A Summer Without Horses

by Bonnie Bryant

  I sat up and looked at my watch. It was 12:30. That meant that the kids should have been having a quiet time after lunch, but not that quiet. The silence meant there were no horses and no ponies in the stable at all.

  Mrs. Reg was running errands; Max was on a picnic with the older riders; Red was at the dentist. That meant I was in charge, but where were my charges and where were their ponies? That was the question I had to answer right away.

  WHEN THINGS ARE going wrong, my mind can race pretty fast. So can I. I slid down that ladder so fast I picked up three splinters and I never even noticed them until the next day!

  “Hey, kids! Where are you?”

  Dumb question. If nobody’s there, nobody can answer.

  It didn’t get any better with the next question.

  “Ponies? Are you around? Hello????”

  See what I mean. Like I said, though, I’m being honest here so you might as well know all the dumb things I did.

  I thought maybe they might have let the ponies out into one of the exercise rings. Nope. One of the paddocks? Nope. The indoor ring? Nope. The field? I climbed up on one of the fences to see as far as I could. There was no sign of them.

  About this time, it occurred to me that if the kids had gone someplace on horseback, they’d need to have their ponies tacked up so I checked the tack room. That’s when it really hit me. All of the ponies’ tack was gone. That meant, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the kids were riding the ponies and since I couldn’t see where they were, they had to be far away and if they were far away, I was in big trouble. Even worse, they could be, too.

  I love trail rides of all kinds, but you’ve got to know what you’re doing to take a horse beyond the limits of a riding ring and these kids were just beginners. Not only that, they were just beginners who couldn’t possibly be strong enough to tighten their ponies’ girths enough to ride safely. The first thought that entered my mind was an image of Leslie falling off her pony. It wasn’t a pretty sight and it scared me more than anything else that had happened in the previous five minutes since I’d awakened in the hayloft.

  If the riders weren’t in the paddocks and the fields around Pine Hollow, they had to be in the woods somewhere. That’s when I remembered Max asking Red about the coyote near the quarry. The image that came into my mind then was even worse than Leslie’s just being thrown.

  I knew there was a possibility that absolutely nothing was going wrong and the kids were just having fun in the woods. I also knew that there were too many possible dangers for me to think of counting on that. I had to get to them.

  But how?

  It was while I was pondering that question that I went into the locker area and saw the note they’d left. It was even worse than I’d thought.

  Stevie—We’ve gone to find Merlin for you. You need his magic so you can ride horses again!

  See you later! On horseback!

  I promise that’s the last tall tale I’m ever telling in my whole life!

  The woods are on the far side of the fields. It’s about a half-mile ride to the edge of the woods and then there are miles and miles of trails. Lisa, Carole, and I never think much about the distances because we only ever do it on horseback. At a trot, a horse reaches the woods in a few minutes. On foot, wading through the grass, it would take me twenty. Then, once I reached the woods, I’d be even worse off because there are so many choices, though I’d go to the quarry first and that was about two miles into the woods—another forty-five minutes on foot.

  The choices were not exactly great. I could take hours and hours on foot to accomplish exactly nothing, or I could ride. On horseback, it’d be a cinch to find them within about a half hour, no matter where they were, especially if I rode Topside, who could run like the wind.

  If I could sit down.

  But that was the point, wasn’t it? I couldn’t sit down? On the other hand, I didn’t have a choice about riding; I had to do it. There are some things that can be done on horseback better than any other way and looking for riders in the woods was one of them. I had to ride.

  That decided, I worked on how I was going to do it. The answer was staring me in the face because I’d been working on it very hard with the young riders just a short time before. I would ride in the three-point position. It would tire my legs, but tiring my legs was a lot better than bruising my seating area any further. I didn’t waste any more time.

  I grabbed Topside’s tack, took him out of his stall, led him to the entrance to the stable, and mounted—very carefully. Once I had both feet in the stirrups, I did the most sensible thing I’d done in days: I touched the good-luck horseshoe. Now was the time when I needed good luck more than I’d ever needed it before, and not just for myself.

  I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, nudged Topside with my calves, and we were off.

  I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT Topside was the smartest horse in the world. I only have to tell him things once and he gets the idea and does it even better than I would have told him to do it if I’d had to tell him a second time. We soared across the fields, stopping only very briefly to open gates and then close them behind us. No matter how bad an emergency is, it can only be made worse by leaving gates open.

  In spite of what you may think of me based on what you’ve already learned, I’m a pretty practical person—though not as practical as Lisa—and my practical side told me to assume the worst and head for the quarry, where the biggest trouble could lie.

  Although I was very worried about the kids and I was worried about my ability to ride for an extended period of time in the standing-up position and even more worried about how much it would hurt if I made a mistake and sat down, I was not so worried about any of those things that I couldn’t appreciate what a wonderful time I was having riding Topside.

  Luckily for me, Topside has marvelous gaits. He took up a trot that lifted his silky black mane from his neck in the wind and that sped us across the field. When the way seemed clear, I signaled for a canter and we took off. The scents of warm sunshine and fresh grass mingled with the rich, pungent smell of Topside and his leather tack. Breezes brushed against my cheek. The landscape rushed by. After so many days without riding it felt wonderful.

  It also made me think of Lisa and Carole and how much I wished they could have been there with me, both to appreciate how wonderful it was to ride and to help me with the little kids just in case they were in trouble.

  Something nagged at my conscience right then, but I was enjoying myself too much to wonder what it was. It would come back to me later, I knew.

