I stepped closer to inspect him. In the better light I could see his chest was dark with sweat. “He’s probably been running,” I said. “There’s a front moving in. Everybody’s kind of jazzed up.”
“This kind of weather does tend to have that effect,” Erica agreed. She reached for a curry and began massaging Harry’s coat in circles. She wore a sweatshirt, and I stared at the back of her neck for an indecent amount of time before I came to my senses and grabbed a brush.
When Harry was brushed off I bent down to check his feet. He wasn’t that cooperative about standing on three legs, but his feet were fairly clean anyway. I set a pad on his back and he jumped a little at the feel of it. I snorted. “Try paying attention,” I said to him.
I placed the saddle on his back gently, and buckled the girth on one side. Harry kept moving around, causing the saddle to slide out of place. His restlessness was getting on my nerves. “Stand,” I said sharply. Harry froze, and Erica slid the saddle back behind his shoulders once more. I pulled the girth snug a moment later.
I left Harry standing in the cross ties and leaned over to pick up the helmet. I pressed it onto my head, catching Erica’s eye as I did so. It wasn’t a bad idea, probably, to protect my head, and it seemed to make her happy. So I did it, at least when she was around, even though it made me feel closer to death every time I relented and put the thing on.
Erica picked up Harry’s bridle and unhooked the cross ties, bringing the reins over his head and slipping off the halter. Harry opened his mouth for the bit and chewed it noisily. I waited until Erica had gotten all the straps fastened and then I stepped in and tightened the girth. I had to work to get it on the usual holes.
“Where do you want to work him?” Erica said.
I glanced out the door at the end of the aisle. The sky was a little darker, but I didn’t see any lightning yet. “We’ll go outside for now,” I decided. “We can always run back in.”
Erica grinned as she walked by my side, and we stepped out into the fading light. My skin prickled with energy. The wind had picked up, and the tree branches shook against it. Harry floated white-eyed beside me.
In the arena, Harry skittered around me, his steps high and short. I pulled him to a halt and mounted up quickly. Harry moved off immediately and I slid my feet into the stirrups. His back felt tight and still underneath me. The reins flopped on each side of his neck, empty. I reached to stroke his neck. He didn’t seem to notice.
I glanced to Erica, almost reflexively. She stood at the rail, her face deep with concentration. “He’s really tense,” she said as I rode past her. “Let’s just try for relaxation tonight. This weather is really getting to him.”
I nodded, and turned Harry off the rail, riding him through a narrow serpentine. He moved stiffly. His usual suppleness was missing from the turns he made. I asked him to trot, and his back dropped out from underneath me. His trot was jarring, almost with an extra lurch. I brought him back to the walk, letting the reins out to the buckle, but he wouldn’t take them. His head twisted off our line of travel, and he stared at the horizon beyond the ring.
All the light was seeping out of the sky as the storm clouds built. Maybe I should take him back inside, I started to think.
I heard the first distant rumble of thunder. Harry stretched off the ground. I could feel the tension filling him, expanding. He stopped moving, twitching as he watched the menacing sky. Another crack of thunder descended on us, and he flinched like I’d cut him across the flank with a whip. He started trotting with rapid, desperate strides. I was frozen. I had never felt anything like this.
The thunder rolled in again, closer now. Harry changed course, trying to escape the noise. The rails started to blur as he built speed. I tried to stop him, but he didn’t know I was there anymore. He kept trotting faster. His panic rose.
A brilliant, searing, twisting bolt of lightning cut through the sullen wedge of grey on the horizon. It went off like a flashbulb and hung before us, etched into our eyes. I felt Harry’s heart thudding deep in my calf muscles.
Harry bolted like he‘d seen death. He turned and ran. I was completely out of control, and so was Harry. All his terror was out in the open now. In seconds we were at the end of the arena. I saw the fence looming, but I had no idea if he did. I knew he probably wouldn’t stop either way.
