I didn’t know if what I was saying was helping the kid at all, but it was helping me. “What you just did on Twinkle, Maggie? That’s riding. It’s not easy, and it’s not to be taken lightly. Riding is hard, Maggie. Horses are hard. You can’t just treat your pony like a bike and expect to get anywhere. You have to put in the time, and the effort, and the hardest thing is that you have to put your heart out there, too. And horses can break your heart. But I can’t stay away from them. Sometimes I wish I could walk away from it all, but it isn’t possible. I can’t break the connection I have with them. And what you have to figure out is whether you can. Because if you don’t need horses, Maggie, then don’t do horses.”
I stood up and walked away, leaving Maggie and Twinkle in the arena and my $50 in Mr. Allsteen’s wallet.
Lawrence
I lay on my bed, furiously working saddle soap into the pieces of a bridle that were strewn around me. Nothing was right. Amber was in a constant funk, flipping between torturing me with silence and her Lady Gaga CD, cranked up as high as it could go. The beat got under my skull and pounded away for hours, even after she mercifully turned the music off. I realized, too late, that once those fucking songs got in my brain, there would be no getting them out, except maybe through lethal injection and blissful death. Those stupid, catchy, synthesized lyrics were firmly embedded in my brain, carved into the grey matter. There was no escape from them, even if I left my house in abject desperation. They were everywhere. On the radio in the bakeries and cafes, in random commercials I didn’t even mean to hear, pouring out of car windows. The worst was when they played on those illegal stereos with the bass you can hear from three blocks away. Because I recognized the song, even from three blocks away. I knew them all, and I could distinguish one from the other, an ability I never, ever wanted to have. Why, Amber? Why have you done this to me? Why do you hate me so much?
I often thought those words. I could have asked her, but then I would've had to know.
Then there was Harry. My shining hope for the future. Ha.
Every time I thought we had a breakthrough, he merely stepped up his resistance. I knew better, and I tried valiantly not to take his behavior personally, but it seemed personal. Training a horse, particularly a problem horse, was not always logical, but the process usually made some sense. Horses generally got steadily, incrementally better. It was subtle, and there were always times when you felt like you were backsliding, but it was fairly straightforward.
Harry made occasional, fleeting, grand leaps of progress. At his best, he was spectacular. He rode like a made pony. The rest of the time, the vast majority of the time, he was rank, nasty and cunning. I felt like shooting him in the head most days, but I knew I would shoot myself before I'd end his miserable life.
A vehicle turned onto the gravel outside my house, cutting into my sulking and loathing and depression. It didn’t roar like the Harley, purr seductively like Mary’s corvette or hack and wheeze, as Wilson’s decrepit Chevy did. I vaulted off the bed. The person driving the vehicle that had just arrived in my yard was the exact person I most wanted to see. Even if seeing her meant I would have to out myself as a big, fucking failure.
I threw the door open and went down the stairs. Erica stood outside her truck, blinking in the fading light. Her expression was an exact replica of how I’d been feeling. “What’s up?” I asked. What’s up? Nice opener, genius. I wobbled a bit in mid-stride, taken aback by my own self-criticism.
She sighed. It was a loaded sigh. “You don’t want to know.”
I was concerned by the slightly dead look in her eyes. “Sure I do.”
A few beats of silence ticked by. She seemed to be fighting some private battle in her head. Then, abruptly, she gave up on the fight. “I made a total ass of myself at a horse show today.” She produced a mechanized little laugh for my benefit, or possibly for hers.
“I’m sorry. What happened?” I quickly realized I was forging ahead into a place she might not want to go. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to. It’s okay. I just...I’m here. If you want to talk about it.” I broke eye contact and felt like kicking myself as my halting, stilted words registered. You idiot. I quickly decided to blame Amber. It was her fault I hadn’t spoken to a human being in days and apparently had forgotten how.
Erica seemed to have warmed a bit. “Well. Basically, today was my gelding’s big debut, and I really wanted to have a good round. The course was a freaking nightmare, but he was handling it fine until the sixth fence. I got him to a horrible takeoff spot. He should have run out or refused, but he tried to jump it and tangled with the fence. I thought he was going to go down. But he saved us.”
Even through her calm retelling, I could sense the lingering shock and fear. Register the close call. “Shit. What’d you do then?”
“I circled him to make sure he was okay and finished the course. Which went great. But after what happened, there was no way we were placing.” Her tone was bitter and full of what if. “And public humiliation was not what I needed at this point in my career.”
“Your horse still jumped the rest of the course for you, though,” I pointed out. “His training has to be really solid.” I had a sudden need to make her feel better, and not just so she could help me with my problem.
She finally smiled. “He’s a good horse.”
“You’re a good trainer.”
The words didn’t have the effect I intended. She winced like she’d heard some grating, high-pitched sound. “Not today.”
“Why would you say that?” I asked cautiously, wanting to know but also fearing some revelation that would make me rethink my glowing opinion of her.
She looked up at me, uncertainty all over her face. “I have a client, a young girl named Maggie. She is convinced she knows everything, and her mother called me in because she could no longer get her $35,000 Welsh pony to trot.”
