The Girl Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series)

by Diana Vincent

  In the evenings, Pam hugged and soothed her daughter and told her how proud she was that she had made the right choice. After several days however, as Sierra’s mood did not improve, Pam began to chastise her for her persistent moodiness. But it was impossible for Sierra to foster a cheerful attitude when her thoughts constantly drifted to the horses and River, and how much she missed them.

  One evening, sitting with her mother over bowls of ice cream with her mind as usual back at the stable, she asked, “Mom, if you knew of someone that might be abused by their father, what would you do?”

  “Who, Honey?” Pam looked up with her spoon hovering, her face showing concern.

  “Someone I know from school.”

  “Do you mean sexually abused?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.”

  Pam spooned in a mouthful of ice cream while she thought. “It’s tough. The correct answer is probably you should tell me who, and I should call Child Protective Services. That’s what they teach us in nursing school.”

  “What would happen?” Sierra asked.

  “They would investigate and make a decision as to whether it was safe for the child to remain at home or if the child should be placed in foster care. It all sounds very ideal, but unfortunately, a child may be taken out of a bad situation and placed into another equally bad situation. Removing someone from their family, even when abused, doesn’t always make things better. And just the fact that a report has been made resulting in an investigation can stir up trouble.”

  “So, I should do nothing?”

  “Maybe you should tell me what your suspicions are.”

  “No..,” Sierra said after a few moments of thinking. “I’m not really sure and I don’t have any kind of proof.”

  “Perhaps you could talk to the person and see if that person might appreciate outside help. That might be a good place to start.”

  Sierra nodded, “Yeah…”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me more about it?”

  “Not yet, but thanks, Mom.”

  *****

  Another week passed and Sierra sank into miserable ennui. She considered going back to Pegasus and humbly apologizing to Tess, to see if she could at least get her stall cleaning job back. Or if not, just be allowed to visit the horses and River. But depression and boredom are not good bases for courage, so she did nothing.

  One evening Sierra stood at the kitchen sink cleaning vegetables from their garden to make a salad to go along with her first attempt at making lasagna. Pam was relaxing on the couch with her feet up, still dressed in her scrubs from school. She had opened her textbook to study but had fallen asleep.

  Poor Mom. Whenever Sierra thought about how hard her mother studied and worked with never a day off, her own troubles paled. Even during her school breaks Pam picked up extra shifts at the nursing home to supplement her income. Sierra was glad she could help out by at least taking over dinner preparations so her mother could come home and rest. And Sierra was actually enjoying learning to cook.

  Someone knocked softly at the front door. Strange, Sierra thought. Their cottage being set back from the road prevented salespeople and evangelists from calling. No one ever came to the door except their landlords. And Mrs. Robinson always knocked loudly in a pattern and called out to announce her presence.

  “Mom, I’ll get it,” Sierra called out, not wanting her mother to have to get up until dinner was ready. But Pam had already awakened and answered the door. With a carrot in hand, Sierra peeked around from the kitchen into the living room, curious to see who was there.

  River stood in the doorway. “Um, is Sierra here?”

  “Yes, she’s here,” Pam greeted with a warm smile.

  “River!” Sierra cried out happily. “Mom, this is my friend from the stable.”

  “I’m so glad to meet you, River. I’ve heard so much about you. Won’t you come in?”

  “Um,” he looked down at his feet, struggling with his social skills.

  “Come into the kitchen, I’m fixing dinner,” Sierra invited.

  “I just came by to tell you about my friend.” River seemed nervous and self-conscious in front of Pam.

  “Cool! Hey, want to stay for dinner? Mom, can he stay for dinner?”

  “Of course.” Pam stood with the door wide open and gestured for River to step inside.

  “No, I…um,”

  “Why don’t you stay,” Pam encouraged. “If it’s all right with your parents.”

  “Yeah, if you’re brave enough,” Sierra added. “I made lasagna for the first time. I wouldn’t mind a guinea pig besides us.”

  “Um, well…” He thought for a moment. “Okay.”

  “Come with me.” Sierra had come over to the doorway beside her mother, and she now gave a little tug at River’s wrist to get him going. She led the way into the kitchen, and he followed, glancing around. “Dinner’s almost ready; I’m just finishing the salad.” Sierra pulled out a chair from the kitchen table as she walked back to the sink with the carrot. River took the hint and sat down.

  “Your mom’s a nurse?” he asked.

  “Not yet. Well, she’s a nurse’s aide right now, but she’s going to college to be a nurse.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I like nurses.”

  The oven’s buzzer sounded. “Lasagna’s done,” Sierra announced as she grabbed pot holders and carefully removed the casserole.

  “It smells good.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Sierra agreed and then asked over her shoulder, “how come you like nurses?”

  Soft purring filled the silence and Sierra glanced back again to note Socrates had transferred himself from the seat of one of the other chairs into River’s lap. River seemed intent on stroking the cat’s soft fur, but finally explained, “When my mother was killed they took her to the hospital and me too. Nobody knew what to do with me. Then this one nurse took me to the cafeteria and made me eat some food. She sat with me and talked to me a little. I don’t know what she did to make it happen but she took me home with her. She and her roommate were both nurses. Between the two of them, they arranged their shifts so someone would be there to look after me. I lived with them for two months before the social worker people located my father.”

