Endurance Ride

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Rats!” Lisa said. Carole turned and laughed. Lisa was struggling with her jacket, too. “Don’t laugh!” she barked to Carole. “My mother just bought me this, and I hadn’t worn it riding before. I didn’t know.” Lisa’s jacket was a pullover, and she couldn’t get it off over her helmet. Prancer was standing perfectly still while Lisa went through amazing contortions, trying to yank the collar over her head.

  “You know,” Chloe said, “pullover styles probably aren’t good for riding, at least not for endurance riding.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Einstein,” Lisa replied sharply. “I hadn’t quite figured that out myself.”

  Chloe looked a little upset by Lisa’s words. It was the first time she had looked anything but cheerful. Could it be, Carole thought, that she doesn’t realize how obnoxious she is?

  “Lisa.” Max’s voice was sharp. “You’re getting yourself into an unsafe situation. Dismount, take off your helmet, and then take your jacket off. Right now if Prancer shied, you’d have no chance.”

  “Sorry, Max.” Lisa slid to the ground, and in a moment she had her jacket off and her helmet back on. “Okay,” she said, looking at her jacket, “what do I do with this thing?”

  Carole laughed. “Don’t ask me,” Max said. “I’ve had to tie mine around my waist, and it’s driving me crazy.” Lisa tied hers around her waist anyway. There was nothing else she could do.

  They continued on. To Carole’s dismay, the trail became even more rocky. “I’m surprised the ride organizers considered this footing safe,” she said as she let Starlight delicately pick his way up the hillside. They were all walking now.

  “It’s bad,” Chloe agreed, “but I think it’s safe enough. Whitey’s wearing pads, of course. Aren’t your horses?”

  “You mean saddle pads?” Lisa asked. “Of course.”

  Max cleared his throat gently. “Chloe means pads under their shoes,” he explained. To Chloe he added, “No, none of our horses have them. They aren’t necessary where we usually ride.”

  “Oh. Well, you’ll want to be careful, then. I’m careful anyway. The rocks shouldn’t last too much longer. Once we get to the top of this hill, I think the other side will be better.” Chloe gave them all an encouraging smile. Carole wanted to puke. Chloe knew everything, it seemed, and here was poor Starlight walking on rocks without pads.

  “Tell me about the pads,” Lisa said to Max. “I’ve never even heard of them.”

  Max smiled encouragingly. Somehow, there was a world of difference between Max’s encouraging smile and Chloe’s. Max’s actually made Lisa feel encouraged. “Don’t worry, Prancer will be fine,” he said. “Pads are just pieces of leather or plastic put under the shoe to protect the sole of a horse’s foot. Some horses need them all the time, but most only need them if they’re usually ridden in conditions like this. We’ll be okay, Lisa. The rocks will be over soon.”

  “Okay.” Lisa clucked to Prancer. The mare didn’t seem upset by the rocks, or by anything—not even by Chloe, who was sure upsetting Lisa. Prancer was doing great.

  “Hey, look,” Carole cried a few minutes later, “the rocks are gone. The trail looks much better here.” They were still climbing, but Carole was right—the footing did get much better.

  “Good,” Chloe said. “We can trot.” She urged Whitey forward.

  “Trot?” Lisa asked, under her breath. She was finding it hard enough to sit on a walking horse just now. Every muscle in her body ached. At Lisa’s command, Prancer trotted forward willingly, her ears pricked with enthusiasm, but to Lisa it felt like Prancer’s smooth stride was jarring her bones loose from their sockets. She couldn’t believe she’d worn tall boots. Her feet were dying—cramped and hot. For a moment she slipped her feet from their stirrups and let her legs stretch, but that made posting so much more difficult that she couldn’t keep it up. She looked enviously at Chloe’s sneakers.

  Riding in sneakers was usually a really dumb idea, Lisa knew. In fact, it was specifically against Max’s safety rules. Sneakers had smooth soles. Any shoe with a smooth sole could slip through the stirrup if the rider fell off the horse, and the rider could be dragged. For safety, all riders were supposed to wear shoes that came over the ankle and had heels—in other words, boots. But Chloe’s sneakers were special, just like all the rest of her gear. They came up snug over her ankle, and they actually had heels. Real heels. Riding sneakers. Lisa started calculating the time until her birthday. Maybe she could ask for sneakers like that. She sighed. Even if she got the sneakers tomorrow, she wouldn’t be able to wear them on this ride. Her right foot especially was killing her.

