by Patsey Gray
Sis, too, dismounted, though she didn’t know why.
Mrs. Ashby said vaguely, “I’ll just sit under my favorite tree here.” Speaking, she parted the willow fronds and disappeared.
Sis stared at the swinging fronds. What was she supposed to do?
When Gull had grown too impatient, she cleared her throat and asked, “Are you all right, Mrs. Ashby?”
“Fine,” the answer floated out.
Silence again. Sis was perspiring. She wished somebody would come along. Then she hoped no one would, for she wouldn’t know what to say. With reins in both hands, she couldn’t even mop her face. Gull was pawing, churning redwood dust and needles. She asked, more loudly than she intended, “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”
At that Mrs. Ashby stepped out. She seemed all right—thank goodness, Sis thought, and said, “I guess we ought to hurry. Lee said an hour.”
Mrs. Ashby smiled, and took her reins. “Oh, Lee won’t mind if we’re a little late. No one else will be waiting for either Twinkle or Gull.” Mounted, she urged her mare forward and went on, “By the way, you needn’t mention my little detour. It’s just my form of relaxation.”
Sis watched Mrs. Ashby ahead with half her attention, the other half being on Gull. At the jog now, he wasn’t giving her any trouble. She stroked his dusty neck, and decided to ask if she might give him a bath. There were lots of nice little things she could do to make Gull happier—to make her happier, too, if she could pop him over a jump now and then.
A bit later Mrs. Ashby said, “You must come and visit us. We’d love to have you to dinner some evening. I don’t see enough friends since—”
Since what, Sis wondered. Startled, she thanked Mrs. Ashby. She wasn’t turning down a free home-cooked meal. Besides, she was curious about Mrs. Ashby, and who the “we” included. Not to lose the chance, she called, “How would I get to your home?”
“It’s in Berkeley. We’ll pick you up. Say tomorrow, about six?”
“I’ll be ready.” She’d have to wear either her peasant dress, Sis reflected, or her green slacks with the flowered blouse.
She guessed they had passed the halfway mark when Twinkle picked up speed. Both horses broke into a lope, giving her visions of their bolting for home. From the way Gull pulled, this should suit him fine. They’d skid to a stop there, lathered; she’d be fired; and Mrs. Ashby would have fallen off and busted her silly head.
With relief she heard Mrs. Ashby say, “We musn’t bring the horses in hot.”
Back at the stables, Lee had paused behind a group of youngsters starting toward the ring. He frowned at Sis, saying, “You’re late. I was delayed at the feed store, so there was no one to supervise these kids. Now their hour’s half over. The parents won’t hold still for paying full time.”
Sis mumbled an apology, not wanting to tell on Mrs. Ashby. Then she said, “Thank you for letting me ride Gull. Is it true he jumps?”
“He did jump,” Lee answered, “till he was knocked around so much he turned nervous and at times nasty. But right now, take this class. I have to store the feed.”
Lee went off somewhat appeased, Sis guessed by his walk. Funny how a person’s walk showed his mood. She stopped to consider this. Manuel moved slowly, sadly: homesick. Bud swaggered: cocky. And look, Burper, the orange cat, stalking a bird: sly. And she, Sis, had better run to her class. A wail had come from the ring, “This horse hates me!”
Again her students were beginners, cute, eager kids. She felt rewarded when the one whose horse “hated” her announced that the horse liked her now since she’d learned to ride.
When she led her group back to the barn, Lee was still stacking hay. He sent her to the ring again for the final class of the day. Now the tanbark dust was really getting to her. She tasted it, felt it on her skin, and saw it floating in the shafts of light that slanted down.
Discomfort made her grumpy. She had told her students temporarily to ride without stirrups, in order to judge if they sat the jog smoothly. But a fat girl named Patty kept slipping her feet into the stirrups whenever she thought herself out of sight.
“Patty, you’re not fooling me,” Sis told her. “I know when your feet are in the stirrups.”
Patty ignored that, looking sullen.
“That’s cheating,” Sis snapped.
“So what? Everybody cheats.”
“They do at school,” a voice said.
“Billy did, at our swim meet,” another put in.
