by Jessie Haas
“Whoa!” Gramp says. Beware doesn’t hear him. She is too excited and running too fast. Gramp pulls hard on the lunge line. “Whoa!” he shouts. Beware skids in a cloud of dust and faces him.
“Well!” he says. “That’s better!” Is he pleased, Lily wonders, that Beware has finally done something bad?
“Now walk,” he says.
Carefully Beware walks. She watches Gramp. She doesn’t want him to yell at her again. She walks when Gramp says “Walk,” and trots when he says “Trot.” Especially she whoas when he says “Whoa.”
“Good girl,” Gramp says, finally. “Now, Lily …” But his eyes never leave Beware. He sees her prick her ears and look toward the corner of the barn.
Cautiously Gramp turns his head, though he seems to keep one eye on Beware at the same time.
Mom comes around the corner of the barn. “What’s up, Pop?”
“Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a horse like that?” Gramp says.
“She knew I was coming,” says Mom. “What’s up?”
Gramp looks past Mom at the corner of the barn, but no one else is coming. “It’s time to try her under saddle,” he says.
“Are you going to ride her?”
“No, Barbie, I’m a fat old man, and I don’t belong on a horse.” He looks Mom over. She is young, for a mother, and light, and wearing blue jeans. She could ride Beware.…
No! Lily wants to cry. Let me! But she makes herself wait.
After a minute Gramp says, “All right, Lily. We’ll hold her, and you can get on.”
“Tighten your helmet strap, Lily,” says Mom. She and Gramp stand on each side of Beware, holding the reins.
“I’ll give you a leg up,” says Gramp. “No sense pulling the saddle all around.” He cups his free hand. Lily puts her knee into it, and Gramp boosts her up.
“Land light,” he tells her. Lily is already settling herself softly into the saddle.
Beware looks around to see who is on her back. Her ears are pricked. Her eyes are soft and dark.
“Good mare,” says Gramp. “Lily, gather up your reins so you can feel her mouth, and just hold them. I’ll tell her what to do.” He holds the lunge line and steps backward to the middle of the circle. “Walk.”
Up till now Lily has done what Gramp told her. She hasn’t fallen in love with Beware—at least, not more than she falls in love with every horse.
Now, as Beware walks, and trots, and then canters, Lily feels how wonderful everything could be.
The pony is old, and slow, and lazy, and stubborn. Lily loves him very much. But on Beware she could be free. She could do anything—jump logs on a trail, go for long canters, win ribbons at a horse show. Beware is listening to what Lily tells her. She hears the whispers of Lily’s legs, so soft that even Gramp doesn’t know about them. The pony is like a gruff old uncle, who doesn’t want you to know he likes you. Beware wants to be a friend.
Now Gramp has Lily make turns and spirals and squiggles. He still holds the lunge line, but loosely. He just follows.
“Stop her,” Gramp says. “Will she back?” She will.
“She hasn’t put a foot wrong!” Gramp says to Mom. “I feel like a fool, Barbie! But since we started this, we’ll keep going. Lil, time to hop off!”
Lily gets off, though she would rather not. “Take the saddle off,” says Gramp.
Beware’s back is sweaty under the saddle. Gramp has Lily brush her.
“Now,” he says, “we’ll turn her out with the other horses for a few days. Give her a pat, Lily, and thank her, because we won’t touch her again for a while.”
“Why not?” Gramp always knows best about horses, but Lily can’t help asking.
“Sometimes when you turn them loose, they forget about people—like Stogie did. We want to find out if she’s that kind.”
“But if she is, couldn’t we keep her where she won’t forget about us?”
“If we had that kind of place, Lily. If we had plenty of box stalls and board paddocks. But we just have an electric fence and big pastures. We need tame horses.”
“Stogie isn’t tame.”
“And we don’t need him. That’s what your gran would say, and she’s right.”
4
WHEN LILY HAS thanked Beware and fed her a handful of grain, Mom leads the mare to the pasture gate.
By now all the horses have gathered. The Girls tower over the rest, pointing friendly ears at Beware. The pony grazes at a distance. The three sale horses try to crowd closer, and Stogie chases them.
