Horse Love

by Bonnie Bryant

  “What would I need to wear?” he asked.

  She told him that he’d need long pants and some shoes with a heel. “See, if you don’t have a heel on your shoes, you run the risk of having your foot slip through the stirrup, and that can be really bad. They probably have hard hats, so you don’t have to worry about that. I guess it’s already pretty warm here by eight-thirty in the morning, so you won’t need a jacket. They’ll have riding crops, too, and you can probably choose between English and Western. If you’re a totally new rider, Western may be better for you because the saddle is easier to sit in and, even though it’s bad form, you can hold on to the pommel if you need to.”

  “That’s what the rope goes on?”

  “Yes, on a Western saddle. All modern pleasure riding saddles have evolved from working saddles. The English saddle we use today is a cousin of the saddles that were used on battlefields in the past. They are light so that the horse doesn’t have to carry any extra weight. The Western saddle is more substantial, because a cowboy could have to be sitting in it for eight or ten hours at a time. It’s a seat, a sofa, a desk, a workspace. Sorry,” she said, stopping herself.

  “What?” Tec asked.

  “I’m beginning to sound like Carole.”

  “Well, Carole must be very smart.”

  “She is,” Lisa said. “Except that she doesn’t always know when to stop explaining things about horses.”

  Tec laughed. “I think I’d like your friends,” he said.

  “You will,” Lisa promised him. “But right now, if I don’t get some sleep, I’m not going to be good at explaining anything when we go on that ride.”

  “I take it that’s a cue,” Tec teased.

  “It is,” Lisa said.

  They walked to her room. In the moon-shadowed darkness of the tropical evening, Tec kissed her, then disappeared into the night.

  Lisa sighed and opened the door to her cabin. It took only a few seconds to get ready for bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she realized there was far too much to think about for her to be able to sleep. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. Actually, there was only one thought: Tec Morrison.

  “OUCH!” STEVIE SAT upright in bed to massage the aching, overworked muscles in her right shoulder. If they hurt now, they were going to hurt a lot more the next day after hours of cleaning, scraping, and painting.

  “Phil Marsten, I hate you!” she said, punching her pillow—with her left fist—for emphasis. She shifted to her left side and put her head back on the fluffed pillow. She was asleep in a matter of seconds.

  AT SEVEN-THIRTY the next morning, when she was brushing her teeth, Lisa was barely aware that she’d had only a couple hours of sleep. Who needed sleep? And who wanted sleep when there were people to spend time with and hold hands with and …

  She sighed, splattering toothpaste on the counter. It wasn’t easy brushing her teeth when she couldn’t erase the gigantic grin on her face, because that made it hard to reach her back teeth.

  It would have to do. She spat and rinsed, wiping the counter as she did so. Then she took a moment to look at the girl in the mirror. She was pretty sure it was the same girl she’d seen there before—the one she’d seen every morning of her life. She was still Lisa, but there was something palpably different about her. Was it the smile? Maybe. The little bit of color she’d gotten the day before from the sun? Perhaps. But there was something else: a maturity, a wisdom, a mere feeling. Who knew? And it didn’t matter, except that it made all the difference in the world. She’d met Tec.

  She hadn’t expected to meet Tec. She couldn’t have guessed she’d meet him or that he’d meet her, but they’d met and they’d held hands and talked and walked and then kissed and nothing in the whole world was ever going to be the same. Sure there was a smile, a glow, but the only part that mattered was what was inside, and that was the part that held thoughts of Tec.

  Lisa ran a comb through her hair, slipped into her riding pants and boots, pulled on a polo shirt, found her gloves and riding hat, and then left the room, closing the door behind her.

  She was going to breakfast. Tec might be there. And then she was going to the stable. Tec would be there. They’d ride together and she’d teach him, but she reminded herself that she didn’t want to be too bossy or talk too much about riding. She just wanted to enjoy his company and tell him enough to be safe. He wasn’t preparing for a show or anything, so keeping his heels down, toes in, and elbows firm wasn’t going to matter anywhere near as much as staying on the horse!