Standing there, Sis was struck by the same depression she’d known at home. Here it was again, the cheating, in school and sports, as the kids said, and, from what she heard, in business and politics as well. If you didn’t cheat, you were “different,” or stupid. You should think nothing of a real estate deal where the seller lost money unfairly.
Sis realized suddenly that the children had stopped their horses. She made an effort. “In my class, nobody cheats. Okay, let’s try it again. Patty, you can stay if you’ll play fair. Otherwise, get lost.”
She was still too angry to wonder if the kids would take this, or to care that Patty left the ring, no doubt to complain to Lee.
After the class, Lee called her and asked about the Patty incident. Patty had given him her version; now Sis gave hers.
“You mustn’t be too rough on the kids,” Lee said. “They quit, we’re out of business. But Patty won’t last long anyway. She’s only riding to lose weight.”
They were standing in the parking lot, while the remaining children charged through the swinging doors of the Wagon, as they called it. Sis whipped up her nerve to say, “Uncle—er, Lee, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Oh?” He looked almost amused. “Who else have you bawled out?”
“It’s about my age,” she blurted. “I’m fifteen, not sixteen. Not quite sixteen.”
He frowned, but then he said, “Well, you’re here, so what’s the difference.” That was all.
Sis blew a sigh of relief. Now she could enjoy the late afternoon, which shadowed the base of the surrounding hills, leaving their summits in sunlight. Sounds of munching came from the barns, where the boys had fed. Occasionally, some horse rattled a pan or bucket. Across the fence, hay had been forked to those in pasture, who shouldered one another from the piles with squeals and nips.
Her work finished, Sis decided to buy her supper before Laurie locked up. She felt good that Lee wasn’t upset either about her age or about Patty. Marion and Eve were right, she decided. She was too darn critical even of herself. Fifteen, sixteen, big deal!
The half hour Sis spent with Laurie convinced her that Laurie could be fun, although older—maybe twenty-two or three.
“I was married once before,” Laurie informed her. “Ernie works nights, pumping gas at the all-night station on the freeway.”
After a while Sis asked, “How well do you know Mrs. Ashby?”
Laurie lit a cigarette and answered through a cloud of smoke. “Seems she went to pieces when her husband died five months ago. It was hard on both her and her son Jeff.”
Oh, a son, thought Sis. Somehow she had pictured Mrs. Ashby’s teenager as a girl….
Sis finished her pizza and asked for pie.
“But,” Sis continued, “wouldn’t Lee mind that she rests while on rides?”
“Why should he? If he complained, he might lose her as a client, and all that man cares about is business. Oh, he’s okay to work for as long as you adore work and do it right—his way.”
Sis approved of that. She admired a perfectionist.
“And,” Laurie went on, “you gotta work super hard to prove you’re as good as a boy, which Lee doesn’t admit. But one thing folks say for him, he’s good to his horses. I guess that’s because they’re his livelihood.”
Sis watched Laurie puff her cigarette.
As she reached her cabin, she said aloud, “My home.” Then, to the squirrel at the window, “Our home.” She hoped it was the same squirrel as yesterday’s. A pet, at last, difficul
t in town. This one had a crooked ear, by which she’d recognize him. Behind him, foliage had darkened, and on all sides little wild neighbors twittered and rustled, about to retire.
“Cozy,” she said, sinking onto her cot. Tonight she’d read for hours. She’d have to buy herself a lamp and more magazines. Maybe the Ashbys would advise her about shopping.
She pictured Mrs. Ashby. Poor thing, trying to bury her grief over her husband’s death.
She wandered to her open door to gaze out absently. The boys’ trailer wasn’t visible from here, but Laurie’s lights looked friendly. Uneasily, she realized that, though no longer deceiving Lee about her age, she wondered if she’d have to keep it up before Jeff, and began to wish she weren’t going to their home. If only she were sophisticated, she’d know how to act. Two lines of poetry, read somewhere, jumped to her mind:
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave
When first we practice to deceive.”
THREE
HAVING READ LATE, Sis slept next morning until her alarm woke her with a hideous clatter in the cool green room. She heard no human noises outside, but the air was alive with bird talk and horse talk.
