“She would have to be destroyed. Most likely.”
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said through the spreading ache in my throat.
I watched as the cast was sliced and sawed away and her sweaty, irritated leg was revealed. There was a slight lump on the cannon bone where the fracture had been. I looked away quickly.
When the vet was gone, I let Elle out in the smallest paddock I had. She was sensible. She moved around at a walk, watching everything around her, and she ate grass. I should have felt some kind of happiness. She was alive, and she could have been dead in the ground all these months. But I felt the loss of the most vital part of Eloise. I felt responsible.
Mind wheeling, I went into the house. I started tearing through the piles. What I was looking for was buried deep. Amber padded toward me, concern set on her face.
“Eloise is out in the small paddock,” I said to her. “Watch her for me. Bring her in if she does anything stupid.”
“So she’s okay?”
“Yes, for living and probably riding. Not for polo.” I bit the inside of my lip. “I have to go talk to Wilson.”
“Okay.” Amber walked away. I heard her turn and look back a couple times.
Finally, I found what I needed. It was a tape of that final match. It was all on here. I had never watched it, but I knew why I’d kept it around.
I drove to the LPC with that tape on the passenger seat. The pain was getting less abstract all the time.
Wilson met me out in the parking lot. I knew by his face that he knew. I felt a rush of gratitude toward Amber. I handed Wilson the tape, and followed him into his office. I felt myself unraveling.
“Wilson,” I said desperately. “I need you to tell me what I should have done.”
He stuck the tape in and sat down at his desk. He muted the sound, and I paced the edge of the room. I heard Wilson hit fast forward, and my heart whirred along with the VCR.
I didn’t let my eyes dart to the screen as the last few minutes played out. Wilson shut down the TV and turned to me. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Cavanaugh. You had that mare stopped and your weight off her almost the moment it happened. Your riding was exemplary that day.”
I knew what he was saying, and the words should have made an impact. But they didn’t. “She broke down, Wilson. And she hasn’t healed right. Elle gave me everything she had. She made me, Wilson. And I failed her.”
Wilson held steady. He kept his eyes on me. “You didn’t break her leg, Cavanaugh. The way she stepped broke her leg. The way the ground was broke her leg. This is a hard sport. It asks a lot of a horse, and sometimes these things happen to a good horse. Not just on a polo field. In pastures and paddocks too.”
He stepped forward and put his hand over my arm. “You can’t tell me she didn’t love it, Cavanaugh. That horse is a fighter. She never would have chosen differently.”
I nodded, and turned for the door.
“Cavanaugh.”
I looked back at Wilson.
“That mare didn’t make you,” he said.
I kept moving. That’s where you’re wrong. And I felt tears on my face for the first time that day.
Wilson
The mare looked hunted. Shut in the stall, she was quiet, like she wasn’t there. I’d opened the door, mostly to make sure she was still upright. I shut it fast. She came at me with her mouth open and her body poised to kill. There was fear in her somewhere, but she’d learned she couldn’t run from humans or the things they did to her. So now she fought, and it worked for her.
I went down the aisle, deep in my mind. Maybe she needed to get turned out for a while. To just be a horse. Pretty hard to turn out a horse that violent, though. Pretty impossible. Maybe she just needed a bullet. I shook my head, cursing out the idiot who made her like this. Such a nice mare, too. Such a goddamn shame.
Solly was stooped over the coffeepot. He looked up at me. “Did ya get a look at Eloise?”
“Barely.” I reached for the cup as he handed it to me. “Worst ten dollars I ever spent.” I took a burning sip and stared at the wall.
Cavanaugh shifted at the edge of the room. I hadn’t noticed him there. “What are you going to do with her?” He asked.
I let my eyes close for a moment. “I don’t know, Cavanaugh. Not much I can do.”
I walked out of the room, feeling the kid’s eyes on me.
Later in the office, I heard someone rap the door lightly. “Come in,” I said, resigned.
Cavanaugh stepped into the office. His face looked solemn. It was easy to forget he was just a kid. There was a tragic depth in his eyes.