  She smiled, knowing herself too well

  The dining room was buzzing and full. She paused at the door, looking for Tec, but there was no sign of him. She did, however, see her parents. They were at a table with a couple of empty seats, and they waved at her to join them. There would be room for Tec when he arrived. She picked up a glass of orange juice and a dish of fruit and sat down.

  “Nothing ever changes, does it?” her mother teased. Lisa had no idea what she was talking about, because it seemed to her that everything in the world had recently changed.

  “Your riding clothes,” her mother explained. “You’ve already found the stable?”

  “Oh, right, that,” said Lisa. “Yes, I thought I’d go for a trail ride. It’s best if you do that in the morning before it gets really hot.”

  “I’m glad they’ve got horses here,” her father said. “Makes me feel less guilty about dragging you away from your stable on vacation.”

  “You don’t have to feel guilty,” Lisa said, smiling. “I like it here already.”

  “So do I,” said her mother.

  “Me too,” said Mr. Atwood.

  Lisa finished her dish of fruit and glanced at her watch. It was 8:15 and time to get going. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “We’re going on a snorkeling picnic,” her mother said. “It leaves at ten-thirty and will be back this afternoon. Want to come along?”

  Lisa didn’t want to miss a minute of her possible time with Tec. “No thanks,” she said. “I think I’ll still be at the stable then. I’ll get along by myself. See you this afternoon, then, or at dinner in any case.”

  “Have a nice ride,” her mother said.

  “I will,” Lisa promised, leaving them with a wave and a smile.

  All the way over to the stable, Lisa kept looking around for Tec. He should be walking over there now if he was going to be there by eight-thirty—though Lisa didn’t know where his cabin was and didn’t know from which direction he’d be coming. Maybe he was there already. It would make sense for a new rider to get to the stable early, even if it meant skipping breakfast, to get to know his horse. Even as an experienced rider, Lisa might have thought of doing that herself. She chided herself for wasting time on a bowl of fruit.

  “Hi. Are you joining the trail ride?” a young man asked her. He looked at his list. “You must be Lisa Atwood?”

  “Guilty as charged,” said Lisa. “Actually, I think there will be two of us. Has Tec Morrison signed up yet?”

  The man checked his list. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “Nobody by that name. And the ride is full, so I hope he’s not expecting to go out with us today.”

  “Oh,” said Lisa. It hadn’t occurred to her that the list would fill up. Tec might be annoyed with her for making him get up so early for nothing. Maybe she should give him her place.

  But he wasn’t there yet, and Lisa was. When he showed up, they could figure out what was the right thing to do. In the meantime, Lisa proceeded as if she were choosing a horse for him.

  “Just something easy and reliable,” she said.

  “Okay,” said the man, who had introduced himself as Frank. “You haven’t ridden much?”

  “Um, well, just for a while,” she said.

  Frank looked at her a little oddly and she knew why. Her riding pants, though clean, were clearly used, and her boots were well broken in. It was true that she hadn’t been riding all that long—not compared to Stevie and Carol
e—but it wasn’t true that she was inexperienced. What Frank thought didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that Tec got a horse he could handle.

  Frank brought out a horse he introduced to Lisa as Oatmeal and then began bringing out the tack. Without thinking, Lisa began tacking up the horse. At Pine Hollow, riders were expected to tack up their own horses, and it was completely automatic for Lisa to do so now—especially when her mind was foggy with fatigue. She slid the saddle into place and began buckling the girth and adjusting the stirrups expertly.

  “I wish all my beginners were as knowledgeable,” Frank teased. Lisa smiled, realizing what she’d done.

  “Well, I just—”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m glad for the help. Can you do the bridle?”

  “I guess so,” she said, accepting it from him and then sliding it over Oatmeal’s head, slipping the bit into his mouth.

  “Okay. Riders? Are we all ready?”