Just before impact, Harry wheeled away. Thunder surrounded us. Harry’s limbs flailed as he ran on, looking desperately for a way out and finding himself trapped every time. I was a passenger; I could do nothing to help him. His muscles quivered as the time stretched on. His neck and shoulders were soaked through, and white foam stood out against his hair. The storm’s distant progression reduced him to a trembling mass of bone, soft tissue and fear. He stumbled, nearly going down, and scrambled to the fence once again. He lifted a foreleg, pawing the rails. They held. The look I saw in his eye cut straight through my breastbone. Harry kept moving.
The clouds let go, and heavy rain fell all around us. Harry came to a halt. I sat in disbelief for a moment, then jumped down. I staggered when I hit the ground, my legs nearly giving out. I leaned against Harry, gasping for air. Harry’s head was low; his sides heaved. He was shaking.
Erica ran up to me. The rainwater trickled down her face. It was so white it looked like she had drowned. We both stared at Harry for a moment. Then she took charge. She took Harry’s reins and pulled him sharply in the direction of the gate. He looked up at her and he followed her.
We got him to the barn, where I took off his tack and threw a cooler on him. In the safety of the indoor arena, Erica walked him. He stuck close to her side. I went outside to bring the other horses in. They looked a little perturbed that I’d let them get soaked, but none of them had the terrorized look Harry did.
When Harry was finally dry, Erica brought him into the aisle. She sat down, leaning against Elle’s stall, and Harry stood over her, his head nearly in her lap. She stroked his face tenderly.
I slid down the wall beside her. Neither of us said anything for a while.
Erica shook her head. “I’ve never seen a horse freak out like that before.”
I nodded without speaking. I hadn’t either.
“I think this must be what’s holding him back. Something that happened in his past. Obviously he has a problem with storms, but being ridden and handled triggers his fear too.”
“We need to find out what happened to him,” Erica said. She looked at Harry with such love and sadness that I wanted to cry, and also rejoice that she was here with him, because otherwise I would never have known either one of them.
Erica
It was late. It was dark outside, beyond the glow of the barn lights. The oncoming night was cooling everything down. I was sitting on concrete, my clothes cold and wet, lowering the temperature of my skin. I didn’t move. I stayed where I was because I didn’t think Harry should be alone.
Lawrence was right next to me, but I was too chilled to feel his body heat and my mind was too preoccupied to care. Harry’s breath blew on my shoulder. He was looking better. The air was calm outside. The storm had moved on or ceased entirely.
I shifted, and my upper body shivered involuntarily. Lawrence turned to me. He looked concerned. “You’re cold. You should get up.”
“I’m fine. It’s not that cold out.” I shivered again. It really annoyed me. I felt like a freaking damsel in distress.
“Harry’s doing alright. You should go warm up. I’ll stay with him.”
I shook my head. “He likes me better.”
Lawrence snorted quietly. “That is true.”
He unfolded his legs. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched him walk down the aisle, into the night. Harry lifted his head to watch too. He was getting perkier.
I stood up slowly, elbowing the stall door behind me for leverage. I was stiff. My shoulders hunched forward. I felt everything more. The cold. The drenched fabric that touched my skin. The air. The cold.
Lawrence returned. His footsteps descended on me. “Take that off,” he said to me.
I felt an implosion in my core. My racing mind offered a million meanings and motivations.
Eventually I registered the sweatshirt he held out to me. Oh. Just a sweatshirt. Just a fluffy, dry sweatshirt. My frozen cheeks blazed. I felt like an idiot for reading anything into what he said.
“Thanks,” I said stupidly. I turned away from him and worked to peel off my sweatshirt. My fingers had lost their dexterity. Finally I got the job done. I let the sodden garment drop to the floor and took his sweatshirt. I pulled it over my head slowly. It smelled amazing. I wrapped my arms around myself but mostly around the sweatshirt. He was never getting it back from me. I hoped he was okay with that.
“Feel better?” He asked softly.
“Definitely.”
He looked around, his eyes switching course quickly. His hand went to his hair, smoothing it down. The rough but silky texture hadn’t changed in the humidity.