“I’d like to buy Eloise,” he said.
I had to take a moment to confirm what he’d said in my head. “You want to buy Eloise?”
“Yes,” he said strongly.
I leaned back in my chair, then forward. “How can you pay the board? You’re practically living on air as it is.”
Cavanaugh didn’t look away. “I’ll get by.”
I looked down at the desk. This was insane. I couldn’t sell that horse to a kid. Why would he even ask? The kid didn’t even know how to ride. The horse was homicidal.
“If you really want the mare, you can have her for what I paid,” I heard myself say.
He let out a sharp breath. “Thank you, sir.” He reached across the desk and shook my hand. His grip was strong. My hand flopped at the end of my wrist.
“I should really have your parents sign a release,” I mumbled. “They’ll sue me right into the ground when that horse kills you.”
Cavanaugh’s face went hard. The veins in his neck stood out. “My….they don’t care what happens to me. I’ve been here six months. Have you seen or heard from them?”
Wordlessly I shook my head.
He pulled a five and some singles out of his pocket and set the faded bills on the desk. Then he was gone.
Things went on without much difference. Cavanaugh worked every minute I gave him and somehow paid all of Eloise’s bills. He started looking dead on his feet, and I found myself leaving more food in the barn fridge.
Eventually I left the stable on an errand and came back midday. I found Eloise in the crossties with Cavanaugh at her shoulder. She tensed when she saw me and her ears snapped back. The mouth opened.
Cavanaugh glanced at her. “Easy, Elle,” he said, voice soft and low.
Eloise quieted. She was still braced, but the violence ebbed.
I kept walking to the office, but I couldn’t concentrate on paperwork. After a while I got up and went to the arena.
Eloise was cantering around the ring, head up, eyes alert. Cavanaugh’s hand was light on the reins. There was a beat-up mallet in his right hand. I watched him practice the shots, even fairly advanced ones. He looked like he belonged.
The mare sped up across the arena, meeting the ball where it lay. With Eloise over the ball, each of her legs in the air, Cavanaugh swung his mallet through the narrow space under her hooves. It cracked into the ball, which cut across the ring. Eloise wheeled to face the ball again. She was energized. She had the drive again.
I shook myself hard and hurried off before the kid could see me watching. Solly was right in the way. He seemed to know what I’d seen.
I quickened my step. I wanted to shake him off. The old man kept right up.
“How about Cavanaugh, eh?”
I stared ahead.
“I know you saw,” Solly panted.
I slowed my pace a little. “Yes, I saw. Very nice.”
“Bullshit. Don’t give me that, Wilson. You know damn well what he is.”
I stopped walking. Of course I knew.
Solly seized on my show of weakness. “He’s had no formal training, either. I mean, I taught him the basics, I told him the shots. But this…the way he picks things up…the kid’s brilliant, Wilson.”
I turned sharply, so I faced him head on. “Don’t tell him that, Solly. Don’t tell him anything.”
The old man looked at me l
ike I’d stabbed him.
I looked away from his hurt face. “Don’t get his hopes up, Solly. Please. He can barely feed himself on what he’s making and still pay board.” I started walking again.
Solly doggedly pursued me. “So it’ll be hard. You really think he shouldn’t try? Eloise didn’t kill him, and she’s the worst I’ve seen a horse get. If he can fix horses, well, there’s a lot out there that need fixin’.”
Solly pressed on. “Remember that hawk-wild three year old we found out in that field? Would’ve made a nice pony, right? But she was too crazy and you passed. Went for meat.”
I needed to sit down and just hold my head for a while. “What if he gets killed by some horse, Solly? How am I supposed to live with that?”
Solly patted my shoulder. “Just give him a choice, Wilson. You just see what happens.”
I sat down with Cavanaugh a few days later. “You have something,” I said. “If you work at it, you could be great. But you’ll need money. This sport doesn’t come cheap. I can employ you as a trainer, for special cases.” I looked into the air beside him. “It will be dangerous. The horses you get will be real bad. Lost causes. If you can get them going okay, they’ll get handed off to another trainer who’ll make something of them.”
