The Girl Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series) Read online

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  Tuesday afternoon Sierra stood at the rail of the indoor arena watching Gloria taking a lesson on Silver. Tess sat on the observation platform and called out instructions through a microphone. The big gray cantered around the perimeter of the arena as Tess instructed Gloria to alternately collect him and then lengthen his stride. With his neck arched and his powerful hind legs propelling him, the gray reached forward with his front legs to take longer strides, then shifted back on his hind legs as he shortened his stride for the collected canter. Beautiful, Sierra marveled at the gray’s apparent ease in making the transitions.

  “Sitting trot,” Tess called out.

  Gloria stiffened and pulled back on the reins, causing Silver to come up with his head, momentarily losing his balance. She jabbed him with her spurs and he jumped back into a canter.

  “Keep your hands in front of his withers,” Tess yelled, “and just half-halt, don’t pull back on him. Now bring him to a trot.”

  Gloria tried again, and this time Silver anticipated what was expected. He brought his hind end underneath him and came to a trot, keeping his head and neck rounded.

  “Better,” Tess stated. “Now half-halt again and bring him to a walk, then give him a long rein and stretch him out.” Gloria brought Silver to the walk, then let the reins go slack as the big gelding stretched his neck forward and down. She walked him once around the arena, then came to the exit gate and dismounted. Without a word to Sierra, she tossed her the reins and then walked over to the platform to discuss her lesson with Tess.

  “Good boy, Silver,” Sierra stroked his warm, sweaty neck, then led him over to the crossties and removed his bridle, saddle, and splint boots. She was about to lead him outside to cool him out when Tess came up behind her.

  “Sierra,” she spoke sharply.

  “Yes?” Sierra turned apprehensively, wondering if she had done something wrong.

  “River is going to work with you on the basics for awhile; then we’ll see if you’re ready for lessons.”

  Excitement welled up to replace the worry that she was in trouble. Sierra smiled.

  Then Tess added, “In the future if you have any complaints I would appreciate it if you would come directly to me instead of whining to River.”

  Sierra’s smile converted to mouth agape at the reprimand. What is she talking about?

  Without waiting for a response Tess walked away, but turned back once abruptly. “You’ll need a helmet and boots, those are the rules.”

  “Did you hear that, Silver?” Sierra looked up into the gentle eyes of the handsome gray. She reached around his neck and gave him a hug, as if somehow he were responsible for the news. She clipped on the lead rope and led him outside to walk up and down the lane. River must have said something to Tess, she concluded, and she thinks I was complaining about not having lessons.

  Outside, Sierra spied River riding back from the trail on Magic. The chestnut looked around happily with his ears flicking side-to-side, very relaxed. It always amazed Sierra; the difference in Magic when River rode him compared to when Crystal rode. River was riding bareback, wearing jeans with holes in the knees, paddock boots, and a black helmet. Sierra stopped at the end of the lane, admiring the beauty of the boy and horse as the sun moved suddenly from behind a cloud, sending a beam of light that caught the coppery red of Magic’s coat and gleamed on River’s black hair and helmet. It was a vision of two beings harmoniously merged to appear as one. She wanted to look like that on a horse.

  “Hi,” Sierra greeted as the pair came up to her and River swung off Magic’s back. “How did he do today?”

  “Great,” River answered, stroking the coppery neck affectionately. They walked the horses side by side back toward the stable.

  “Tess told me you’re going to give me lessons,” Sierra announced.

  “I’m sorry it’s going to be me. I know you want to take lessons from her,” he replied apologetically.

  “I’m not sorry!” Sierra exclaimed in surprise. “You’re a great rider!”

  “But you want to learn from the best,” he stated sarcastically.

  “River, you are the best. Besides, Tess said you would teach me the basics and then she would give me lessons.”

  “I see,” he answered and said no more.

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  “Momma,” Sierra began as they sat down at the table in the kitchen to eat dinner. “I get to start taking lessons.”

