Karen held up a wooden box for the class to see. “You’ll each have one of these grooming kits. Let’s briefly review the different tools and their uses.”
She held up a black rubber oval with small teeth on one side and an elastic band on the other. “This is a currycomb,” she said, slipping it over her hand. “It brings the dirt in the horse’s coat to the surface.”
Warrior side stepped as she approached him. “Easy, fella,” she cooed as she touched the currycomb to his neck. “You know this feels good. Steady now.”
The dust flew from Warrior’s coat as she worked the curry in a firm circular motion across his body. When she had finished, she dropped the curry back into the kit and took out a stiff brush. “Whitney, what’s this brush called?”
“A Dandy brush,” he answered confidently.
Karen nodded and picked up a second, softer brush. “Good. Can you tell me the difference between the Dandy brush and this one?”
Whitney looked carefully at the two brushes. “The Dandy brush is used on the neck, back, haunches and upper legs. The soft brush is used on sensitive areas like the face and lower legs.”
Warrior’s coat began to shine as Karen used the Dandy brush across his back with short, hard strokes. “Nothing to it,” she told the class. “Just takes a little elbow grease to get it right.”
When she had finished brushing, she took a stubby metal comb from the kit. “This is a mane and tail comb. It gets the snarls out. Just like combing your own hair.”
She put the comb down and held up a small, metal tool with a hook at one end. “This is a hoof pick. It’s used to remove dirt and pebbles lodged in the horse’s hoofs. Once you’ve cleaned out the hoofs, the hard work is done. All that’s left are the finishing touches.”
“Finishing touches!” little Mary Carson wailed. “When do we get to ride?”
“It’s not that bad,” Karen chuckled. “You’ll be amazed how quickly it goes and how proud you’ll be of the results.”
She took a blue towel from the bar attached to the front of Warrior’s stall door. “Give your horse’s coat a final shine with the towel. Then use it to wipe away any dirt that may have collected in his ears and nostrils. Once that’s done, you’re ready for inspection. Remember, Captain expects his horses to be spotless before they are ridden.”
She checked her watch. “That’s all for today. Take the last fifteen minutes to get acquainted with your assigned horses.”
Terry started eagerly down the aisle with the other students, reading the engraved nameplates nailed above all but one of the stalls. To her dismay, there wasn’t a sign that read Tic-Tac.
“Better hurry if you want to spend time with your horse,” Karen urged, seeing Terry was the only student left standing in the aisle. “Which one is yours?”
“I thought Captain said Tic-Tac,” Terry answered. “But there’s no sign with that name.”
Karen led her to the stall missing a nameplate. “He just arrived a week ago, so there hasn’t been time to make a sign yet.”
Tic-Tac let out a throaty nicker as Terry slid open the stall door. He was a handsome horse with a rich brown coat and short white socks on each hind leg. A white star marked his forehead with a snip on his nose.
“He’s perfect!” Terry exclaimed, immediately understanding why Paula had wanted him.
Tic-Tac sniffed Terry from top to bottom, searching for a carrot. She pushed his head away, but he quickly brought it back, shoving her playfully in the stomach.
“Certainly is a friendly guy,” Karen said, scratching his silky neck. “I liked him from the moment he arrived. A very nice ride for a youngster.”
“Where did Captain get him?” Terry asked unable to take her eyes off the horse’s perfectly shaped head.
“From a dealer out west,” Karen told her. “He’s a four year old Quarter Horse Thoroughbred cross. He hasn’t had much work over fences, but from when I schooled him, he was natural.”
“Just think,” Terry sighed happily. “He’s mine for the whole summer.”
Karen smiled. “I hate to break up this love affair, but it’s almost time for the bus to leave. Better get moving unless you plan to spend the night.”
Terry gave Tic-Tac a final pat and reluctantly shut the heavy, wooden door. He wiggled his nose through the stall bars. She tickled it good-bye. “See you tomorrow. Promise!”
