Blaze of Glory

by M. Garzon

  “You’re seventeen, Téa,” he replied shortly. “You shouldn’t have a job that warrants danger pay.”

  Normally I would have argued, but I was too tired. I let it drop. He could take it up with his uncle if he wanted.

  Schweppes was a surprise under saddle. He was athletic, balanced, and fairly well-schooled. It seemed we’d found a good school horse for our more advanced riders — though I might have to supervise when they were handling him on the ground.

  * * *

  Jaden spent the night so he could get his horses settled. After I was done with Schweppes he spent most of Saturday studying, which made me feel a bit guilty for the lack of effort I’d been putting into school. I figured if an international polo player — who was doubtless used to a much more glamorous lifestyle — could buckle down and study, then I should be able to slog through some prosaic grade eleven material. I went to my room and made an effort for a couple of hours, but I couldn’t concentrate, especially with the puzzle of a new horse to figure out.

  I had trouble sleeping, so I stayed in bed as late as possible on Sunday. Unfortunately, I had a lesson to teach at nine, so a few minutes before the hour I dragged myself into the kitchen for some coffee.

  “Hey guys,” I yawned. Seth and Jaden were at the kitchen table.

  I finished adding cream and sugar and headed out with my travel mug. I nearly fell over when a hand caught the back of my sweater.

  “Where are you going?” Jaden asked.

  “I have a lesson to teach,” I said blankly. Where did he think I was going?

  “You didn’t eat anything,” he pointed out. He looked disapproving.

  I shrugged. “I don’t have time, I’m late already.”

  He let go, shaking his head.

  “You shouldn’t worry so much,” I teased on my way out. “You’ll get wrinkles on that pretty face.”

  Jaden came to find me in the cold arena a few minutes later. He handed me a cheese sandwich wrapped in a napkin, and I looked up at him in surprise.

  “Eat,” he ordered.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. I took a bite; the grin he gave me made me smile in response. A real smile — I actually felt lighter, for a minute. I turned back to my students, bemused. I wasn’t used to being taken care of.

  We all had lunch together, Dec, Seth, Jaden and I.

  “Can you bring me copies of your horses’ Coggins tests and vaccination papers?” I asked Jaden before I could forget. “I’ll set up a file for each of them.”

  “Sure. You’re the one who does that?” He glanced at Dec questioningly.

  “It’s easier that way,” I explained while Dec was chewing. “I usually coordinate with the vet, and I organize the show papers.”

  On top of managing the stable, Dec also took contracts as an efficiency consultant, which had been his career before he’d returned to the barn after Granddad died. Seth and I picked up the slack as much as possible while Dec worked on those projects.

  “Tell us about Piba and Kermit, what are they like?” I asked.

  Jaden was so animated when he talked about his horses, his whole demeanor changed. It reminded me of... well, me. He gave us each horse’s background and told us about their likes and dislikes. I was surprised to hear that Piba was eight; her leggy build made her look like a filly.

  “Yes,” Jaden laughed when I told him so, “and she’s the girliest mare you’ll ever meet. Hates to be dirty or walk through mud, and loves to be groomed for hours.”

  “What’s the deal with Kermit and the trailer?” I asked him.

  He sighed. “I’m not sure. He’s always been petrified of it, and he actually copes better than he used to if you can believe it. For a while I even considered retiring him because the traveling is such an issue. I’ve tried practically everything.”

  “Well, if you’re interested, I can probably help,” I offered.

  “I don’t know,” he said skeptically. “I don’t think this is something I want to revisit with Kermit. We have a workable arrangement now.”

  “Maybe it’s workable, but it’s hardly ideal, especially for him if he’s still getting off the trailer all sweaty and freaked out,” I said.

  Jaden didn’t look convinced. Dec spoke up.

  “I’d let her give it a shot if I were you, son. And I would watch and learn. She’s got quite a way with problem horses.”