I nodded. I might’ve laughed, but the expression on her face kept me from feeling any kind of cheer.
Erica continued. “I didn’t think I would ever see her again, because I told her the reality. I wasn’t pleasant or nice, but I was effective.
“I was wrong. They did ask me back. Her mother called me on my way home from the show. The timing...was bad.”
“So you reamed her out, then?” I couldn’t help but think that Maggie’s mother probably had it coming.
Erica shook her head. “No. I wish I would have done that instead of what I did. I went and gave the kid a lesson. It was a bad idea. But I...” she paused, editing something. “I did it. I went in there, hurting, exhausted, and ill prepared to teach anyone. Especially a challenging client like Maggie.”
Challenging. It was one of those words people used to describe kids, instead of something more accurate, like impossible, or hellion. I got that a lot in school. Harrison challenges authority, my report cards read.
Erica went on. “Of course she mouthed off to me, and I just couldn’t deal. I put her on the longe, no stirrups, no reins. She has absolutely no seat, so I made her post the trot until she was so tired and sore that sitting was a relief, and she couldn’t fight it anymore.”
“But that’s an age-old teaching technique,” I cut in. “And it works. That’s how I learned to ride.”
“I know. But I did it for the wrong reason.” Her voice was heavy. “I wanted to hurt that kid, Lawrence. I wanted to see her cry. I’m supposed to be a trainer. You don’t take out your frustration, anger, whatever shit that happened to you, on your horse, or even a bratty kid you can’t stand. That’s the first rule of training. After today, I just...I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”
She stared at me helplessly. I could see she held herself accountable for things most people would just forget. Training wasn’t a job to her; she lived it. She was affected by the things she contributed to, good and bad. She was invested in every horse, every client. Maybe too much. But I liked that about her.
I reached out without th
inking and closed my hand around her shoulder. Her stance softened. Fleetingly, her eyes locked onto mine. Then she looked down again.
“You should forgive yourself,” I said firmly. “I’m absolutely certain you’re not the first trainer to take perverse enjoyment in a student’s pain. And that kid needed some abuse, Erica. Anyone else would’ve just told her what she wanted to hear, and she wouldn’t have learned shit. But you actually taught her something, even though it meant potentially not getting asked back. Who else would’ve done that?”
Her mouth twitched sideways. “No one. It’s funny. All my life, I’ve been told if I want to make it in this business, I’m going to need to learn to keep my mouth shut.”
I looked her in the eyes. “Please. Don’t.”
We stayed like that for a minute, until the intensity simultaneously broke us apart. I hadn’t expected that. I didn’t know what to say.
Erica gamely broke the silence. “So. Tell me about Harry. How’s he been?”
This was the part I had been waiting for. And dreading. “Horrible. As only Harry can be.”
She laughed almost inaudibly. “I’m not surprised. Harry has issues.”
“That’s putting it politely.”
“Come on. Let’s go see the beast.”
A few minutes later, I stepped into Harry’s paddock. He let me walk right up to him. That was a bad sign. It meant he was saving it up.
He was deceptively cooperative all through the preparations. He walked passively beside me as I led him down to the arena. He stood immobile when I swung onto his back. He was dynamite, and the flame was inches away.
I asked him to walk forward. His steps were tense, elevated. I felt the bad energy humming away inside him. His head twisted. His eyes locked onto something that wasn’t even there. He skittered sideways, rapidly accelerating. I squeezed my leg into him, tightened the outside rein. He threw his head frantically, throwing down his hooves in a three beat canter without moving forward. His energy built; his muscles knotted and twitched. I braced for the explosion. Then it happened. Harry flattened out and ran like he was escaping death. I hauled his head around so he was staring back at me. His eyes were huge. Foam slipped from his open mouth as he fought against my stranglehold and raced forward. I realized I had no control.
He ran straight ahead even with his head cranked to the side. He relinquished nothing. The arena fence came into view, rapidly enlarging as if seen from a zoom lens. I released my death grip on his head. He ripped the reins from me gladly and kept on his fast track to the fence. Harry! Do you not see the fucking fence?! I thought frantically. I grabbed at the reins, but his neck had turned into concrete. His mouth was a brick wall.
At the last possible second, Harry switched course at top speed, nearly going horizontal. I was thrown off the saddle, but I managed to hook a foot on the cantle and grab Harry’s mane, which kept me from falling. He slowed marginally as he finished the turn, and I threw myself back into the saddle. “Harry, walk.” I said forcefully. Shakily he complied. As soon as he completed a few steps, I halted him and stepped off. I was shaken up and utterly livid. I didn’t trust myself and I sure as hell didn’t trust him.
I led Harry over to Erica, who stood at the fence, her face drained of color. I raised my hands helplessly. “Any thoughts?”
“Not right now. That was scary as hell.” She shook her head.
“Try riding it.”
“I can’t believe you stayed on. I mean, I’m not saying you can’t ride. You’re an amazing rider. But it’s amazing that you rode that.” Her color was coming back now.
I smiled conservatively. “Well, the alternative wasn’t great.”
