Schooling Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  Lisa laughed. “But he likes us!” she said. “Ever since we took him to that school dance. I swear he remembers it.” The Saddle Club had taken Danny to the dance to prove a point to Veronica. They’d been amazed when the horse had seemed to have fun.

  “See?” Stevie pointed out. “Danny changed. If Milky isn’t quite right now, he’ll change, too. You can fix him.”

  “I know I can.” Lisa patted Milky again. Her confidence felt fully restored. What had she been so upset about, anyway? A few bucks, a threatening look or two? Every horse bucked once in a while. “Thanks, guys. I’m so glad I talked to you.”

  “No problem,” Stevie said. “That’s what The Saddle Club is for.”

  “Did I tell you that he’s actually a Thoroughbred?” Lisa asked. She felt herself getting excited about Milky all over again. Thoroughbreds had always been her favorite breed.

  “Really?” Carole asked.

  “Max showed me his tattoo,” Lisa said. “He said he didn’t know whether Milky had ever been a racehorse or not, but that probably he had been.” On the track, a Thoroughbred could be easily identified by the number tattooed along the inside of its upper lip.

  “That’s neat,” Stevie said. “What else did Max say?”

  Lisa warmed to her subject as she remembered their conversation. “He’s still pretty young,” she said, “only eight years old, but Max said he must have had lots of early training, because he started competing in horse shows four years ago.”

  “Wow.” Carole blinked. “That is young. That can be hard on a horse.”

  “Max said he’s won some pretty tough classes,” Lisa said proudly. “He’s been all over the country, because he’s been owned by a lot of people.”

  “That’s cool,” Stevie said. “You’ll be some competition for Carole and me, then. I hope Max lets us go to Briarwood again.”

  Lisa grinned. “Me too.” Briarwood was a prestigious show that Max occasionally let his students enter. Lisa had ridden Prancer there back when Prancer first came to Pine Hollow. Prancer had performed horribly; in fact, she’d been eliminated for kicking a judge. But Prancer learned, Lisa thought. She would never do that now. Lisa felt cheered by the recollection of what had been a very embarrassing day. Surely between now and the Briarwood show, she and Milky would be a team just as she and Prancer were now. With his experience and his elegance, they would set the show on its ear.

  “I can’t wait,” she gushed. “Maybe—Aahhh!” Lisa’s words turned into a yell of surprise as, without warning, Milky bucked, whirled, and tried to bolt back to the stable. Lisa fought for her balance. Milky broke into a gallop.

  “Sit up!” Carole yelled. “Keep his head up!” Horses couldn’t buck properly when their heads were above their shoulders.

  “Hang on!” Stevie hollered as Lisa and Milky disappeared into the pine woods. She and Carole quickly turned their horses and followed, trotting so as not to incite Milky to further speed.

  As soon as they reached the woods, they could see Lisa struggling with her mount. She was leaning back far enough that Milky couldn’t unseat her, and she was pulling hard on the reins. Milky had slowed to a near walk. When he saw the other horses, he relaxed and allowed them to come up to him.

  “Whoa.” Lisa gradually let up on the reins. Milky walked forward as though he had done nothing wrong. But Lisa’s heart was hammering, and her hands were shaking. “What was that about?” she asked her friends. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about: One moment he’s fine, and the next moment he’s completely weird. Then he goes back to normal. It’s eerie.”

  Carole and Stevie exchanged puzzled glances. “I don’t know,” Stevie said. “But it is his first trail ride, after all. Maybe he just suddenly decided that he was too far from home.”

  “Maybe,” Carole said. “Or he could have been spooked by something we never even noticed. Once, I thought Starlight was getting all worked up over nothing, and it turned out there was a groundhog sitting next to the trail.”

  “But he just doesn’t feel like he’s afraid of something,” Lisa said. “He feels like he doesn’t like me.”

  “He doesn’t know you yet, Lisa,” Carole said patiently. She’d never met a horse that wasn’t capable of developing a strong rapport with people. “And you don’t know him. You just have to give him more time.”

  “He’ll be wonderful,” Stevie said supportively. “You can do it.”

