Bittersweet Farm 1: Mounted

by Barbara Morgenroth

  “Tali,” Lockie started.

  “Yes?” I unclipped the crossties.

  “Wing really doesn’t appeal to you?”

  I led Butch to his stall. “Be serious, Lockie. He’s gorgeous.”

  “Will you do twenty minutes on him this afternoon?”

  “If that’s what you want.” I gave Butch a pat and closed the door.

  “I’m just thinking,” he said.

  “How about if we just eat?”

  He wasn’t following my change of topic.

  “Lunch?”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’m not...”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Okay, okay. Give me fifteen minutes to take care of Wing and I’ll meet you up at the house.”

  Greer was still screaming by the time I got there. She dogged my father into the kitchen where Jules was making lunch.

  “I thought he was hired to get me to Lexington,” Greer complained.

  I washed my hands at the sink, then splashed water on my face. “Did you expect him to do it for you? He made it to the National on his own. You should have been able to make it on your own,” I said as Jules handed me a kitchen towel to use to dry off.

  “What do you know about it?”

  “I know you have to work for what you want.”

  “I work! If I had a decent horse...”

  Opening the door, Lockie stepped inside. “Oops. Bad timing.”

  “Who stayed sound for more than two weeks in a row, maybe things would be a little bit better. Don’t you think?” Greer glared at me.

  “If you spent more time on the horse and less time on Rui, maybe that would have been a little bit better,” I replied.

  “Enough,” my father said. “We’re not doing this.”

  “I need a new trainer. Someone with a positive attitude.” Greer glared at Lockie.

  “If you want to find yourself a new trainer, that’s fine. You can get yourself a horse and keep it at that barn and drive yourself over there every day but Lockie is going to be training the horses here,” my father told her evenly. “Where are we eating?”

  “Since the weather is so lovely, on the terrace,” Jules replied.

  “That’ll be nice,” my father said as he went outside with Lockie.

  Greer followed him.

  “She’s like a banshee,” I said softly.

  Jules did everything she could not to burst into laughter.

  “How am I going to have a life and board a horse someplace else?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who am I going to ride with this far into the season? I mean Tick-Tock. Tempus Fugit.”

  That’s a good name for a horse, I thought as I stood in the doorway.

  “Greer, you’re old enough to figure these things out for yourself,” my father said.

  I was very impressed. He usually gave in immediately to shut her up.

  She shrieked.

  Birds flew out of the trees in fright.

  Jules gave me a push to leave the kitchen. The terrace was the last place I wanted to be with Greer doing a star turn.

  She did this to herself. Greer had made no serious contribution to qualifying this year. Between visiting friends in Millbrook and having the whatever it was with Rui, there was hardly fifteen minutes left over for riding.

  Rui may have been short-listed for the Brazilian team but he was an incompetent instructor. With his thick accent, minimal understanding of English and spending an inordinate amount of time studying Greer’s position in her skin-tight breeches, it was a lark to him as well.

  With no ego-gratification to be gained from showing, the less attention Rui paid to my “position” the better I liked it.

  Lockie came over and sat next to me at the foot of the table.

  “So your horse arrived in one piece?” My father asked as he started in on the salad.

  “Yes, sir, thank you. I don’t know how to pay you back, either of you.”

  “What? Is there something going on I don’t know about?” Greer asked.

  “Life at the farm,” I replied.

  “If we wind up with some fine horses, and Bittersweet Farms is mentioned in the papers once in a while, that’s plenty.”

  “Dad,” Greer objected. “That’s nothing.”

  “That’s the future. There’s no more equitation. There’s no more junior competitions. You’re both adults now.”

  “I’m not an adult yet,” Greer protested.

  “If you act like one, as you proved by your conduct with Rui, then you are one,” my father replied.

  Greer pushed back from the table and strode into the house.

  We all sighed in relief.

  ***

  “What do you know about dressage?” Lockie asked as he gave me a leg up onto Wing.

  “Nothing.”

  Lockie didn’t reply.

  “No, in all the years I’ve been taking lessons, not one teacher ever mentioned the word dressage until just now.”

  “It’s okay. I’m a product of the same system. Equitation is the main focus here, but I was lucky early on and met someone from England who gave me another perspective.”

  He walked alongside us into the indoor arena where it was a little cooler and much shadier.

  “We’re going to transition you from thinking equitation to thinking dressage.”

  “They’re such different disciplines.”

  “Yes. In equitation, the point is to demonstrate how pretty the rider is. In dressage, you’re showing a working team.”

  I walked Wing around the outside of the ring while Lockie talked about dressage. He asked me to adjust my position, my hands, my back, my seat. We trotted briefly then he discussed that. He asked for a circle at a sitting trot. I had to remember to call it a collected trot.

  After going both directions, he asked me to halt and explained why I didn’t do it very well and how to halt correctly.

