For The Love of Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center)

by Diana Vincent

  For the remainder of the test, Fiel gave her everything she asked for: a half-turn on the haunches in both directions; an energetic, ‘marching’ free walk; balanced, uphill transitions from walk to canter; smooth transitions from collected to medium and back to collected canter; and counter canter in each direction. Only once did Fiel drop onto his forehand when she asked for the canter to the right. She immediately realized, my fault, for she had not established enough connection for the transition, and caught him by surprise.

  The last movement of the test involved turning down the center line in left lead canter, transitioning down to collected trot at L, and then halt at X. Test over!

  Fiel halted square, remaining nicely rounded into his bit. Sierra broke into a broad grin as she gave her final salute, very, very proud of Fiel, who had answered her promptly and she knew had tried to do all she asked.

  The judge stood again and returned the salute. Sierra gave Fiel the reins, leaning over to pat him enthusiastically on both sides of his neck as they left the arena. Fiel stretched his neck, snorting, relaxed and happy.

  “Have a good ride,” she encouraged the next rider just entering the test area as they passed.

  Only then did she become aware of the applause as she rode over to where Tess and River waited for her, both grinning in a way that told her all she needed to know. No matter their score, she and Fiel had done their best and her heart burst with love and pride for her willing partner.

  *****

  “Pendragon should be next,” Mrs. Galensburg stated, looking over at her guest with the hint of a smile. Then she turned to face the test arena in anticipation.

  Delia Evans, Mrs. Galensburg’s lawyer, smiled to herself. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen anything close to a happy expression on that woman’s face. Even after Delia had successfully resolved a dispute between the Galensburgs and their neighbors, over a two-foot wide strip of land between their adjacent properties, Mrs. Galensburg had not altered the rigid expression of her tight mouth and cold eyes. At least there is one thing in her life that gives her pleasure. The Galensburgs were extremely wealthy, and visits to their estate had revealed collections of art, rare books, designer furniture, and it seemed whatever could be considered rare and near priceless. But Delia had observed early in their business relationship that Mrs. Galensburg did not seem to be a happy woman.

  So it had astonished her when her client extended the invitation to attend the regional dressage championship. Delia had heard that Mrs. Galensburg owned a horse that she hoped would qualify someday for the Olympics. She had asked about the horse at one meeting, trying to find some common interest to help her relate to this cold woman; for Delia had grown up horse-crazy and although she had set aside her equestrian dreams years ago when she entered the university to study law, she still loved and admired the beautiful animals.

  A handsome bay horse entered the arena at a walk and tracked to the left around the outside perimeter of the test barriers.

  “Is that Pendragon?” Delia asked, impressed with the beauty of the fine horse, with his gleaming reddish coat and glossy black mane in a row of neat braids, and equally glossy, wavy black tail held proudly. The rider dressed in a trim-fitting black coat, black helmet and polished black boots, contrasting elegantly with snowy white breeches; seemed to grow from the back of the horse; the two moving as one.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Galensburg announced proudly.

  The horse appeared to float into a trot as the pair continued on around the perimeter of the low rails of the test ring. After one circuit around, the bay slowed to a walk, appeared to pivot gracefully around his hind legs to reverse his direction, and sprang forward into trot, now tracking to the right. As far as she could tell, the rider just sat on the horse’s back. How does the horse know what to do?

  The judge rang his bell. The horse continued on around at a trot, coming to a square halt on the outside of the letter B. The rider looked up and nodded toward the control booth. Moments later, the stirring thrum of a Celtic bodhrán rumbled forth from the loudspeakers. Pendragon sprang forward in collected canter, and entered the ring at A, in rhythm with the beat of the bodhrán. He came to a solid square halt, simultaneous with a pause in the drum beat. The rider saluted the judge, who stood and returned the salute. The bodhrán resumed in a rolling rhythm for two measures with the horse and rider remaining still as a statue. Single notes from a wooden flute flowed into the air as the horse stepped off in a medium walk and tracked to the right. At the letter M, the bay suddenly cantered in harmony with the addition of pipes, fiddles, and guitars as the music picked up to match the increase in pace.

  Delia’s mouth dropped open, and she found herself holding her breath with her heart racing as chills ran up her spine. Incredible! It was a dance of rider and horse together – were they dancing together or dancing as one being? She watched entranced, as the horse half-passed in canter; his legs crossing elegantly in ballet-like movements as he moved diagonally to the center of the arena. Did he just take a skipping step? she gasped to herself as he gracefully executed a flying change of lead. The pair continued to move in harmonic patterns to the stirring music; half-passes at the trot, energetic extended trots where it appeared as if his hind legs pushed his body to float across the diagonal; another pause in instruments where the horse marched at an extended walk to the beat of drums; shoulder-ins at trot; and powerful extended canter as the music roused the emotions and Delia’s imagination romantically transported the bay horse and rider to a misty moor. It inspired in her the same magical emotions as when she watched classical ballet. Too soon, the ride ended with the bay horse coming again to a square halt in accord with a final beat of the drum, his head and neck regally arched. The rider saluted the judge, but it seemed at the same time, a salute in honor of his horse as he then leaned forward to pat the bay’s neck and whisper words of praise.

