A Kingdom in a Horse

by Maia Wojciechowska

  Again he stopped and Sarah waited for him to go on. They were inside the barn now, and Lee began to look around it.

  “Anyway,” he added, “now he hates everything—the school, our house, his whole life—and he blames all his misery on me. And he can’t even bear horses because they remind him of the life he isn’t leading anymore.”

  “Do you think,” she asked, “it would be all right for me to tell him that he is welcome to ride Gypsy any time he wants to?”

  “That’d be mighty nice of you.”

  David, sitting in the truck, did not look at them when they passed him. He had brought his homework along, for he had to study for another test. It was important to him. If he flunked this one he’d have to go to summer school. Besides, he was sick and tired of other kids thinking he was stupid. But he couldn’t concentrate. He was filled with self-pity, the kind that made his throat hurt and his eyes smart. And he was pitying himself because nothing at all was going right for him.

  He had to study three times as hard as anyone else in school to keep up with the kids a year younger than he. While traveling with his father, he had learned how to read and write, and sometimes they would even buy some schoolbooks and he would study from them, but not really hard. Sometimes there would be a month or two when they would not have to go to rodeos. Then his father would send him to a school, never telling the principal that it would be for only a little while. During those times, David realized how much studying he had missed and how hard it would be to start going to school on a regular basis. But he never thought that he would have to do that. He’d be a clown soon. And knowing this was reason enough not to worry. He was frightened once when a truant officer talked to his father and told him about the law that a kid had to go to school. But no one could have caught up with them, traveling as they did. And no one asked questions after that one time.

  But now, to keep up, he could never play baseball after school or hang around with other kids. Not that he really wanted to. It was only that he would have liked to have had a choice. But there was no choice. The other boys didn’t even ask him, and he had to study—all the time, from the time he got home and made himself a sandwich, until past his bedtime, reading under the sheets by the beam of a flashlight, so his father would not know how hard it was for him.

  And now the old woman and her horse! He had thought of them last night. He had promised himself that he would not hate the woman just because she had bought the horse he wanted. And he had promised himself that he would not think of the mare as his horse. But he thought that he might ride his bike over at night, when the moon was full, and give the mare a try. He’d like to do that often and in secret. Just because he didn’t own the horse shouldn’t prevent him from loving it. And besides, now his whole life was a secret one. He never talked to anyone. Least of all his father.

  He bent down and read off the capitals of South America. Why did they have to study that? Did they have rodeos there? How thoughts like that made him mad! If he could only concentrate!

  In the barn Lee and Sarah did find a box with some useful things, things which must have once belonged to her brother when he had a horse. There were a scraper, a hoof nail, and half a dozen folded feed bags, which Lee told her were the best things to rub a horse with to give it gloss. There were also a bottle of dried-up liniment, a jar of vaseline, and best of all, an old leather halter with a lead line. By the time they left the barn, Sarah had learned a lot about taking care of the horse, about grooming it and feeding it, and the general care of the stable. In one corner of the barn they found a bucket, just right for Gypsy. It hung on a bucket post, which also yielded a measuring cup for the oats. They took back a pitchfork, a shovel, pliers, and a wheelbarrow, which they filled with Gypsy’s things.

  Back in the stable Lee showed Sarah how to clean after the horse, removing the minimum of straw with the manure, and airing and drying the wet straw in the sun so that it could be reused. Outside of the stable they discovered an overgrown compost hole. While she went to get the hammer Lee brought out of his truck a gift for her, two leather straps, which he attached to the side of the stable door.

  “That’s so you can saddle her comfortably. The straps snap on both sides of the halter, and she won’t be shaking her head away when you fit the bit in her mouth.”

  “What would I do without you?” she said gratefully.

  “You’d do all right. It would take you a little longer though.” He opened the gate of the stall and took Gypsy out. “Now I’ll show you how to saddle her.”

  She watched him, and when he was done he made her saddle the horse herself. She was afraid of tightening the girth, but he assured her it didn’t hurt the horse.

  “Most horses, especially mares, don’t like the feel of it, and this one snapped her teeth, but it’s not because it hurt. It will loosen up anyway, and most of the time you’ll have to dismount after a while and tighten it again. It should be tight so the saddle don’t move under you and rub off the hair on her back. The best way to see if it’s tight enough and not too snug is to put two fingers between the girth and the belly.”

  She did as she was told, amazed at the horse’s patience with them and at her own ease and lack of fear. She promised herself that she would have a treat for Gypsy each time she saddled her.

  “Now for the bridle,” Lee said.

  When Sarah was trying to place the bit in the horse’s mouth, Gypsy raised her head and turned it away from her.

  “Always be firm with her,” Lee said, prying Gypsy’s mouth open with his fingers and slipping the bar in. “Be sure you put your fingers behind her teeth so that she can’t bite you.”

  Lee took the horse out of the stable before mounting her. Without using the stirrups but with the help of the horn, he lifted himself up on the saddle. He held the reins quite loosely, and the horse did not throw him or run off with him as Sarah half expected.

  “She is well behaved. That I’ll say for her,” Lee said. “And she looked almost too good when David rode her in the auction barn. But you watch us now. I’ll first make her walk, then jog and lope, and I’ll see how she does on turns.”

