“Can I trot a few rounds to get my balance and then try the canter again?” Sierra asked as Fala started back out on the circle.
“Good idea,” River agreed. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Sierra touched Fala’s sides to signal for trot, and then settled into the saddle taking slow deep breaths to relax and regain her confidence. After three rounds she grabbed onto the strap and nodded to River that she was ready to canter.
“Touch her with your outside leg,” he instructed but also helped by giving Fala the command to canter. Again Sierra felt the rocking, smooth gait and pushing down her fear, even dared to close her eyes to really feel the rhythm of this new motion. She opened her eyes and felt confident enough to let go of the strap and put her hands back on her waist.
“Good!” River encouraged. He brought Fala back to a trot and then walk, and reversed the direction so Sierra could canter both ways.
“I don’t think it was the canter that caused me to fall but the fact that she shied and I wasn’t expecting it,” Sierra mused out loud as she and River walked Fala back to the cross ties after the lesson.
“Yeah,” River agreed. “You were looking really good before she shied.”
“Have you ever fallen off?” she asked curiously.
“Lots of times.”
“How long have you been riding?”
“Would you believe even before I was born?”
“How do you mean?”
“My mother was a jockey, and she was riding racehorses while she was pregnant with me.”
“Wow, no wonder you ride so well!” The revelation surprised Sierra, but also the fact that River was actually telling her this. “Is your mother still a jockey?”
“She died…she fell off in a race and she was trampled to death.”
Sierra stopped in shock to look at him. “River, how horrible! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
She had a million questions she wanted to ask. How awesome to have a mother who was a jockey. Did he like that about her? Did he blame the horse that had killed her? Did he ever want to be a jockey? Was it his mother who taught him to ride? But she knew it must have been horrible for him and she just couldn’t think how to phrase any questions.
After a few minutes of silence River said, “I’m named after a racehorse. Did you know that?”
“No.” Of course I didn’t know that, I don’t know anything about you, Sierra wanted to say to him.
“Yeah, Raging River, a colt my mother rode to a win. At least she named me River and not Raging.” He half-laughed.
“I like your name,” she told him sincerely.
He shrugged and made a wry face.
“How would you like to be named after a mountain range?”
“Oh yeah, Sierra,” he smirked. “Because you’re so big like a mountain.”
She laughed. River is actually teasing me!
“I like it though,” he said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“No, really I do.”
They were almost to the stable when Sierra blurted out, “My father was killed in a car accident.” She hardly ever talked to anyone about the father she had never known; not with her two best friends at her old school, and not even with her mother. She didn’t know why she told River just then. “It happened before I was born.”
“I guess we have that in common,” he said softly. “We’ve both lost a parent in a bad accident.”
*****
Sierra thought about River as she pedaled home. It felt good that he had confided in her. She remembered how he had called her ‘my girl’, when she wanted to get back up on Fala after her fall, and how she liked that he referred to her that way. Is this what it feels like to have an older brother? she wondered, one who looks out for you and cares about you?
Sierra was very curious about River. How had he learned so much about horses, and who taught him to ride? Why did he even work at Pegasus since he and Tess didn’t seem to get along very well? More than once she had heard Tess speaking harshly to him and River storming away in anger. He didn’t care for most of the boarders either. Pegasus Equestrian Center was the most expensive riding facility in the area and catered to the wealthy who could afford expensive, well-bred, talented horses and a place where they could have others do the unpleasant chores of cleaning, grooming, tacking up and cooling out the horses. She knew he despised Crystal and those like her who rode for the glory of winning in competitions, and had no idea of the joy of companionship one developed in taking full care of a horse.
But River likes me! She was sure of that. Well, brother or not, River was her friend and that made her feel good. Who needs friends at school; I have River and the horses!
*****
10 Winter
Equestrian art, perhaps more than any other, is closely related to the wisdom of life…the horse teaches us self-control, constancy, and the ability to understand what goes on in the mind and feelings of another creature, qualities that are important throughout our lives. – Alois Podhajsky
*****
The lunge line lessons continued throughout the ensuing weeks of winter, usually five or six days a week now, as the cold deterred many of the boarders and River had more time to work with Sierra. She now felt secure at all three gaits and on different horses. River had put her up on other mounts besides the school horses so she could feel different ways of moving on horses of different conformations. He even put her up on Magic and Sierra had delighted at the chestnut’s natural big and bold way of going. Little by little, River relinquished control, teaching her how to increase and decrease the pace and transitions between gaits, all through her abdominal muscles, weight, and legs.
One day he gave her the reins; showing her how to hold each rein with thumbs on top and the flat of the rein between the last two fingers, letting the excess loop off to the right side of the horse’s neck. “These are for talking to your horse, not for control,” he said very seriously. He kept her on the lunge line for a few more lessons so she could practice keeping her hands in the correct position and get accustomed to the feel of the horse’s mouth through the contact with the reins. Then River ended each lesson by unclipping the lunge line and letting Sierra ride completely on her own.
