Schooling Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  But when she went to put her foot into the stirrup, she found that she couldn’t do it. She absolutely could not bring herself to get back on the horse.

  You have to, she told herself. It was one of Max’s rules: Always get back on. Every ride was supposed to end on a positive note. If Milky got to go back to his stall now, he might see it as a reward for rearing. At the very least, he wouldn’t have any chance to learn that rearing was wrong. Lisa knew she had to get back on him and make him behave. Walk and trot calmly around the field, that was all.

  She reached for the stirrup but again let her foot fall back to the ground. She looked around the field as though the answer to her problems could be found in some grassy corner. How hard can this be? she asked herself. She knew the answer: Too hard. She just couldn’t make herself ride this horse.

  Well, The Saddle Club could help her figure things out. She’d talk the situation over with Stevie and Carole and come up with a new plan for tomorrow. Meanwhile, she’d had enough of Milky for the day. She ran the stirrups up on the saddle and led Milky out of the field.

  She was almost to the stable when Max ran out to meet her, a worried look on his face. “What happened?” he asked. “Why are you walking him? Did you fall off?”

  Lisa didn’t know how to explain. “No,” she said at last. “I didn’t fall off.” Which was not a lie, she told herself firmly. She had thrown herself off Milky on purpose.

  “You’re not hurt?” Max asked.

  “No,” Lisa said, relieved that she could answer that question entirely honestly. “I’m fine.” She started walking again. Max walked beside her. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation. Lisa didn’t want to give him one.

  “Is the horse hurt?”

  “No, Max. He’s fine, too.”

  “Did he lose a shoe?”

  “Max!” Lisa stopped. “I’m just not feeling very well today. I must be getting a cold. I started coughing when I was riding, and I just couldn’t stop, so I got off. I think I’m going to go home.”

  Max smiled. “Well, that’s good. I hope you’re feeling better soon, but I’m glad you didn’t have any kind of problem with the horse.” He patted Milky. “I was worried there when I saw you coming back on foot.”

  Lisa forced herself to smile. How could she tell Max she was afraid of Milky? It was so embarrassing! She just couldn’t do it. Not yet, anyway.

  “Do you feel well enough to untack him before you go home?” Max asked her kindly.

  “Sure,” Lisa said. She coughed a little into her hand.

  “You can use the office phone, if you need to call your mom to pick you up.”

  “Thanks.” Lisa nodded to Max and turned Milky to lead him through the side door. She put him into his stall, took off his saddle and bridle, and shut the door on him with a feeling of total relief.

  How could she be so afraid of a horse? After all, what had he really done? She thought back to the terrifying moment when he had leaped into the air, when she had clung to his mane hoping desperately that he would land on his feet. But he hadn’t flipped. She really wasn’t hurt. She hadn’t been lying to Max about that.

  Only about all the rest. She felt miserable and ashamed. Why couldn’t her dream horse be like Belle or Starlight? Or Prancer or Topside or Derby or Barq? Or even little shaggy Nickel? All the Pine Hollow horses and ponies were friendly and reliable. Why did she have to get a horse like Milky?

  And why couldn’t she make things work out with him? If only she were a better rider, she’d probably be fine.

  Lisa hung Milky’s saddle and bridle in the tack room. She felt in her pockets for the carrots she had intended to give him. She’d give them to Prancer instead—to a horse she actually liked.

  Prancer whinnied when she saw Lisa, and Lisa felt another wave of misery engulf her. That was what she always wanted—a horse of her own that was eager to see her. She went into Prancer’s stall and gave her the carrots, then put her arms around the horse’s neck and buried her face in her mane. “Oh, Prancer,” she whispered, “why can’t I have you?”

  The truth hit Lisa full force. She did not want Milky. Not now, not ever. Not even if it meant that she wouldn’t get a horse of her own.

  Lisa began to cry. How could she tell her parents? And what would she say to Max?

  LISA FELT HER hot tears trickle down her nose into Prancer’s coat. Prancer, empathetic as always, leaned her weight against Lisa’s shoulder. Lisa’s tears fell faster.