  Those around her burst into enthusiastic applause. As Pendragon and his rider left the ring, Delia stood with the other spectators to honor them with a standing ovation. Although theirs had been a third level musical kur, not as advanced as the FEI level kurs, there was no question in anyone’s mind, as their emotions had been stirred, that they had witnessed something special.

  That night as Delia lay next to her sleeping husband, she replayed the dance over and over in her mind; the vision recalling her girlhood love of horses that she believed she had outgrown once she entered the university to study law. There had been no time for self-indulgence as she pursued her career and raised two daughters. She considered her life successful and very happy. She and her husband had a deep, loving relationship. They were both lawyers but in separate partnerships. Her oldest daughter, two years out of college, was establishing her own business career with an international computer firm. Her youngest daughter, in her second year of college and still undecided as to her major, was engaged to be married as soon as her fiancé graduated. Well, she had always been the more domestic of her two girls, and there was certainly nothing wrong with pursuing the dying profession of homemaking.

  A good life, successful career, a positive contributor to society, Delia mused. It was enough; so why did she feel this sudden longing, this reaching into the past for a lost dream? Am I too old? It had never occurred to her as an adult, that she could take the riding lessons her own parents had been unable to give her. Why not now? The thought had entered her mind when Mrs. Galensburg had introduced her to Tess Holmes, the rider’s coach; and she had learned that Tess gave riding lessons as well as trained horses at her stable, Pegasus Equestrian Center. Of course she realized she would never achieve the harmony she had observed between Pendragon and his young rider. But wouldn’t it still be fun and exciting to at least try to learn the basics?

  *****

  Chapter 3 Delia and DNA

  A rider’s feel will always be reflected by the horse. Harmony is the word that describes the result of riding with feel. – Klaus Balkenhol

  *****

&nb
sp; “Homecoming; you know, big football game, a banquet, formal dance?” Allison said in mocking tones. She had just asked Sierra if she and River were going. Sierra looked at her as if she had never heard of such a thing as homecoming.

  “Honestly, Allison, I hadn’t even considered it. I don’t think it’s the kind of thing River likes to do,” Sierra answered, a bewildered look still on her face.

  “He took Katrina to the Valentine’s Ball,” Allison reminded her.

  “True,” Sierra replied thoughtfully, thinking back to the horrible night of that dance…a night of humiliation and agony waiting for her date, Dean Clark, to arrive…the hours she stood on the sidelines thinking she had been stood up…the overwhelming jealousy watching River with Katrina…the night she realized how she felt about River. She had broken up with Dean when he finally showed up hours late (as if they were ever actually going out). She gave an involuntary shudder just thinking about Dean. How could I have ever been so stupid and gullible?

  “Okay, let me put it this way, do you want to go to the prom?” Allison asked, noting the shudder and intuiting the thoughts going through Sierra’s mind.

  Taking a bite of sandwich to give herself time to think, Sierra chewed her food thoughtfully at the same time as she chewed the idea over in her mind. “I don’t know…it could be fun if River actually wanted to…”

  Allison laughed as she listened to her friend stumble over her words. “Sierra, we are only in high school once. You had a horrible time your freshman year because of Crystal; and then Justin spiking your punch. You didn’t go last year because Dean didn’t want to go. You ought to go at least once and enjoy yourself, so you won’t look back on your high school years with regrets.”

  Two weeks had passed since the dressage championship. Sierra and Fiel had placed fourth in junior rider, second level. The top four riders had scores only a few points apart and she was very proud of how well Fiel had performed. River and Pendragon had won the open fourth level championship as well as the kur at third level. Tess and Mrs. Galensburg both anxiously waited for the end of year placings, hoping that Pendragon would again achieve a high ranking. She knew River didn’t care about the scores, but was very happy with how well Penny had done.

  With her head full of pleasant memories of the dressage show, planning Fiel’s exercise program for over winter, and focusing on her intense schoolwork since she was in all AP courses, she really hadn’t thought about the homecoming prom. She was oblivious to the usual school gossip around her as the event approached. But now that Allison mentioned it and as she thought about it…well, it could be fun…but only if River wanted to…if he thought it would be fun…if he would not agree just because she wanted to go.

  “Yeah,” she finally said out loud, “I guess I’ll ask River and if he is willing enough…I’m not going to pressure him though.”

  Allison smiled and began to gather her lunch remains. “Ready to hit the library?” Sierra and Allison in their junior year of high school continued their habit of working on homework together at lunch time.

  “Let’s do it.” Sierra took a last bite of her apple and shoved her sandwich wrapper into her brown bag.

  They stood to go just as a noisy crowd of kids entered the cafeteria, talking excitedly.

  “Crystal,” Sierra said with a groan, recognizing the center figure of the group.