  Without knowing anything at all about riding, Sarah realized that Lee was a fine horseman. Gypsy’s eagerness to take off was equally evident, but she was being kept in check, and only her slightly tossing head and her high-stepping feet indicated that she would have been much happier if she did not have to walk. Her jog was smooth, Lee sitting firmly in the saddle, and when they did take off at a lope and then a gallop, Sarah caught her breath, it seemed so fast. It was marvelous to watch them, the grace of the horse and the ability of the man.

  “She is fast!” Lee exclaimed, bringing her to a halt in front of Sarah. “She is in fine shape, much better than I thought she’d be in. Now we shall see how she does on the turns.”

  He took her on the grass and, loping, made a very sharp turn to the left by using the reins on her neck only slightly. Gypsy turned, changing leads beautifully, her whole body coming around after her inside legs had made the turns.

  David had been watching from the truck. Grudgingly he had to admit to himself that his father was a darn good rider. He still looked as if he were a champion bronco rider and roper. He could always do anything with a horse, whether a tame or a wild one. He remembered one day, out in Arizona, when his father was breaking in a black stallion that one of the men had caught in a canyon after a two-day chase. The stallion had already thrown and hurt a half dozen men before his father got on him. It took him less than an hour to make a lamb out of that ornery critter. He had let David ride him afterward, and the owner, having come back from the hospital with a cast on one of his arms, couldn’t get over it-how Lee could have done the impossible in such a short time.

  Now with Gypsy he was making her look as good as David thought she would be. He lowered his eyes back to the book when he heard his father shout to the old woman, “By golly, the old mare must have been a barrel horse once!” That’s what David h
ad suspected from the speed of her turns in the auction barn.

  “What’s a barrel horse?” the woman shouted back, and David couldn’t help smiling at the note of pleasure in her voice.

  “A rodeo horse that makes turns around a barrel,” Lee shouted as he brought Gypsy around in a neat figure eight. Then he backed her up, using a loose rein and just talking to her. “You ought to keep her trained so she don’t forget what she’s learned so well.”

  It is a miraculous thing, Sarah thought to herself, for me to buy a horse like that, a horse so perfect. Lee walked Gypsy over to where she was standing. The horse’s chest and shoulders were darker now; she had sweated, and her light chestnut had become quite brown, so the cut-off mane looked twice as light against the darkened hide.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Lee said, and Sarah’s throat tightened with fear.

  “Hey,” Lee exclaimed, “you’re wearing a dress, for goodness’ sake! Go on and change into a pair of slacks.”

  “But she seems so exhausted,” Sarah protested. “Look, she’s sweating so.”

  “That’s good!” Lee said. “They all sweat after a little exercise. And mind you, this is just a little exercise that I’ve given her. In her condition you can ride her two, three hours and she’ll he fine.”

  It was no use. She went toward the house to change. On the way she stopped by the truck.

  “Hello, David,” she said warmly to the boy who was pretending to read his book.

  “Hello,” he said and looked at her. “That’s a mighty nice horse you have.”

  “Oh, David, I’m so happy you think so too.” She was glad to see that he didn’t look quite so dismal. His face was still set in hard lines, but his eyes were not as somber. “I called her Gypsy but what I actually wanted to do was ask you about naming her. I wanted to do that last night at the auction, but you went away without even giving me a chance to thank you for the demonstration.”

  “Gypsy’s all right for her name,” David said. “I’m bad at naming things, anyway.”

  “I want you to know that you can come and ride Gypsy any time you wish. Each day, if you want.”

  “It’s your horse,” he said. “You shouldn’t want anyone to ride her.”

  “But I do. I do want you to ride her!”

  “I wouldn’t,” he said and looked down at the book, and then again at her. There was a sudden, unexpected warmth between them; his face relaxed com-, pletely and he looked like a little boy rather than a young man. “I mean, I’d rather not fool around with someone else’s horse. One day I might have a horse of my own.”

  He didn’t know why he had said this. He hadn’t meant to say anything at all and he felt strangely confused, especially because the woman had smiled at him and then, without another word, walked away.

  Somewhere in her closet there was a pair of old slacks she hardly ever wore. Her husband hadn’t liked to see a woman wearing pants and used to say, “Practically every female born has a good pair of legs and only the foolish ones would want to hide what nature took a long time to perfect.”

  While she was changing, Lee walked Gypsy over to the truck. David pretended he didn’t see his father come up.

  “You won’t change your mind?”

  “About what?” He knew very well what his father was talking about.

  “About giving Mrs. Tierney some lessons. She sure could use some. It will be very easy for her to ruin this good horse if she don’t know what to do. I know she’ll spoil her in the worst way, and if she don’t know how to ride, then Gypsy will take over completely and within two months she won’t be the same horse.”

  “I’m sorry,” David said.

  “How about a reason?” his father asked. “Don’t you even want to give me one? ”

  “I’ve got homework to do,” David said impatiently, his eyes on the book. “You don’t realize how much I have.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Sure, that’s it.”

  His father stood by the side of the truck for a while and then walked slowly away, Gypsy following him.

