Schooling Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  “I’m not great at school,” Carole said, shaking her head. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

  Lisa squeezed Carole’s hand sympathetically. “Of course you can,” she assured her. “We’ll help you figure it out. We’ll find a way.”

  Carole looked down at her feet. “I just can’t,” she repeated. Lisa didn’t know what else to say.

  When they got to Pine Hollow they found Stevie waiting for them. “Bad day,” Lisa said. She told Stevie what had happened to Carole, and Carole went over and put her arms around Starlight’s neck.

  “Oh no,” Stevie moaned. Carole looked up at them.

  “At least my horse doesn’t have a French name like yours does, Lisa,” she said bitterly. “Then I’d feel like a total failure.”

  Stevie gave Carole a hug. “Let’s tack up fast,” she said. “The sooner you’re on a horse, the better you’ll feel. And we can talk about how to help you while we’re riding.”

  “I don’t think you can help me,” Carole said. “Not unless you want to come to my class and recite these things for me.” She left to get her riding gear.

  Stevie looked at Lisa. “Phew! She’s really upset!”

  “I know.” Lisa was thinking about what Carole had said. What if Carole were the one riding—and owning—Milky? Carole would probably already have all the horse’s problems solved, Lisa thought sadly. She felt like a failure, too. She hadn’t yet told her friends that Milky had tried to bite her. After all, he probably hadn’t really meant to bite her. There could have been a fly. Lisa looked down the aisle. Milky’s beautiful face looked back at her from the door of his stall. Despite her mood, Lisa smiled. He was so beautiful—and he was hers. Or would be hers. As long as she didn’t mess everything up.

  “Lisa?” Stevie’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Oh—right.” Lisa went to get ready to ride. She had saved the carrot sticks from her lunch for Milky, and she was pleased when the horse gobbled them enthusiastically. He stood quietly while she groomed and saddled him.

  “Cheer up, Carole,” she heard Stevie say. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I just can’t do it,” Carole repeated.

  “Yes, you can. You’re not a quitter.”

  Neither am I, thought Lisa as she quickly tacked Milky up. She stroked his graceful neck before buckling the straps on his bridle. I’ve never been a quitter, and I won’t start being one now.

  Stevie and Carole weren’t quite ready, so Lisa took Milky outside, checked his girth, and mounted. She walked him a few steps forward, then let him stand while she adjusted one of the stirrup leathers. Milky seemed completely calm.

  Then, without warning, he threw his head down and bucked hard. Lisa scrambled to hold on. She grabbed the reins halfway up Milky’s neck and hauled on his head, and Milky came to a halt. A moment later he seemed once more to be completely calm.

  Lisa’s heart hammered. What was wrong with this horse? How could he act so spooked and the next minute act as if nothing on earth was wrong?

  “Geez, Lisa,” said Stevie, coming out of the stable leading Belle, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She’d never seen Lisa’s face so white.

  “It’s M-Milky,” Lisa stammered. “He just bucked—again. He almost threw me off, and then he went back to standing like nothing was bothering him.”

  Stevie looked at Milky’s placid, almost bored expression. She couldn’t imagine that the horse had really bucked. Probably he’d just been startled by a scrap of paper or a blown leaf or something. Lots of Thoroughbreds were skittish. Stevie shook her head. She could see that whatever the horse had done had really upset Lisa.

  “What’s wrong?” Carole asked as she came out of the stable.

  “Milky’s still upsetting Lisa,” Stevie said.

  “He scared me,” Lisa admitted. She described the way Milky had bucked. For some reason, she held off telling her friends about the bite. Probably it didn’t really happen like that, she thought. “I can’t tell if he’s really bad or if I’m making him out to be worse than he is,” she admitted to her friends.

  Stevie nodded. “I haven’t seen him do anything too horrible,” she said, “but I can see that he’s making you nervous.”

  “We’ll talk about it while we ride,” Carole said. She mounted and stood in her stirrups to flex her legs. “Are you okay to go out on the trails?”