Erica leaned back for a minute, her face tight with concentration. Then, abruptly, she climbed over the arena fence and stepped forward so she stood in front of me. “I have a thought,” she said.
Relief flooded my veins. “Tell me.”
She looked down at her boots, then back up. She had a certain set to her jaw. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”
“No, I won’t,” I said quickly.
“Don’t say that. You haven’t heard my thought yet.” She made a face, but then she pressed on resolutely. “I noticed a couple things while I was watching. Things you couldn’t really see from your perspective. And I’m not trying to be critical here. You handled it the way anyone else would have, and probably with a lot more tact than some. But Harry is an unconventional case.” She paused. “Why do you think he was acting the way he did?”
It was a test. I desperately wanted to pass it, but I had no clue what answer she was looking for. Stick to the truth, dumb-ass. “I think he’s figured out that I can handle all his usual evasions, so by locking up and bolting, he takes over completely, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
She glanced at Harry. Then back to me. “I really don’t agree.”
Ouch. I reached back to pick at a label on the collar of my shirt to distract myself from how uncomfortable I had become. On one level, I felt like I’d failed. On another, I felt I had been set up somehow.
Erica broke the suddenly awkward silence. “Like I said, you didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m sure it must seem like another evasion to you. But it’s not.”
Even through my discomfort, I listened carefully.
“When I was watching Harry, I saw no sign of resistance. This wasn’t premeditated. He was not in control. He didn’t enjoy it. Look at him now, Lawrence. Have you ever seen him like this?”
I turned toward Harry. He stood at my side, head and ears low. He wasn’t cocky or smug. He looked miserable.
“He was afraid,” she said. And I knew she was right.
“But…why?” I asked. Harry wasn’t an abuse case, as far as I knew. He had been with one of the best trainers in the nation for most of his life. I knew Gerard Montague didn’t haul off and start hitting his horses. He had considered shipping Harry for slaughter, but Harry had escaped that particular nightmare.
“I don’t know. I really wish I could get inside his head.” She looked positively sick with the need to know. “Something has made it very hard for Harry to trust and work with people. I wish I knew what. But I think there’s a way we can help him.”
She walked over to Harry and took his reins from me. They slipped easily from my fingers. “I’ll need your helmet,” she said.
“Y-you’re going to ride him? Now?” I blurted haltingly.
“Yes,” she said forcefully. Her eyes weren’t quite focused. She’d gone deep in her head, away from anything that could possibly distract or stop her. Including me.
I slipped off my helmet numbly and handed it to her. She strapped it on, giving the dial a twist. And she stuck her foot in the stirrup and swung onto Harry.
I stood helplessly. This was not what I wanted. Not at all. She wasn’t supposed to get on Harry when he was like this. The horrifying possibilities spun through my head. If he hurts her, I really will shoot him in the head, I thought without a trace of uncertainty.
I realized I was no longer breathing, and when I tried, I couldn’t.
Harry was walking forward hesitantly. There were loops in her reins; she sat deeply into him. She was loose but poised. She showed no fear. She was projecting trust, I realized. She had presented Harry with what she needed from him.
Her fingers lightly touched a rein to turn him. Harry began to float above the ground. From my position at the rail, I saw his muscles tighten, and I saw the distress in his eyes. He was afraid. He couldn’t possibly fake this.
Harry began to gather himself, skewing sideways. My teeth ground together, making a sickening crunch. A drop of sweat rolled down my arm. All I could feel was the word “no”.
Then something shocking happened. As Harry’s panic and destructive power built, Erica stretched her arms forward. She gave him the reins. She let go of all control.
Feeling this, Harry slowed. He moved normally again. He dropped his head, looking intensely relieved. Erica reache
d down to rub his neck. He uncoiled, his topline swung. His ears moved back and forth. He mouthed the bit quietly. She began to shorten the reins slowly, carefully, establishing a contact that was feather light but there. Harry moved into it. She tweaked a rein, and he turned. She stopped him and jumped down. He let her hold his head between her hands. I didn’t recognize my horse.
I could feel my lungs burning. I took in a gulp of air. I was suddenly, profoundly tired.
Erica led Harry over. He was bright, yet relaxed. I struggled to think of something to say.
“You’ve had your guard up on him, I think,” she said. “You’re riding defensively. And it’s freaking him out. You’re in a vicious cycle with him, because the more he freaks out, the more you try to control him. Eventually he’s…gone. Mentally, he leaves. And then you have absolutely nothing. You have to reassure him. You have to prevent the bolt, the blowup, whatever. You can’t stop it. So you have to try something else, even if it goes against everything you’ve been taught and your own fear response.”
“When I was riding him, and I felt him start to freak, I let him go, and I was just…a benevolent presence. The things I tried to project to him were It’s okay, do what you need to do. I won’t hold you back. As soon as he felt that, he came back to me. His fear is in his head, but it’s real to him. And he’s never had anyone tell him it’s okay. He needs that from you.” She looked at me imploringly, as if she thought I might not believe her.
There was no way I couldn’t believe her after what I’d seen. What I had trouble believing in was my ability to do what she had done.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “Completely. You’ve always known what to do with him. You’re…incredible.”
Training Harry Page 20