  “That’s because I don’t believe there’s such a thing as a ‘problem horse’,” I said with some asperity. “Only horses that have been messed up by bad handling or unrealistic expectations.”

  “You’re in for a surprise, buddy,” Seth added with a grin.

  Jaden chuckled. “Well, now I’ve got to say yes, I have to see this magic for myself. When do you want to start?”

  “As soon as we can clear the snow out of the round pen, I suppose.”

  “Well then, I’ll get right on it.” He smiled at me, and I felt suddenly warm.

  We went outside. In between the barn and the square, red-brick house was a rectangular building, finished in the same beige and navy as the barn. Most of it was devoted to a two-car garage, but on one side, a separate section served as a storage area. We called it the shed. I went in and found us some shovels and we plodded through the fresh snow to the round pen.

  “What are you going to do with him?” Jaden asked once we’d started shoveling.

  “Some round pen work for a start, to establish trust, and then I’ll use clicker training to actually get him on the trailer.”

  “And you really think it’ll work?”

  I shrugged. “Every horse is different. I’ve had good results with that combination in the past, though.” In fact, I’d never seen it fail, but I didn’t want to get Jaden’s hopes up. I didn’t know the extent of Kermit’s trauma. I tried not to think about the fact that he was a very valuable horse, who had traveled to more countries than I had. Or that he was Jaden’s pride and joy. Those thoughts would only make me nervous, something I couldn’t afford to communicate to Kermit.

  “Why don’t you let me shovel, Téa? It’s harder for you than for me.” It was true; he was clearing the space with ridiculous ease.

  “I don’t mind, it’s keeping me warm. And I’m used to hard work.”

  “Unfortunately,” Jaden said under his breath. At least that’s what it sounded like.

  It didn’t take us long to clear the pen. Jaden brought Kermit out, and at my request stayed outside the fence to watch.

  “Please don’t talk to me until I’m done,” I said. Not only would I need to concentrate, but I didn’t want Kermit to focus on Jaden’s voice.

  I led Kermit into the pen and started the process of driving him forward and away from me. He trotted around the ring; eventually, he dropped his head, his inside ear angled toward me, and began working his jaw. I softened my body language, bringing my hands close to my body and angling away from him slightly, and he tightened the circle he was making around me. At that, I turned and took a few steps away from him, and within seconds he walked up beside me. I stroked his neck gently, went to stand on his left side, and tried walking away. He followed closely, now acknowledging me as his leader and therefore, not a predator or someone to be feared.

  I walked Kermit back to the barn without the lead shank. He stayed glued to my side the entire way, nudging me occasionally and keeping his near side eye on me.

  “Wow,” Jaden commented. “I’ve never seen him behave that way with anyone. How does it work?”

  I explained how join-up inspires trust because you are using body language, which is the horse’s own method of communicating, as well as telling him that I was assuming the role of ‘lead mare’ — the real leader in an equine herd, as opposed to the stallion, who is essentially there for protection and to fight off challengers. We were headed back to the house; I was dying for a hot drink. My hands were frozen inside their gloves.

  “And what does clicker training involve?”

  I smiled at his enthusiasm
. We got to the kitchen and started making hot chocolate as I explained.

  “It’s really classical or operant conditioning by another name,” I said. “You know, based on B.F. Skinner’s work.”

  “The salivating dog and the bell, right.” He nodded. I was glad he was familiar with the premise, at least.

  “Could you pass me the milk, please?”

  As he handed it to me his hand brushed mine.

  “You’re freezing!” he exclaimed. He promptly lifted the milk away and took my hand between both of his. He started rubbing it gently; his hands felt downright hot.

  “So how does classical conditioning work?” he continued without missing a beat. His unusual eyes were alight with curiosity as they rested on my face. I felt suddenly strange. My breathing had faltered when he had taken my hand, probably from the shock of his warm hands on my frozen one. He changed hands now, starting on my other one.

  “Um,” I struggled to remember what I’d been saying. “Oh, right. Clicker training rewards every partial step toward a desired behavior. For instance, if Kermit took one step toward a trailer — even if he was still fifty yards away — then he’d be rewarded for that.”

