he wanted to hear her voice again. He had been debating how obvious it would be to phone her up on the first of October with the pretence that he was just checking in to make sure the cougar hadn’t come back, but then shook his head ruefully.
How many times had he assured her that last week that the cougar wouldn’t be back? And now he was going to use that as the excuse for why he was calling? He laughed at himself and ran a hand through his wavy black hair.
Well, what else was there? he wondered as he settled onto the couch in Jeret’s apartment, resting his booted feet on the milk crates they used
as a coffee table. Should he ask if she’d had any dreams or other indications from the kittens that messages were coming through? No, asking her that would be just as transparent, since he had told her to journal her experiences and to phone him if anything major came up.
She hadn’t phoned so nothing major had come up. Let it go, Noel, he told himself. When the timing was right to speak with her, he would. He knew with utter clarity that they would all have time together again – sometimes it was better for others to orchestrate it. Especially when you’re being so needy, he chastised himself with a grin.
To distract himself, he turned to the book he had recently found on one of his ancestors and began paging through it. He knew most of the story of Tecumseh already – the noble Shawnee leader, who had taken up his brother’s prophetic vision in uniting all the First Nations against the white man, but had been killed during the War of 1812 without realizing his dream. He had forgotten that Tecumseh had been killed on October 5th – the anniversary of his death was only a few days away. Noel briefly toyed with the idea of going to the site of the battle in commemoration but then dismissed it. Jeret needed his help at the zoo this week and Moraviantown was too far away to get back in one day.
Noel flipped back to the beginning and began reading in earnest, wondering if there would be messages here for him, as well. Just because a story was well-known didn’t mean there were things yet to be discovered in it – especially when a black panther had made its presence seriously known in his life since the last time he did research on his forefather. These days, Noel was always conscious of remaining open and receptive to messages. They seemed to come at him from a thousand different directions.
Jeret came in as he was finishing Chapter 2 and hung his jean jacket by the front door with a “hey” in greeting. Noel answered back the same way and then laughed as Jeret tipped his head and read the title of the book Noel held.
“Tecumseh?” he asked with a smile. “A little light reading this afternoon?”
Noel nodded in the affirmative. “You could say that.”
“You’re not going to expect us to go out and start scalping people, are you?” he asked playfully in his deep bass voice. “Is this all some big cult to reclaim North America for yourselves?”
Noel raised his eyebrows up and down in jest. “You never know, do you? I see I’ll have to brainwash you a bit more before I can introduce the subject, though.”
Jeret laughed and sat down in a chair across from Noel. “Good luck with that,” he stated with a grin.
“Mmm,” Noel answered. “Of course, there’s probably just as much white blood coursing through my veins now as there is red so I don’t know where that leaves me.”
Jeret barked out another laugh. “It leaves you a mutt, like the rest of us.”
“I suppose,” Noel concurred. “I kind of like the sounds of that, though.” Noel held the book up in the air. “I forgot he died on October 5th – I was thinking I should maybe do something to honour him in some way, but I don’t know what.”
Jeret grinned. “How about a Tecumseh Memorial party?”
Noel rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Any excuse for a party, eh, Jeret? You never stop, do you?”
Jeret winked at him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know me well enough by now, Noel, than to ask such a silly question. But seriously. Why don’t we get some people together and give ol’ Tecumseh a tip of the hat? The 5th is a Saturday – it’s perfect.”
Noel considered then shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t mind. Who would you invite?”
Jeret looked over at Noel. “That depends on how many people you want over and what you plan to talk about. You know, that snow leopard Min didn’t eat today. The zoo vets have told me to keep an eye on her – they say she’s ‘not acting like herself.’ Do you think we should invite Lori and Lynta over and check in with them? Maybe see if they’re getting any messages?”
Noel let the wave of adrenaline surge through him before answering. “We could do that.”
**********
Lori handed Jeret her zip-up hoodie as she came into his apartment and took a deep breath.
“Oh, my gosh,” she exclaimed. “Something smells wonderful!”
Lynta smiled in answer from the kitchen and Lori made her way over to the tall Senegalese woman while Jeret took her coat to throw on his bed, along with the others. “Is that you making supper, Lynta?” she asked as she gave her a hug.
“Yes,” Lynta answered with a musical laugh. “I’ve taken over Jeret’s kitchen.”
“Well, I have a feeling he doesn’t mind. I know I don’t.” She walked over to the stove and took another deep breath of the steam rising from a covered pot. “What is that?”