Since Gramp turned Stogie out in the big pasture two years ago, he has never once let anyone catch him. He bosses all the horses. Even the Girls get out of Stogie’s way when he lays back his ears and takes his dangerous sideways step at them.
Gramp shakes his whip at the horses. “Go on, now!” he says. “Back up!”
The Girls move only a few steps. Stogie makes an evil face at Gramp. He takes a big prowling step at the other horses, telling them he is dangerous and that he will kick. They make mean faces, too, and flinch away and bite one another. Only the pony pays no attention.
“All right, Barbie,” says Gramp. Lily opens the gate, and Mom leads Beware through. The horses all step toward her; Gramp raises his whip, and they stop. Mom takes off the bridle, and she and Gramp duck quickly under the fence.
The Girls want to sniff Beware. They look friendly. But Stogie takes a big, dangerous step at them and drives them back. He prances up to Beware, bending his neck in a high curve like a swan’s neck. He and Beware sniff noses.
For a second they are very still. Lily can see their sides rise and fall. She can hear the big puffs of breath.
Suddenly there is an enormous squeal, like the sound an elephant would make. Stogie hits out at Beware with one front foot. Beware strikes, too. Then they arch their necks and sniff again.
“He’ll hurt her!” cries Lily. There is another huge squeal.
“They didn’t touch each other,” Gramp says. He puts a hand on Lily’s shoulder, and they stand watching.
Stogie and Beware squeal again. Then Stogie sees the other horses coming. They want to sniff Beware, too.
Stogie trots at them, going sideways and snaking out his neck. They scatter. He bites one on the rump.
But the Girls sneak behind Stogie’s back. Now they sniff Beware. All three noses are close together. All the ears point forward. All the necks arch.
This time the squeal sounds bigger than elephants—more like dinosaurs. Bess strikes. Her hoof is three times the size of Beware’s.
Fiercely Stogie gallops back. He kicks Bess in the ribs with a solid thump. Babe and Beware tuck their tails and jump out of the way.
Now Beware is in the middle of all the other horses. Stogie can’t keep them away. Beware is smaller than they are, and Lily can hardly see her in the crowd.
Stogie breaks through. He chases Beware, and all the other horses follow. Even the pony lifts his head for a moment. The whole herd thunders away, up the hill toward the woods. In a minute they are gone.
Lily feels herself starting to cry.
Gramp’s hand tightens on Lily’s shoulder. He gives her a little shake. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I never had one get hurt that way.” He gives Lily his handkerchief. “Now you blow your nose and wipe your eyes, and maybe your granny won’t ask us any questions.”
After supper, when Lily goes out on the porch, she can see the horses grazing. They look small, like toy horses in the emerald pasture.
A black toy horse lifts its head. It sniffs noses with a toy horse the color of a glowing coal. There is a squeal. The tiny herd sweeps across the green pasture. Lily can barely hear the drumming of their hooves.
But in the morning Gramp wakes Lily early. “Look out your window,” he says.
From her window Lily can see the pasture. She can see a little bay horse grazing. As she looks, another horse goes over. They arch their necks, sniff, and squeal softly, and then they go back to eating.
>
Beware stays loose in the big pasture for two days. Each morning before breakfast Gramp and Lily walk down to the barn together. Gramp looks at all the horses, to make sure they haven’t hurt themselves. But he doesn’t go into the pasture. “We have to give it an honest test, Lily,” he says.
On the third morning, as Gramp and Lily go out onto the front step, the blackflies come. Blackflies are tiny flies that gather in clouds and bite. Gramp and Lily must put fly repellent on before they can go to the barn.
The blackflies bite the horses, too. They crawl inside ears, and they make tender bellies bumpy and itchy. Now Gramp must catch all the horses, every day, and put fly repellent on them.
The Girls stand patiently, with just a lead rope over their necks. They know Gramp is trying to help them. The sale horses try to be good, but Stogie chases them. He would like to chase Gramp, too. He makes an evil face and takes a dangerous, prowling step.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” says Gramp, showing him the whip. Stogie tosses his head angrily and runs away. He stands under a tree, shaking his head and stamping his feet.