  Carole wished with all her heart that she’d worn tall boots like Lisa’s. At the point where her paddock boots hit her calf, pressure from her stirrup leather was starting to hurt. Really hurt. It felt like she was getting blisters on both legs. She gritted her teeth and looked enviously at Chloe’s sneakers. Maybe she could ask for a pair at Christmas.

  Max let out a very soft groan. Carole looked over at him in alarm. He seemed to be wincing slightly every third or fourth stride. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  He grinned ruefully. “Remember the Pony Club lecture last spring on getting a saddle that fits? I don’t think I was listening. This isn’t the saddle I use at home; it’s the one Barq usually wears for lessons. It’s only an inch smaller than mine, so I thought, what does an inch matter?” He winced again. “It matters.”

  “Ouch,” Carole said softly.

  “Yeah,” Max agreed. “Say, what do you think of Chloe’s sneakers? I think we should all get some.”

  Chloe brought Whitey to a halt at the crest of the ridge. Carole, Max, and Lisa brought their horses up beside hers. “Oh, good,” Lisa said. “It’ll all be downhill from here.”

  “Real downhill,” Carole said. “Look.”

  Chloe said, “The horses will have to slide.”

  Lisa looked. “Oh, Max, I can’t do that,” she said. The ground dropped away in front of Prancer’s feet, smooth and incredibly steep.

  “Of course you can,” Max said. “It’s only steep for a little bit. See that marker?” He pointed at some orange tape tied to a tree near the bottom of the slope. “The trail turns there and goes into the woods. Just ride absolutely straight downhill, girls. That way, if your horses slip, they can regain their feet, and they won’t roll sideways and crush you. Give them all the rein they need, and trust them. They’ll do fine.”

  “Like this,” Chloe said. She clucked to Whitey, and they started down the steep slope. Chloe let the reins run through her fingers and sat far back in the saddle. Whitey tucked his hindquarters underneath him, like a dog sitting down, and actually let his back feet slide down the slope. At the bottom, Chloe gave him a pat.

  “Lisa, your turn,” Max said.

  Lisa froze.

  “Trust Prancer,” Max said. “Trust yourself.”

  Lisa gulped but clucked to Prancer. Trusting herself—trusting her abilities—was something she worked on with her therapist. I don’t think Susan ever saw a horse slide, she thought. She wanted to shut her eyes. But she did trust Prancer, and Max, and herself, a little. She leaned back, felt Prancer slide—and was safely at the bottom next to Chloe.

  “Good girl!” she praised Prancer.

  “You did well,” Chloe told her. “Especially for your first slide.”

  “Thanks.” Lisa turned away. Why did Chloe have to know everything?

  Carole and then Max came down the slope. As they rode back into the woods, Lisa saw a funny blackish cloud hanging in the air down the trail in front of them. “Oh, yuck,” Chloe said. She began to dig around in one of her bags. “Gnats. Here.” She slapped some lotion on her arms, then passed it to the other riders.

  “Gnats just fly around,” Carole said. “Don’t they?”

  “These bite,” Chloe informed them. She rode ahead stoically.

  “The bug spray stinks,” Lisa said a few minutes later.

  “Yeah,” Carole agreed, slapping he
r arms. “It bothers us, but I don’t think the gnats mind it at all.”

  Prancer shook her head against the gnats. Lisa smacked her chin and killed three of them. The thought of dead gnats on her face made her feel sick. She wished fervently that they would come to another river. It might wash away the gnats, and, this time, bug spray and Easy Boots or not, she’d leave know-it-all Chloe and her wonder horse on the other side.

  STEVIE LET BELLE have a longer rein. They had taken a slower pace ever since the first vet check, and Stevie was really enjoying the ride. They’d walked up the rocky part and slid down the slide—which had seemed scary to Stevie but hadn’t seemed to bother Belle. The gnats in the woods had been annoying, but they were finally past them, and in the woods it was cooler than it had been in the open sun. Now they were trotting slowly but steadily, and it felt as if Belle could trot forever.