“Harry looks better,” he said finally.
I looked back at Harry. His head was elevated in the normal position. There was a brightness to his eyes. “Yeah, he does. You gonna be okay, Harry?”
“I don’t think I should put him back outside,” Lawrence said. “I’ll bed down the stall next to Vegas.” He started off down the aisle.
In a few minutes he came back with a wheelbarrow full of shavings. He shoveled them into the bare stall and then added a few flakes of hay to the corner. I clucked to Harry and led him into the stall, slipping the halter over his nose. I gave him a final pat and then let myself out of the stall. Harry sniffed Vegas’ nose through the bars. He squealed and struck their shared wall with his hoof. I smiled at his obnoxious, destructive show of spirit. Harry turned his butt toward Vegas and tore into his hay.
Lawrence walked up to the stall, carrying a full water bucket. “Harry’s feeling good enough to do some damage to his stall,” I told him. “I should probably head out.”
He set the bucket down. “Okay. Thanks for staying so long. I know you really helped him.”
“I was glad to,” I said.
I smiled at him and walked away, overriding the desire of every piece of me. I went to my truck and turned the key in the ignition, turning on the heat. The cab warmed and my headlights cut through the darkness. Lawrence’s sweatshirt generated more heat than the air vents could.
Lawrence
I steeled myself for the awkward phone call as I scrolled through my speed dial menu. Gerard Montague. I hit send without hesitating. Hesitations tended to drag on for me.
At least I’ve got his cell number. I would get through to him directly, without having to work my way through secretaries and assistants. It was a slight comfort.
The cheerful little ring went off four or five times in my ear. I braced myself for Montague’s voicemail. I preferred talking to a real person. Voicemail was strangely daunting. There was no back-and-forth; no potential for anything to evolve. It was just you and your stupid message.
“Montague,” a strong voice said.
I jerked, newly alert. “Gerard. Hi. It’s Cavanaugh. Lawrence Cavanaugh.” Please, God, don’t let him have forgotten my name already.
“Cavanaugh. What can I do for you?” It sounded like he remembered me, but he didn’t really know what the hell I was calling him for.
“I was just calling about the horse I bought off you. Harry.”
I heard him let out a gust of air. “I told you. No returns on that one.”
“No,” I said hurriedly. “That’s not why I’m calling. I like him. I really do,” I added on at the last second. “I’m looking to get in touch with any old owners. Or his breeder.”
“Harry’s breeder? You wanna send him some hate mail?” Montague laughed. He sounded highly amused, and kind of bitter.
I sighed. I wasn’t looking forward to this part. Montague was a great horseman, but he didn’t subscribe to the idea that horses had thoughts and feelings.
“I’m trying to find out about Harry’s past. I think there may be a trauma that he’s holding onto. Which is complicating the training process.” I cringed at the words, much as I believed them. I could hear how he would hear them.
Montague was silent for a moment. “A trauma,” he said.
“Yeah.”
More quiet. He thought I was nuts.
I heard him bark out a laugh. “What the hell. I’ll give the database a look.”
I waited with the phone close to my ear. Harry’s breeder could provide great insight, or nothing at all. If his breeder was a super rich foreigner producing hundreds of ponies a year, I was totally screwed. I’d never know what Harry had been seeing that night, what he remembered so sharply. I didn’t know if I could deal with that.
There was a faint rustle on his end, and then Montague spoke up. “You’re in luck. Harry’s US-bred. I bought him off his breeder. The guy has a small breeding operation in Virginia. Real eccentric. Doesn’t have e-mail.” He laughed sharply, like that was the craziest thing ever. “But if you know what to look for, you can find something on his farm. Hang on and I’ll text you the address.”
My heart was thudding, energized. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Montague hung up.
I clutched the phone in my hand. In less than a minute it buzzed, showing the incoming message on its screen. I opened the message. It was right there. A lead. It was big, I knew it somehow.
The next thing I did was call Erica. “I have a lead,” I said. “I’m going to Virginia.”
