"She won't come over unless you have carrots," Lawrence said dryly. "It's a good thing they're cheap."
I smiled. "She's a lucky horse." I glanced over at Lawrence, who was watching the mare graze, a smile on his mouth. And I melted, right then and there. He saved an old grey mare. He actually spent money on a horse that would never be useful in any way, just because he couldn't walk away and let her die. I couldn't speak, so I just watched the mare stuff her old, sunken-in face until Lawrence broke the silence.
"Should I go get Harry then?" He asked.
I nodded briefly. I still didn't trust that my powers of speech were fully functional.
Harry was evading capture, so after a few minutes of standing around I wandered over to see if I could help. I let myself into the paddock, and Harry walked right up to me. The shocked expression on Lawrence's face was a mirror of my own. "Hi...Harry," I said as I patted his neck. Lawrence tossed the lead shank to me, and I clipped it to Harry's halter, opened the gate and led him through it. Lawrence shut it behind us, and Vegas nickered plaintively as his friend disappeared into the barn.
I was knocking dust off Harry with a stiff brush when Lawrence caught up with me. "Your horse is weird," I said, rolling my eyes.
"He likes you." Lawrence said with a smile. "What's weird about that?"
I didn't have an answer to that. All I could think was, Are you flirting with me?
Lawrence fished a hoof pick from Harry's grooming kit, then ran his hand down Harry's foreleg. Harry presented his hoof, and Lawrence began scraping out all of the dirt, pebbles and assorted other crap that was packed in there.
Nah. Of course not. I went back to brushing Harry. I didn't want to be one of those girls who analyzes everything a guy says, twists it around, and convinces herself that he's actually into her. I had no such delusions about Lawrence.
I had decided to longe Harry in side reins to develop his topline, and also to let him get any ideas he had about bucking, spinning or bolting out of his head. I had no desire to get dumped in front of Lawrence again. I saddled Harry and fastened the side reins to his girth, then adjusted them so there would be a light connection on his mouth to encourage him to round his back and move "on the bit". Too-tight side reins would hold him in an artificial frame and restrict his movement, or make him panic.
I walked him to Lawrence's outdoor arena. The sandy footing had been dragged recently by a tractor; it was soft and even. As I attached the longeline to the longeing cavesson he wore over his bridle, I saw Lawrence leading Vegas to the barn. I hoped he would ride him while I worked Harry; I was eager to see how Vegas moved. The gelding was quite different from the jumpers I rode, but still, he was easy on the eyes. And watching Lawrence ride isn't exactly hard on the eyes, either.
Harry let out an earsplitting whinny as he caught sight of Vegas, bringing my attention back to him. "Let's go to work, Harry," I said. I let the longe line unroll and pointed my whip at Harry's hindquarters. "Walk on."
Harry remained in place, staring at his buddy. "Walk on," I said in a stronger tone of voice. His ear didn't even swivel. I cracked the longe whip, and Harry leapt forward. His white-edged eyes told me he'd forgotten I was even there, and the sudden noise had scared him half to death. He raced around me, panicking at the sound of the stirrups slapping the saddle's leather flaps and the feel of the side reins. I stood calmly, waiting for him to realize he wasn't being chased by a whip-cracking, horse-eating monster.
He was still galloping wild-eyedly when Lawrence led Vegas down from the barn. Upon seeing his friend, Harry put on the brakes immediately and whickered a throaty greeting. I cracked the whip again, and he bolted. Lawrence was watching him, a bemused look on his face. "What's his problem?"
"Apparently he doesn't like loud noises. Or whips. Or both." I sighed. "The equine mind. It's a wonderful thing."
"Maybe he'll get dizzy and fall down." Lawrence sounded almost hopeful.
"I'm the one getting dizzy." I decided to try an experiment, and applied a little pressure to his face with the longe line. "Whoa." Harry stopped at once.
"You're just full of surprises today, Harry," Lawrence said, shaking his head.
"So much for working on his topline." Harry was completely inverted, his head nearly touching the sky.
Lawrence led Vegas into the arena. "Are you still gonna ride that thing?"
"Of course." I squared my shoulders. "I'm not scared of your stupid horse."