  Pam paused with her fork and looked at her daughter as a smile spread across her face. “Kitten, that’s great! And it’s about time.” Pam had mentioned a few times that she believed Tess was taking unfair advantage of Sierra’s willingness to work for free. But Sierra only responded that at least she got to be around the horses.

  “I need a riding helmet and boots though,” Sierra continued.

  “Oh dear, how much will those cost?” Pam asked.

  “I looked on-line, and I can get a pair of rubber riding boots for twenty-nine dollars. They’re on sale right now through this one tack store. I have that in my savings. But the cheapest helmet costs around forty dollars.”

  “Well, I’ll see if I can manage that at the end of the month. Can you use your bicycle helmet in the meantime?”

  “I guess,” Sierra replied in resignation. She understood how tight dollars were. “Can I order the boots?”

  “It’s your money, so go ahead.”

  Sierra ordered the boots as soon as she and her mom finished cleaning up after dinner, and spent the extra money for one-day shipping. Her boots arrived the next day.

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  “Saddle up Morris,” River said. They had about an hour between cooling out the last lesson horse and before the horses were brought in for the night.

  “I’m going to learn to ride and you’re going to help me,” Sierra chattered soothingly to Morris although nothing seemed to rattle the complacent little gelding and she could have shouted the news at him.

  River came down the aisle with a coil of webbed line in his hands. “Let’s go.” He studied Sierra as she led Morris into the indoor arena, wearing her new black rubber riding boots over her jeans and a bicycle helmet, her brown braids hanging out the back. He hoped none of the girls who boarded here would happen by to see her, because he could imagine the snide comments they would make. It irritated him how often he overheard these girls who could have anything they wanted, owned expensive horses and all the best equipment, make derogatory remarks about Sierra. She sure was plucky though; seemingly oblivious to their unkindness, focusing all her attention on the horses and working hard as if it were a privilege.

  “We’re going to start out on the lunge line,” he said after he had shown Sierra how to adjust her stirrups and mount up at the mounting block.

  “Kind of like they start out at the Spanish Riding School?” she asked.

  “That’s right. How do you know about that?”

  “Oh, I’ve read every book they have in the library about horses, and there’s one all about the school and the Lipizzans.”

  “Okay, senorita,” he quipped. He clucked to Morris, starting him at a walk on a circle around him.

  River is in a good mood today. That helped to ease Sierra’s nervousness. It felt different after riding bareback and not as comfortable; the saddle cold and firm rather than soft, warm, silky hair under her seat. It felt awkward to have to bend her leg to fit her foot in the stirrup after having them hanging loose.

  “Let the horse teach you to ride,” River told her. “If you start from the beginning listening to him, he’ll let you know if you’re doing things wrong.”

  Sierra nodded silently, not quite understanding.

  River watched for a few minutes and then said, “You’re too tense. Let’s try getting you to loosen up. Drop your stirrups and swing your legs back and forth. Try rolling your shoulders forwards and then backwards.”

  Sierra obeyed as River continued to instruct her in a series of loosening exercises: rolling her neck aro
und on her shoulders, holding her arms out to the sides and circling in both directions, bending forward and backwards from the waist, turning at the waist to look over each shoulder, and then turning to touch the top of his tail and then forward to touch between his ears. Finally, he had her reach down on both sides of Morris and try to touch her toes. Then River turned Morris in the other direction and Sierra repeated all the exercises.

  Sierra could feel herself becoming more relaxed as the exercises took her mind off the fact she was actually sitting in a saddle trying to ride. She remembered how Morris had felt bareback and as she relaxed, she began to feel the same movements of his body even through the saddle.

  “Through your seat and into your body’s deep center is how you feel what’s happening with your horse and how you communicate back to him. Your legs and hands are just ways to enhance that communication, and they should always be very light. He’s talking to you through his back and his shoulders and in the way he holds his head.”

