Schooling Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  Max nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure you feel okay on him?” he asked. “You’re a lot more tense with him than you are with Prancer.”

  “I just need to get used to him, Max,” Lisa protested. “I’m riding him a lot. We just need more time.”

  “I’ve noticed the amount of time you’ve put in with him,” Max replied. “I appreciate it, but don’t feel like it’s something you have to do.”

  Lisa bit her lip. Of course she had to spend this much time with Milky! How else was she going to solve his problems? “But I want to,” she protested. “Carole and Stevie helped me work out a training plan for him. Tomorrow I’m going to work him in the back field.” Carole and Stevie both had after-school appointments that would keep them away from the stable, and Lisa didn’t want to take Milky on a trail ride alone. The back field was a nice compromise.

  “Don’t you have piano lessons on Wednesdays?” Max said.

  “Oh, I’m skipping it this week,” Lisa said. “I skip lots of times. I’d rather work with Milky.” She looked at Stevie and Carole, who were waiting for her to finish. “It’ll be fun,” she told them. “More fun than piano, anyway.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Max said.

  “But I want to!” Lisa said. She dismounted and gave Milky a hearty pat on the shoulder. “I’m having lots of fun with him! Really. I am.”

  “I know I suggested that you ride another horse,” Max continued, “but it doesn’t have to be Milky. You can ride Topside, if you want. Or Barq, or almost any of them.”

  “Max! I’d rather ride Milky.” Lisa thought longingly of Topside’s gentle manner. There was nothing scary about Topside at all. The difference, Lisa thought, is that my parents don’t want to buy me Topside.

  “Okay, then.” Max seemed to relent. “But if you have any trouble with him, I want you to let me know. I was surprised, after how well you said he was doing, to see him still having this many problems in our lesson today.”

  Max walked back to the office. Carole and Stevie looked at Lisa. Lisa looked at the ground.

  “Haven’t you been telling Max about the trouble you’ve been having?” Carole asked curiously. “He might have some good ideas about how to help.”

  “Or he might just decide that I’m not a good enough rider for Milky,” Lisa said. “And when he says that to my mother, she might decide that I don’t need my own horse after all. Besides, Milky hasn’t actually been that bad. I mean, I’ve never even fallen off him, and I’ve fallen off Prancer plenty of times.”

  Carole nodded. She could understand how Lisa felt. If she’d been in Lisa’s position, she wouldn’t have wanted to do anything to jeopardize her chances of getting a horse, either. Carole looked at Starlight’s soft, expressive face. Not for the first time, she thought how lucky she was to own a horse like him.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT STEVIE called Carole to talk privately before getting Lisa on the line. “I’m kind of worried about her,” Stevie confessed. “When Max said she didn’t look like she was having any fun—after you said she didn’t look like she was having any fun—I realized that Lisa hasn’t looked like she’s been having fun all week. I think she’s really letting this stuff with Milky get her down.”

  Carole agreed. “Lisa’s such a perfectionist. She wants Milky to be super right away, and he’s just not going to be.”

  “And I think Lisa’s worried about her riding ability, too,” Stevie said. “You know how she is. Getting As in all her classes. It’s hard for her whenever things don’t come easily.”

  “I know,” Carole said. “I’m not sure what to do for her. I’ll be happy to help her with Milky’s training plan, but I don’t think his training is really the problem. After all, he’s won ribbons at top horse shows. He should know what he’s doing.”

  “I think the problem is Lisa’s confidence,” Stevie said. “I think we need to remind her how well she’s doing.” Carole agreed. “I’ll just call her up now,” Stevie said, punching the numbers on the phone.

  AT HOME LISA sat at her desk, working on her math homework. There was something comforting about math. With math, you either had the right answer or you didn’t. There were no nuances, no tricky pronunciations, no degrees of right or wrong. Not like with Milky, who was neither exactly wrong nor exactly right, but somewhere in between. Lisa sighed and put down her pencil. She rubbed her forehead. Somehow she had to figure out what to do about Milky.

