And We Danced

by Toni Mari

  He shook his head. “I can’t.” He practically ran away, leapt the fence again, and disappeared into the barn.

  Why not? I touched my stiff pony tail. Did I look that gruesome? I stood there wondering who was more unpredictable, Cory or Windsong. They both created the same unsettled feeling in me. I spun around and stalked back the way I had come.

  I groomed Windsong gingerly. I couldn’t bend down because pain would explode inside my head. When I was done, the top half of Windsong’s body looked great, and that was all he was going to get. I would pick his feet another day. Kate had said I could jump on him for a few minutes, but I didn’t want to. Not without her around. Besides, just walking jolted my head like someone was clocking me with a ballpeen hammer. I turned him back out into his paddock, not bothering with treats, nursing my anger and my miserable head. It wasn’t fair. Life with Paddy had been so simple: Bring horse in, ride it, practice what Kate taught me, hug and kiss horse, put horse back out. Young Riders, Windsong, it was all so complicated. And then I met Cory, who was also complicated. And Bobby who was so simple, yet unwanted. Was I simple? What did I want? Ibuprofen, I wanted ibuprofen. And I never wanted another beer.

  Chapter 13

  “Easy there, Windsong.” I breathed. We were cantering; I turned the corner and tightened the reins when he tried to surge forward. After a couple of weeks of barely riding, we were finally starting to work.

  “Half pass right,” Kate called.

  I pointed Windsong’s head to one o’clock and pushed my left leg into his side. His hind end swerved to the right faster than his front end. I pulled back on the reins, and then moved both of my hands to the right to reposition his shoulders. We moved jerkily sideways to the right. When we reached the centerline, we went straight forward, and then turned left. A couple strides past the corner, I asked for a flying lead change. He exploded up off the ground, throwing his front legs straight out and landing on the opposite canter lead. It was supposed to be an elegant little skip in his stride. I hauled back on the reins to prevent him from galloping off with me. Instead he broke to the trot and tossed his head, trying to pull the reins loose. Not smooth or the way I wanted it to turn out. Ballerinas we were not.

  “It feels like he wants to run away on the long side at the canter,” I told Kate.

  “You barely have him moving. Anything is going to feel like an explosion. He can’t move with the reins that tight,” Kate explained.

  “I’m keeping him collected.”

  “No, you’re keeping him slow. You’re fussing at him, not letting him do the movements.”

  “When he’s always jumping around, I’m afraid to loosen the reins. He so out of control.” I stopped Windsong next to Kate.

  It was the two-week anniversary of the afternoon I first rode him without Kate. Windsong and I had progressed past walking figure-eights—but not much. We looked like a couple of marionettes, all jerky and jumpy. I had been riding every day since, and Kate wanted to enter me in a schooling show the next week for practice. But I still couldn’t do the canter work without stopping a million times. This was ridiculous. I didn’t want to do the show, I didn’t want to loosen the reins, and I did want to find a different horse. I was too chicken to tell Kate all this, and my mom wouldn’t do it for me. She said it was between me and Kate, and she would abide by our decision. And because I was a big chicken, looked like I’d be stuck with this lunatic.

  “He’s not out of control. He’s a big, powerful animal. He needs to move. You won’t let him.”

  “It’s the big, powerful thing that has me worried,” I muttered under my breath. I wasn’t going to let Windsong go any faster than we had been.

  “Hey, Cory,” Kate called. She turned back to me. “He’s the one who can tell you about being on an out-of-control horse. Cory, come here!”

  I spun around to see Cory meandering down the path on Jet, his little bay horse. My violent movement spun Windsong around too. He took a few bouncy strides to the side before I settled him back to a halt. It was too late for me to tell Kate to hush, not that she would listen to me. She had the gate open and waved him in.

  “No, thanks, I am heading out for a trail ride.” He kept his eyes on Kate, not even looking my way.

  Kate glanced over her shoulder toward me, grinning. That didn’t bode well for me. “Mind if Jane tags along? She loves trail rides.”

  My eyes widened. No, I didn’t. Cory finally looked over, mouth slightly open and nothing coming out.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll cool out in here,” I said a loudly, sheer panic making me desperate.