  Lisa smiled. “I know I can,” she said. “I’m willing to take the time with him. It’s not everyone who’s lucky enough to be given a nice horse like Milky.” She stroked his neck tentatively. “Do you guys mind if we head back to the stables now?”

  Stevie and Carole readily agreed. Lisa was glad to have two such understanding friends. She felt as if she was definitely going to need their help. Milky was going to be her horse—her dream come true—and even if he wasn’t exactly the horse she would have chosen for herself, well, she was going to have to make do.

  But I can fix him, Lisa said to herself. Patience and understanding. And time. That’s all any horse needs.

  CAROLE AND STEVIE peeked around the corner of the stable aisle. Halfway down, Lisa was grooming Milky on a set of cross-ties. The horse stood calmly with a bored, half-asleep expression on his face, and Lisa, brushing his tail, looked completely absorbed.

  “See,” Stevie whispered, “they’re doing fine together.”

  “I know,” Carole said. “I can’t understand why Lisa keeps saying he doesn’t like her. He seems to like her as well as he likes anyone—and he doesn’t seem to be a bad horse to me.” It was Sunday afternoon, and The Saddle Club had agreed to meet for another trail ride. They’d gone out on one the day before, too, and even though Milky had for the most part behaved well, Lisa hadn’t wanted to go any faster than a slow trot. She hadn’t wanted to jump at all. Her friends were concerned because even after four days of riding him, Lisa was still so tentative around him.

  “He bucks some,” Stevie admitted, “but I haven’t seen him do anything really bad. All Thoroughbreds are high-strung.”

  “I know,” Carole said. “Sometimes I wonder if a Thoroughbred is really the best kind of horse for Lisa. She’s a little high-strung, too.”

  “A Thoroughbred is the kind of horse she’s got,” Stevie pointed out. “Anyway, I just wanted to see what they were like on their own, and now we know. They both seem fine.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Carole agreed. “We just need to keep encouraging her. She’ll get to know Milky soon.”

  The girls walked down the aisle, and Lisa greeted them happily. “He’s in a really good mood today,” she told them. She had spent almost the entire weekend at Pine Hollow fussing over Milky and was delighted to think that she already saw improvement in him.

  “Good!” Stevie patted Milky’s nose. “He looks fantastic. Ready to hit the trails?”

  “Just about,” Lisa said. She put the comb she was using into her grooming bucket. “How’s the dialogue coming, Carole?”

  Carole rolled her eyes. “I can say it in my sleep. In fact, I probably have been. Listen.” She recited the words.

  Lisa nodded. “It sounds a lot better,” she said. “You’re very smooth, and you’re not pausing between the words anymore. And I think you’re starting to roll your rs.”

  “Do you think so?” Carole looked delighted. “I just want to do well on this one exercise. Then I’ll feel like I can do the rest.”

  “You’ll be awesome,” Stevie predicted. “How could you not be?” Stevie guessed that she had heard Carole’s dialogue 356 times since Friday afternoon. She thought she could probably recite it in her sleep—and Lisa was definitely developing the ability to roll her own rs. But Stevie didn’t say anything. She couldn’t imagine feeling this upset about schoolwork, even given Max’s academic policy. Of course Carole wasn’t going to fail again! Stevie’d always been able to get decent grades in any subject once she’d put her mind to it, and she knew Carole could, too. But no matt
er what, she wanted Carole to be happy. “You can recite it for us a few more times on the trail,” she said.

  “I sound just like the tape,” Carole told them proudly. She went to get her saddle.

  Stevie and Lisa looked at each other and giggled.

  “Do you?” Stevie asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Lisa said. “I sound like the tape, too. I only know four lines of French, but I know them very well.”

  Stevie shook her head. “As hard as Carole’s worked, she can’t possibly get anything but an A.”

  ON THE TRAIL Milky behaved as well as he ever had, and Lisa felt her spirits soaring. Carole and Stevie were right—Milky just took a little more work than the other horses Lisa had known. But he was worth it—he was hers, or he would be soon. She felt herself relaxing, and Milky seemed to respond. He mouthed the bit, and his gaits lengthened and softened.

  “Want to try a canter?” Stevie suggested. She could see that Lisa and Milky were doing much better together.