Blinking, she stepped into the lightening day in robe and pajamas, clutching towel and toilet kit. After a self-conscious glance around, she raced down to the rest room and darted in.
Out again, showered, dressed, and combed, and up to the cabin once more. Before going in, she paused to admire a sight straight from a western picture. A rider was driving the horses down off the crest of the pasture hill toward the barns. She could make out it was Lee, his face shaded by his western straw hat, long legs in jeans hanging comfortably, his spurs glinting in the early sunlight. He was bareback. Now and then his right hand slapped his thigh while he hollered at some balky horse. It wasn’t Gull he rode; probably one of the rent horses. How cleverly these cow ponies hopped and slithered down the steep slope on the slick dry grass! Lee began to whistle, as if he were enjoying himself.
“Almost human,” Sis said, and ducked into her room. It warmed her to recall Laurie’s words, “He’s good to his horses.” Making the bed, she caught sight of her fingernails. They looked quite decent, not freshly gnawed. That was lucky, since she’d meet new people tonight. She’d have to wash her hair before going. Newly washed, it had a nice shine.
Maybe Jeff would fall for her. She would try to fall for him, just because it was time she had a regular boyfriend. The fact that she didn’t have one hadn’t mattered so far, because her crowd moved in groups, not twosomes. Oh, one boy had fallen for her, so suddenly he’d about scared her to death. She thought now there should be a way to skip the years between being a crude kid and an adult. Maybe some new clothes would help her look mature.
“When is payday?” she asked Laurie at breakfast.
“First and fifteenth,” said Laurie, smacking down a glass of milk on the counter. “But if you’re short, say so. I’ll loan you something.”
“Thanks, but I can make it,” Sis answered. She still had money from home, and no expenses except meals.
They’d been ignoring Bud, who’d come in to buy a doughnut and now stood listening. He said to Sis with a smirk, “I’ll stake you, sweetheart.”
“Scram, microbe,” Laurie ordered him.
Bud sauntered out, just as Lee was heard to roar something about worthless barn boys.
“You don’t like Bud?” Sis asked Laurie.
“That type, you gotta step on,” Laurie answered. And she added darkly. “He’s smarter than he looks. Older, too. He got the best of me twice with his bets.”
“Bets on horses?”
“What else? That’s all he knows, except he’s a fair mechanic. That’s why Lee keeps him. He’s handy with the van and pickup, and when the mothers have car trouble. But before a horse show, see, he’ll bet you on one of our horses to place or win.” Sis wasn’t interested in betting, but she thought that some day it would be fun to outsmart Bud.
This being Saturday, kids were arriving every few minutes, coming from homes and farms near the ranch. Those who couldn’t afford to rent a horse or take a lesson came anyway to watch or just be near a horse, any horse. They came on foot or on bicycles, and even the smallest asked for work, claiming to be older than they looked. Sis sympathized. She’d done the same at their age. Others, the brats, were left by mothers who then sped away.
“Those women take me for a blasted baby-sitter,” Lee complained. “Last week one of their kids started a fire in the phone booth—right alongside the Wagon and my office!”
“It’s lucky they can’t get into your storeroom,” Sis remarked.
“That’s why it’s locked,” Lee said. “What’s there is junk, except my gun. That’s just for an emergency. I’d lock the office too, only I’m in and out all day.”
At noon he asked her, “You want to eat or ride?”
“Ride.” She’d been starving, but instantly forgot it.
“Then get your boots on,” he ordered, “and saddle Gull. I’ll set up a few jumps in the ring, and you show me how you handle him.”
Breathless, Sis ran to her cabin. Her fingers fumbled while she changed sneakers for boots. Jumping was a thrill, but it had been weeks since she’d jumped. She felt in her stomach the start of that lovely, almost sick sensation, mixed fear and elation, dread and eagerness.
I’m ridiculous, she thought. Why do I get in such a stew every time? But the sick feeling would last only until she was on her horse. Once on, she’d always been okay, except a couple of times when she was younger. She’d actually been sick, and just about died of shame.
