The Girl Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series)

by Diana Vincent

  After the trail ride when River demonstrated riding without reins, Sierra decided to read again some books written by masters of classical dressage, and she checked out several from the local library. In every book, the authors stressed the importance of relaxation of the horse as necessary for correct performance. Several authors talked about the use of the body, referring to the abdominal or core muscles as the center of a rider’s control. Everything she read confirmed that River rode in a classical style. He is not a backyard rider, he is a classical rider!

  At her next lesson on the flat, Sierra asked, “I’ve been reading some books on dressage. They talk about how to use your abdominal muscles and weight and I wondered if you were going to teach that to me.”

  Tess answered in her usual tone of exasperation. “I may not use those terms but every time I tell you to sit deep I’m telling you to use your weight. Classical dressage is the basis of what I’m teaching but you need to realize in competition today that there has to be some deviations from what is considered pure classical. Using your weight becomes more important when you collect for the upper levels. You’ve heard of the training pyramid, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” Sierra answered. “It starts with rhythm, then relaxation, connection, impulsion, straightness, and then collection.”

  Tess gave her a look of disgust that she had actually memorized the pyramid. “Right; and you have to get your horse round and on the bit in order to keep in rhythm. When they accept the bit then they will relax.”

  That was not actually how Sierra understood what she had been reading, but she didn’t ask any more questions.

  *****

  A week later for her Thursday jumping lesson, Tess told Sierra to saddle Galaxy. Sierra had ridden Galaxy on the trails a few times and felt very comfortable on him. In fact, she agreed with both Tess and River’s assessment; he was very lazy.

  Sierra had warmed up in the outdoor arena, trotting and cantering big circles and figure eights and was ready when Tess arrived. She looked forward to what it must feel like to jump on the big horse.

  “We’re going to try to get him to pick up his feet today,” Tess announced. “He takes too many rails down when he jumps…lazy.” She directed Sierra down a line of cavalletti poles at a trot, which forced Galaxy to use more impulsion, even though he still knocked against the rails a few times. Then Tess set up a line of six low jumps with only a stride in between. The first time through, the heights were all set the same at two feet, and Galaxy easily cleared them all. Then Tess began raising the last bar two inches at a time. One of Tess’s adult students joined her where she stood near the last jump of the line.

  Galaxy cleared the line with the last bar at two feet, then two feet, two, and two feet, four. At two feet, six, he pulled the rail down as he dragged his hind legs over.

  “Again,” Tess called out. The adult student and Tess each stood on one side of the jump standard at the end of the line.

  Sierra cantered around the arena and up in two-point, steered Galaxy back to the line of jumps. He slowed at the approach as if to say, “What, again? I’m bored.”

  “Use the crop,” Tess instructed.

  Sierra slapped his hindquarters with the jumping bat and Galaxy reluctantly picked up the pace and started down the line of jumps. Sierra sensed he was going to pull the rail again as he lazily launched himself to jump the last of the line. He had no energy. Suddenly Sierra heard a loud crack and from the corner of her eye, saw that Tess and her student each held opposite ends of a long bamboo pole. They had lifted the pole to smack against Galaxy’s hind legs as he jumped.

  Galaxy’s head came up in shocked surprise and he leapt forward, snorting and rushed off in a full gallop.

  “Take advantage; push him on and bring him around again,” Tess ordered.

  Sierra was stunned. What just happened? They hit him with that pole! Were those nails in it? She rode almost passively, letting Galaxy gallop around the perimeter of the arena, trying to make sense of what Tess had done.

  “Bring him through again,” Tess yelled, noticing her hesitation.

  Sierra steered Galaxy back toward the line. He approached it now with his ears pricked forward and blowing. He seemed confused and frightened, but he started down the line, clearing the jumps. Over the last obstacle, Tess and the student brought the pole up again, hitting his hind legs.

  “Again,” Tess ordered.

  Feeling numb with shock, Sierra let Galaxy gallop around and again took him down the line. He jumped every jump high and wide with a foot to spare.