  Sarah’s heart was beating furiously and her throat was parched with fear. Lee was shortening the stirrups for her, and she wished she could tell him how afraid she was.

  “You’ve got yourself a fine western horse here,” Lee said. “Get yourself some western gear—blue jeans and cowboy boots. You can skip the ten-gallon hat.”

  “I’ll do that,” she managed to say.

  “I won’t be around to give you a leg up, so let’s see if you can make it up all by yourself.”

  He told her how to approach the horse always from the left side and how to swing herself up with the help of the saddle horn. She was surprised that she managed to get on quite easily. He had held on to the reins while she was mounting, but once she was seated, he gave her the reins and Gypsy started to walk away down the road.

  “You seem to have a good pair of hands,” Lee said as he walked beside her.

  The fear had not left her, but she knew this was the time to try her horse out, with Lee around. She loosened the reins a little, and the second she did, Gypsy took off at a fast canter. Sarah was petrified by the speed and her distance from the ground, and she held on to the horn with one hand. Off they went, faster now, at a gallop, down the dirt road.

  I’ll never be able to make her stop, Sarah thought. We’ll be galloping down the highway for the rest of our lives. But it was Gypsy who slowed down before reaching the road. She turned around, fast, and Sarah managed to keep her seat. On the way back, at a canter, she even let go of the horn and began to enjoy the ride. Gypsy stopped in front of Lee and stood shaking her head proudly.

  “I don’t think,” Lee said, “that I should worry about you two females. You did fine.”

  “But I was terrified,” Sarah said laughing.

  “Everyone is, at first.”

  Sarah leaned over and patted Gypsy’s neck.

  “And I didn’t do anything at all. It was she who took me for a ride.”

  “Well, don’t let her get into that habit. You must let her know who is master.”

  “I’m afraid she already does know. She is.”

  “No!” Lee said firmly. “You are. And talk to her. That’s the best way I know of to get a horse used to you. And you should use your reins, across her neck for directions, and slack when you want her to run, and tighter when you want her to walk.”

  “How do I stop her?”

  “Pull up on the reins, then slacken them, then pull again, and if you must, say Whoa.”

  Sarah got off by herself and stood proudly looking at her mount.

  “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Lee said, “she is a wonderful horse. But now we must walk her to cool her off.”

  He told her how she should check by feeling under the horse’s chest whether the horse had cooled off, and he told her other things: about putting a blanket on Gypsy on a windy day, about picking her feet for stones, how long and how often to groom her, why she should never be fed after being ridden, and how much water it is safe to give a horse when it is still warm.

  When they left, Sarah was alone with Gypsy. She stood for a long time leaning against the fence, looking at her horse grazing on the new grass. And in the newness of the spring, the newness of her possession, she felt the renewal of her own life. Her world was once again complete. She belonged to someone and someone belonged to her.

  Chapter Five

  Waking up, Sarah Tierney was aware of having dreamt about her horse. Lying in bed trying to recall what it was that she had dreamt about was no use. She never was able to remember dreams, and she had always envied people who could. Dressing hurriedly, she wondered how Gypsy had spent the night. She had said a long good-bye to her horse, unwilling to leave her alone for the night. And now she was eager to see her again.

  She noticed right away that Gypsy had been lying down during the night; straw was clinging to one side of her coat. With a shiver of apprehens
ion Sarah went inside the stall to brush her, but realized that she should feed her first.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I will brush you as you eat. That way I don’t think you’ll object to my being so close to you.”

  She got the grain and spilled it into the feeder. Gypsy ate hungrily while Sarah spoke to her gently as she brushed her coat with the curry comb and then with the large brush. When she was through, she waited for her horse to finish eating. She could not resist the gloss of the coat, and leaned against it, burying her face in the softness of it.

  “I’ll put you out in the pasture,” she said to Gypsy as she was leading her out of the stall. “It’s a beautiful morning and the sun is warm. Later, in a few days, I’ll let you roam around free. You can feed then on the lawn, in front of the house, on the grass under the maple trees, and anywhere else you’ll choose to go. But you must realize that this is your home now and that you cannot run away from me.”

  When Gypsy was being led out of the stable, Sarah’s fingers slipped from the halter and the horse walked off. When Sarah ran after her, Gypsy took off, cantering down the road with her mistress running behind her calling her name.

  I’ll never catch her, Sarah thought desperately. She’ll be killed on the highway.

  But still she ran, breathless now, and crying, when Gypsy disappeared around the curve. The driveway was long, and by the time Sarah reached the highway her heart was pounding wildly. She had been listening for the sound of trucks or cars, petrified that Gypsy would run into the heavy traffic. But there were no cars. She looked up and down the long stretch of the highway, almost flat for a quarter of a mile in each direction, but she did not see her horse. She turned around to run back to the house and get her car, when she saw the copper of Gypsy’s body, half hidden by a bush. She could have shouted for joy but controlled herself and approached the horse cautiously. Gypsy raised her head and looked at the woman with her blue eye, and did not run away but continued to graze on the grassy spot between the dirt road and the highway. Sarah got hold of the halter, very firmly this time.