  “How old were you when that happened?” Sierra asked.

  “Eight.”

  “You miss your mom, don’t you.”

  “Sometimes.” He coughed. “What I came to tell you is I talked to my friend with a horse. He wants to meet you and see if you’d like to ride.”

  “Really?” Sierra carried the salad bowl to the table, her face lit up at his news.

  River looked at her and smiled. “Really.”

  “Ohhh!” Sierra cried out in glee. “River, thank you, thank you.”

  “You’re happy about something.” Pam stood in the doorway, smiling. She had changed from scrubs into jeans and tee-shirt. Sierra told her the news.

  “That sounds encouraging.”

  Sierra set an extra plate and brought the lasagna to the table and they all sat down. In motherly fashion, Pam began the interrogation. “Who is this man and where does he live?”

  Throughout dinner, River answered Pam’s questions.

  João Mateus, originally from Portugal, was a retired jockey, an old friend of River’s mother. He also knew River’s father, having ridden a few race horses that his father had trained. When he was ready to retire from racing, he found some affordable acreage for lease in this area and moved in, bringing his one horse. River thought he now did some kind of accounting work from his home.

  “I can take you there tonight if you want to meet him,” River offered.

  “Please, Mom.”

  “I think that is a good idea. I would like to meet him. More lasagna, River?” He had already eaten two platefuls.

  “Um, okay. It’s really good,” he complimented Sierra.

  “Thanks.”

  They finished dinner and River helped Sierra clear the tab
le and put the dishes in the sink to soak. “I’ll wash them later,” she said, anxious to meet his friend, or in truth, anxious to meet his horse.

  Outside, they found Storm sitting under the maple tree, her tail thumping as they emerged from the house. Pam graciously consented to let her ride in the car with them, and Storm jumped into the back seat next to River, who gave Pam directions to a place not far down the road from the cottage; easy bicycling distance.

  They pulled into a gravel driveway that paralleled a mesh-fenced pasture and led up to the house and small barn. Several large trees shaded the yard and pasture, and what looked like a riding arena that was just visible behind the barn. Pam parked the car and as they were getting out, a man and border collie emerged from the barn.

  Storm bounded forward and she and the Border Collie touched noses, their tails wagging. Then they romped off together, obviously not strangers to each other.

  The man approached, his face crinkling into a welcoming grin; his twinkling eyes surprisingly blue. “River has told me about this young lady,” he welcomed Pam and Sierra graciously.

  “This is Sierra,” River stated, the best he could manage for introductions.

  “I am João Mateus,” he introduced himself and offered his hand to Pam. “Please, you call me João.”

  “Nice to meet you; I’m Pam Landsing and this is my daughter Sierra.” Pam accepted the proffered hand with a smile.

  João turned to Sierra and offered his hand. Sierra accepted, her small hand clasped within a warm, firm grip. “It is a pleasure. So, you are the young equestrienne that River has told me about.”

  Sierra liked him already. She liked his warm face and direct manners. She smiled back and replied, “Yes sir, or at least I want to be an equestrienne.”

  “Ah, a respectful young person; you should learn from her.” João clapped River on the shoulder and laughed at River’s scowl. “Well then, shall we go meet Fiel?”

  “Yes, please,” Sierra answered enthusiastically.

  “I have just brought him in for the night and he is having his supper, but we will introduce you.” He led them into the little barn.

  The smell of horse and hay and the sound of horse teeth munching, welcomed them into the barn’s interior. In a roomy box stall, a dappled gray horse with a dark gray mane and tail stood contentedly over a mound of hay. He looked up and whickered softly as they approached. He had a large head with a Roman nose and soft, kind, intelligent brown eyes with long white eyelashes. The sights, smells, and sounds all washed over Sierra, filling her soul; the equal of food offered to a starving man.

  “This is my little Fiel,” João introduced the horse with obvious pride. Fiel stuck his head over the boards of his stall and João affectionately rubbed his nose.

  Sierra stepped up to peer into the lovely equine face. “Hello, Fiel,” she greeted in a soft voice, and reached her hand slowly forward to stroke his neck. Fiel stood a few moments but when he realized no one was going to offer him a treat, he stepped back to his hay.

  “What kind of horse is he?” Sierra asked.

  “He is Lusitano. His dam was imported from Portugal but he was bred here in America. He’s twelve now.”

  “He’s beautiful.”

  João laughed. Well, maybe not so beautiful standing in his stall, but when he is in motion, ahh…” He made a gesture to indicate something fine.

  “Sierra thinks all horses are beautiful,” River smirked and she made a face at him.

  “Well, Miss Sierra, I tend to agree with you.” João laughed. “Why don’t we sit down and discuss what you wish to learn. Shall we leave Fiel to enjoy his supper, and we will go up to the house for a little refreshment?” They traipsed behind him up to a front porch the length of the house, where a table and chairs waited.