He chuckled, and then mounted Vegas in a single, smooth motion. The gelding strode forward at a walk; his stride was impressive. He was reaching for the bit, his neck long and relaxed. Lawrence's arms were extensions of the reins; they flowed with the motion of Vegas' head and neck. I stared at them stupidly for a moment, then turned back to Harry so I could remove his longeing gear.
I mounted Harry from the ground as Lawrence had, but with considerably less style. Harry bounced in place as I found my stirrups, and I held the reins firmly until he resigned himself to standing still. Then I praised him with my voice and allowed him to walk forward. He yanked the reins, fighting to get near Vegas who was trotting on the other side of the arena. I pushed him forward with my legs, keeping him on a small circle. He balked, and I felt his front feet leave the ground. I flung my upper body onto his neck, for once grateful that I was top-heavy. As soon as he came back down, I kicked him forward. This was not a time to worry about Harry's frame or his feelings. Rearing was unacceptable.
Harry lurched into a fast, jarring canter. I emphatically insisted with my aids that he should stay on the circle. He emphatically insisted that he needed to be with Vegas. After ten times around the circle, it felt as though he'd given in, so I relaxed a bit on his back. Immediately, he launched himself into a gallop and turned off the circle. I grabbed a handful of his mane with one hand and yanked the other rein hard. Harry nearly sat down. I released him immediately, and he stood there like the most reliable horse in the world. "I don't trust you for one second, you little shit," I said as I patted him.
I stole a glance at Vegas. He was cantering in a beautifully uphill balance, eyes bright and ears attentive. He came to a square halt at an invisible signal from Lawrence, and then sprang back into canter. I sat there, momentarily overwhelmed at the prospect of turning Harry into Vegas. How many years would that take? Would we ever succeed?
I asked Harry to walk, giving him a fairly light rein. Encouraged by his sudden obedience, I closed my calves against his sides and he began trotting. I didn't force him to remain on the hated circle, but instead rode him through all the figures I could think of - figure eights, serpentines, broken lines and shallow loops. Given something interesting to do, Harry conceded to my agenda and behaved beautifully. I started working on transitions - trot to canter, canter to walk, walk to canter. Harry was very light to the aids when he wanted to be.
Then I started to test his newfound goodness. I trotted him toward Vegas, insisting he keep a steady rhythm. Then I asked him to move away from his friend. If he balked, I turned him onto a circle. He quickly figured out that he could avoid the boring circle torture if he just did what I told him to do. When I got him to move both toward and away from Vegas without changing pace, I halted him, exclaimed "good boy" and jumped off.
Lawrence cantered up on Vegas. The gelding grew even more elevated as he approached. I saw Lawrence give a half halt, and Vegas passaged instead of trotting. Lawrence shook his head. "Vegas, quit showing off." He halted the gelding. "Good job getting the little shit to listen to you."
I rolled my eyes, but inside I thrilled at the praise. "Do you still think we can turn him into a polo pony?"
"Sure." Lawrence looked unconcerned. "I like a horse that questions things. They're not easy, but if you work at it, you can have a highly intelligent, fine-tuned machine on your hands. There's a brilliant athlete hiding in that combative little shit. I know there is."
Just then, Harry nuzzled my arm. "You can be a sweet little thing when you put your mind to it," I sai
d to him.
Then his teeth closed on my wrist, and I punched him in the nose.
Lawrence
I picked up my saddle and set it on Vegas' back. It was maybe older than I was, but it had the dull shine of care and use. I stood back to eyeball the fit. It looked like it fit him well enough, though the fit would improve as the gelding's back muscles strengthened. Vegas had gotten a couple months off, and it was time to get him back to work. I wanted to take him into the hay field next to my property and gallop him, but "proceed with caution" was the name of the conditioning game.
"The arena awaits," I said to him as I tightened his girth. Vegas sighed.
"Why don't you just do your conditioning in the field?" was Amber's question after I'd whined to her about being stuck in the arena.
"Because I don't trust myself to not, you know, accidentally let Vegas rip the reins out of my hands and gallop into the next county," was my answer.
"You're such a paragon of self-control, Lawrence," she sniffed.
"Thank you," I said. "I think. What's a paragon? I'm a high-school dropout, remember."