  Lisa looked around her, noticing the others for the first time. There were four other riders, plus Frank, a group of six all together. The others were patiently standing by their horses. With Frank’s signal, they began to mount.

  There was a young couple—newlyweds, Lisa thought—who seemed as new at riding as they were at being married. The wife began by trying to get on the horse from the wrong side. Her husband started to help her, but in doing so, he dropped the reins to his own horse.

  Lisa wrapped Oatmeal’s reins around a fence post and went to give them help, holding the husband’s horse’s reins while instructing the wife on how to get her boot into the stirrup. Then she showed the woman how to hold her reins, while the husband looked on. Lisa hoped he’d learned something, but when he went to mount, he wasn’t much better. She explained patiently that putting his foot into that side of the stirrup would result in a twisted stirrup leather—unless he wanted to sit on the horse backward.

  He thanked her for her help, listened carefully, followed instructions, and was soon in his saddle, facing the right way, with his reins held properly.

  Frank had been busy helping an elderly gentleman who seemed to know what he was doing, but who needed to use the mounting block because of what he called “these creaky old bones.”

  The other rider was a young woman whom Lisa thought she’d seen in the dining room the night before. She was wearing a staff shirt for the resort, but she didn’t seem to be a stable worker, though she clearly knew what she was doing on a horse.

  Frank mounted his horse and lined them up. Frank asked Jane—the staff member—if she could lead the way since she knew the trail. Next came Lisa, then the older man, and then the honeymooners, followed by Frank. Lisa understood the lineup perfectly. Jane was a good rider, so he wanted her in the lead, but the best rider always had to be at the back to keep his eye on the riders who might most easily get into trouble: the honeymooners. He’d clearly figured out that Lisa was a better rider than she’d told him, and he knew the old man knew what he was doing on a horse, creaky old bones and all.

  Lisa was still looking for Tec as they began their ride out of the stable area, but there was no sign of him. It was almost nine o’clock. He’d definitely overslept.

  Lisa shrugged as Oatmeal followed Jane’s horse dutifully. Vacations were for sleeping, she reminded herself. A big boy like Tec probably needed a lot of sleep. She shouldn’t have kept him up so late the night before, and she promised herself she wouldn’t do that again. They’d part at a reasonable hour so that he’d have a better chance of coming along on the next day’s trail ride.

  Jane began to trot as they reached an open area near the beach. Oatmeal seemed content with his gentle walk. Lisa nudged him. No response. Lisa nudged again, more firmly. A little grudgingly, Oatmeal picked up a trot. It was annoying to ride a horse who was so nonresponsive, but Lisa realized she’d asked for it when she’d told Frank she was a new rider. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. She was scouting out the horses for Tec, and Oatmeal might be just the one for him. This was a horse who would never get into any trouble. Oatmeal was slow, plodding, and agreeable. He wasn’t going to win any races, unless they were against turtles.

  Tomorrow. It was not only her favorite song from Annie, it was also what she couldn’t stop thinking about, because tomorrow Tec would be riding with her. Lisa decided she was glad he hadn’t come this morning. It gave her a real opportunity to spend time thinking about the lesson she wanted to give him when he was there the next day.

  She’d tell him the basic stuff he’d need to know: sitting up straight, looking in the direction he wanted to go. (She’d learned early on that horses were very sensitive to their riders’ balance, and if a rider gawked in one direction, the horse was likely to turn that way without any other signal.) She’d tell him how to hold the reins and show him the difference between neck-reining as Western riders did it and opening reins the way English riders did it. She could tell him a million things, but that would be a mistake. She knew that for sure.

  “Lisa!”

  It was a sharp warning call. Lisa halted automatically.

  “What?” she asked, surprised to find Frank riding next to her.

  “You’ve got to pay attention!” he said. “You’re heading straight for that gully!”

  Lisa looked where he pointed. She’d let Oatmeal wander to the right of the line of the trail, and they were aimed at a steep dip that would be a challenge to any horse but might be deadly to an obedient plodder like Oatmeal.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was thinking—”

  “You weren’t thinking,” Frank said sternly. “But you have to. I can tell you know better than that.”