  “You’ll be okay, Jane. Cory will keep an eye out for you, and Jet will calm Windsong. Windsong won’t run away from his pasture mate.”

  Oh crap, I hadn’t even thought about Windsong’s behavior on a trail ride. “Forget it.”

  “See, Kate. She doesn’t want to go.”

  Kate gave me the hairy eyeball. “She needs to go. Now!” And she swung the gate open wider.

  Cory sighed. “Come on.” He turned Jet and started down the path toward the trail through the woods. He didn’t look back to see if I was following.

  Kate grabbed Windsong’s bridle and tugged him out the gate. Then she waved her hands and shooed him in Cory’s direction. Windsong sidled sideways, avoiding her hands. He swung his head around and zeroed in on Jet’s rump. He pulled at the bridle and danced after his buddy as if I weren’t aboard. “Thanks for nothing,” I hissed at Kate.

  The path sloped down before leveling off as it entered the woods. I didn’t let up on the reins to keep the horse from running off. He jigged and swerved from side to side on the path, yanking at the bridle for some space. I clutched the saddle, my heart thumping and gave a sharp pull on the reins in an attempt to keep us from going nose over tail down the hill. “Settle down, jerk.” I was wound up tighter than Windsong was. He half reared. I held on tight, sucking in a sharp breath.

  “Let up on the reins. He wants to catch up to Jet.” Cory’s voice was strained.

  My heart slammed against my chest and I shook my head. “No, he’ll take off.” Windsong hopped a little, pulling on the bit. “Stop it.” I pulled back.

  Cory stopped Jet and waited for us. When Windsong caught up, he reached out and bumped his nose on Jet’s hind quarters and stopped too.

  “See?” Cory started off again. Windsong, paying no attention to me, lurched into a walk, following him closely. Every three or four steps, he bumped his nose into Jet’s tail.

  I blew out a breath. If I let Windsong stay close to Jet, it seemed like he might not act crazy. Jet seemed not to be affected by Windsong’s behavior. He marched along calmly, looking into the woods, flaring his nostrils occasionally when he caught the scent of something interesting.

  Cory sat with ease in his western saddle. He rested his arm across the horn and let the reins hang loosely. With his hat on low over his brow, he was the picture of cool.

  “Thanks,” I said, admiring his loose-limbed posture. Even though we were trail riding, it was ingrained in me to sit up straight, heels down, arms softly at my sides and two hands on the reins floating quietly in front of the saddle.

  He glanced over at me and smiled absently. I grinned back. The smile dropped from his face, and he turned back forward.

  “I don’t really trust him at all. All this hopping and jumping—it makes me nervous. I am considering selling him and getting something else.”

  “Something else?” Cory’s head whipped around, disgust on his face. “Don’t you mean someone else? Takes time to bond, Princess. Can’t buy trust; you have to earn it,” he drawled, not looking at me anymore.

  “I don’t know if he’ll ever be trustworthy.”

  “He already is trustworthy. You’re the problem.”

  “Me?! How am I the problem?”

  “He doesn’t know if you will ever be trustworthy.” Cory’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched my outraged face. “You have the power. Two bits in his mouth
that get yanked on, spurs to poke him in the sides, and the confusing habit of asking for something and not letting him do it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Reckon I do.” His southern drawl deepened.

  “Riding western on a little old quarter horse is nothing like riding a Grand Prix dressage horse,” I said derisively with a little snort.

  “Riding a horse,” and he emphasized the word horse, “is riding a horse,” he responded in his lazy voice.

  “Not! Look at Windsong. He’s bigger, stronger, faster. Jet is so calm and easygoing. Not the same.” I compared Jet’s compact, shorter body to Windsong’s tall and lanky one. Jet did have some serious muscles going on in his rump and shoulders, but Windsong was at least six inches taller and ten times as hyper.

  “He wasn’t always like this, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I first started riding him, he was trickier than a bucking bronc at the rodeo. He dumped me a lot.”

  “Really? I can hardly believe that.” I shook my head.