  Best of all, Stevie was really enjoying riding with Phil and Mr. Baker. Since the check, Phil had quit making rude comments and was back to being his usual funny, talkative self. Mr. Baker was surprisingly funny as well. Stevie had two new knock-knock and six grape jokes to add to her repertoire.

  “Have you heard the one about the foal with laryngitis?” Mr. Baker asked.

  “I’m not sure …,” Stevie said.

  “I have,” Phil answered. “He was just a little hoarse.”

  Stevie groaned appreciatively. “I’ll have to save that one for Carole’s father.”

  “Carole might even like that one,” Phil said.

  “Maybe. Her dad’s the one with the weird sense of humor.”

  “You consider that weird?” Mr. Baker asked. “How about, What’s purple and stuffed with sage dressing?”

  “Tell us,” Stevie said.

  “The Thanksgiving grape.”

  Stevie snorted appreciatively.

  They rode on through the peaceful woods. After a while, however, Stevie began to worry. It was a little too peaceful. “Mr. Baker,” she said, “I’m not surprised we haven’t been seeing the riders in front of us, because we’re going more slowly. But why aren’t we seeing any riders behind us? Why isn’t anyone passing us?”

  Mr. Baker looked concerned. “I was just starting to wonder about that myself. Have you see a trail marker lately?”

  “A trail marker? No—but we have to be on the trail. It’s as clear as daylight.” They were able to ride three abreast along the path. “This must be right,” Stevie said.

  Phil’s smile faded. “I haven’t been looking for trail markers, either,” he said. “I guess I just assumed we were right.”

  “Me too,” Mr. Baker admitted. “But now I’m not so sure. We should have seen someone in the last few miles. And by now we should be getting close to the second vet check.”

  They rode on, looking closely now for the orange tape tied to the trees. Usually the trail was only marked every hundred yards or so; as Chloe had told them at the start, when you’re marking fifty miles of trail, you can’t leave a ribbon every six feet. Only where the trail turned or was hard to follow was it marked closely.

  “We should have seen something by now,” Stevie said at last. “Do you think we’re lost?”

  “Maybe,” said Mr. Baker. “But I’ve also heard of markers being taken down before, by hikers who mistook them for litter. Let’s go on a bit yet. This still seems awfully clear-cut not to be the real trail.”

  Finally Phil pointed and said, “Look! There’s something!” A piece of pink tape fluttered from a branch.

  “It’s the wrong color,” Stevie objected.

  “Maybe they ran out of orange.”

  “And it’s on the wrong side of the trail,” Mr. Baker said. “All the markers are supposed to be to the right.”

  “Maybe we’re going in the wrong direction,” Stevie said. She felt confused and a little frightened. Could they have made a circle somehow? Could they really be lost?

  “Don’t worry,” Mr. Baker soothed her. “No matter what, we can go back the way we came. We’ll find our way out. But let’s go a little farther. Maybe the pink tape was an actual marker.”

  “Oh no,” Phil said. “Look ahead.” They rode cautiously forward. Their wide trail ended suddenly at what looked like a sheer cliff face. Mr. Baker dismounted and leaned over the edge.

  “It’s a climbing face,” he said. “You can see where rock climbers have set pitons. We’re on a hiking trail for humans.”

  “We’re lost,” Stevie said.

  “No, we’re not. We’ll go back the way we came and be more careful this time.” Mr. Baker remounted, and they headed back, trotting quickly but not saying a word. All of them scanned the left side of the trail for orange ribbons.

  It seemed like they went several miles before they found one. All of a sudden, a cluster of orange ribbons marked the spot where they should have made a sharp turn to a smaller trail.

  “Wow,” Stevie said. “How could we have missed that?” She knew what had happened. They’d been having such a fun ride that they had forgotten to be careful.

  Mr. Baker shook his head. “All of us should have been paying better attention. But we’re on the right path now.”

  Stevie led the way down the narrower path until suddenly she heard Phil make an anxious squawk. She turned Belle quickly. Phil looked at her with a panicked expression. “Stevie!” he said. “Something’s wrong with Teddy!”

  “HE LOOKS OKAY,” Stevie said. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s not okay,” Phil insisted. “He’s moving funny. Look at him.” Mr. Baker rode his horse up to Teddy’s side. Stevie held Belle still. Phil walked Teddy a few steps forward. “See? His back end isn’t moving right.”