“I’m sorry for you,” says Gramp, “but it’s your own danged fault. If you ever see a horse coming at you like that,” he tells Lily, “get out of the way!”
He puts fly repellent on the pony. Beware walks up behind him. When he turns around, she is standing there with her ears forward.
“Well, I guess you didn’t go wild on us,” Gramp says, scratching under his hat. “Lily, run get me a halter. We’ll put her and the pony in the other pasture, and when I get home tonight, you can ride her again.”
It is hard for Lily to wait all afternoon, from the time the school bus lets her off till the time when Gramp’s truck rolls into the driveway. She walks down to the pastures. Beware and the pony doze in the shade. The Girls stand under a tree, scratching each other’s shoulders with their whiskery upper lips. If one stops, the other nudges her and scratches harder, until both are at it again. Stogie, who feels very cross because of his bug bites, chases the sale horses around as they try to graze.
Lily scratches her own bug bites. She tries to think of something to do.
At last the truck rattles into the yard. Gramp stops to talk with Gran a minute. Lily can hardly stand the delay, but when she comes up, they are talking about Beware.
“Her name used to be Lady,” Gramp is saying. “Barbie’s friend told me that much.”
“Lady’s a nice normal name.”
“If I had a dime for every mare I’ve owned named Lady,” says Gramp, “I’d be a rich man!”
“Hmph!” says Gran. “If you’d made a dime on every horse you’ve owned, I could see some sense to it!” Pause. “Have you talked to the owners yet?”
“They’re away,” says Gramp. “Back next week. But Barbie’s friend never heard anything bad about the mare. So—”
He pauses to take out his pipe. He is standing on the front step, and Gran is on the porch, with a panful of parsnips for supper. Gramp puts the pipe between his teeth, at a jaunty angle. He reaches back and cuffs his hat down over his eyes a little. “So, Gracie,” he says again, “Lily’s going to ride that horse, and if it goes all right, she’ll keep her. She’s waited long enough!”
Gran thins out her lips. She says, “You and I will never agree what’s long enough, Linwood, but I’ll say yes, if you’ll agree to something.”
“What is it?” Gramp asks. Beneath the hat and behind the pipe bowl, his face is mostly hidden. This is how he looks when he’s trading horses.
“I want you to agree, Linwood—and you, Lily—that if the horse proves dangerous, even later on, you’ll let her go.”
“Of course!” says Gramp. He sounds angry.
“There isn’t any ‘of course’ about it, Linwood. That black devil is still out there, no use to anyone, and no chance of getting your money back—”
“Anytime you walk out there and catch him, Gracie, I’ll sell him!” says Gramp. He shoves his pipe into his pocket. “Come on, Lily.”
5
ALL THE WAY down Gramp’s face looks hard and tight. But at the barn he suddenly says, “Well!” and squashes his hat back to its usual position. He winks at Lily. “Get the halter,” he says, “and go on out and catch her.”
Lily’s heart beats hard as she ducks under the fence. “Be good,” she whispers. “Please be good.”
The pony looks up from his grass. He doesn’t see a grain pail, and he goes back to eating.
Beware stands looking for a minute, with grass dribbling out of her mouth. Then she walks to meet Lily.
“Easy,” Lily says. Beware puts her head down, and Lily slips the halter on.
“That was a pretty sight,” says Gramp. He opens the gate for Lily. “Now lead her to the barn, and get her ready to ride. I want to see how you do it.”
Gramp has taught Lily how to do everything. She knows how to curry a horse, moving the flat rubber currycomb in circles so the dirt and loose hair fall. She knows how to brush a horse smooth and slick with the soft brush. She knows how to clean a horse’s hooves with the hoof-pick, and she knows to do this before every ride, in case the horse has a stone in its foot.
But she is used to doing it all for the pony, who is little and never puts himself to the trouble of taking an extra step. She is very careful with Beware.
Beware is careful, too. She stands still. Her eyes are bright and thoughtful.
“This mare loves to be fussed over,” says Gramp.
Beware is much taller than the pony. Lily must reach way up to put the saddle on her back. She can’t reach to bridle Beware at all. But before she has to ask Gramp, Beware gently lowers her head. She opens her mouth for the bit.