  In a way, I felt as though I had never had a riding lesson until that afternoon. Nothing had ever been analyzed before. All the trainers had ever done was to stand in the middle of the ring and tell me what to do. Walk, trot, canter. Head up, heels down, back straight. Year after year, it was the same thing until I was as picture perfect as I could be and was bored out of my head.

  This was the first day I felt engaged. Finally, there was a hint of logic and order to riding.

  “That’s enough,” Lockie said after about twenty minutes.

  “Is it?”

  “That really is about all you or the horse can deal with.”

  “Then why are lessons an hour?”

  Lockie laughed. “Because people charge by the hour.”

  I dismounted.

  “This is a good start. How did it feel to you?”

  “I liked it.”

  “I thought you might.” He ran up my stirrup iron on the far side. “Do you like Wing?”

  I paused.

  “Say no, Tali, if you mean no.”

  “I like him personally.”

  “But he doesn’t feel right to you.”

  “No.”

  “Okay. In what way, so I can find you a horse you’ll feel comfortable on.”

  We walked out of the arena.

  “I’m used to Butch.”

  “So you want a horse that feels big under you not just tall.”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t like the shape of a Thoroughbred.”

  “No. They’re not round enough.”

  “Thank you. I know exactly what to look for. Now tell me about this you don’t want to jump another horse but Butch.”

  I wasn’t sure I could put it into words then looped the reins around my arm. “The difference between ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum,” I motion with my hand as if a horse was steadily approaching a fence. “And zoom.”

  “At some point you rode a horse that rushed a fence and it scared the daylights out of you.”

  “There was a reason to be scared. He hit the standards, ev
erything came down, and I practically fell under him.”

  Lockie nodded. “Good reason.”

  We entered the barn and stopped at the crossties where Wingspread’s halter had been left hanging.

  “I’m not here to make your life miserable. I’m not here to make you unhappy. You don’t ever have to jump another fence as far as I’m concerned.”

  “My father wants us to compete. He’s always pushed us and I always felt I was failing because Greer is so super-competitive.”

  Lockie undid the girth and pulled the saddle off. “That part of your life is over. You’re not riding in equitation classes anymore. You don’t have to ride in hunter classes. You won’t ever compete against Greer again.”

  “But my father...”

  “When he said you’re both adults now, he meant that. So if you want to ride, you ride. If you want me to find you a horse, I’ll find you a horse. If you don’t want a horse, I’m here to train for the barn. That’s what your father wants.”

  “And to get Greer to shut up.”

  “Greer has the ideal personality for the jumper division—no fear. I just need to find someone who will ride the horse when she’s off getting a pedicure. Then the day of the show, she’ll get on, and the horse will drag her over the fences. Maybe she’ll even win.”

  I looked at him.

  “If I’m really lucky and find the right horse for her.”

  Chapter Nine

  Later that afternoon, five horses arrived from Virginia. None of them were right for me but Greer’s main squeeze and his backup were among the choices. She was ecstatic.

  We almost were because whether she was happy or not, either way, Greer still didn’t shut up.

  ***

  Lockie looked worn out the next day after working with Greer in the morning as well as Tracy, who he thought could help exercise the horses, so I told him I had to go shopping for a dress for a party.

  “That’s fine, we’re going to Pennsylvania tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “There are a couple horses for you to try out.”

  “Why can’t they come to us?”

  He looked at me for a moment. “Because I would like to spend a couple hours with you off the property.”

  “What?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to drive in a truck with me for twelve hours there and back?”

  “We’re flying.”

  “We’re flying?”

  “Tali. There's an echo in here," Lockie said with a small smile. "We’re taking a private plane. That’s how it’s done.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t spend that kind of time in the truck. And I have to go to New York the next day.”

  “Why?”

  “For the doctor’s appointment that you insisted upon. I’m going down to the city with your father so he told me to get the Pennsylvania trip over with as quickly as possible. It’ll take an hour to fly, and we’ll be there a couple hours and fly back. Done. Okay?”

  The way he said it made me know something was wrong. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “About?”

  “You have a headache.”

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Yes, I do.”

  “Go upstairs and lay down for a while. I’ll take care of everything here.”

  He started for the stairs to his apartment.

  “I’m not in a rush to get a horse. We can put it off until later, next week, whenever you’re feeling better.”

  “The appointment is for tomorrow.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll be ready.”

  ***

  That evening I got a text message from Josh saying he would be home for his parents’ wedding anniversary.

  This was always a large celebration on their expansive back lawn practically big enough to be a golf course. There was catered food, an open bar, multiple tents and a dance band. The finale was a fireworks display, something I always enjoyed.

  Everyone in the house went. That meant Lockie would be joining us this year if he so chose.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

  ***

  The next morning Lockie was already finishing breakfast when I entered the kitchen. Jules opened the oven door, removed a plate of food that had been being kept warm and placed it in front of me.

  “Are we in that much of a hurry?” I asked, picking up a fork. “The plane’s not leaving without us.”

  “It’s seven. We have to drive to the airport.”

  “Which one are we going to?”