  “Leave me alone,” Crystal shouted at a boy trying to push his way between several girls physically blocking him. “I warn you, I will get a restraining order if I have to.”

  “You owe me!” the boy yelled back at her, his face contorted in rage.

  Crystal gestured for the girls to let him through, standing with her arms folded tightly.

  Justin? Sierra recognized the boy who stumbled, losing his balance as the girls stepped aside; Crystal’s ex-boyfriend of over a year ago.

  “We had a deal,” he snarled as he regained his balance and glared at her.

  “You’ve been paid,” Crystal hissed back at him and grabbed the front of his tee-shirt, twisting it as she returned his glare with cold, narrowed eyes. “No other promises were made.” She shoved at his chest as she let go of his shirt and turned away, her friends stepping in behind her, reforming the barrier. “Do not come near me again,” Crystal ordered over her shoulder as she marched in between tables of curious onlookers, to go where she and her elite group of friends always sat.

  “Wow,” Sierra said as she and Allison exited the cafeteria. “I wonder what that’s about. I thought she had nothing to do with Justin anymore.”

  “Apparently not in public anyway,” Allison replied.

  *****

  “River, what are you doing?” Sierra asked, watching him writing industriously on what looked like a dressage arena diagram.

  “I’m studying.” He looked up with a ‘what does it look like?’ expression. They sat side by side at her kitchen table working on homework.

  “You’re studying a dressage arena?”

  In answer, he pushed his paper over in front of her. She picked it up and saw where he had written the names of political figures at each letter of the dressage arena. “You have the president, vice-president and his cabinet written down,” she stated, baffled.

  “Yeah, it’s an assignment for government. We’re supposed to know who our current leaders are.”

  “Okay..?” she said the word as a question.

  He pulled the paper back in front of him. “It’s something Laila showed me how to do; take something familiar and put in things you want to memorize. She said if I can memorize movements at each letter of a dressage test, that all I have to do is substitute anything else I need to memorize. The other thing she had me do was diagram a jumping course on paper and write in what I needed to memorize onto each jump, and study it that way.”

  “Does it work?”

  “I guess so. Since I started studying this way I’ve passed all my classes where I have to remember stuff, like in history and science.”

  “Wow, that’s really cool. How did she think of something like that?” Sierra was impressed, but it was hard to acknowledge anything positive about Laila, a girl River had somehow been involved with last year (Sierra still didn’t know just how involved), and they were still friends. Laila was two years older than River and in college. Maybe it was her appearance (she wore almost exclusively black clothing with studs and chains, and accented by multiple piercings and tattoos), that sent a stiff feeling of resentment up Sierra’s spine whenever she heard River mention Laila’s name. But most mysterious, Sierra wondered how he could be such good friends with someone who didn’t even like horses.

  “I don’t know; she’s really smart, like you.” He smiled at her.

  Sierra didn’t like being compared to Laila, even as a compliment. “When did you last talk to her?” She bit the inside of her lip after asking the question, because she didn’t want River to know just how much she resented his friendship with Laila.

  “Who?” River had returned his attention to his paper, referring to his notes from class as he filled in names.

  “Laila.”

  Something in Sierra’s tone caught River’s attention and he looked sideways at her, noting the crease in her brow. He dropped his pen on top of his paper and sat back in his chair. “Couple days ago, I guess.”

  “Oh.” Sierra dropped her eyes quickly to her own opened notebook.

  River studied her a few moments and then turned his attention back to his own work. He knew Sierra did not like Laila, although he didn’t think she was jealous (or is she?). He figured she should know there was nothing for her to be jealous about. Laila and he were good friends. Without Laila’s help, he probably would have flunked out and quit high school by now and gone to work with his father at the race track…so many things might have been different without Laila.

  “Sier…”

  “Riv…”

  They both laughed.

  “What were you going to say?” she asked.

&
nbsp; “Nothing really; what were you going to say?”

  “No, you first,” Sierra insisted.

  “Nothing.” He had started to ask why she didn’t like Laila, but now that he had a few moments to think about it, he really didn’t want to talk about Laila with Sierra. He didn’t like the slight crease between her eyes that appeared during any conversations about Laila.

  Sierra recognized his ‘nothing more to say’ expression so gave up and began again. “Okay, everyone is all excited about homecoming, and I was just thinking about how we’re only in high school once and it’s supposed to be the best time of our life and all that and…well, you know I had a horrible time my freshman year. Maybe I don’t want that to be my only memory of a prom, so…” She looked at him with a wistful expression. “Would you consider going with me?”

  “You want to go?” River asked, knitting his brows quizzically. It had never occurred to him to ask her to the prom, or even that Sierra might want to go.

  “Only if you want to,” Sierra said quickly, smiling and shrugging her shoulders to indicate it really didn’t matter.

  She wore her eager and hopeful look, an expression that always endeared her in his heart. River reached over to brush a stray wisp of tawny, sun-streaked hair that had escaped her braid, away from her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her softly on her lips. “I will take you to the prom,” he said when he pulled away from her and looked directly into her eager eyes.