  That afternoon she had overheard another fragment of a conversation between her mother and Max. Actually, “overheard” was stretching the truth. Ever since she’d heard her mother talking to Max the week before, Lisa had kept her ears open for a second opportunity. When she heard her mother say, “Oh, Max! Why not?” she’d gotten up from the living room couch, walked into the dining room, and listened through the door.

  “Well,” her mother had said with a touch of exasperation, “not ready is not ready, I suppose. But I do hope it won’t take much longer. Okay, I’ll call back next week.”

  Lisa had been holding her breath. So, despite all the assurances she’d given him, Max still didn’t think she was ready to have Milky for her own! Lisa was annoyed, but a secret part of her also felt relieved. Then she felt annoyed at feeling relieved. Now she mostly felt sad. Wasn’t getting a horse supposed to be one of the most exciting things that could happen to her? It had been for Carole and Stevie.

  The phone rang. It was her friends, and they both sounded so cheerful that they made her head hurt worse.

  “I’m doing my math homework and trying to pretend I’m not worried about Milky,” she told them. Suddenly Lisa wanted to unburden herself and tell her friends everything. “It’s not been going well. Last week—”

  “That’s why we wanted to call you,” Stevie broke in. “We thought you looked unhappy today, and all last week. We’re worried that you might be letting yourself get too upset about Milky.”

  “It depends on how you define too upset,” Lisa said. “Sometimes I think I’m not letting myself get upset enough.”

  “But you’re really doing well with him,” Stevie said soothingly. “Today’s lesson was much better than last week’s. We don’t want you to feel bad. You’re making great progress, you’re a great rider, and we know you can do this.”

  “That’s right,” Carole said. “I know how easy it is to feel down when you want to do something better than you are—that’s exactly where I am with my French class. But you are doing a good job with him, Lisa. Some horses are just more difficult than others.”

  “You really think so?” Lisa asked. “I haven’t been feeling like I was doing a good job.”

  “See?” Stevie said. “That’s why we wanted to cheer you up. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. And the more discouraged you get, the harder this is going to be.”

  “Sometimes I’m just not sure I can fix him,” Lisa said. I’m not sure I want to, she nearly added.

  “Of course you can!” Stevie said. “We’ll help you, and so will Max. You know the three of us together can do anything. Right, Carole?”

  “Right,” Carole said firmly. “Just think how wonderful it will be when we all three have our own horses. Now I’ve got to go. Dad said he’d listen to my dialogue again, and he’s invited some of the neighbors over to hear it, too. If I don’t get nervous in front of Mr. and Mrs. Grundy, I’m not going to get nervous anywhere. They’re flakes.”

  Lisa laughed. “Good night. And thanks, guys.”

  “Any time,” Stevie said cheerfully. “Help whenever help is needed—The Saddle Club way.”

  The problem, Lisa thought after she hung up the phone, was that even if Stevie and Carole helped her with Milky, in the end he was going to be her horse, not theirs. She was the one who was going to have to cope with him every day, not them.

  Well then, I’ll just have to cope with him, Lisa thought. I’m not giving up this chance. Next week Max will have to tell Mom that I’m ready for Milky, bec
ause I will be. She sharpened her pencil and went back to her math.

  “LISA!” CAROLE GRABBED her friend by the arms and twirled her around in the school hallway. “I did it! I passed my French dialogue!”

  “Fantastic!” Lisa beamed at her. “I knew you could.”

  Carole rolled her eyes. “It still wasn’t perfect—a C-plus. But the great part is, I started to mess up again.”

  “That was the great part? Why?”

  Carole laughed. “I started to mess up,” she explained, “but then I got myself back under control. I made it through the rest without any big mistakes.”

  “Oh,” Lisa said, understanding. “That’s really cool. Now maybe you won’t feel so nervous next time.”

  “I’ll be so nervous I could die,” Carole predicted, still laughing. “But it won’t matter. I passed this time, and I can pass again.”

  “And you’ll be able to ride at Pine Hollow forever and ever,” Lisa said.

  Carole nodded. “Except for today. But if this school meeting gets out on time, I’ll be there later. I probably won’t have time to ride, though.”

  Lisa made a face. “And Stevie’s going to her orthodontist. It’ll just be me and Milky.”