  “He looks a little stiff,” Stevie said. “Not too bad, though.”

  “It just started happening,” Phil said. His voice rose, sounding scared.

  Mr. Baker dismounted. “His muscles are probably cramping,” he said. “Like a runner getting leg cramps. He’s sweated so much, he’s probably lost too much salt. Let’s see how dehydrated he is.”

  “Poor Teddy!” Stevie said as she and Phil dismounted quickly. She held on to Belle and Dominic while Mr. Baker helped Phil check his horse for signs of dehydration. They looked in his mouth and pulled up on his skin to see if it was getting stiff.

  “He’s really not too bad,” Mr. Baker said comfortingly. “He’s not showing any signs of major dehydration. We need to get him some salt and some more water, but I think he’s going to be fine, Phil. This isn’t too serious. The next vet check should be coming up pretty soon.”

  “If we hadn’t gotten lost …” Phil bit his lip.

  “We’d be there already, and Teddy wouldn’t be cramping.” Mr. Baker looked sorry. “I know.”

  “All of us are at fault,” Stevie said.

  “I know,” Phil said, his voice unsteady. “But only my horse is in trouble. I’ve been a little worried ever since the last check.”

  “Did he feel stiff then?” Mr. Baker’s voice was suddenly sharp with concern.

  “No. No! I wouldn’t have kept going. But when the vet took so long to pass him—oh, poor Teddy. I should have gotten you in better shape. I shouldn’t have done this to you.” Phil patted Teddy’s neck apologetically.

  “Better keep him moving,” Mr. Baker advised gently. “He’ll feel better, and we’ll get to the check sooner. Don’t worry, Phil. He’ll be okay.”

  Phil ran his stirrups up on their leathers and loosened his girth. It took Stevie a moment to realize that Phil wasn’t going to ride any farther. He was going to lead Teddy so that he wouldn’t stress the horse any more.

  “I guess endurance rides aren’t that easy,” Phil said as they all started moving at an even slower walk. “I should have known better, Mr. Baker. When you and Max get serious about something, there’s usually a good reason.”

  “Don’t take all the blame yourself,” Mr. Baker said. “It’s not all your fault, and besides, you couldn’t have known this would happen.”
<
br />   If we hadn’t gotten lost, Stevie reflected, if we hadn’t told so many grape jokes, we might have been paying more attention to the trail. Then we would have gotten to the check sooner, and Teddy wouldn’t be suffering. It seemed like a high price to pay for a couple of grape jokes.

  Soon they heard the sound of a horse trotting behind them. They’d gone so long without hearing that noise that it was more than welcome. Stevie turned her head to look and saw a woman, dressed like Chloe, riding a black Arabian horse. “Whoa,” she said in surprise when she saw Teddy’s empty saddle and Phil walking. “What’s wrong?”

  Briefly they explained Teddy’s problem.

  “I can help a little bit,” the woman said, swinging off her horse. “I’ve got a salt packet.…” She dug around in a bag that was fastened to her cantle. “Here it is. And I’ve got some drinking water left.” She opened the lid of a water bottle hanging from her backpack and poured the envelope of salts into it. She shook the bottle, then squirted some of it into Teddy’s mouth. Teddy backed away in surprise.

  “Hold his head,” the woman instructed. Aiming carefully, she squirted the rest of the water into the back corners of Teddy’s mouth. The horse had no choice but to swallow. “There. That should help a little. Don’t panic—I’ve done this ride three times, and we’re less than a mile to the check. Do you want me to stay with you?”

  “I think we’ll be okay,” Mr. Baker told her.

  “Thanks so much,” Phil called after her as she rode away.

  “The people on this ride have been really friendly,” Stevie commented.

  Mr. Baker nodded. “Yes, but no good rider ever ignores a horse in distress.”

  LISA RODE INTO the second vet check with only one thought on her mind: soda. She had a can of it zipped into her fanny pack, where it had been bouncing against her hips all day long and driving her crazy. Chloe and her quest for trotting had kept Lisa from stopping to drink. Now she was so thirsty that if she didn’t drink her soda in the next thirty seconds she was going to die a shriveled-up human raisin. She felt like a living mummy.