  Sierra nodded in acknowledgement and then closed her eyes, focusing on Morris’s back beneath her and his shoulders and neck movement in front of her. She could feel his muscles moving, but had to admit that it didn’t tell her anything. “I guess it’s like a new language I need to learn, and I don’t understand the ‘words’ yet,” Sierra said, feeling a little chagrined.

  “Exactly,” River smiled in encouragement. “Nobody understands the first time up, but since you’re trying to learn his language you will get it. From what I can see, you’re balanced on his back right now and Morris is ‘saying’ he’s comfortable and you’re not interfering with him.”

  “Really?”

  River laughed. “Yeah. Want to try a trot?”

  “I think so,” Sierra answered, feeling both anticipation and fear.

  “Put your feet back in the stirrups. You can hold onto that strap on the front of the saddle.” River had buckled a strap between two D-rings at the pommel. “I’ll signal Morris to trot and I’ll control him. Just let his movement push you out of the saddle. You’ve seen riders post, so you have an idea what to do, okay?”

  She nodded, “I’m ready.”

  River chirruped to Morris and the little bay obediently picked up his pace into an easygoing trot. Sierra jounced awkwardly for the first few strides and clutched at the strap to hold herself on. For a moment she felt like she was going to fall off.

  “Don’t try so hard; let him do the work,” River called out.

  Sierra took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few moments. Within the next two strides she found herself rising out of the saddle and then back down in rhythm with the bouncing movement of the trot. She opened her eyes and stayed in the rhythm. Her grip on the strap loosened. I’m posting!

  “You’re posting!” River echoed her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

  Sierra couldn’t speak; she was so entranced with the motion. All she could do was nod and grin with pleasure.

  River brought Morris back to the walk and let Sierra rest a few rounds, and then had her trot again. Then he reversed the direction so that Sierra practiced the trot going both ways.

  “That’s enough,” he announced, and brought Morris to the center of the circle and to a halt. “I don’t want you to get sore.” He showed her how to dismount and they led Morris back to the crossties.

  “You’ve got the rhythm of posting already,” River praised her.

  “I could feel it,” Sierra exclaimed. “It was so cool. This has been the best day of my life!”

  River shook his head in amusement but he also gave her a very warm smile.

  *****

  9 The Canter

  A horse can lend its rider the speed and strength he or she lacks…but the rider who is wise remembers it is no more than a loan. – Pam Brown

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  The autumn months gave way to winter and the stable routine changed to accommodate the colder conditions. Sierra helped River clip the thick winter coats of the horses so they didn’t sweat and become chilled with their work. Winter blankets had to be put on for turn-out, and many frozen mornings they had to chip the ice away from the outside water troughs. It was harder to get out of bed and pedal her bicycle to the stable in the cold darkness; nevertheless, Sierra arrived before seven, every Saturday and Sunday morning. She and River had fallen into a pattern where she turned on the lights, fed Patches, the tabby cat, and was filling grain buckets by the time he arrived.

  The lunge lessons continued, at least four days a week and more often if River had the time. Sierra rode alternately the three school horses, Morris, Muffin, and Fala. She progressed from holding on to the saddle strap to keeping both hands on her waist at the trot. The posting trot became easy. She learned to post on the correct diagonal; rising when the horse’s outside shoulder moved forward, and back in the saddle when the inside shoulder moved forward. Most of the time she could identify the diagonal by feel instead of looking down at the horse’s shoulder. Then River took her stirrups away. She had to go back to holding onto the strap as she learned to post without stirrups, and then the feel of sitting the trot.

  “Your control comes from here,” River placed his hand over his mid to lower abdomen. “This is your center of balance. If you can learn to control these muscles it will help you stay balanced and in rhythm with your horse’s motion.”