  “Sure!” Lisa signaled Milky, and the gelding struck out into a beautiful canter, controlled but rhythmic. “Good boy!” she praised him.

  Stevie and Carole looked at each other and smiled. “You will be beating us at Briarwood,” Stevie said.

  Lisa laughed. “Isn’t he fabulous?”

  “Let’s jump the log around the corner,” Carole suggested. It was a little one only about a foot high, and they usually incorporated it into their trail rides. Carole glanced over at Lisa, who looked slightly uneasy but nodded. Carole brought Starlight back to a calm but steady trot, and they jumped the log in one fluid motion. Stevie and Belle followed. Carole halted Starlight and turned to watch Lisa. Lisa held the reins short as though expecting Milky to do something wrong, but Milky went over the log just as easily as Belle and Starlight had. Lisa’s expression, when they landed, was one of relief.

  Stevie turned Belle. “Let’s do that again!”

  “Let’s not,” Lisa said. She added quickly, “Milky did so well—I want him to end on a good jump.”

  “He only did one jump!” Stevie protested before catching a quelling look from Carole. She shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want,” she said.

  “I think I’m actually ready to go back to the barn,” Lisa said. “I longed Milky this morning, you know, so he’s had a lot of work today, and he’s being so good I don’t want to mess it up.”

  Stevie frowned. Milky was being good, but it wasn’t as though the trail ride was difficult or anything. Most horses loved being out in the woods. Lisa was not usually this timid a rider—she was always trying new things with Prancer.

  Still, Stevie thought she understood. Milky was going to be Lisa’s own horse. Lisa would be responsible for everything about him, from what he was fed to how he behaved. And Lisa was the type of person who took her responsibilities very seriously. She was bound to be a little edgy about him for a while.

  STEVIE AND CAROLE cared for their horses and then left for home. Lisa decided to stay. Milky’s mane was long and scraggly—she’d take care of that and spend more time getting to know him.

  Lisa got a step stool and a small comb and tied Milky in the aisle. The best way to trim and thin a horse’s mane was to pull all the longer hairs out. Lisa had been horrified when she’d first seen this done, but she soon realized that it didn’t hurt the horse. It was a time-consuming job. Lisa set her stool close to Milky’s front feet, climbed onto it, and began to pull the hairs at the base of Milky’s mane.

  Milky relaxed his head and seemed to almost fall asleep. Lisa hummed a tune to herself. This business of having her own horse was harder than she’d expected, but it was all starting to work out. Soon, no doubt, she’d grow to love Milky.

  Max came in with Red. They waved to Lisa. She waved back. She combed a thin section of Milky’s mane, wrapped the long hairs around the back of the comb, and pulled. The hairs came out. Lisa dropped them to the floor and started over, moving farther up Milky’s neck.

  “Au Lait,” she whispered to herself. It had a certain ring to it, but the problem was, so many people couldn’t pronounce it. Lisa shuddered to think of herself being announced at a horse show, “Lisa Atwood, riding Au Lait,” and hearing it rhyme with splat. No matter what, Lisa thought, a horse’s name shouldn’t rhyme with anything awful. But she did like the idea of the name referring to the horse’s color. Maybe Blizzard, she thought. “Lisa Atwood, riding Blizzard.” Maybe not. It rhymed with wizard, which was good, but also with gizzard.

  Snowstorm. That was a good one! Then she could call him Snowy, or even Stormy, like the book. She imagined the sign she’d have made for his stall: SNOWSTORM, OWNED BY LISA ATWOOD. She’d have it made out of wood, like the sign on Starlight’s door. She paused for a moment to rest her hands.

  Without warning, Milky whipped his head around, his teeth bared. Lisa jumped back, falling off her stool. The cross-tie on Milky’s halter kept him from swinging his head all the way around, but even so his teeth closed on the sleeve of her jacket. He just missed her wrist.

  “Milky!” Lisa cried. Milky rolled his eyes at her and tried to whip his head around again. His ears were flat against his skull. Lisa was so startled she felt tears come to her eyes. What was wrong with this horse?

  “Lisa!” She looked up to see Max hurrying toward her. “Did that horse just try to bite you? What in the world is going on?” Max looked very upset.