  Carole gave her a hug. “You can do it. Have fun.”

  “ ‘YOU CAN DO it,’ ” Lisa muttered to herself. “ ‘Have fun.’ ” She looked at Milky, who was standing calmly on the cross-ties. He was muddy from having been turned out during the day, and she had a long grooming job ahead of her. “Fun, right, Milky? You just love to be groomed?” She picked up the rubber curry. Milky laid his ears back. Lisa hesitated, but she had to be able to clean the dirt off him. She started currying his hindquarters, well out of reach of his teeth.

  Well, of course I’ll have fun, she told herself while she continued to work over him. Riding is fun. The most fun thing in the world. And the absolute best part of riding is forming a partnership with your horse, and the best way to do that is to have your own horse. So here I am, enjoying the absolute best part of riding. She grabbed a soft brush and gingerly stroked Milky’s face. He put his nose in the air. Oh, well, Lisa thought, his face isn’t that dirty. She put the brush back into her box.

  The stables were quiet. Max had only a few students taking private lessons that day. Lisa wished that Carole and Stevie could be there. Their presence would give her confidence, just the way their conversation had the night before.

  But Carole had worked through her French problem, and surely Lisa could work through her difficulties with Milky. Maybe today would be her breakthrough. And at any rate, she was going to take small steps. Today, all she wanted Milky to do was walk and trot calmly around the back field.

  She finished grooming, tacked Milky up, and tightened his girth. She fastened her riding helmet and pulled on her gloves. Better tell Max where I’m going, she thought. She opened the door of the office. Max was talking on the phone, but he asked her what she needed and nodded when she told him where she’d be.

  See, she told herself, Max thinks I’m perfectly capable of riding Milky all by myself. That must mean I am. But she still felt nervous. She told herself that Milky would pick up on her nerves. She had to calm down in order to be effective with him. She reminded herself to breathe.

  Milky didn’t stir while she lowered the stirrups and checked the girth one last time. See, Lisa told herself, you’re imagining things. You’re making this into too big of a deal. But after she mounted she was very careful to touch Pine Hollow’s good-luck horseshoe. No one who touched it before riding had ever been seriously injured. For the first time, Lisa felt as if she might need the horseshoe’s protection.

  She walked Milky out to the field and carefully shut the gate behind them. It was a long enclosed meadow, larger than any of the riding rings but not as big as the giant paddock where the horses were sometimes turned loose to play. In good weather Max put fences in the field, but now only a few immovable ones dotted the brown grass. There was nothing there that Milky should find upsetting.

  Lisa started Milky on a circuit of the field. She kept him at a slow walk, and he ambled along as though there was nothing interesting about what they were doing. Lisa could feel how tense her legs were against his sides. She realized that she was clenching her fingers around the reins. She shook her hands and shoulders loose and willed herself to relax.

  They went once around the field, and then Lisa asked Milky to trot. He picked up the gait without fuss and moved at a fairly slow pace, not taking off with her or fighting the bit. Still, Lisa felt as though disaster was imminent. Any moment now, Milky could do something awful.

  Lisa wondered why she was feeling so scared. Even when Prancer was acting her absolute worst, Lisa never felt like that. I just don’t think Milky likes me, she thought, and then, I don’t trust him at all. When Prancer did something strange, it always seemed as if the cause was excess energy or Thoroughbred nervousness, but Milky felt completely different. I don’t think he likes me, and I don’t like him, either.

  That thought startled her. What would she do with a horse she didn’t even like? What could she do?

  They came to the far corner of the field. Milky dragged his hindquarters a bit through the turn, and Lisa used her inside rein to get him straight.

  Without warning, Milky exploded. He leaped into the air and landed bucking. Lisa dug in with her heels and fought to stay on him. She pulled the reins in. Milky came to a standstill. “Walk,” Lisa said. Her mouth was dry. She was terrified. She squeezed him forward anyway. “Walk,” she said.

  Milky squealed, whirled, and bucked again. Lisa fell against his neck but grabbed a big handful of mane and managed to stay on his back. One of her feet came out of its stirrup.