"Go look it up," she replied bluntly.
I checked Vegas' legs once more before wrapping them. All was well. His mystery lameness had vanished, and although he enjoyed playing with Harry in their shared paddock, Vegas, like Elle, was a horse that thrived on work. He opened his mouth for the bit and stood quietly as I fastened the bridle's throatlatch and noseband, but his eagerness was apparent.
I took a step back to admire him, and a sudden, vivid memory of one hot Florida night flooded my mind before I could stop it.
It was after midnight, and sleep was the farthest thing from my mind. I snuck down to the stables, where the horses' sleepy gazes greeted me. Most of them looked hopeful, as if I might throw them another flake of hay. Eloise was alert and ready as I walked to her stall. I spoke to her softly, then fastened a set of reins to her halter. She waited as I saddled the horse who I would name Vegas, then stood as I climbed onto her bare back. Holding both their reins, I rode Elle to Marla's nearby apartment, Vegas walking obediently by her side. I halted the mare, throwing a pebble against Marla's window, and she appeared like a shameless and exquisite goddess and rolled her eyes at me. I saw her disappear, then her door opened and she stepped onto the lawn. "I suppose you expect me to ride with you," she said in a disapproving tone. Her long, wild hair swirled in the warm breeze, and I could tell her apparent reluctance was just part of the game.
"I saddled him just for you." Vegas stood like a soldier. He even had a soldier's haircut.
"You're playing the Pieres boys tomorrow." Marla walked over to Vegas, reaching out to stroke him.
The heat I felt could no longer be blamed on the atmosphere. "We won't go fast," I said breathlessly.
"Fine." Marla smiled and swung into Vegas' saddle before I could offer to give her a leg up. Then we galloped back to the stable together, at a pace I insisted wasn't fast.
I sighed. Vegas raised his front hoof, threatening to paw. He was ready to get going. "Vegas," I said to him, "you're lucky to be a horse." I clucked to him, and we headed for the door. I noticed the helmet I'd bought hanging just inside the tack room. Might as well put that on, I guess. I grabbed it as I walked past and shoved it onto my head, feeling defeated.
Harry was standing in the arena, looking almost respectable with all his gear on. Quickly he screeched out a whinny when he saw Vegas, ignoring Erica completely. A crack of the longe whip got his attention. It also sent him into panic mode. Vegas walked beside me, looking a bit unnerved (or maybe just embarrassed) by his stable mate’s behavior. Erica stood dead center in the frantic circle Harry was making, calm and focused. Damn, she's determined. I smiled slightly, an act which lifted me a few centimeters out of the hole of depression I'd sunk into.
I got to the arena, where I quickly threw my leg over Vegas and settled into the saddle. I hadn't ridden in months except for the occasional battle with Harry, so I felt a twinge of excitement as I asked Vegas to walk on. The gelding was still a quality horse. He marched across the arena, my leg "breathing" against his side to determine his speed or bend. A flick of the rein, and he would take one step sideways or whip around in a 180 degree turn, depending on how I asked and what the circumstances were. I rode a turn on the haunches, which Vegas executed perfectly. A grin had settled on my face that you couldn't rip off.
This, I remembered, was why I rode. This was why I toiled for years as a lowly stable hand, then spent countless hours training horses whose potential was greatly overwhelmed by their problems. Horses that bucked with lethal power and precision. Horses that reared and flipped over backwards. Horses that bolted out of fear, habit, or loathing of humans and their demands. I did it all because no matter how much I hurt, no matter how badly my twisted mess of a life sucked, there were horses like Vegas out there. My problems faded into white noise, and I couldn't hear it over Vegas' hoof beats.
Vegas bounced into a trot at my urging. His gaits were smooth but not expressionless. I sat up, thought the word "canter" and he sprang into the faster gait. Vegas' canter was his strongest gait. Lead changes were effortless for him. I rode him through basic figures, asking for a flying change with every change of direction. He stayed off his forehand and kept a strong rhythm.