  “Hmm...” He was lost in thought, still rubbing my hand absently. My hand was tingling, it must have been more frozen than I’d thought. “It must take a long time, then.”

  He released me, finally, and I went back to making our drinks. My mind was clearer now that I had my hands back.

  “It’s a lot faster than you’d think. The great thing about this method is that it allows you to communicate so easily, you can almost see the lightbulb going on over their heads. You may be surprised at how smart Kermit is.” I couldn’t contain my own enthusiasm either. I always loved sharing this gentle, positive training method, but it was especially nice now, with Jaden so interested and attentive.

  We sat at the table, hot chocolates in hand.

  “Nothing Kermit does would surprise me,” he said. “He’s the best. Did you know I’ve had him since I was fifteen? And he was three?”

  “No, I didn’t.” I felt a sudden, unreasoning stab of jealousy. Though I longed for it, constancy had never been a big part of my life. I’d thought that would change with Blaze. I had thought we’d be together for the next twenty years, at least. I gazed into my mug, feeling the raw wound in my gut again, not wanting to show it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That was thoughtless of me.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  He hesitated. “Look, Téa, if you ever want to talk...”

  I shook my head without looking at him. I swallowed hard and forced myself to raise my head. His face was sympathetic rather than pitying; I was able to hold his gaze.

  “Where did you find him?” I was determined to be able to carry on a normal conversation.

  He only hesitated for an instant. “In Argentina. He was a birthday present from my mom.”

  My jaw dropped. He grinned at my look of amazement.

  “I was spoiled rotten, I know.” He paused, thinking. “I was going through a hard time, and I think my mom hoped that polo would focus my energies on something positive, and it worked. At least, it delayed the worst of the trouble.”

  I couldn’t believe that I was related to someone with that kind of lifestyle, who could jet down to another continent to buy a horse. Seth and I considered ourselves fortunate, but we were always working, and Dec worked two jobs. I managed to close my mouth while he was talking.

  “And what made you pick Kermit?” Attraction — whether between or within a species — is so subtle, yet also so definite. I always found it fascinating.

  His whole face softened; his eyes were liquid with affection as he thought about his horse. I felt a sudden rush of warmth toward him. He truly was a kindred spirit, in some ways.

  “There were so many things. The Argentineans breed the best polo ponies in the world, so some things you’d expect: he’s very fast, he has good endurance, and he’s agile. But Kermit himself is something else. It was his color that first made me notice him, and as I got to know him I discovered he’s intelligent, and courageous, and tough. He’s got a very strong personality, and I liked that about him. He’s quirky. For instance, the first year I had him he bucked every time I got on him. I checked his tack, had the vet check him from nose to tail, tried changing our routine, but it was just his way of making me take him seriously. That’s how he got his name; he bucked like a frog.” He chuckled at the memory.

  I nodded, smiling. It was the kind of thing that would attract me, too.

  * * *

  Jaden headed back to Toronto, and I headed upstairs to do homework, but two hours later I’d gotten very little done. I sighed; I didn’t know what I was going to do about school. Dec was going to have a fit when he saw my report card.

  I found myself engaging less and less with my classmates, except for Teri who, bless her, was the same down-to-earth, supportive friend as ever, despite my grim moodiness. The only points of light were at the barn when I worked with Kermit and Schweppes. I initiated clicker training with Kermit. Since it began with me feeding him treats every time I pressed the clicker, Kermit, like most horses, was happy to cooperate. As we progressed, though, he proved to be very inquisitive and intelligent — I enjoyed working with him. Jaden was right about his horse, he was a character. I also brought Schweppes out to the round pen. It took a lot longer to achieve ‘join up’ with him than it had with Kermit, which just confirmed my theory that Schweppes had trust issues.