*****
For Christmas, Pam gave her daughter only two presents; a new black riding helmet in a style that many of the boarders wore, and a pair of second-hand tan riding breeches that she had found on e-bay.
“Momma, these are the best presents I’ve ever had in my life,” Sierra exclaimed on Christmas morning, and hugged her mother in a tight embrace with the strength of all her love, her eyes wet with gratitude.
Sierra received one other Christmas present; on the last day of school before the holiday break. Classes in the afternoon had been cancelled in lieu of a holiday party for the whole school. The gymnasium had been decorated with a Christmas tree and other traditional ornaments, a row of tables with refreshments had been set up, and both ballroom dance and popular music played over the loudspeakers. It was a time when many friends exchanged Christmas presents.
Inevitably, Billy asked her to dance and Sierra consented once. My Christmas present to him, she conceded. After the dance she firmly told him she had enough and was just going to watch. She found a corner chair where she stowed her backpack underneath and took out a book to pass the time until the bell rang and they were dismissed.
“Hi, Sierra,” Crystal called in sweet tones. Sierra looked up to see Crystal, Gloria, and Katrina approaching. Crystal carried something in a bag. “We have a gift for you; a thank you for your hard work at Pegasus.” She pulled from the bag a square package wrapped in bright holiday paper and an elegant ribbon, which she presented ceremoniously.
What’s going on? Sierra wondered. Could this be a peace offering? Doubtfully, she accepted the gift, a reflexive smile on her face.
“Go ahead, open it,” Crystal encouraged.
Embarrassed as
the three girls and other kids watched, Sierra nevertheless undid the fancy wrappings and opened the lid of the box. Inside were several red and green tissue paper-wrapped round objects. “What are these?” she asked without thinking.
“Open them,” Crystal and Gloria said in unison. Sierra glanced up, filled with suspicion as she noted how they were stifling giggles. Cautiously, she unwrapped one of the spheres in red tissue paper. Horse manure! Inside was a rounded clump. She stared at it, frozen in disbelief, and then flushed hot with humiliation. As the three girls as well as the group of onlookers burst into gales of laughter, Sierra jumped from her chair and the box fell from her lap, its contents spilling out onto the floor. The watchers screamed in hilarity as they jumped away from the balls of manure rolling out from their loose tissue paper wrappings.
Sierra looked up to meet the eyes of Crystal, which gleamed back at her with vengeful satisfaction.
Hurt and anger filled Sierra’s heart, and she fought back tears, determined not to cry in front of all her classmates. She could think of nothing to say, no clever retort, nor what she should do. But she was certainly not going to laugh and pretend she enjoyed being the brunt of a cruel joke. She wanted desperately to flee, but she didn’t think it would be fair to leave the manure on the floor where kids could step in it. And without any doubts, she knew Crystal and her friends would not pick up the mess.
“Jeeze, you guys,” someone spoke to the three girls. Luke Abrams pushed his way forward through the crowd of kids. “That is so lame.” He didn’t look at Sierra; he just picked up the gift box, and then using the edge of a paper plate, shoved the manure and tissue paper back into the box. It took only a few minutes. He completed the job as unobtrusively as possible, and then dumped the box of manure into a nearby waste can.
“You should really let Sierra do that; she’s an expert,” Crystal informed Luke.
“Yeah, almost as good as River,” Gloria chimed in.
Luke ignored the girls and walked away. Sierra shot a quick look at Crystal who stood with a grim expression aimed at Luke’s retreating back. Sierra grabbed her backpack and hurried after him.
“Thanks,” Sierra offered as she came up alongside Luke. Before he could reply, she turned and fled the gym.
*****
One Sunday afternoon in February, with chores finished, and a cold winter sun shining, River said, “I think you’re ready for a trail ride. I need to take Lucy out and you can ride Fala.”
Sierra had never ridden anywhere but in the arena, except for the few times when River had led her around bareback. The idea of riding out on the trail sounded fantastic.
They groomed and tacked up the two horses and then led them down the lane to the open field. Once outside, River whistled once, and Storm emerged from wherever she had been resting, her tail wagging happily. She was allowed to follow River on trail rides. River waited while Sierra mounted up on Fala, and then swung easily onto the back of Dancing Queen (Lucy), a light chestnut mare who belonged to one of Tess’s high school students.
“Fala’s good on the trails and she’ll follow Lucy,” River said as he started out at the walk across the field. Both horses seemed happy to be outside in the open and looked around with their ears flicking back and forth and stepping out at a lively walk. They reached the start of the trail and continued on in single file. Storm kept a respectful distance behind Fala until the trail led into the woods and then she bounded off to chase squirrels, yet keeping pace with the riders.