  “N-No,” Lisa stammered. “He didn’t bite me.”

  “But it looked like that was what he was trying to do.” Max put his arm on Lisa’s shoulder and pulled her back a little way from the horse. “Has he done anything like this before—ever? Anything, while you’ve been riding him or caring for him?”

  “No,” Lisa said. “He’s never tried to bite.” She wiped at the tear rolling down her cheek.

  “You have to tell me if he ever does anything wrong,” Max said. “Anything that upsets you. I want to know all about it. Remember, he’s only here on trial.”

  Lisa swallowed hard. It sounded as if Max was ready to send Milky away! “No, Max,” she made herself say in a calmer voice. “He startled me just now, but I don’t really think he was trying to bite me. I think he was going after a horsefly on his neck, and I just happened to be in the way.”

  Max raised his eyebrows. “A horsefly in November?”

  “Or something like that,” Lisa said. “I’m pretty sure I saw something flying.”

  Max shrugged. “Well, it could be. But remember—you need to tell me if he does anything like this again.”

  “Sure,” Lisa said. She looked at Milky. The horse had resumed standing still, half-asleep. “He seems fine now.”

  “Yes, he does. Let me know if you have trouble.”

  “Okay,” Lisa promised. Max nodded to her and went back to his work.

  Lisa picked up her stool and moved it closer to Milky’s neck. She fingered the rip in her sleeve. None of the horses at Pine Hollow ever bit people—Lisa knew it was considered a pretty extreme vice. Horses were supposed to respect their riders, not try to hurt them.

  Of course, students weren’t supposed to lie to their teachers, either, the way Lisa had just lied to Max. She felt very uncomfortable about it. But the longer she thought about it, the more she was convinced that there must have been a fly or some other reasonable explanation for Milky’s behavior.

  Why not tell Max the truth? she asked herself. She’d never said a word about Milky bucking or trying to run back to the barn. She’d only told the other members of The Saddle Club that she felt sure Milky didn’t like her.

  If you tell the truth, you might lose Milky, she answered in her mind. She wasn’t about to lose her dream come true. She wasn’t giving him up.

  Lisa sighed and gingerly started to work on Milky’s mane again. She wasn’t giving him up. She’d just have to make him behave better.

  “CAROLE! HEY, CAROLE!” Lisa ran down the nearly empty hallway. It was the next day, and school was finally over. Lisa had been held up for a
few minutes at the end of her last class, and she’d been a little surprised not to find Carole standing by her locker waiting for her. Now she could see that Carole was still standing by the open door of her own locker. “Hi!” Lisa said, rushing up to her friend. “How’d it go? Ready to ride?”

  Carole turned her head, and Lisa was appalled to see tears filling her eyes. “What’s wrong?” Lisa asked.

  Carole could hardly bring herself to say it. “I failed my French dialogue again. Another F.”

  “Oh no! Lisa said. “But you knew it perfectly!”

  Carole stood transfixed in the hallway. Tears started to trail down her cheeks. Lisa grabbed Carole’s last few note-books and stuffed them into her backpack, then shut Carole’s locker and guided her out to the street. The sooner they could get away from the school, the better.

  “What happened?” Lisa asked as they made their way toward Pine Hollow.

  Carole shook her head dully. “I want to quit,” she said. “If I could quit a class, I would. But I can’t. I have to go back there tomorrow.”

  “But you knew it cold,” Lisa said. “Did you study the wrong dialogue?”

  Carole shook her head. She swallowed hard. “No,” she said. “I really did know it. At home I sounded just like the voice on the tape. But I was so nervous. I got up in front of the class and my knees were shaking, and I knew everyone could see. And I said the first word, and my voice was shaking and I didn’t say it right. And then I just froze. I couldn’t do anything right after that.”

  “Oh, Carole,” Lisa moaned. “Oh, how awful.”

  “I was awful,” Carole said. “I just kept making mistakes, and feeling worse, and making more mistakes. Even when Mr. Norris tried to help. I don’t blame him for failing me again—I deserved to fail. I can’t do it. I just can’t speak French.”

  “Yes, you can,” Lisa said. “You were speaking French all weekend. You were great.”