  On Saturday morning I had Catherine, one of my best students, ride Schweppes in a lesson and within minutes he had bucked her off. I got on him, worried, but he seemed to be fine when I rode him. I was still shaking my head when I went into the barn and saw Jaden. Piba was on the crossties.

  “I saw some of the action,” he commented.

  “Weird, isn’t it? I’m not sure what’s bothering him.”

  “Well, this isn’t my area of expertise Téa, but you’re a very soft, fluid rider. It looks to me like he simply prefers your riding style.”

  “I hope you’re wrong there,” I said, shaking my head, “because he’s supposed to be a school horse. Dec won’t keep him if I’m the only one who can ride him.”

  Jaden tacked up while I put Schweppes away.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of gear,” I remarked. Piba was wearing way more tack than I was used to seeing.

  “You’ll have to come watch a game this summer,” he said. “You’ll see why we need it.”

  I’d been curious about Jaden’s riding. To be honest, my expectations weren’t high. The horse world is pretty hierarchical and showjumpers, like me, are generally considered to be the top of the heap, although every discipline naturally thought highly of its own style. What I’d heard of polo players didn’t lead me to believe they were particularly skilled riders, though they were certainly tough. But Jaden surprised me. He rode languidly, his natural athleticism becoming evident right away. I noted the differences in riding style, but mostly I analyzed Jaden with the skill honed by many years of teaching riding. He was relaxed, balanced, effective, and most importantly, Piba appeared to be a happy and willing partner in their efforts. I mentally revised my opinion of polo players upward by several notches.

  When he was done with Piba I asked Jaden to follow me. I went into Kermit’s stall and patted his neck.

  “You’ve got a very smart boy here,” I told Jaden. “He’s learning a lot. Why don’t you take a bow for all your hard work, Kermit?”

  Kermit promptly sank onto one knee, his other foreleg extended, and bowed his head down. I almost laughed aloud at the astonished look on Jaden’s face.

  “That’s amazing,” he exclaimed.

  “I’m not trying to turn him into a trick pony or anything, but I wanted to start with something basic to help him grasp the concept of the clicker. And he learned very fast, didn’t you, Kermit?”

  I gave my head a tiny nod, one that would be almost impe
rceptible to the human eye, and Kermit nodded his sleek head up and down. This time Jaden laughed aloud. He had a nice laugh, I noticed — it was very carefree. He stepped into the stall and patted his horse.

  “I can’t believe you taught him that so quickly,” he said, turning to me with his eyes shining. It took me a minute to look away.

  “This type of thing is easy,” I assured him. “The hard part is still ahead of us. I was going to start today, in fact.”

  The horse trailer was parked in a small paddock near the house. I collected the clicker and some treats, and we led Kermit toward the paddock. Halfway there he raised his head, snorting — he had spotted the trailer. His breath started coming faster, his tail went up and he started jogging and pulling on the lead shank.

  At the gate, Jaden turned him loose. Kermit hugged the fence and did a high-stepping trot to the far corner while I headed for the trailer. The fear came out of nowhere. It slammed into me, rooting me to the spot even as my limbs trembled and my breath came in rapid, shallow gasps. The sheer panic made it impossible to think; all I knew was that I had to get as far away from that trailer as possible. I backed away a few steps, then turned and headed for the fence. It took an incredible act of will to force myself not to run. I slipped through the fence boards and waited as my trembling lessened and my breathing slowed. Jaden loped over, frowning.

  “What happened?” Damn, he’d noticed. This really wasn’t something I wanted to get into with him. Or anyone for that matter, other than Seth, who obviously knew.

  “Nothing.” Fortunately, that came out sounding pretty casual. I was regaining my composure.

  Jaden looked skeptical, but thankfully let it drop. I turned to watch Kermit. I pressed the clicker occasionally but soon called it quits; Kermit was agitated and I didn’t want him associating too much fear with the paddock, since he’d be back here frequently.

  “He’s a tough case, isn’t he,” Jaden remarked as he led Kermit back to the barn.

  “Yes, but don’t give up hope. It’s only our first try.”

  * * *