  “Hey!” To her surprise, Lisa heard Stevie’s voice. “Lisa! We thought you’d be riding by now!”

  Lisa looked up. There was Stevie—and Carole! “I’m so glad to see you,” she said.

  “So are we!” Stevie swung Prancer’s door open and stepped inside. Carole followed. “Carole’s meeting and my appointment both ended early. We were hoping we’d still have a chance to ride with you, but we thought you’d already be gone. Why aren’t you with Milky?”

  “I’ve been out and back again,” Lisa said shortly. “And I’m not riding Milky anymore. Not ever again.”

  Stevie was more startled by Lisa’s tone than by her words. “You’ve been crying!” she said, realizing it for the first time. “Oh no! Lisa, what’s wrong?”

  Lisa burst into fresh tears. “I just can’t do it,” she sobbed. “I can’t ride that horse anymore.”

  “No, of course not,” soothed Stevie, even though she had no idea what Lisa meant. “Here, sit down.” She kicked some of the loose hay on the floor of Prancer’s stall into a pile and pushed Lisa onto it. Carole closed Prancer’s door and sat down facing them. Prancer watched them curiously.

  “What’s wrong?” Carole asked. She too was surprised to see Lisa this upset. She’d known Lisa was having trouble with Milky, but this looked like disaster.

  “The worst thing happened today.” In a halting voice, Lisa described how Milky had reared. “He’s always like that,” she said. “He does things out of nowhere, and then he acts like there’s nothing wrong. He’s like a bully who’s out to get people. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe he really hates to be ridden, but I don’t care what it is. I’m just not riding him anymore. If Max gave him to me for free, I’d say no.”

  “Whoa,” Stevie said. “We never realized you felt this bad. Right, Carole?”

  “Right,” Carole confirmed. “What else has he been doing?”

  For the first time, Lisa told her friends how Milky had tried to bite her. She told them how he bucked whenever she rode him. “I’m afraid of him,” she said. “I realized that today. I went to get back on him, and I just couldn’t do it.” She started crying harder. “I feel like such a failure. I really tried to make him work out.”

  “You’re not a failure,” Carole said instantly. “You’re a good rider.”

  “If I were a better rider, I could have fixed him. If I were a better rider, I could have my own horse.”

  “Hogwash,” Stevie said. She fished around in her pocket and found an old tissue. It had a partially eaten lollipop stuck to one end. She tore that part off and handed the rest of the tissue to Lisa, who wiped her eyes. Stevie offered the lollipop to Prancer. The mare sniffed it and turned her head away.

  “Don’t give her that,” Lisa protested. “It’s nasty.”

  Stevie put it back in her pocket. “She’s too smart to take it, anyway. But you know, Lisa, what you just said is wrong. In the first place, we still don’t know for sure that Max and your parents mean for Milky to be your horse.”

  “I know,” Lisa said, “but it really looks as if they do.”

  “Right, but anyway, whether or not you get a horse probably doesn’t have anything to do with how good a rider you are. And in the second place, I think you’re wrong to say if you were a better rider you could fix him.”

  “Why?” asked Lisa. “It’s true.”

  “Probably it isn’t,” Stevie said. “I didn’t realize Milky was so bad before, but he sounds like a horse that’s out of control, even dangerous. It’s not you
r job to fix dangerous horses.”

  “Does he seem to react to anything specific that you do?” Carole asked. “Like, does he always buck when you ask for a left-lead canter, or something like that?”

  “No,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “I can never connect his behavior to anything else. That’s part of the reason it’s so scary.” She blew her nose. “Got any more tissues, Stevie?”

  Carole fished through her own pockets, which were cleaner than Stevie’s. “Here’s one. So, if you can’t connect Milky’s misbehavior to anything you’re doing, what makes you think you’re causing it?”

  “I didn’t say I was causing it,” Lisa argued. “I just said that if I were a better rider, I would be able to fix it.” She sniffed. “If I were you, or Stevie. If I really deserved a horse of my own.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” Stevie said. “As though whether or not you have your own horse has anything to do with whether or not you deserve one. Do you think for one minute that Veronica diAngelo deserves to have her own horse?”