Erica
The sky was a brilliant, almost startling blue, the cloud formations wispy and thinly scattered. I watched the scenery evolve. I liked this familiar route, and not just for the destination. It took me from auspicious, elegant, moneyed ground to humble, understated farmland. There were remnants of previous forests at the edges of various properties, and even the hay fields had a natural, slightly overgrown feel to them. The land wasn’t quite as tamed here. It wasn’t controlled and manicured down to the very grass. It was less status symbol, more home.
I made the turn onto Lawrence’s drive and parked near the barn. The weathered structure rose steadfastly above me. It had the soul that new, technologically advanced buildings lacked. It had a timeless beauty you didn’t see much anymore.
I stepped onto the concrete, my boots scuffing the hard surface as I walked to the tack room. I pulled Harry’s saddle off the rack and set it out by the cross ties, then turned back for the bridle and brushes.
A figure stood out in my peripheral vision. Amber was standing behind Soiree’s stall door, looking at me. I twitched violently in surprise.
“He’s not here,” Amber said gruffly. “He’s on the road.”
“I know,” I assured her quickly. “He said I could come by and ride Harry anytime, so that’s why I’m here.”
Amber twisted her upper body away from my gaze. She obviously didn’t feel the need to keep talking. I adjusted. I got the rest of Harry’s equipment together and picked up a lead. On my way out of the barn I saw Amber still in the stall, petting Soiree. She must’ve been sitting with her, I realized. Once again I was struck by the contrast. Amber put on an awful front, but she had such a connection with Soiree. It made sense, though. Horses were a lot more perceptive than most people.
I walked to the paddock, unsure of what kind of horse I’d find. Harry was standing with Vegas. He walked right up to the gate when he saw me. I smiled, touched. Harry clearly remembered how I’d been there for him. I rubbed his neck for a while, appreciating the moment, and then snapped the lead to his halter. “I wish you could tell us what happened in your past,” I said to him. I hoped Lawrence had found someone who could.
I brushed Harry slowly. Across the barn in Soiree’s stall, Amber lingered by the door. I felt the urge to communicate but ignored it. If she didn’t want to talk, I wasn’t going to force her.
“You’re such a nice horse,” I said to Ha
rry as I curried his chest. He turned his head as far as the cross ties would allow, his lip twitching. I laughed. “Is that itchy?” I asked him, laughing. “You can’t mutual groom with me, I’m sorry.”
“What happened with him the other night?” Amber asked, so suddenly and unexpectedly that the currycomb almost slipped from my fingers.
“Didn’t Lawrence tell you?” I asked in slight shock.
“No. He was all weird. He was calling people up and Mapquesting stuff, and then he took off.”
I tried to wrap my head around all this. “Sorry. I just thought he would’ve told you, since you’re like…”
“His girlfriend?” Amber stared directly at me, her eyes combative. “I’m not his girlfriend. We’re friends.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I just thought you were, that’s all.” Some little immature section of my brain wanted me to jump up and down, but I reminded it that he was out of my league regardless.
“So are you going to tell me what happened with Harry?” Amber barked. She’d gone all stiff in her spine.
“Sorry,” I said yet again. I got back on track. “There was a storm blowing around, and Harry was agitated, but we didn’t think much of it at first. When he heard the thunder go off for the first time, he flinched, like he’d been beaten, and he started freaking out more and more. When he saw the lightning, he just panicked, and he ran back and forth, trying to get away from the storm, but he kept coming up against the arena fence. He was so scared. I’ve never seen anything like it before. At one point he just started pawing at the fence. It was horrible.”
Amber’s face was completely open now. She looked shocked, and slightly ill. “What do you think happened to him?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head, gazing into Harry’s proud, boldly marked face. “I just hope his breeder has the answer. I think if we know the cause of Harry’s fear, we can help him overcome it. This fear has been holding him back for a long time. He’s terrified of pressure, of confinement. He doesn’t trust easily. He wants to work with us, but he’s too afraid to make any real progress.”
Training Harry Page 36