  “Oxford.”

  “That’s close.”

  “Eat, don’t talk.”

  “Lockie, it’ll take a half hour to drive there.”

  “It’ll take an hour. Will you drive?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s good because I have everything packed in your truck.”

  “And I made lunch for you.” Jules placed a cooler by the door. “I don’t know where you’re going and if they have food there.”

  “There’s food everywhere,” I said.

  “Please eat.”

  Squirting the golden syrup over the bread, I concentrated on finishing the French toast and pancetta.

  Lockie was correct; it took us nearly an hour to get there even though half of the trip was on the highway. I was never very good at judging such things.

  I drove into the airport parking lot and found a place, stopped and locked the truck while Lockie took my saddle from the back. “Do you feel alright?”

  “The meds should kick in any time now; it usually takes about an hour.”

  “Did you bring some with you?”

  “Yes. Don’t focus on it; it’s better if you don’t.”

  “I’m glad you’re going to the doctor tomorrow.”

  “You’re just glad to have a day off.”

  “That’s not true. Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Why would you do that?”

  We entered the very small terminal building.

  “Because you were alone the last time.”

  “This will be an exam, an MRI or some scan, and I’ll be back in the car headed home before noon.”

  “Will you call me?”

  “You won’t notice I’m gone.”

  Lockie stepped up to the counter. “We’re here to meet Don Wheeler. Do you know where he is?”

  “You’ll find him out with his plane doing a pre-flight check.” The man behind the counter pointed to a row of small aircraft. “It’s the white one with the red stripes on the tail section.”

  “Thank you.”

  We went out the back door and walked to the plane.

  “Hi. Mr. Wheeler?”

  “Call me Don. My mother did. I won’t tell you what my father called me.”

  Lockie held out his hand.

  “You must be the people trying to get to Pennsylvania today.”

  “That’s us,” I replied. “I’m Talia Margolin.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you. Do you get airsick?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good because it’s difficult to put your head out the window at five thousand feet if you do.”

  “Talia’s tougher than the two of us put together, she’ll be fine,” Lockie replied.

  “That’s my kind of girl,” Don said with a grin. “Let’s take that...what is it?” He asked as he opened a small storage compartment in the rear of the plane.

  “It’s a saddle. We’re looking at horses today,” Lockie said.

  “That’s right. Mr. Swope mentioned that when he called me. Okay, everyone get in and let’s roll.”

  “Have you flown my father somewhere?” I asked trying not to sound too hopeful but wanting some confirmation that the man was a reasonably expert pilot.

  “Yes, I have. I flew him to Canada a few months ago.”

  Lockie waited by the wing for me where there was a tread so passengers could step up to the small door.

  “I remember that trip,” I repl
ied.

  “Front seat or rear,” Lockie asked.

  “What’s better for you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You take the back going down, and the front coming home.”

  We climbed into the plane, which wasn’t much larger inside than my truck, pulled our seatbelts tight and a few minutes later we were rising into the sky over Connecticut. Flying west, we passed over the wide expanse of the Hudson River then turned south for Pennsylvania. The Statue of Liberty was off our left wing as we flew over New Jersey.

  Chapter Ten

  Too loud in the plane to talk amongst ourselves, I contented myself with looking out the window. We were skirting around huge white clouds, the sun shining bright. Of course, Lockie had on his darkest sunglasses.

  The plane dropped suddenly.

  “Sorry. We hit a pothole,” Don said with a laugh.

  “What makes that happen?” I asked

  “It’s just air currents. Since the sun’s out, it’s warm and we all know heat rises. When you fly into an area where the temperature is changing, there’s some instability. The flight would be smoother in the evening, after the sun goes down.”

  “Thank you for the explanation.”

  I wondered if this trip would be a waste; it seemed like such a big effort just to get me a horse when there wasn’t a deadline. There was always a horse to ride in the barn and now that Wingspread was where he belonged, I was sure Lockie wouldn’t object to letting me ride him once in a while. My hope was that Greer would be satisfied with the amateur owner jumpers she had gotten this week. I hoped the newness of Counterpoint would keep her in the saddle long enough to develop a relationship with him. Then if she decided to go shopping to visiting friends day after day, Greer might have the ability to do well at a couple shows.

  A Greer with a blue ribbon was a much better experience than a Greer with a red. Not that they mattered to her, the moment she pulled the ribbon off the bridle and hung it on the trailer, the thrill was gone.

  I thought more than anything she had wanted our father to take notice of her in some way that he didn’t. He was always pleased and proud when either of us did well but somehow it wasn’t enough for Greer. There was an empty spot in her that wasn’t being filled.

  Of course, her mother was as shallow as any person I had ever met. More so than my father, Victoria, busy with her friends and activities, rarely had time for Greer.

  It was understandable why my father had been so enamored, in his own way, of my mother who was the complete opposite of Victoria. The truth was that no one would miss Victoria when she was gone and everyone who knew my mother still missed her six years after she passed.