I had to look at him, then. I had to look at the kid, because I knew I was playing with his life here.
He looked hungry, and not just in that half-starved way. He looked like he didn’t know fear, at least not the physical kind.
“Okay,” he said to me. “I’ll do it. I‘ll do anything it takes.” He made the choice. A life of hard, remarkable living over a slow, safe burnout.
I got up to leave his room. With my hand on the door, I looked down at him sitting on the bed. “Are you afraid?” I asked without thinking.
He looked up at me. He looked like a kid in that moment. “Yeah.”
“Good,” I said. “Might come in handy.”
Lawrence
The sun was piercing my window, warming up the room with the glint of gold. It was six AM. My internal clock still worked. I just wanted to sleep and maybe never wake up.
I pulled myself out of the warmth and comfort of my bed and put on a few clothes. Amber’s faint snoring accompanied my footsteps as I walked through the house. I opened the door and closed it softly behind me. The morning air was cool and I could feel it entering my lungs. I shivered and rounded my shoulders against the oncoming chill.
Standing in his paddock, Harry saw me on my way to the barn. His hooves slapped the ground as he took off in a fast canter. His head snaked back and forth as he ran the fence line, but when I left his sight, his defiant hoof beats turned frantic.
I stepped into the barn, and four heads reached out of their stalls, mouths open as the horses whinnied with their usual enthusiasm. I walked past Soiree’s refined golden head, the old grey mare’s hollowed white face, and the polo ponies’ slightly convex, businesslike profiles to the feed room. Vegas was the only one really getting grain. He was on several quarts of PerforMax a day while the others just got their vitamin pellets. The old grey mare had hers with watered down alfalfa cubes.
Once the chewing stopped, I turned the horses out. Vegas went out with Harry, who barreled into him, whickering deep in his throat. When my back was turned, I heard the dull thud of his hoof landing in Vegas’ side.
Elle was waiting for me when I went back in the barn. Her every muscle was poised and her face was eager. She thrust her head into the halter when I held it out for her, and strode out happily at my shoulder, her whole body swinging. When she was free, she circled her little paddock a few times, eyes wide open. Then she dropped her head to the grass.
I turned away. I walked back into the barn and gave Soiree and the old grey mare their first feeding of hay, and I cleaned around them as they ate. When all the stalls were done, I headed back to the house. The old grey mare’s head was over her door. She was staring me down. Her ears were back. She glanced pointedly in the direction of outside.
“You can go out later, when Elle comes back in,” I said to her. “Soiree needs someone to stay in with her.”
The mare turned, and I was staring at the tufts of hair at the top of her tail instead.
Back in the house, I glanced around the kitchen, my eyes skimming over all the surfaces, not really focusing on anything. I wasn’t hungry. In the bathroom, I saw my face in the mirror. I looked how I felt. I was dull-eyed, listless. There were rings under my eyes, even though I’d been sleeping.
My muscles felt slack and battered. I felt doughy and useless, shuffling over the floor. I was physically drained. It was hard to hold up my head. It was hard to think.
Amber hadn’t risen yet. I took another long look around the house, walked straight to my bedroom, and succumbed to the dull pressure in my head.
Eventually I woke up again. The quick-changing music and blather of the TV was coming through the wall.
I stepped out into the main room. The house was full of light. Amber was leaning over the arm of the couch, trying to see the TV through the glare. I opened a cabinet and pulled out the cereal box. I chewed through a few handfuls, not really tasting the creamy filling or the gritty dark chocolate.
Amber shut down the TV. Then she threw the remote down on the sofa so hard it bounced onto the floor. Without picking it back up, she stomped up to me. “Enough. You have got to stop this…this pathetic kick you’re on. I don’t like it. I hate it. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Sorry,” I said, my voice quiet.
Amber stared at me. She looked maybe an inch away from throttling me. “I get that you’re depressed. I get it. But you’re just…you’re rotting. I swear to God, about the only thing that’s getting you out of bed at all are those horses.”