  Lisa thought about the rich, spoiled girl who never seemed to do anything for her beautiful horse. “No,” she admitted.

  “And I bet there are thousands of kids in places like … oh, Bangladesh, who really deserve horses but don’t get them.”

  Lisa had to laugh. “Bangladesh!”

  “Or New York City. There aren’t a whole lot of horses there. Anyway, my point is, I think you’re an excellent rider, and I think you deserve your own horse, but I don’t think those things have anything to do with one another.”

  “Okay,” Lisa said. “Thanks. I understand your point even if I’m not sure I agree with you. But I need to know what you guys really think about Milky. Am I just being a ninny? Should I have gotten back on him in the field?”

  “No. Absolutely not,” Carole said firmly. She picked up a piece of hay and twirled it between her fingertips. “I agree with Stevie that he sounds dangerous. If he’s been acting the way you say he has, then you should have quit riding him days ago. When Max says always get back on, he means in a usual situation, like when you fall off and it’s totally your fault, and he doesn’t want you becoming afraid of riding. He doesn’t mean when the horse is trying to hurt you.”

  “Plus,” cut in Stevie, “riding is supposed to be fun. It’s not supposed to be terrifying.”

  “Sometimes it’s a little scary,” Lisa said, thinking of some of her earlier experiences.

  “For minutes at a time,” agreed Stevie. “Not for whole days at a time.”

  “It’s supposed to be fun even when it is a little scary,” added Carole. “The fun is always supposed to be there.”

  Lisa sighed. “Well, I sure haven’t had a lot of fun this week,” she said. “I just hated to admit how awful I felt. I still feel awful. I mean—Remember, Stevie, how you said Carole’s French class was like Milky? And Carole worked so hard and she got so much better?”

  Carole shook her head. “They aren’t the same,” she said. “French is just French. I mean, it’s all there, it stays the same. I just have to learn it. Everything that can change is on my side. But you and Milky are both variable—”

  “You’re making them sound like a math class,” Stevie joked.

  Carole rolled her eyes. “I mean, Lisa can change all she wants. She can be the best rider in the world, but Milky’s not just an object, like a car that anyone could learn to drive. He’s got his own mind. So no matter what, Lisa might not be able to change him.

  “Milky’s supposed to be a show horse,” Carole continued. “Remember? You said he’d been in lots of shows.”

  “For years,” Lisa said, nodding. “Max told me.”

  “So we have to assume that he’s fully trained,” Carole said. “He should understand what Lisa wants him to do, and he should know how he’s supposed to behave. It sounds like he doesn’t want to behave.”

  “I wish I could make him want to,” Lisa said. “I really tried.”

  “But maybe you can’t do it,” Carole said. “Maybe no one can. Maybe there’s really something wrong with him—some physical thing like a pinched nerve that makes him mean. Maybe despite all his training he’s still not a reliable horse.”

  “I think he just has a personality fault,” Stevie said. “He should be agreeable, but he isn’t.”

  “I wonder why not,” Lisa said.

  “Who knows?” Stevie said. “Maybe something happened to him when he was a foal. Maybe the first people who trained him were cruel to him, so he grew up hating people. Or maybe there’s just something wrong with him. Anyway, it’s not your fault, and it’s certainly not your problem.”

  Lisa wiped at her eyes again. “I still feel like it is,” she said. “I can’t help it. If he was going to be my horse—”

  “Do you want him?” Stevie asked.

  “No, but—”

  “Look,” Carole said firmly. “You told us that Milky reared with you. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “You have no business riding a horse that rears. None of us does. He could have killed you, Lisa. There’s no point in riding a horse like that, not when there are so many good horses around. You should be glad you don’t own him yet. You don’t have to worry about trying to sell him—you can just tell Max you don’t want to ride him anymore.”

  Lisa blushed. “I haven’t told Max about any of our problems,” she said.

  “Well, you’ll have to tell him something.”

  “I know.”