Looking up the empty aisle, Terry realized all the other students were gone. She ran full speed down the aisle to catch up with them. “Late again!”
Chapter Two
Tack up!” Karen barked down the school aisle. “Everyone to the indoor arena with their horses in fifteen minutes.”
Bobby looked into Tic-Tac’s stall as he passed on his way to the tack room. “That means saddled and bridled. Better hurry if you’re going to be on time. Captain always teaches both groups together for the first class.”
“Oh, no,” Terry groaned. “Inspection was bad enough, but now I have to ride for him! I was hoping it would be Karen today.”
She remembered the tense moments of inspection when Captain Riskin had run his hands critically across Tic-Tac’s shining body. He had even checked each of the horse’s hoofs, eyes and nostrils. Then, without comment or a smile, he had brusquely nodded his approval and moved on to the next stall.
“At least we passed,” Terry sighed thankfully.
Tic-Tac nickered softly, pawing the pine shavings bedding in his stall. The muscles rippled beneath his gleaming brown coat.
“Okay,” she relented, feeding him a piece of carrot from her pocket. “You deserve a treat for looking so handsome.”
As soon as Tic-Tac finished munching the carrot, he begged for another. “Sorry, greedy,” Terry laughed. “You’ll have to earn the rest.”
She picked up her grooming kit, closing the stall door as she followed the other students to the tack-room to get saddle and bridle.
Liz pushed in behind Terry, angrily slamming her kit onto the floor. “I sweat over that dumb animal for thirty minutes,” she exclaimed indignantly, “and what does Captain say? This is not good enough, but since it is the first day, I will make allowances’!”
“Some of us got it and some of us ain’t,” Whitney taunted as he left the tackroom carrying Flip’s saddle and bridle.
“Whitney!” Liz bellowed, racing after him.
She nearly collided with Karen as she ran out the door. “That’s enough, Liz,” Karen warned. “I’ll talk to Whitney. You worry about getting Warrior tacked up.”
Afraid of being late for class, Terry and the other students who had been listening to Liz’s outburst lifted their saddles and bridles from the racks where they were stored in rows and hurried from the tackroom.
Terry was amazed at the size of the gigantic indoor arena as she led Tic-Tac through the gate. There was deep tanbark footing surrounded by a freshly painted white board rail. A wooden, beamed ceiling arched high overhead, echoing the snorts of the horses. Terry took a deep breath, enjoying the rich, horsy aroma.
`She halted Tic-Tac in the center of the ring beside Paula who stood silently at Shady Lady’s black head. The girl ignored Terry, staring straight ahead at Captain Riskin with her usual stony expression.
As soon as the class was lined up across the ring, the Captain called for attention by slapping the riding crop he held against his boot. “Today we review basics to see how much you know. You will mount in unison on my command. Prepare to mount. Mount!”
The command was followed by disorganized groaning and straining as twelve neatly dressed riders became twelve ungainly bodies trying to mount horses that refused to stand still. Paula and Bobby were the only ones to succeed with the any trace of dignity. Once Paula was up, she sat quietly on her horse while Bobby went to the aid of his struggling classmates.
Terry hopped in an awkward circle with her left foot caught in the stirrup while Tic-Tac spun around her. Bobby grabbed Tic-Tac’s reins to steady him so Terry could scramble up his side
.
She smiled gratefully as she settled in the saddle. “Thanks. You’d think I’d never been on a horse before, but he’s a little bigger than the ones I’m used to.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured. “The first day is rough on everyone. But, if you ever need any real help, just holler. I’m always available.”
Before she could reply, Bobby turned to aid Whitney whose little black horse, Flip, had gotten loose and was trotting back toward the open gate. Whitney grabbed frantically tried to run him down. “Hey! Somebody close the gate!”
“You have ruined it!” the Captain scolded when the class was finally mounted. “Are you still beginners? Must we spend all day learning how to mount? We try it again until it is correct!”
After three futile attempts to mount in unison, Captain Riskin impatiently stopped the class. “Enough! Why is it so difficult?” Annoyed, he gestured toward Jerry. “Give me your horse.”