  Sierra nodded, and practiced tightening and releasing her abdominal muscles to keep in the correct position as she learned to sit the bouncing motion of the trot. Within a few weeks she was able to release her grip on the strap and put her hands back on her waist. When she felt secure at the trot, River had her perform all the loosening up exercises she had been doing at a walk, now at the trot.

  “I think you’re ready for canter,” River stated matter-of-factly one afternoon. Sierra was up on Fala, the little black Arabian mare with an agreeable disposition and very smooth gaits.

  “Really?” Sierra had been dreaming about riding the canter, wondering when she would be ready. Now, an electric thrill coursed down her spine, a combination of excitement and fear.

  “After the trot, it’s easy,” he assured her. “You can hold onto the strap and put your feet back in the stirrups.”

  Sierra complied and then sitting up straight and tall, took a deep breath and nodded to River, “I’m ready.”

  River signaled Fala to canter. The little mare jumped obediently from the trot into an easy, smooth canter gait.

  Sierra’s abdominal muscles had grown strong with all the sitting trot work, so to her delighted surprise, she felt comfortable and secure when the rhythm changed into a smooth, rocking motion; not at all bouncy and actually easier to sit than the trot. Fala didn’t seem the least bit concerned that this was her rider’s first time to canter. After the first circle, Sierra felt confident enough to let go of the strap and put her hands on her waist. She felt like she could ride this motion forever!

  “Wow, look at rubber boots on a merry-go-round,” a jeering voice commented from the side of the arena. River saw from the corner of his eye Crystal, Gloria, and Katrina watching Sierra and snickering together.

  “Does she know the difference between a bicycle and a horse?” one of them added, and the three girls burst into raucous laughter. Then Crystal swung her light-colored jacket above her head, as if to put it across her shoulders, just as Fala approached on her circle.

  River’s stomach lurched as he realized the group stood in a triangle of sunlight pouring in from the other side of the stable. As Fala approached, she was looking into the light and he knew in an instant that the normally quiet mare would shy at the sudden flash of the light jacket; and he also knew with surety that Crystal had planned it. He watched helplessly as Fala raised her head and swung her hips off the circle to face the perceived danger, and her steady gait changing into a choppy trot. Sierra, not expecting the move, lost her balance and slipped to the side. Fala, feeling her rider shift unexpectedly, jumped forward. Sierra could not hold on and continued to slip to
the ground, landing on her right hip and shoulder. But at least she remembered to roll with her fall and ended up on her back, looking up at the roof.

  “Ouch,” Sierra said.

  Seconds later River knelt over her, his face taut with anxiety. “Sierra?”

  “I’m okay,” she assured him. She took a deep breath and pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Really, I am.”

  “Do you hurt anywhere?” he asked.

  Sierra checked in with all her body parts. Other than the sting of where she had landed, she felt okay. “No,” she answered and started to stand up. River grabbed hold of her arm and helped her to her feet. Covered in dirt, Sierra took a few steps, rubbing the hip where she had fallen. She looked at River’s distressed expression and smiled at him weakly. “I guess I’m a rider now, huh?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know the saying: if you ain’t been throwed then you ain’t never rode!”

  River laughed in relief and helped her brush the dirt from her clothing.

  “I should get back on,” Sierra stated.

  “That’s my girl,” River smiled encouragement.

  Fala had run to the edge of the arena in a panic, frightened by the loss of her rider and the feel of the saddle askew on her back. Now she stood frozen, the lunge line still attached to the bridle and stretched out on the ground. She watched the kids with her ears flicking nervously. River approached her, talking softly in lilting Spanish, “Aye linda, que pasa?” He picked up the lunge line, gathering it up. Fala, at the sound of his voice, lowered her head and stepped up to him. River stroked her neck still murmuring to her, and the wide-eyed frightened look in her eye melted away to soft calmness. River readjusted the saddle, tightened the girth, and led her to the mounting block for Sierra to remount. By the time River led Fala back to the center of the arena, the mare acted as if nothing at all had happened.