  Prancer took a step forward and nosed Lisa’s knee. Lisa stroked the mare’s forehead. “Remember all the trouble I was having with Prancer last week? She was so frustrating, but she never scared me. I never thought she wanted to hurt me. That’s how I felt with Milky, all the time.”

  “You should have told us,” Carole said softly.

  “I tried to,” Lisa said. “But I didn’t really understand how bad he is. Plus, I want my own horse so badly. Part of me still hates to give him up.”

  “There will be other horses,” Carole said.

  “I guess so. I never know how my parents are going to act.”

  “We made a mistake anyway thinking that your problem with Milky and Carole’s problem with French were anything alike,” Stevie realized. “We should have understood better.”

  “I don’t see how you could have, when I didn’t understand myself.” Lisa stood up and brushed the hay off her pants. “I’m so glad I talked to you guys. I feel better than I have all week.”

  “Good,” said Stevie. She stood, too. “Let’s get our horses and ride while there’s still time. I bet Max will let you have Prancer. She can’t be in heat anymore, so she’ll probably behave.”

  Lisa grimaced. “First I have to go explain to Max that I’m not really sick— Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Outside the stall,” Stevie said, confused.

  “No—” Lisa pushed past her friend. In the aisle, a small boy named David was walking by leading Milky, who was fully tacked! “What are you doing?” Lisa demanded. David was a little kid—a beginner! He had no business riding Milky!

  David frowned. “What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m going to take a riding lesson.” He clucked to Milky.

  Lisa blocked his way. “You can’t ride this horse,” she said.

  David tried to sidestep her. Milky pranced nervously. “Of course I can,” David said. “Max said. He said you hadn’t ridden him very hard.”

  Lisa was appalled. She didn’t believe for one minute that Milky would behave better with David than he had with her. He could be killed!

  I could have been killed, she realized. The thought shook her like a thunderbolt. I don’t have any business riding Milky. None of us does. Suddenly she didn’t feel guilty anymore.

  “You can’t ride him,” she repeated firmly. “He’s dangerous. Give him to me.”

  “No,” David said. He pulled Milky closer to him, a stubborn expression on his face. “I asked Max if I could ride him today, and
Max said yes. You’ve been hogging him all week. He’s not your horse.”

  “That doesn’t matter!” Lisa grabbed for Milky’s head, but David dodged her. Stevie and Carole came out of Prancer’s stall. Stevie caught hold of the stirrup on Milky’s saddle, but Milky kicked out. Stevie jumped back, letting go.

  “Stop it!” David yelled at them. “I’m telling Max!” He stamped his foot. Milky cocked his hind foot, ready to kick again. Stevie and Carole held back.

  “No,” Lisa said. “I’ll tell Max. You wait here.” She ran for the office.

  David turned his head and stuck his tongue out at Stevie and Carole. “You’re not the bosses of the whole entire stable,” he said. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” He pulled Milky out the front door.

  “Oh, geez,” Stevie said. They hurried after him.

  “MAX!” LISA BURST into the office. “David’s about to ride Milky, and you’ve got to stop him!”

  Max was talking on the telephone. He raised his eyebrows at Lisa and held up one finger, a sign that he didn’t want to be disturbed.

  “You have to stop him before he gets on,” Lisa persisted. “Milky’s dangerous! I should have said something—” She glanced out the office window. Carole and Stevie were arguing with David, who had managed to keep hold of Milky’s reins and had climbed onto the mounting block. Milky had his ears back in a way Lisa had seen too many times before. And David already had one foot in the stirrup.

  “Now!” Lisa shouted. She slammed her hand down on the disconnect button of the phone. Max looked at her in astonishment. Lisa grabbed his arm and pulled him out the office door.

  “Lisa, what’s going on?” he demanded. Lisa hurried him along the stable aisle.

  “You have to stop him!” she pleaded. “Don’t let him get hurt!”

  “I have to stop who?”

  Lisa dropped Max’s arm and ran out the main door, toward Milky and David. “Don’t!” she cried.

  But it was too late. David swung his leg across Milky’s back. And Milky reared.