I glanced at Harry just in time to see him rear up. He only made it a couple feet off the ground before Erica flung herself onto his neck, forcing him back down to earth. Then she drove him forward so he couldn't think about doing it again. He was fighting with everything he had to go visit Vegas, but she kept him in line. Impressive. Those jumpers she rides must be really rank. Harry tried bolting, and she quickly set him on his haunches. I watched for a few more minutes, but the rodeo appeared to be over. Harry had resigned himself to his fate and was showing off his good side. His gaits weren't as buttery and ideal as Vegas', but he was good on his feet.
I saw Erica hop off Harry, and turned Vegas toward them. Apparently the gelding had tuned into my drastically improved mood, or he was excited to be near his buddy, because his canter grew even more elevated. I half halted Vegas, and he began to float over the ground. "Vegas, quit showing off," I said half-heartedly. Having a horse who could spontaneously perform high-level dressage movements could come in handy when I wanted to impress people. Or girls.
Harry decided to test the limits of human tolerance one last time. Erica swiftly punched him, and he stared at her with a wounded expression. I nearly fell off Vegas, I laughed so hard.
We led the geldings back into the barn so we could remove their tack. Soiree stuck her head out of her stall and whickered. Harry and Vegas greeted her enthusiastically, but while Vegas responded to a quick "shut up" from me, Harry kept making an ass of himself until I grabbed a crop and whacked his shoulder. He stood sullenly as Erica slipped off the bridle and replaced it with his halter. "Who is that?" she asked, looking interested. "She's a little out of place in a polo barn."
"That's Soiree," I answered. "She's an ex-racehorse, and yeah, she is a little big. I'm just stabling her for a friend."
"She's gorgeous." Erica was staring at Soiree. The mare often had that effect on people.
I smiled wryly. "Yeah, she's a pretty invalid."
Erica looked concerned. "What's wrong with her?"
"Just a stress fracture. She was pushed too hard, too fast. So she'll spend the next few months in a stall while the bone heals."
"How's she handling the confinement?"
"She hasn't been acting out at all. She has Eloise across the aisle, and of course I take time out to pet her, which she loves." I smiled at the filly, who was looking hopefully in our direction.
"Can you hold him a minute?" Erica handed Harry's lead shank to me. I took it from her, and she walked across the aisle to Soiree's stall. The filly stretched out her neck to sniff Erica's hand. "Hey, Soiree," she said softly. The filly thrust her head into Erica's outstretched arms, sighing contentedly. Erica stared at me. "This is a racehorse?"
"I can honestly say she is, or was. I saw her at the track. Still has drugs in her system, too."
"Wow." Erica glanced down at Soiree, who had closed her eyes in rapture. "You couldn't ask for a nicer horse."
"Well, that's why I bought her off the killers."
Erica's eyes widened, and she let the filly's head slip from her grasp. Soiree awoke at once and pushed Erica lightly with her nose. "Someone sold this horse by the pound?"
"Yeah. A real asshole of a race trainer ran her into the ground, then shipped her. My friend Amber is one of his exercise riders. That's how she wound up here."
Erica shook her head. "That's just...words fail me." She stroked Soiree's face. "But now she gets to reach her potential."
"Yeah, once she recovers, I'll start some light training."
"What does Amber plan to do with her?"
"Amber doesn't have the money to keep a horse, so once Soiree gets back into shape, I'll be putting her up for sale."
"Oh." Erica smiled. "That's awfully nice of you to do all that for free."
"Well, I might break even on the sale." I snorted. "And Soiree might be so grateful that she shrinks about six inches and grows a little more bone, and then I'd have a nice polo prospect."
Erica laughed. "I'm sure she'll find her niche. That temperament will take her far. In fact, I'd like to take a look at her once she recovers."
"Great." I smiled, both from the realization that I might not have to sell Soiree to a stranger, and for other reasons that I couldn't quite name. Quite suddenly, I was just happy. It's probably just afterglow from riding Vegas...oh, right, Vegas. I had all but forgotten about the two horses I was holding. "We'd better take care of these two," I said.
Erica gave Soiree one last pat and then took Harry from me. "Sorry, Harry," she apologized, and took him to the cross ties. I dropped Vegas' lead shank, and he stood as I removed his tack and curried away the saddle marks. Harry seemed to be enjoying his grooming session. He leaned into Erica's brushstrokes and wiggled his lip.
Training Harry Page 9