  Milky reared up on his hind legs. Lisa screamed. Max had told them once that rearing was the most dangerous thing a horse could do, because the horse couldn’t balance on two legs. It could fall over backward, crushing its rider.

  Lisa clung to the saddle as Milky reared higher, reaching skyward with his front hooves. “If you’re ever on a rearing horse,” Max had told them, “get off.”

  At the time Lisa hadn’t quite understood what he meant, but now, as Milky touched his forefeet to the ground and immediately reared again, she understood that it was dangerous to be on him for even another second. She let go of the reins and Milky’s mane and threw herself off to the side.

  The hard ground hurt as she crashed onto her shoulder. She rolled to the side. When Milky came down, she didn’t want to be within reach of his hooves. But Milky didn’t seem interested in her now that she was off his back. He landed, bucked once, and ran to the other side of the field. He put his head down and began to graze.

  Lisa lay on the cold, dead grass. She couldn’t believe that Milky was just standing there, eating, as though he hadn’t just thrown the worst fit she’d ever seen a horse throw. She couldn’t believe it. Her shoulder ached where she had landed on it, but she knew it would only be bruised. Her spirit, however, was crushed. She had been scared before, but now she was petrified. Milky could have killed her. Accidents could always happen around horses, but this wouldn’t have been an accident, because Milky had done it on purpose. Lisa had no doubt of that.

  Lisa’s shoulders started to shake. She pressed her face into the ground and let herself cry loud, heart-wrenching sobs. She didn’t want this horse. She was afraid of him. She would almost rather not have a horse than have this one.

  Almost. Lisa quit crying. She drew herself up into a sitting position and watched Milky graze. Part of her—most of her—wanted to give up. But if she could fix him, wouldn’t he be worth it? And wouldn’t she feel terrific, knowing that she’d tamed and befriended such a wild horse?

  But could she fix him? She wiped the last traces of tears from her face and got to her feet. She just didn’t know.

  LISA WALKED SLOWLY toward Milky. He lifted his head and watched her approach, but he didn’t show any signs of anger or fear. His reins hung loose under his
chin, and his bit was smeared with half-chewed grass. “Steady,” Lisa said, as much to herself as to Milky. She reached for the reins. Milky dropped his head to grab another bite of grass, but Lisa tugged on the reins and he gave up.

  “What am I going to do with you?” she asked him. Horses didn’t understand English, she knew. But she had the feeling that even if Milky could speak to her, she wouldn’t trust his answer.

  Still, maybe there was some logical, easily solved reason for his crazy behavior. Maybe Milky was in pain. Maybe something started hurting him when Lisa rode. Maybe there was a burr on his saddle pad.

  That was it! That really could be it! It would be un-usual, but it could happen. Lisa walked Milky over to the fence line and quickly stripped his saddle off. She hung it on the fence and went over the fleece saddle pad as carefully as possible, squishing the white padding between her fingers. A short piece of hay could be as sharp as a needle.

  The saddle pad was clean except for a few of Milky’s silver hairs. In fact, it looked as if it had been freshly washed. Lisa put it down and began to examine the saddle—maybe part of it was broken or something was stuck to it—and then the girth, but to her disappointment both seemed entirely normal.

  Next she turned her attention to Milky himself. Could he have a sore or a bruise where the saddle fastened tight around him? She ran her hands over him, first lightly, then pressing hard, and watched his face and ears carefully for any change in expression. Milky looked bored, even uneasy, but he never looked as if he was feeling any sort of pain, and Lisa couldn’t find any bumps or marks on his smooth skin. In the end, she had to conclude that nothing had caused him any sudden pain.

  Could he be hurting from an old injury? Lisa considered the idea but discarded it. Max always had Judy Barker, Pine Hollow’s veterinarian, examine any new horse before he brought it to the stable. Judy would have found any long-standing problems.

  Lisa sighed. She’d been so hopeful that she would discover a logical explanation for Milky’s fits. She carefully put his saddle back on. As she tightened the girth, Milky turned his head toward her and laid his ears back. “Stop it,” Lisa said. She flicked the end of the reins at him. “Behave.”