  “Great! Do you feel that?” Tess was grinning. “He’ll remember to pick up his feet now.”

  “Very effective,” the adult student exclaimed.

  *****

  The lesson over, Sierra led Galaxy back to the crossties. Her entire body felt shaky and her nerves raw. Galaxy, usually the most placid horse, held his head high with his eyes rolling, still in a state of terror. Sierra removed his tack and inspected his belly and legs and her stomach flipped when she found two trickles of blood congealed on the inside of one hind leg. This is abuse and I was part of it. A wave of nausea roiled her stomach and she felt dizzy. She leaned against Galaxy’s shoulder, stroking his neck and telling him over and over, “I’m sorry.”

  Sierra led him to the wash stall, relieved that he at least didn’t show any signs of lameness. She rinsed off the sweat and carefully washed his leg. The wound was barely a scratch; nevertheless, it had drawn blood! She used a sweat scraper to remove excess water from his coat and then walked him up and down the lane to dry. When she finally turned him out into his paddock, he seemed his old self and readily accepted the carrot pieces she offered him. He had forgiven her.

  “Never again,” she promised him with a final pat, and then walked slowly back to the stable to put his tack away. She stood in the middle of the tack room and looked around at the rows of saddles on racks, the bridles on hooks, and breathed in the rich smell of leather and saddle soap.

  She needed to talk to Tess, but she was afraid to confront her. To disagree with Tess she feared would end her place at Pegasus. But Sierra was determined not to be a part of what had happened in her lesson today; never again. She began cleaning Galaxy’s bridle while she formulated words to say to Tess in her mind.

  Sierra heard the clop of horse hooves into the crossties, and then out again, and knew River had returned from his trail ride, untacked, and had led his horse back out. Not long after, the tack room door opened and River came in carrying a saddle and bridle.

  “Hi,” he greeted. He set the saddle on the cleaning stand and hung the bridle on the cleaning hook suspended from the ceiling. When Sierra didn’t answer he looked over his shoulder where she had stepped away from hanging up a bridle, and now stood still as stone, hugging herself. “Sierra?”

  She couldn’t answer. She shook her head and then tears began to flow and she burst into sobs. “Ri…iv…er, I can’t…”

  River’s eyes flew open wide and then narrowed. In three long strides he reached Sierra and took her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, and they sat on the cold, cement floor where he held her in his lap as she sobbed uncontrollably.

  Eventually she was able to gulp out what had happened.

  “Oh,” he sighed in understanding. “Rapping.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Using a pole to hit the horse as he jumps. It teaches him to jump big and tuck his legs. Sometimes it’s called poling.”

  “It’s horrible and cruel. It freaked Galaxy out and she made him bleed.”

  “Yeah, I think she uses a pole with nails in it. And she didn’t tell you what she was going to do?”

  “No, it freaked me out as much as Galaxy. But she had me go around and she hit him again. And…and…I did it. I let her hit him again.” More sobs followed.

  “No, you didn’t. Sierra, you are in no way responsible for what she did.”

  She could feel River’s muscles tighten. She l
ooked up into his frowning face and his eyes were smoldering with anger.

  “I’m going to lose this job. I’m going to tell her I can’t take lessons from her and she’ll probably fire me.” Sierra choked back more sobs. Enough crying! “I don’t want to leave the horses.”

  “Yeah, she’s spiteful enough to let you go. But she’ll regret it. You work harder than any girl she’s hired before.”

  “What can I do?” Sierra wailed, though she didn’t think River would have any more of a solution than she did.

  “I’ll go with you to talk to Tess.”

  Oh yes! Sierra’s first reaction was of relief, but moments later she knew it wouldn’t help. “No, she always accuses me of complaining to you.”

  “What?” He seemed surprised and she told him about the two times Tess had accused her of complaining to River rather than going to her first.

  He shook his head in disgust. “You’re too sweet for this place. Maybe you can work at another stable.”

  “I don’t know of any other place, especially one close enough that I can ride my bicycle to. Besides, I would miss you.”