  “I guess so,” Lisa said. “As long as we go slowly.” Carole looked over at Stevie. Stevie shrugged and shook her head. Milky was doing nothing whatsoever for Lisa’s confidence.

  “YOU KNOW,” STEVIE said once they were out of sight of the barn and had reached a place where they could ride three abreast, “I think there are a lot of similarities between your problem, Carole, and Lisa’s.”

  Carole frowned. “I was pretty much kidding when I said I was glad my horse didn’t have a French name,” she said. “I mean, I am glad, but I don’t see that Lisa’s horse has anything to do with my problem.”

  “No, listen,” Stevie persisted. “I didn’t say they were the same, I said they were similar. Originally, you had a lot of trouble pronouncing the French, right?” Carole nodded. “But you worked hard on it, and before class today you knew it—I know you did, Carole. I heard you say it forty times, and I heard the tape, too. You were good. But in class today you couldn’t recite it well because you got too nervous.”

  Carole nodded. “True, but how does that—”

  Stevie held up her hand. “And look at the way Lisa’s riding. She’s clearly worried about what Milky’s going to do next.”

  Lisa looked down. It was true that she was riding with her reins shorter than usual and with her heels more forward and her shoulders farther back—defensive riding, Max called it. “You would be, too,” Lisa said. “He keeps bucking.”

  “I know,” Stevie said soothingly. “But it might be that part of the reason he’s bucking is because he can tell that you’re nervous. He’s a Thoroughbred, and you know how sensitive they are to their riders’ emotional states. It’s like with Carole. Your nervousness wasn’t the start of your problem—he was already misbehaving the first day you rode him—but now it’s making your problem worse. He dumped Jessica that first day, so when you got on him you were already expecting him to misbehave. But back then he was probably just acting up because he was in a strange environment. Only now, whenever you ride him, you’re nervous, and he acts up, and that makes you more nervous, and that makes him more likely to act up.”

  Lisa felt a flush of relief. What Stevie was suggesting made sense. Maybe Milky’s problems really were all her fault by now. That would be best. She could fix what she was doing wrong, and Milky would turn out fine.

  “Okay,” Carole said. “I think you’re right, about me at least, and maybe about Lisa, too. I did know that dialogue before I got up to recite it. But how on earth are Lisa and I supposed to keep from being nervous? Believe me, if I could have stopped my knees or voice from shaking this afternoon, I would have done it.”

  Stevie shook her head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Carole had to laugh. “Lisa, you’re the actress. You’ve dealt with stage fright. Any suggestions?”

  Lisa had been in a few community plays. She thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you the truth,” she said. “When I’m up onstage, the stage lights are so bright I can hardly see the audience. I just don’t even think of them very much. And then, I’ve rehearsed my part so many times that I automatically know what to say and do.” She looked down at the horse she was riding. “With Milky I don’t get a rehearsal. I never know what my part is.”

  “Maybe that would help Carole, though,” Stevie said.

  “What? Stage lights?”

  “No, rehearsals. When you practice your dialogue, how do you do it?

  “I just say it,” Carole said. “You’ve heard me.”

  “So, maybe you should pretend you’re doing it in front of your class,” suggested Stevie. �
��Make yourself stand in front of an empty room and recite, and imagine that the room is full of your classmates.”

  Carole wrinkled her nose. “I guess that might help. At this point I’ll admit that I’m willing to try almost anything.” She sighed. “I wish I was the one with the horse problem. This is all so different from horses. Whenever I’ve had a major problem in the past, I’ve been able to connect it with horses somehow, and it always helped me.”

  They walked on for a few minutes. The only sounds were the clinking of the horses’ bits and the thunk when a hoof hit a stone.

  “Here we go,” Stevie said at last. “I’ve got it. Horse shows.”

  “French class is like horse shows?” Carole was puzzled.

  “Yes!” Stevie sounded triumphant. “Before a horse can do well in a show, he has to feel comfortable. Before he can feel comfortable, he has to get used to the show routine.”

  “Well, sure,” Carole said. “That’s why Max likes to take his young horses to shows and not enter them in any classes.”