I said nothing. I had nothing to say.
Amber’s hands went to her head. She twisted a lock of hair mercilessly. “This place you’re in…isn’t good. I mean, you’re not doing anything! You’re barely even eating. I want you back the way you were. Please. Even though you’ve been an asshole, and kind of psycho lately, I don’t care. I’d take anything over this. So I want you to go screw some girl, or get in a fistfight, or eat a whole fucking two-tier wedding cake, or whatever you have to do to get yourself out of this pathetic sinkhole.”
I stared at her. “So you’re saying you want me to go do what you’ve been telling me not to do?”
“Nothing would make me happier.” Amber looked at me, her face shockingly tender. “I just want you to feel better.”
“Thanks, Amber. That means a lot.” I glanced at the couch. “So what’s on TV today?”
“Nothing. Fucking soaps, fucking fishing shows. Fucking archeological documentaries.” Amber’s eyes rolled, then snapped onto me. “Wait. Aren’t you supposed to be doing something? Like Mandy, for instance?”
“I can’t right now, Amber. Sorry. I’m not a machine.”
Her eyes bulged. “Since when?”
“Amber,” I said wearily. “I’m tired. I’m really, really tired. Right now I don’t want to do anything. I don’t even want to be conscious. Right now I just want to wallow. Please just let me wallow.”
That reduced Amber to mouth gaping. “Fine,” She finally managed, and stormed off.
I sank into the couch, and flipped through the channels. I reluctantly settled on the archeological documentary, and my head got progressively heavier as the narrator’s monotonic voice went on.
A vehicle drove up to the house. It was the one I’d started listening for. I snapped awake. I was off the couch in a second and striding boldly to the door. I glanced back to see Amber staring at me with considerable suspicion and alarm. I was beyond caring what she thought.
I tried to tone down my desperation and eagerness as I walked through the door. I shortened my stride, and forced myself to slow down. Play it cool. Play. It. Cool. I hoped I at least looked cool on the outside. Inside my heart was ricocheting around my chest cavity. I nearly fell down t
he front steps.
She was there, and I wanted her there. I never wanted her not there. But I was fucking terrified.
“Hi,” Erica said. Her smile was unassuming and absolutely genuine.
“Hi.” I tried to bury my hands in my pockets, and they got stuck halfway. Damn it, I knew I should never have put these in the dryer.
Neither of us seemed to be getting past “hi”. My thoughts were all over the place. I grasped the first complete sentence I found and went with it. “So did you get to a show last weekend?”
She grinned. “Yep. My horse was an ass, but I brought Assault and he behaved himself very well. And he won a low jumper class.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. I even got an offer for him, but I’m not ready to move him along just yet.”
Erica looked around the yard, and I saw her eyes fall on Eloise. She turned to me, her face happy and excited. “She’s out of jail! That’s so awesome.”
“Yeah. It is.” I heard the words waver a little. I didn’t know how long I was going to be able to hold it together.
Erica’s face fell a bit. Her forehead creased between her eyes. “Is something wrong?”
I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t dodge the inevitable. I was weak, and looking into her concern and directness, I gave up on my tough charade. “Elle’s leg healed, but because the break was at an angle, the repair was less successful. She’ll be okay, but she won’t be able to…” I had to stop, and I fought to go on.
I saw a flash of realization and pain on Erica’s face. She reached out and softly laid her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Lawrence.”
I couldn’t breathe. I was falling apart. “I know it’s stupid. I mean, she’s alive. But Elle…she isn’t a typical horse. She loves to work. She lived for it. And she’s - she was incredible. I’ll never have a horse like her again.” I could feel myself shaking. “Elle is only eleven. I thought…I just thought we’d have more time.”
Erica took a step toward me, her blue eyes clouded with tears. She reached out to me, I stepped into her arms and before I could even try to stop I was crying into her hair, and even though I really didn’t want to be doing that it felt kind of good in a way.
Training Harry Page 32