  “River, you help me serve the ladies.” João pulled out chairs for Pam and Sierra and then he and River went inside to return a few minutes later. River carried a pitcher of ice tea and João had a tray with glasses and a decanter of a dark red liquid.

  “Perhaps Pam, you would like to sip on genuine Portuguese aged port?” João held up the decanter. “Or if you prefer, iced tea?”

  “Port would be lovely,” Pam accepted to Sierra’s surprise. Her mother hardly ever drank alcohol. João poured a small glass for Pam and himself, and River and Sierra had glasses of iced tea. Then João asked Sierra about her riding experiences. He seemed especially interested when she tried to explain her confusion at some of the methods she had learned from Tess; how she found them to be very different from how River had tried to teach her and from her understanding of the books she had read. Sometimes his brow creased into a deep frown, especially when she repeated the incident of the rapping used on Galaxy.

  At the end of her account, João said, “I feed at six in the morning and then I leave him alone to enjoy his breakfast. About eight, I tidy up in the barn and then we ride. After that he goes in the pasture to be lazy the rest of the day until I bring him in at night. You may come tomorrow, perhaps between eight and eight-thirty, and we will see how you ride. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

  “Yes, it sounds wonderful!” Sierra exclaimed. “Is it okay, Mom?”

  “João, I think you are very generous. Can Sierra help you out with chores?” Pam offered.

  “Thank you. River has told me what a hard working young lady she is. I will accept some help with the chores, but I prefer to clean the stall and care for my own horse. It helps me stay in shape as well as informs me how things are with Fiel.”

  “I’ll do anything you want me to,” Sierra offered ambitiously. “But how does cleaning the stall tell you about Fiel?”

  “A good question,” João settled back in his chair, a man who liked to talk. He reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on a small stand behind him and lit one as he talked. “Please excuse my bad habit,” he apologized, especially to Pam. “Such a bad addiction.” He shook his head, admonishing himself.

  “Now I will explain. When I clean his stall morning after morning, I know how many piles of manure he has produced during the night. I note the consistency. This is important because a horse’s digestive system is quite primitive on the evolutionary scale. If there are only a few piles, well, I worry. Maybe he is developing a blockage in the intestine, and I watch him very closely. I can give him something to help if I suspect he might be getting colic.

  “Then when I bring him from the stall to the cross ties, I see how he walks first thing in the morning. Does he have stiffness in his joints; soreness anywhere? When I brush him, I notice scratches, bumps, swellings, anything unusual. Since I groom him every day, I know what has always been there and what is new. Plus, I know what kind of mood he is in as he stands in the crossties. Is he lazy today or irritable? Perhaps I worked him too hard yesterday. Is he alert and fresh-acting? Thus I will plan the riding session.”

  “Wow,” Sierra listened, fascinated.

  “That’s incredible,” Pam commented. “I see why you think the chores are important.”

  “A true horseman is involved in all facets of his animal’s life. There is more to horsemanship than riding.”

  Sierra nodded in agreement.

  “This is one reason I am pleased to work with you, Miss Sierra. River has told me how you worked at the stable for many weeks to clean stalls, groom horses; all these kinds of chores and you were not even given lessons to compensate. I think you have the heart and spirit of a true horsewoman.”

  Sierra flushed at his praise and actually felt tears forming which she fortunately was able to hold back.

  They talked awhile longer with João now asking Pam questions about her schooling as they sipped on port and tea. River, as usual, didn’t say much of anything, but he seemed relaxed in the company. Storm and Charlie, the border collie, had finished cavorting and they had joined the group on the porch to lie panting at their feet.

  “João, I want to thank you again for your generosity toward Sierra. She hasn’t been
in the best of spirits since losing her job at the stable,” Pam said as she set down her empty glass. “Well, I have school in the morning and more homework to do, so regretfully we must say goodnight.”

  João walked them to the car, shook hands again with Pam and Sierra, and they returned home. Sierra turned to River in the back seat to exclaim, “River, he is wonderful. Thanks so much.”

  “S’okay,” he answered, looking out the window.

  *****

  23 New Lessons

  It is my firm conviction that that is the most effective and practical method of riding which is based on the sensitive persuasion of the horse, i.e. on the attainment of its mental cooperation, and which, without the use of force, balances the animal during the performance of its physical activities. – Lieutenant Colonel A. L. d’Endrödy

  *****

  Several minutes before eight in the morning Sierra pedaled into the driveway of the small farm and parked her bicycle at the side of the barn. The morning sunlight gleamed off bits of metal here and there in the yard and dappled the ground beneath the trees. Happiness flowed throughout her; it felt so good to be back in a world that centered around a horse. Even so, she harbored a bit of nervousness as to what to expect today with João Mateus.

  The door of the house opened and João, puffing on the end of a cigarette and carrying a coffee mug, stepped out. An exuberant Charlie preceded him, bounding up to Sierra with his tail wagging and greeted her with a lick on the hand.