The Captain stepped to Irish Mist’s side. “Watch carefully,” he ordered as he put his left foot in the stirrup and mounted the motionless horse in a quick, flowing motion. His body seemed to conform to the horse as he settled himself in the saddle.
“This is how it should be done,” the Captain said. “At once. In unison. On the command. Until you mount like this, each day at the start of class, you will practice ten minutes.”
He dismounted gracefully. “Jerry, take the horse. If we are to ride today, we must continue.”
Terry tightened her grip on the reins and sat up as straight as she could, determined to try anything he asked of her.
Captain Riskin’s voice was crisp and clear as he sang out the first command. “Column left! Single file at the walk!
“Walk on!” he barked when the class hesitated. “Squeeze with the legs to urge the horse into the bit. Remember to keep three horses’ lengths from the rider in front of you.”
The class ambled head-to-tail toward the rail. “This is not a walk!” the Captain roared. “The horses are asleep. The walk must be brisk. One-hundred-twenty steps per minute!
“Where is your form?” he demanded as they tried to speed up their horses. “Shoulders back, chin up, heels down, legs back. THINK! Are you riders or stuffed dolls?
Mary Carson, the youngest member of the class, couldn’t make her horse keep up with the end of the line. She clicked impatiently to urge him on, but he ignored her and plodded along, losing ground with each step.
“Ah, my little Mary,” the Captain moaned. “How often must I tell you, do not chirp at the horse with the tongue? Use your legs.”
“It doesn’t work,” she complained when the horse only flicked his tail in response to her kicking.
Captain Riskin threw up his hands in exasperation. “Come to the center. Until you learn to use the legs, Karen will give you a crop. When Chico gets lazy, spank him behind the saddle.”
Terry watched Mary ride into the center of the ring. Fearful of making the same mistake, she urged Tic-Tac closer to Continental’s muscular hindquarters.
Lois looked over her shoulder as Continental angrily switched his tail at Tic-Tac.”Watch out. He kicks.”
Terry quickly slowed Tic-Tac to leave ample space between his nose and Continental’s heels. “Thanks,” she whispered, deciding it was better to be too slow than to get kicked.
Captain Riskin kept the class at a walk for the first half of the lesson, having them circle, reverse, halt and back. When he was satisfied, he called for sitting trot.
“Sit quietly,” he called cheerfully. “There is no reason to bounce. Relax the stomach muscles like a belly dancer. It is easy.”
After six circuits of the ring, Terry began to doubt the Captain’s assurance of the ease of the gait. Mr. Martin had never made her sit the trot longer than two circuits of his small dirt ring. Now, as Terry jostled around the saddle, a sharp pain developed in her side. Her head ached as it snapped against the motion of the horse. No matter how hard she tried, her legs refused to stay quiet and her toes pointed down instead of up. She set her teeth and gripped as tight as she could with her legs, praying the Captain would let them walk.
Finally, he gave the long awaited command. “Walk, please.”
“Tired already?” Captain Riskin asked with a chuckle as the class let out a collective sigh of relief. “Such young people should not be tired after only five minutes of sitting trot. This is nothing. Soon you will sit the trot more than fifteen minutes without stirrups.”
The students groaned in protest, but Captain Riskin ignored them. “We go on to the posting trot. Please review this gait for the class, Paula.”
“The trot is a two-beat gait. The horse’s legs move in diagonal pairs – right front with left hind, and left front with right hind,” Paula answered, speaking confidently as thought reciting from a book. “The rider posts, rising from the saddle when the horse’s outside front leg is forward and sitting down in the saddle when the leg moves back.”
Captain Riskin nodded. “Correct. Now we see if the class can do what you have said. Trot, please.”
The arena echoed with the sounds of creaking leather and stirrup irons scraping the wall as the class trotted around the large oval. Posting was much more comfortable than the constant jolt of sitting. Realizing she was posting on the wrong leg, Terry skipped rising for one step to change diagonals, just as Mr. Martin had taught her.