  “That’s right,” Lisa said. “He puts them in the trailer, and at the show he leaves them in a stall for a while, and then he walks or rides them all around the grounds, so they can see everything that’s going on.” She snorted. “If I’d done that with Prancer before our first show, it might have helped.”

  “Like a dress rehearsal,” Stevie said. “Remember, horses have to be taught everything in small steps. They don’t ever understand a complicated situation right away.”

  Carole grinned. For the first time, she actually felt better. “I guess French is the most complicated situation I’ve faced this year. Maybe I can break my training down into little steps—my training for being in the classroom as well as for actually saying the dialogue. I can learn one step at a time. And maybe if I think about it in terms of little steps instead of as one great big problem, I won’t get so nervous in the first place. Thanks, Stevie.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Stevie said. “Thank Max. He’s the one who taught us this.”

  “But you’re the one who connected it to French and to Milky.”

  “Do you think trying to work in little steps will help with Milky, Lisa?” Stevie asked.

  “Oh, yes!” Lisa said. She felt relieved, and also rather sorry for Milky. “I never thought of how confusing he must find a new stable like Pine Hollow. And then to have a scared-stiff rider on his back! No wonder he’s been acting so strange! I’ll have to go more slowly with him.”

  Carole shook her head. “I don’t think you should take too much of the blame for this yourself,” she said. “You are riding him defensively, but you haven’t turned into a block of wood. It’s not as if you’re acting scared stiff. And you have been taking things slowly with him. Max would say so, too.”

  “But obviously not slowly enough,” Lisa said.

  Carole wasn’t sure she agreed. What Stevie suggested made sense, but on the other hand, why would Lisa describe herself as scared stiff? Why would she think Milky was that bad? “Maybe Milky’s more sensitive than most horses,” she said.

  “I think he is,” Lisa said.

  Carole nodded. Once again it crossed her mind that Lisa, of all people, did not need an extremely sensitive horse. But then, Max must have helped choose Milky for Lisa. Max must know what he was doing.

  Lisa saw the doubt in Carole’s face and thought she knew what her friend was thinking. Lisa agreed: Milky probably wasn’t the type of horse she’d most like to have. But she wondered if she had a choice. Something had prompted her parents and Max to select this horse for her. If she turned it down, they might think she still didn’t want a horse. Milky, Lisa feared, was her only option.

  “SMALL STEPS,” CAROLE said to Lisa as they mounted their horses in preparation for their usual Tuesday lesson.

  Lisa smiled. “Small steps,” she agreed. She would be firm with Milky, but she wouldn’t expect too much from him. And, no matter what, she would not let herself get too nervous. “Speaking of that,” she said to Carole, “how’s French?”

  Carole made a face. “It’s coming, I guess. I made myself stand up at the front of our living room last night and recite our next dialogue to my father. That did make me feel more nervous than just reciting to you and Stevie, so I guess it’s an improvement of sorts. I have to do this new one in class tomorrow.”

  Lisa nodded. “Good luck.”

  “To you, too,” Carole said. She made a motion toward Milky. Lisa looked down at the horse and took a deep breath. Small steps, she reminded herself. She walked Milky out to the rail and started trotting to warm him up before the class began.

  “ALL RIGHT, HERE’S your course,” Max said. It was midway through the lesson, and the riders were ready to start jumping fences. “The brush box to the pair of white verticals—four strides in between them—to the blue gate, then around the corner to the rolltop. Got that? Lisa, start us off.”

  The other riders moved their horses to the rail, where they would be out of Lisa’s way. Lisa traced her finger in the air to fix the course in her mind, then nodded at Max and sent Milky toward the brush box. She reminded herself to breathe normally. Milky—and Max—mustn’t be able to tell how nervous she was.

  The brush box came up more quickly than Lisa expected. Milky jumped big, and Lisa had to throw her hands forward to keep from hitting him in the mouth. She bit her lip in concentration and looked for her next fence.

  “Straight into the corner,” Max coached her. “Then turn, turn, use your left leg. Get straight to the jump—” Milky plunged over the first white fence, took four canter strides, and jumped the second. A bit short, Lisa thought, but better than the week before. She steadied him around the corner and, her confidence increasing, sent him toward the gate.