  “I do,” she said meekly.

  “Well, stop daydreaming then and pay attention.”

  “Yes sir,” she said.

  She was tired. She was really too sleepy to be doing anything that required attention, but her near accident had served to wake her up. She knew she probably wouldn’t have gotten hurt if Oatmeal had slid down that embankment, but Oatmeal might have, and that was inexcusable. She knew better and she’d do better.

  She sat up straight and focused on the trail in front of her.

  The trail led the riders through a stand of palm trees and then onto the beach. Jane’s horse began to trot, and on the firm, water-cooled sand, even Oatmeal seemed pleased to strut his stuff. Lisa found herself enjoying the wind and the sweet sound of her horse’s hooves slushing through the Caribbean waters.

  Jane let her horse drop back so that she and Lisa were riding abreast.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked.

  “The best!” Lisa agreed.

  “Canter?”

  “Do you think this old guy can do it?” Lisa asked.

  “We’ll just see,” said Jane, sliding her foot back to signal her horse to a canter.

  Oatmeal had it in him. Lisa felt the delightful transition as Oatmeal shifted from a two-beat trot to the three beats of a canter. She settled into her saddle and simply took pleasure in the wonderful feeling of it all.

  She always enjoyed cantering. At Pine Hollow, she and her friends often cantered in the ring and in the paddocks around the barn. There were even places on the wooded trails where the terrain was open enough and smooth enough to canter, and it was a pleasure. But cantering on the beach was a very special pleasure, with the bright sun above and the sparkling blue ocean and the knowledge that there was a wonderful boy waiting for her when the ride was over. In fact, he was bound to be embarrassed about missing their date and had probably left a message for her at the stable already. Lisa took a deep breath, knowing that Tec was not far away and was breathing the same tropical air that was entrancing her.

  In front of her, Jane brought her horse to a trot and then a walk as the beach narrowed. Oatmeal followed suit without any instruction from Lisa. The other riders, none of whom had joined in the canter, were far behind. Lisa pulled Oatmeal up next to Jane’s horse.

  “That was great!” she said.r />
  “It always is,” Jane agreed. “Um, say, did I hear you singing earlier?”

  “Me?”

  “ ‘Tomorrow,’ I think it was.”

  “I guess so,” Lisa admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it out loud. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Jane said. “It’s earned you the right to skip the chorus audition.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m in charge of the talent show,” she explained.

  “I didn’t know there was one,” said Lisa.

  “Only when we’ve got talent—and I think we do, based on what I heard earlier.”

  “Oh, thanks. Well, I have done a little community theater,” Lisa admitted.

  “It’s a lucky community,” Jane said. “Anyway, I could let you know what the rehearsal schedule is this afternoon, if you’re interested.” Lisa nodded. “Great! I don’t suppose there are any more like you at home?” she teased.

  “Well, my parents don’t really sing much, but there is someone …”

  Tec. Artful Dodger was a challenging part. He’d be perfect in the resort talent show. They could work together on something they both loved. Maybe they could even sing a duet. She could wear—

  “Who is it?” Jane asked, interrupting.

  “Oh, it’s a guy I was talking with last night. He’s been doing musical theater, too.”

  Jane’s face lit up. “Hey, let’s put on a show!” she said.

  She and Lisa shook hands.

  Jane clucked and nudged her horse into a trot then, leading the line back away from the beach and through a hilly area that would return them to the stable. The ride was over, but Lisa knew it was the beginning of another exciting adventure. With Tec.

  When they returned to the stable, Lisa was relieved that the resort didn’t follow Pine Hollow’s rules that required riders to untack and groom their own horses. For once, she was almost eager to leave. She had to find Tec—who had not left her a message at the stable—but she didn’t want to run into him until she’d had a chance to shower. She was hot and sweaty and smelled a little more like Oatmeal—the horse, not the breakfast—than most boys would find attractive, unless they really loved horses.