“Ah,” Lynta said, like a magician about to reveal a trick. “This is a Moroccan dish I used to have a lot when I was home. It’s made with sweet potatoes, bulgur wheat, tomatoes, chickpeas and a variety of spices; very easy to make and full of flavour.”
“Well if it tastes as delicious as it smells, I’m going to want the recipe,” Lori avowed.
She caught movement at the end of the counter from the corner of her eye and turned to see Noel had come into the kitchen. He was wearing blue jeans and an untucked black denim shirt that complimented his hair and eyes dramatically. She was surprised by the joy that flooded through her upon seeing him again, but didn’t question it. Instead she walked up to him and gave him a deep hug.
“Hey, you,” she murmured as she pressed close to him.
“Hey,” he answered back, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” She drew away, now feeling awkward, and turned to include Lynta in the conversation again.
“Were you able to find someone to look after the horses, Lori?” Lynta asked. “I know Jeret had mentioned that you normally feed them around this time.”
“I did, yes. Shannon volunteered to come over and get them squared away for the night, so there’s no rush to get back.”
“Excellent,” Jeret interjected, coming up behind Noel. “Can I get you something to drink, Lori? There’s probably more space in the living room, too, if you guys want to come sit down.”
The group moved to the eclectic mix of couches and chairs Jeret had assembled since moving out to live on his own a couple of years previous; Noel settled in next to Lori on the couch while Jeret took a wingback chair on Noel’s right side and Lynta perched on a barstool near the kitchen in case she had to check on things as they talked.
Lori sat bemused on the couch, a glass of cranberry juice and soda water in her hand, and listened to the easy banter of her new friends. She felt like she had known them a long, long time – the conversation was easy and she felt more than included as they asked about the cats and any messages that might be coming through.
That part was still surreal to her and unfortunately she didn’t have much to report, other than that her hair had again gone grey after dying it – just as Noel had predicted.
Jeret came out of his chair, bent over her, and looked at her scalp with a grunt. “I hate to tell you this, but you’ve got another patch starting up here, too.”
He touched the crown of her head lightly and she groaned. “Are you guys sure about this? I mean...Shannon just thinks it’s because I’ve gone through some traumatic stuff in the past year.”
Jeret laughed as he sat back down and grabbed one of his small, rounded ears. “You think this is due to trauma, do you?” He turned around impulsively and reached up to grab a picture on a shelf above his head. “This is what I looked like two years ago.”
Lori gasped as she looked at the photo. While the Jeret in the picture had a little more baby fat on his face and a few less tattoos, his ears were noticeably larger than the man seated in front of Lori. She looked up at him again in astonishment, comparing him to the photo.
“That’s incredible,” sh
e breathed.
“Yeah,” he said. “I just wish I knew why.”
“Lynta, Lori – you haven’t had any dreams lately that might be an indication of what’s going on?” Noel asked. “Or have you met anyone that might be...influenced...by cats like us?”
Lori shook her head mutely, but Lynta cleared her throat and spoke. “Nothing like that Noel, but I did have another fainting spell this week.”
“What? Are you alright?” he asked with concern.
Lori turned a bewildered look on Jeret and they leaned in to each other so that Jeret could answer the unspoken question while Noel and Lynta continued their conversation across Lori’s back.
“Lynta has been prone to fainting spells since she was a child,” he said softly. “Her village used to regard it as a sign of good luck: that she was travelling corporally to another realm on their behalf. Nobody bothered to see if she had any health issues, of course.”
Lori glanced at Lynta, who was still talking to Noel, then cocked her head at Jeret. “Corporally?”
“Out of body experience,” Jeret amplified. “They said she used to ‘set her body down’ and her soul would travel great distances. She could never remember what happened when she blacked out, but she said the sensation of returning was always like a carbonated soda being poured into a glass. It’s pretty wild stuff.”
Jeret paused to listen to them for a moment then looked at Lori again. “She hadn’t fainted for about ten years, she said, but since the Lynx came to her, she’s been fainting again with regularity. But she still doesn’t remember anything when she wakes up.”
“That’s creepy,” Lori said. “Has she been checked by a doctor?”
Jeret nodded. “They can’t find a thing,” he answered with a shrug.
**********
The food was just as good as it smelled and the group toasted Lynta at the end with cups of hot tea held aloft in salute. She laughed in embarrassment and lowered her head to her chest, thanking everyone for their compliments. All four of them pitched in afterwards to clean up and wash the dishes and soon they were able to resume their seats in the living room.