  “Yeah, it’s true. I got him off a guy who called himself a trainer. He was poking Jet with giant spurs and ripping him around with a huge, heavy bit. Mean as hell.”

  “So what? You bought him for the rodeo?”

  “Not exactly.” Cory looked away, red crawling up his neck. “I yanked his ass off Jet and threw him in the dirt.” Cory chuckled. “When I realized he was way bigger than me, I hopped on Jet and went screaming for Chase. He bought Jet, threatening the guy with animal abuse. I started working at the barn and bought him from Chase, but he was barely ridable.”

  Chase owned the farm, but I had never seen him ride. He used to be a big name in reining horses.

  “You did it again with that kid the other day. You’re a horse hero.”

  “Not the same thing. That kid didn’t know any better. I was an asshole again.” He mumbled the last part and I almost didn’t hear it.

  “What?” I leaned toward him.

  “Nothing.” His eyes darted away from mine.

  I sat back but kept watching him, a smile on my face. Was he referring to when he kissed me? When he apologized then, he called himself an asshole too.

  “You know,” he said with exaggerated casualness. “I do see a pretty big change in Elton.”

  “Whose Elton?” I noticed the obvious change of subject, but I just let it pass.

  “ ‘Candle in the Wind.’ A song about the wind by Elton John: Windsong.”

  “Ha, ha. Somehow, I thought you would be a country music guy.”

  “Classic rock, mostly. Occasionally, country.”

  “I want to be a cowboy, baby,” I sang like Kid Rock.

  “No Kid Rock.” Cory laughed. “You’ve got a long way to go to be a cowboy, Princess.” He eyed my perfect show ring posture.

  “Easy, peasy.” I slouched in my saddle, put the reins in one hand, and said, “Hey there, pardner,” pretending to tip my imaginary cowboy hat.

  “Even Elton is getting into the act. He’s acting like a cow horse.”

  I was enjoying being with Cory so much, I was startled to realize that Windsong was just walking along next to Jet. Sure, his head was up and he stared around him wide eyed and blew noisily. Cory smiled at me, and I grinned back. I leaned forward and hugged Windsong, making him sidle sideways. Poor thing didn’t know affection when it was wrapped around his neck.

  “So, you’re saying I’m acting like the bad guy and making Windsong behave badly.”

  “You and the ten riders on him before you. He expects the worst. He has learned to dodge and run. He’s not going to hand it to you until he trusts you. Takes time.” Cory watched me closely. Doubt must have shown on my face because he said softly, “Give it more time, Princess.”

  “You think I can do it?” I couldn’t look away from him.

  “Of course.”

  He said it easily, like there was no doubt it would happen. He smiled when he said it and I believed him.

  Chapter 14

  I had sweats and a hoodie on over my snowy white show breeches and shirt. That extra layer wasn’t enough to keep me warm, so I pulled on my barn coat, hat, and gloves. It was barely light out as I started the car. Mom and Dad would come to the show later, in time for my class, so they were wisely still sleeping in their warm bed. I had packed my show tack and equipment on the trailer last night, so all I had to do this morning was dress Windsong in his clean, royal blue show blanket and the matching new shipping boots. I stopped on the way to the barn and got coffee and donuts for me and Kate. She was bringing two beginning riders to this schooling show, and they were scheduled to ride early in the day, which was why we had to leave at the crack of dawn. I wasn’t scheduled to ride Windsong until 2:18 and 3:11 in the afternoon.

  What a way to spend a Saturday. Megan and the crew had gone to the bowling alley last night. She had called to invite me, and I was almost glad I had to say no. Part of me did not want to see Bobby again, but part of me liked being among the popular people. I wasn’t interested in the drinking, but the activities they got together to do were fun.

  A little shiver worked its way down my body as I stepped out of the car at the barn. The sky was just starting to look pink, and the North Carolina March air was downright chilly. I carried the donuts and coffee into the warmly lit barn aisle. Two horses were already standing crosstied.

  “Good morning,” I said to Hailey, a chipper young teen. She stood next to her gray Thoroughbred trying to sort out her shipping boots. “Need a hand?”

  Hailey sighed gustily. “I always forget which ones go on which side.”