This is heaven! Sierra could not imagine anything more wonderful than being on the back of a horse on such a beautiful day. Fala walked out at a brisk pace, needing no urging; the footing soft and comfortable under her hooves. The green needles of the conifers contrasting with the bare limbs of the leafless deciduous trees created interesting patterns in the afternoon sunlight. Sierra loved watching the swinging hind end of Lucy ahead on the trail, her tail swishing rhythmically. The sounds of a few winter birds calling, the squeak of the leather of the saddles, the footfalls of the horses crunching through dead leaves, and their occasional snorts and blowing, all together created a pleasing blend, a natural symphony. She admired the straight back of River and his easy posture in the saddle as if he grew out of it, a part of the horse. Occasionally he would reach down to pet Lucy’s neck, and Sierra could hear him humming a tune. The trail curved through the forest with hills of varying steepness, and she was delighted to find she had no problem keeping a secure position going both up and down hills. She remembered how awkward and a little afraid she had felt the first time River had led her downhill on Morris. Every once in awhile, River looked back to check on them, and he smiled as Sierra grinned reassurance that they were fine.
“Do you want to trot a little?” he asked.
“Sure!”
“Okay, but if these girls get too frisky, we’ll go right back to a walk. They both seem to feel pretty good. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” Sierra answered, and shortened her reins in preparation, taking a gentle hold in the same way as on the lunge line.
River started Lucy into an easy trot. Fala stepped eagerly into a trot right behind her. River kept the pace slow, and both horses minded their manners, enjoying the easy pace and each others’ company. Sierra felt confident and in control, able to slow Fala with half-halts when she needed to, and secure in letting her pick up the pace as well. They trotted on for several minutes with River glancing over his shoulder from time to time to make sure they were behind him and doing okay. Then he brought the pace back to a walk.
“This is the best day I’ve ever had in my whole life!” Sierra declared after the trail looped them back to the open field and they had dismounted.
“That’s what you said after your first lesson,” River teased.
Sierra laughed and made a face back at him as she stroked Fala’s silky neck. Two humans, two horses, and one dog returned to the stable; all five in high, contented spirits.
*****
11 Cross Country Clinic
You cannot train a horse with shouts and expect it to obey a whisper. – Dagobert D. Runes
*****
“What’s wrong, River?” Sierra asked hesitantly, swinging her last pitchfork-full from the stall she was cleaning. River had paused in his work and stood leaning on his pitchfork, staring intently at the ground with his thoughts obviously somewhere else. Although they never talked much, this morning he had been quieter and grumpier than usual and she knew he was upset about something.
He looked up, pulling himself back from his reverie, and with a deep sigh resumed forking up wet shavings. He finished the last few forkfuls before he finally answered. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.” He stood still again, leaning on the pitchfork.
Sierra’s stomach knotted in apprehension. Is he thinking about quitting? She waited.
“You know the clinic Tess is teaching today?”
Sierra nodded. Today was the first Saturday in March and the beginning of training and conditioning for the upcoming competition season. Crystal, Gloria, Katrina, and two other boarders were all competing in combined training events, a competition consisting of three phases: a dressage test, cross-country jumping, and stadium jumping. Tess also had a group of students who trailered their horses to Pegasus for lessons. Today the clinic with eight students participating would be held in the back field to work on cross-country jumping.
“Crystal is going to ride Magic today.”
“Oh.” Sierra knew how he felt about Crystal riding the young chestnut.
“She is such an idiot.” He moved on to the next stall. Sierra followed and worked in the adjacent stall while he talked. “She did very well on Caretaker because that’s exactly what he is. He takes care of her and carries her in spite of her bad riding. He’s used to heavy hands. But when he came up lame, instead of getting another well-trained horse, she gets her father to buy her Magic.”
Sierra listened intently, glad that River was willing to confide in he
r.
“I had made up my mind to quit last summer. Then they brought Magic in, and I can’t help it; he’s such a special horse. She’s going to ruin him. Can you imagine how he’s going to react if she tries to jump him outside today?”
“Don’t you think Tess will be able to help her?” Sierra offered meekly. After all, that was what the clinic was all about; learning to jump an outside course.
In response, River made a noise of disgust.
Sierra felt very confused. She had watched Tess ride and thought she always looked like she knew what she was doing; in total control of her mounts and consistently getting clean jumping rounds and accurate dressage movements. She knew the history of Tess’s career, having looked her up on-line. As a teenager, Tess had cleaned up as a junior rider in three-day events; competitions of the three phases of combined training spread out over three days. She consistently won at the regional end-of-season championship events, both as a junior and an adult amateur all the way to advanced level; and twice had qualified to try out for the Olympic team. Now as a professional in her mid-thirties, she continued to maintain a reputation as a formidable competitor at the local level, and had coached a few students to considerable success.
“I think she’s a good rider,” Sierra stated her opinion.
“Yeah, she has that reputation.”
“What do you think?” Sierra asked timidly.
“She rides well enough on a talented horse that likes to be held and told exactly what to do, and since there are some horses like that, she can show and win. She knows what kind of horses she looks good on, so those are the only ones she shows. She isn’t able to do anything to improve a horse without natural talent. She can’t ride a horse like Magic either. He won’t tolerate a tight hold.” River spoke with bitterness.
The Girl Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series) Page 7