  Milky stopped in front of it. Lisa felt her shoulders and hands drop as he put on the brakes. Her confidence dropped as well.

  “That’s okay,” Max said encouragingly. “Give him some leg, and ride like you really want him to jump.”

  I want him to jump, Lisa thought, but what I really want is not to fall off him when he stops. She didn’t say anything to Max. She picked up a trot, circled Milky, and came at the fence again, concentrating very hard. Milky slowed but then jumped. “Good boy!” Lisa said.

  “Good! Now the rolltop,” said Max.

  Lisa sat up and drove Milky through the turn. The rolltop was an odd-looking fence made of solid wood. That will really hurt if I land on it, Lisa thought. She shook her head, squared her shoulders, and kept going. She would not let herself be afraid—or at any rate, she would not let her fear keep her from riding.

  “Steady,” Max said. “He doesn’t need that much leg. You’re pushing him too hard, Lisa—” But Milky jumped the rolltop anyway, and Lisa let out a gasp of relief. The course was over.

  “Good job,” Max said. “How did that feel?”

  “Fine,” Lisa answered.

  “You’re looking upset. Is he bothering you?”

  “No, not at all.” Lisa patted Milky’s neck. She trotted him past the line of waiting riders to take her place at the end, and Polly started her horse, Romeo, on course. As Lisa rode past Carole, Milky kicked out at Starlight, suddenly and viciously. He missed, but Starlight squealed. Lisa pushed Milky forward, and Carole got Starlight out of the way.

  “If he kicks, keep him away from the other horses,” Max told Lisa. “Has he kicked before?” Lisa shook her head. She halted Milky a little distance behind the others. Carole and Stevie turned to look at her.

  “Is Starlight okay?” Lisa asked.

  Carole nodded. “He’s fine. How about you?”

  “I’m fine.” Lisa felt a surge of irritation. Why was everyone asking her how she felt? Did they think she wasn’t a good enough rider to have a horse of her own? “Just wait,” she whispered to Milky. “When we’re at Briarwood …” But it was now even harder to imagine competing Milky at Briarwood than it had been the week before. Small steps, Lisa reminded herself. She and Milk
y would be ready for Briarwood in plenty of time to compete.

  Stevie turned to Carole. “Is Starlight really okay?” she whispered, being careful to keep her voice low. Max hated it when his students talked during lessons.

  “Yes. Milky didn’t make contact,” Carole whispered back. “He just tried to. What do you think about Lisa? She’s riding with so much control today, but it looks like she’s having to work awfully hard to keep that control.”

  “I don’t know,” Stevie said. “So far she and Milky are doing a lot better than they were last week.”

  “Except that Lisa looks a lot less happy.”

  “Milky’s not acting worse than Prancer on one of her bad days,” said Stevie. “And Lisa’s coping just fine. She rode to that rolltop really well.”

  “I know,” Carole said. “I just wish she was having more fun.”

  “She’ll have plenty of fun when she gets to know Milky a little better,” Stevie said. Carole nodded. What Stevie said was probably true.

  “Stevie Lake, do you plan on riding with us today?” Max asked in a tone of voice that said he knew she’d been talking.

  “Sorry.” Stevie sent Belle forward. She made a mental note to ask Lisa about Milky after class.

  As it happened, Stevie didn’t have to, because Max beat her to it. Before Lisa had a chance to dismount, Max walked over and stood by Milky’s shoulder. “Are you getting along with him okay?” he asked her.

  Lisa didn’t know how to respond. Milky had refused to jump a few more times during the lesson, but he hadn’t kicked out again, and Lisa felt she had done a good job of keeping him under control. On the other hand, she was worn out from the effort she’d expended, and she still didn’t feel comfortable on his back. Something about his personality kept her on edge. But she could hardly say that to Max, who might decide to take Milky away from her.

  “I think we’re doing pretty well.” she said at last. “He’s calmer than he was last week. I’m trying to go slowly with him, you know, to give him a chance to get used to everything.”