Gramp scratches under his hat. “I’m beginning to wonder if she might be a little too tame,” he says. “You need a horse you can have fun on!”
But Gramp hasn’t ridden Beware. He hasn’t felt her quick, smooth step, or her understanding mouth, or her eagerness for a signal. Beware wants to have fun, whenever Lily is ready.
“Take her into the pasture,” Gramp says, “and ride her there. Do what you want to. I’ll watch from the gate.”
Now Lily is afraid. She would like to ride Beware where no one can watch. Then if either of them makes a mistake, no one will have to know.
“Be good,” she whispers. “Be good.” She stretches her foot way up to reach the stirrup, and grabs a handful of Beware’s mane, and pulls herself into the saddle.
“Better use a mounting block next time,” says Gramp. “Well, go on! Have fun!”
Now there is no lunge line on Beware. There is nothing to make her be good if she doesn’t want to.
Very softly Lily squeezes with her legs.
Very slowly Beware walks.
They go past the pony. He doesn’t lift his head. They go far out along the pasture fence, to where the land drops down. When Lily looks back, all she can see is hill. Gramp is out of sight.
Lily tightens the reins and speaks softly to Beware. “Trot!”
They are hidden, and they are free. When Lily tightens the reins and Beware stops too quickly and Lily almost falls off, no one sees. Lily can settle back into the saddle and get her balance and tell Beware to canter. No one is worried. They come to the brook that crosses the end of the pasture. Beware jumps it, and Lily almost falls off again. She turns Beware in a circle, and they jump the brook once more.
Again Lily’s seat leaves the saddle. But this time she doesn’t lurch. This time she floats free with Beware, light and easy over the brook. Beware keeps cantering, up the hill and back toward the gate.
Mom stands there beside Gramp, and Gran is coming down the hill. Gran never comes to the barn, but there she is, stepping disdainfully around the horse manure.
Lily slows Beware down. The trot is bumpy. She bounces around in the saddle, and she can’t stop laughing.
“We jumped the brook!” she says. “Whoa!” Beware stops instantly. Lily is jolted forward onto Be-ware’s neck. S
he hugs all of it that she can reach.
Gramp’s grin can get no wider. He tears the green hat off his head and throws it on the ground and dances a couple of steps right on top of it. Then he puts it back on and turns to Gran.
“Well, Gracie? Well?”
Gran tries not to smile, but for once she can’t help it. “Now I’ll have to wash that hat, Linwood,” she says, and turns away.
“Never gives an inch, Gracie,” says Gramp proudly. “Well, it’s official, Lily. She’s yours, and this is your pasture. You keep the mare and the pony here and take care of them all by yourself. Think you can do that?”
“Of course!” says Lily.
Gramp slaps Beware on the neck. “Good little mare!” he says. “We’ll find out about that name, for curiosity’s sake, but I guess it won’t mean much. But, Lily, don’t you get careless, even so. Don’t take her out on the trail or the road till your mother can ride along with you.”
“Oh, Pop—” Mom protests.
“Now, Barbie, I think it’s only plain caution, don’t you?” He cuffs his hat over his eyes and watches Mom from under the brim. He’s always trying to get Mom to ride more.
“Yes, I suppose!” Mom knows exactly what he’s up to, and she makes a face at him.
“I’ll show you which one of the sale horses to use.” But before Gramp turns away, he reaches up and shakes Lily’s knee. “Go on,” he says again. “Have fun!”
6
NO ONE NEEDS to tell Lily and Beware to have fun.
No longer does Lily have to kick a pony’s fat sides, hard, when she wants to go faster. No longer does she have to pull hard on the reins to slow down. No longer must she pass by a little log to jump or a nice flat stretch for cantering.
Beware comes to the fence every time she sees Lily. As soon as the pony realizes that he won’t be asked to work, he comes, too. The pony comes for treats. Beware comes because she wants to do something.
One day Mom rides out with them on one of the sale horses. They go up the trail to the woodlot. Beware steps eagerly and looks around at the new sights. But she doesn’t shy, even when a partridge flies up beside her with a sound like a roll of drums.