As soon as she joined Gull, she saw that he knew her intention. Maybe her manner told him, or the English saddle did. When he’d stepped from his box stall, he flung up his head to face toward the ring. He snorted, and his eyes warned, don’t force me to do what I hate.
“It’s all right, old boy,” she said, leading him outside. “Don’t worry, we’ll have fun. See, no whip, no spurs, and a nice, easy snaffle bit. So stand still a minute, will you, while I get on.”
She didn’t want an audience at her first attempt to jump Gull. But in the ring she found not only Lee but the two boys. For a good laugh, she thought, or to help pick me up. No, they’d probably let me lie there. Lee hadn’t much in the way of jumps, since most people here rode western. So the boys set up only a post and rails at one side of the ring, and a brush jump at the other. Sis guessed the height of each might be about three foot six. From her elevation on Gull, they didn’t look alarming.
They shouldn’t have alarmed him either, but when he’d pussyfooted into the ring, he eyed them as if they were alive and might attack him.
“Just walk him around a few minutes,” Lee directed. “Relax, and maybe he will.”
But Gull stepped stiff-legged and breathed in loud snorts. He tried to avoid going close to either jump. After only a short time, the veins in his neck stood out where sweat dampened it. He chomped his bit so violently that flecks of foam flew back as if he were really a gull, skimming a wave.
From the center where the boys watched, Bud said happily, “He’s sure excited.”
Excited! Explosive was more like it, Sis thought. It seemed a contradiction to work hard at relaxing a horse, but she’d nearly always been able to do so.
She hummed a soothing tune, and nodded agreement when Lee said, “Okay, trot now. Trot figure eights, change directions, all like that till he settles down.”
“That might be tomorrow,” Bud chuckled, and Lee snapped at him, “Shut up.”
Without raising her voice Sis asked, as she passed them, “What’s scared him so?”
“Bad handling.” Lee’s voice followed her. “Last year a guy leased him and just about wrecked him. That ended with one heck of a crash at a stone wall. We ought to build one, so he can get over fearing it. Then the girl before you here wasn’t gutsy enough to do anything with him. And I don’t ride English myself. I only got him on a trade for a worse horse.”
When Gull was breathing easier, Sis looked over at Lee and said, “Canter?”
He nodded, and she tightened her legs. Gull responded with a bound, and more bounds that gradually subsided into an erratic lope. With faked nonchalance she reversed.
After many minutes of this, Gull dropped his head a little, evened his stride, and seemed at last to be settling down somewhat. Seeing this, Lee said, low, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Sis took a deeper seat and with sneaky fingers shortened her reins. Suddenly and smoothly, she faced Gull into the brush jump. Taken by surprise, he jumped it as if it were five feet high. Sis, too, was surprised, nearly unseated, by the power of his leap.
“Now the post and rails,” Lee said.
But this time Gull was wary and became, as before, a bomb ready to explode. Sis knew she ought to follow orders. But instead she followed her own instinct. She circled past the jumps and around the ring until Gull had relaxed. Then she sent him at the post and rails, which he cleared with space to spare. Landing, she heard Lee say, “That’s all.” He sounded thoughtful.
But how disappointing to quit now! “What a terrific horse!” Sis exclaimed. “I bet he could win jumper classes anywhere.”
“He has,” Lee answered. “But at a show usually he gets too nervous to know what he’s doing. Even here, though he understands we’re just schooling, you see how he works himself up.”
“I’d like to try building his confidence, little by little,” Sis ventured.
While Manuel walked Gull to cool him and Bud cleared away the jumps, Lee reasoned against Sis’s idea.
“During your ‘little by little,’” he said, “I’m paying the boys to feed and clean Gull, and buying his feed. I ought to sell him.”
“I’ll clean and feed him,” Sis said quickly, “and do his stall. I’d like to. You’d only have to buy the feed.” And, she added silently, that way I could fatten him up.
For several minutes, Lee appeared to be calculating, not exactly thrilled. Finally, he said, “All right, you feed and clean, I’ll buy. But don’t expect extra pay. This is your choice. As far as quieting Gull, you’d be doing it the hard way—which would be my way, too. Oh, I know some shortcuts that’d serve, but I won’t use ’em. Maybe I’m a fool.”