  I set the donuts and coffee on an overturned bucket and stepped closer to help. “This one goes on the front, that one there, and this one on that leg.” I tossed each boot next to the proper leg. “Help yourself to a donut.” I nodded to the box as I picked up the coffees and headed down the aisle to where I saw Kate helping Brianna.

  “Mmmmm.” Kate grinned with appreciation as she took her first sip of coffee. “You sure know the way to my heart, sweetie.”

  I huffed. “I am not sure you have a heart. If you did, you wouldn’t be making me risk my poor pathetic life riding Devil Horse.”

  “It’s not your life I am worried about, but what score will you bring me? You are not allowed back on the trailer with anything less than a 75 percent!” Kate teased.

  And I knew she was teasing because scores were Kate’s last priority. At each show, she would give me certain goals to achieve in each specific test. If I worked on my goals, she didn’t care what score I received. But if I ignored her directions, she would burn my ears and it wouldn’t matter who heard her do it.

  “Let’s get the devil horse dressed in his best. We’ll put him on the trailer first, since he is the last one scheduled to ride.”

  It was a two-hour drive to the show. Kate had picked this one because it was held in an indoor riding arena. March weather was unpredictable. The footing, the arena floor material, inside the indoor riding arena would be dry and defrosted. And we had noticed that when I rode Windsong inside, he was more focused and controllable, not distracted by the view.

  I had trouble putting Windsong’s shipping boots on him because he wouldn’t stand still. Each time I positioned the long soft boot around his leg, he took a quick step to the side before I could fasten it. The boots were royal blue canvas on the outside and warm furry fleece on the inside and were meant to protect his legs from bangs and bumps in the horse trailer. Because they were so long, they had about eight Velcro straps to secure them on. I needed longer than the two seconds Windsong gave me to get them aligned and secured. Kate helped by lifting a leg up and holding onto it while I put boots on the other three legs, just like Cory did when we treated Windsong’s injured hoof. I’d zip the straps together faster than a geek typing on a computer. Kate let the last leg down and I had the boot on and fastened practically before Windsong’s hoof hit the ground. We high-f
ived and I gave Windsong a few treats.

  After a few fortifying sips of coffee, Kate unclipped Windsong’s crossties and led him toward the trailer, which was already hitched to Kate’s monster truck and facing down the driveway toward the road. Windsong followed Kate, dancing down the aisle, horseshoes ringing loudly on the cement. He put the brakes on five feet away from the ramp, knees locked and head straight up. I rolled my eyes. He obviously forgot the warrior princess who was holding the other end of his lead rope. Kate gave a quick flick of the lead rope, which bumped the chain over Windsong’s nose. Windsong did a few hops, threatening Kate’s authority, but it was useless—it took more than a shiny, black devil with four legs and a tail to intimidate Kate. She flicked the chain again and clucked.

  I walked behind Windsong, so I helped by waving my arms, shooing him onto the trailer. Maybe he wasn’t such a dumbass after all, because he looked at Kate in front of him and me behind him, dropped his head and quietly trod up the ramp into the trailer. I went to the side with the window and caught the lead rope that Kate tossed out. The rope was followed by Windsong’s head, and he screamed shrilly in my ear. Damn! I forgot he could be so loud. I shook my head trying to regain my hearing.

  The other two horses loaded easily and we all piled in the truck, not forgetting the donuts. On the drive, we polished off the pastries, chugged our coffee, and talked about everything from dating to the best socks to wear to a horse show. What we didn’t talk about was the show so as not to jinx ourselves.

  We unloaded Hailey’s and Brianna’s horses as soon as we arrived. We tied them to the side of the trailer and opened Windsong’s window so he could watch. As soon as his head popped out, he whinnied desperately. I was ready for him and so had my hands over my ears. I gave him a few treats, which he now knew to accept. I helped the girls tack up their horses while Kate went in search of the secretary stand and everyone’s show packet. We’d each receive an envelope with our number, confirmation of our ride times, and other important show information. By the time Kate returned, the girls were ready to go warm-up. Both their horses were older, seasoned competitors who stood quietly munching hay while we prepared them. Jaws crunching hay was the only sound they made as we worked around them.