The riders ahead of her rounded the corner, most of them struggling to keep their heels down and legs quiet. In contrast, Bobby and Paula made everything look simple and natural. Terry envied their relaxed, correct posture.
She returned her attention to Tic-Tac too late. He had crept up in the line so that his nose was rubbing against Continental’s haunches. Without warning, Continental lashed out a hind leg. Terry saw a silver shoe flash within inches of Tic-Tac’s head. The hoof crashed against the rail with a deafening crack that sent Tic-Tac shying into the center of the ring.
Caught off guard, Terry lost her stirrups and reins. She was thrown ungracefully onto Tic-Tac’s neck. Clinging to his mane to keep from falling, she managed to wiggle her way back into the saddle. She quickly snatched up the reins and halted Tic-Tac in the center of the ring.
“What are you thinking?” Captain Riskin roared. “Do you not care about the horse? Would you like to see his head kicked in? I have seen this and it is not pretty. All because of a careless rider! There is no room here for careless people!”
Terry tried to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir,” she whispered meekly.
“Return to the line if you think you can concentrate,” the Captain snapped angrily. “This time keep the proper distance.”
Terry remained motionless, still stunned by Tic-Tac’s narrow escape from serious injury.
“Quickly!” Captain Riskin ordered impatiently. “Join the others or dismount and put the horse away. Do not waste any more of our time.”
While the he lectured the rest of the class on the importance of paying attention, Karen came up beside Terry. She gently laid a hand on her knee. “Don’t let Captain get you down. He’s just testing to see what you’re made of. Try again – for Tic-Tac and me. We both have faith in you, so don’t let us down …please.”
Terry nodded, grateful for the encouragement.
Karen squeezed her knee. “Thanks, Terry. Learn from the mistakes, but don’t give up no matter what the Captain says. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“Okay,” Terry agreed, urging Tic-Tac forward. She slipped back into line behind Continental, making sure that this time there was plenty of space between the two horses.
Captain Riskin acknowledged her with a curt nod, and then looked away. “We go on to the canter. Bobby, please refresh the minds of the class.”
“The canter is a three-beat gait,” Bobby began. “The lead is correct when the leading foreleg is on the inside of the circle. To canter, the rider should close the outside rein, apply pressure behind the girth with the outside leg
and squeeze with the inside leg at the girth.”
To Terry’s delight, Bobby’s instructions were the same as those she had learned at the Martins’. She relaxed, confident that a good canter would make up for her earlier mistake.
“Make sure your signals are firm,” Captain Riskin instructed. “Otherwise, the horse will take the wrong lead. This gait is fun. Just like a rocking chair. Sit back and relax.”
Without any urging, Tic-Tac cantered off after the other horses. “That’ll show Captain!” Terry thought proudly, hoping he had seen her perfect departure.
“Donna, Lois, Terry and Greg – you are all on the wrong lead,” the Captain corrected. “Break to a trot and try again.”
Frustrated, Terry tried to slow Tic-Tac. Angry at being restrained, he tossed his head and fought her persistent tugging on the reins until they had circled half the ring. Terry finally succeeded in turning him off the rail and slowing him to a springy walk.
She felt exhausted. Mr. Martin had never been so demanding. Her whole body ached. A painful blister on her little finger had popped open. But, afraid of being scolded, she urged Tic-Tac back into a canter. This time she looked at his inside front leg to check the lead and saw with relief that it was correct.
As Terry circled the ring, she tried to absorb all the Captain had told them. “Chin up, heels down, shoulders back, toes in, hands low. How will I ever remember it all?”
Chapter Three
Terry was unusually quiet at dinner Tuesday evening, dodging her parents’ questions about the day’s riding lesson. After the first few mouthfuls, she pushed her stew around the plate without eating.
“Feeling okay?” her father asked. “I thought the world’s best horsewoman would have a big appetite after her first lesson.”
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