  His face softened and he smiled. “Thanks.” He pushed a damp stray lock of hair off her wet cheek. “I would miss you too.”

  He could be so sweet! That wrenched at her heart even more when she thought about not seeing him, or working and riding alongside him every day.

  “Maybe she won’t fire you. She’s smart enough to know what a good deal you are for her. In fact, maybe you should tell her you don’t want lessons and ask for pay.” He laughed sardonically.

  “Do you get paid?” Sierra actually didn’t know.

  “She pays me half wages because my father keeps a horse or two here during the winter and breeding season. I mostly work here because my father makes me.”

  “River, that has got to be against some kind of child labor law.”

  “Who knows? It doesn’t matter. He leaves me alone as long as I’m working.” He shifted his body and Sierra moved off his lap so they could both stand up.

  “Thanks, River…for being my friend.”

  He nodded, frowning.

  Sierra went into the restroom and washed her face and smoothed back her braids. Her face was blotchy and her nose red from crying, but she was okay with Tess realizing how upset she was. Taking a few deep breaths she left the restroom. “Here I go,” Sierra announced.

  “Good luck,” he encouraged from where he stood cleaning tack. She was halfway out the door when he asked, “Sierra, will you come back and let me know what happens?”

  “Of course,” she smiled back and then walked with determined steps to the office where she had seen Tess go after the lesson. All Sierra had to do was recall the image of a very frightened horse and the blood on his leg to stoke her courage as she approached the door. Anger was very effective armor against timidity.

  Sierra knocked on the door and stepped inside without waiting for an answer. “Ms. Holmes,” she addressed Tess who looked up from her computer, annoyed. She knew Tess hated to be addressed that way. Without waiting for a response, Sierra rushed on. “What you did in my lesson today, the rapping, and without telling me what you were going to do…well, it was horrible. I don’t want to take lessons from you anymore.”

  Tess turned away from her computer to stare at her in disbelief. “What?”

  “I don’t want to take lessons from you anymore.” Then Sierra added with less assurance. “But I would still like to work here.”

  Tess pushed back from her desk and folded her arms across her chest. Her face puckered into a disdainful expression. “Well, you ungrateful little..,” she huffed. “You don’t know anything. Rapping is an accepted method to teach a lazy horse. Look it up. You might find it in the same book as the training pyramid,” she added sarcastically.

  Sierra’s anger boiled into rage. “No,” she spoke with assurance. “It is in none of the books that talk about the training pyramid.” It was just one more thing that bothered her about Tess; that she disapproved of her reading books on horsemanship. Tess should encourage her students to read books.

  “Horses need to learn discipline, just like children. Didn’t your mother ever spank you when you were being an insubordinate little girl?”

  “My mother has never hit me,” Sierra answered truthfully.

  Tess’s eyes narrowed and she spat out the words. “Get off my property! There is no place for you at Pegasus.”

  Sierra fled.

  River waited for her, watching from the main door of the stable. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Fired.”

  River squared his shoulders and started walking toward the office. Sierra grabbed his arm. “No, it’s okay.” He shrugged her off and kept on walking. Sierra ran after him and grabbed his arm again. “No, River, please. You’ll only make things worse.”

  He paused, taking deep breaths to get his temper under control. “Yeah, probably true,” he mumbled and looked at her with an anguished expression. “What are you going to do?”

  “Give up riding. I guess I really don’t have a choice.”

  He walked with her to her bicycle. “I may have an idea,” he said. “I have to talk to somebody and then I’ll let you know.”

  “Really?” Sierra replied with a glimmer of hope. “I won’t be here. How will you tell me?”

  “I know where you live,” he answered to Sierra’s surprise.

  “How do you..?”

  “A friend of mine lives near you. I’ve seen you going to your house. It’s that little one behind the Robinson place, right?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed, and then impulsively, hugged him tightly. Then she got on her bicycle and rode home.

  *****

  A short, compact rider with a tan weathered face and tight black curls smattered with a touch of gray, reached forward to lightly touch the arched neck of his gray gelding as the horse stretched willingly into contact with his bit. “Good, good,” his rider whispered, satisfied that his mount was relaxed and warmed up, ready to attempt more advanced movements. With a gentle squeeze of both reins, a drawing in of his center muscles and touching the sides of his mount with the calves of his legs, he asked the gray to step up underneath himself so that the power from his hind end elevated his movements. The gray responded and with powerful steps from his hind legs, moved forward as if floating, into passage. “Ahhh, so good, my little Fiel,” the rider sighed with pleasure after maintaining the animated passage for the length of the flat sandlot. “Now, perhaps…” he increased the aids to shorten the gray’s stride to piaffe. The gray’s ears flicked back and forth and his tail swished in rhythm as he trotted in place. “Ahh,” the rider breathed joyfully. Again he touched the gray’s neck as he lightened his seat and legs and allowed the gray to stretch his neck forward and shift into an easier working trot.

  It was then the rider noted the figure watching from the shadows of the maple trees that shaded the exercise area. Who is that and why is he sneaking around? he wondered, annoyed. The gray rounded the corner approaching the maples and the man brought him to a square halt, opposite the skulking figure. “You are trespassing!” he called out; a slight Portuguese accent infiltrated his speech.

  River stepped out of the shadows. “Hi, João.”

  The man squinted, and then breathed out a long sigh. “River?” He blinked hard, and brushed a hand across his eyes. “Too long, it has been too long,” he exclaimed as he dismounted. River stepped forward and with head bowed, allowed the man to pull him into a warm embrace. Then he held River by the shoulders and looked intently into his face.

  River met his eyes and flushed before ducking his head with a shamefaced expression. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “I know, I know you are. How is it you don’t know I understand? Why do you stay away?”

  “João, I just…” River could not think of an answer. The two walked side by side, João leading the gray gelding to a small stable next to a two-story house shaded within
another grove of maple trees.

  “Your father came looking for you a few months ago. Did you run away again?”

  “Yes,” River answered without further explanation.

  “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “I did,” River replied. “But you weren’t home and I couldn’t wait. I just wanted to say goodbye. Anyway, I wasn’t gone for very long.”

  “How you hurt me when you won’t let me help you. River, I promised your mother…”

  “I know, I know. It’s not your fault I’m such a loser. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you.”

  João made a sound of exasperation. “I can help you with your school work. Why are you so stubborn?”

  “No one can help me. Why can’t you accept the fact I’m just too dumb?”

  João stopped in his tracks and grabbed River by the shoulders again. River ducked his head. “Look at me,” João ordered. “Look at me.” He grabbed River’s chin and made him look up. “You are not dumb. No,” he insisted as River tried to look away. “You are not dumb.”

  “Okay,” River agreed and only then did João let go of his face. They resumed walking.

  “I have this friend…at the stable where I work,” River began.

  *****

  22 João Mateus

  Anything forced and misunderstood can never be beautiful. And to quote the words of Simon: If a dancer was forced to dance by whip and spikes, he would be no more beautiful than a horse trained under similar conditions. – Xenophon

  *****

  A week passed. The cottage that Sierra loved so much became unbearably confining. Her mother had classes through the summer, so Sierra moped around alone, her thoughts inevitably drifting to what might be happening at the stable, and as time dragged on, every time she noticed the clock she couldn’t help but despair, thinking, River and I would be turning the horses out, or, I’d be saddling up to trail ride, or River and I would be cleaning tack about now. She had chores at home that took almost no time for she had become very efficient at them in order to spend all day at the stable. She planned and cooked meals, having them ready for Pam when she got home from school. Other than that, Sierra had nothing to do. Allison lived in another part of town that was too far to get to on a bicycle, but they talked on the phone for hours. Allison proved a true friend. She listened to Sierra’s story; sympathized and assured her she had made the right decision to confront Tess. Day after day she listened to Sierra whine and complain, but she had no ideas as to what Sierra could do.