  When we entered the woods, we slowed to a trot and then a walk as the path became narrower and more rocky. I’d spent hours in the woods with Lisa and Carole and I knew every nook and cranny of every trail. I headed for the piney woods near the quarry, where I’d made the witch cast her spell and where I’d told the kids they might find Merlin. I knew they wouldn’t find Merlin. I hoped they wouldn’t find a coyote.

  Topside climbed the last hill approaching the quarry and then slowed and stopped as if he wanted to listen. His ears perked up and pointed around, like periscopes. Horses have very good hearing and if Topside was listening, I knew I needed to listen, too.

  I heard crying. It sounded like someone was hurt, and it was coming from over the top of the hill, right near the quarry. My worst fears were being realized.

  “I’m coming!” I yelled and then I gave Topside such a nudge that he was startled into action. He got the message, sensing my urgency, and he was up and over the hillside in a matter of seconds.

  “I’ll be right there! Hold on! Wait for me!” I called, sending my voice ahead, hoping to give some reassurance to the child in trouble.

  What I saw when we crested the hill will stay in my mind forever, along with the feeling of worry, shame, and embarrassment about my own part in what had happened. The kids were all on the far side of the quarry. Leslie was sitting on the ground, crying. Reuben and Natalie were standing next to her. There was no
sign of any of their ponies. Mark and Jessica were still on their ponies, but just barely. Jessica’s saddle was slipping off to the left. Mark was having trouble controlling Penny and was clutching her mane for dear life.

  “I’ll be right there,” I called across the quarry. “Don’t do anything, okay?”

  It took me and Topside a few minutes to get over to the other side of the quarry. I only remember thinking how relieved I was to know that the kids were okay—if you didn’t count Leslie’s knee. I don’t even remember wondering about the three missing ponies. As long as the kids were safe, everything else was going to work out, right?

  ALL FIVE KIDS started talking at once. Four, actually, because what Leslie did was to cry some more.

  “Stop, stop, stop!” I said, dismounting as carefully as I’d mounted in the first place. I secured Topside’s reins to a tree and then knelt as best I could beside Leslie to take a look at her knee.

  It was okay. She just needed to know that.

  “Oh, boy, I know that hurts, Leslie, but you’re going to be all right.”

  “I am?”

  “Sure. I’ve had worse.”

  “You have?”

  “Well, there was the time I thought it would be a neat idea to let our dog pull me along the sidewalk when I was on roller skates.…”

  Leslie got the picture and made a face.

  “The good news about that was that I did a job on both of my knees and it was so bad I charged kids twenty-five cents to take a look. I don’t think this is going to be worth more than a dime.”

  She laughed. That made me feel better. It made her feel better, too.

  “Look, the creek runs right over there. Natalie, take Leslie over to it and see if you can rinse away some of the dirt. We’ll give you a good cleanup when we get back to Pine Hollow, but for now, this’ll do, okay?”

  Natalie helped Leslie stand up, held her arm across her shoulder, and the two of them walked slowly toward the creek. I turned to take care of the next problem—Jessica.

  “Don’t do anything right now, Jessica,” I said as I walked over toward her. “If you move any more, you’ll shift your weight and the saddle will go the whole way. Stay steady. Hold the reins firmly. Not too tight.”

  I kept talking and she kept listening. She just froze in place. The pony, whose name was Dime, wasn’t any more comfortable with the saddle shifted to the side than Jessica was. He didn’t move, either. I stood next to Dime, offered my arms to help Jessica down, and she took the offer. The instant she was out of the saddle, the whole thing slipped all the way, and hung there, upside down. I hated to think what would have happened if Jessica were still aboard.

  “The same thing happened to Nickel!” Reuben said. That explained Leslie’s fall, but it didn’t explain why we had five riders and only two ponies.

  “As soon as Leslie fell, Natalie and Reuben got down off their ponies to help her. The ponies just ran off!” Jessica said. “Maybe they were scared by Leslie’s crying.”

  “I don’t blame them. Do you?” I asked.

  That made Jessica laugh.

  “Nope,” she agreed. “Dime almost did the same thing, but I held on.”

  “Me, too,” said Mark.

  I could see then that his knuckles were white from holding on to his pony’s mane. He hadn’t relaxed one bit since I’d arrived and the pony, Half Dollar, was looking a little annoyed.

  I checked to see whether his girth was tight enough and found that it only needed tightening two notches. Then I assured him he was safe and could let go.

  “I can?”

  “Try it,” I said. He did and it worked. I was awfully glad to know that a horse’s mane doesn’t have any nerves in it so his tight clutching hadn’t hurt the pony at all. Half Dollar did shake his head, though, relieved to be released. I smiled and gave the good old boy a pat. Mark patted him, too.

  Next I righted Dime’s saddle, adjusted the blanket, and tightened the girth. He was ready to go again and I was pretty sure Jessica would be ready to get on him in just a few minutes.

  By then, Leslie and Natalie were returning from the creek and the next thought occurred to Leslie.

  “But where are our ponies?” she wailed. That started another sprouting of tears.

  “Calm down,” I said. “Horses can run off, but they rarely run far. You guys just wait here and I’ll be right back, okay? Actually, I could use a hand. Mark, Jessica, could you come with me?”

  Jessica looked at Dime a little unsurely, but she was tough. She climbed back into the saddle, just the way I’d taught her only a few days before. She looked at me and said, “Ready.”

  It made me very proud of her. It’s not easy to have an uncomfortable experience on a horse (and a sideways saddle is about as uncomfortable as it gets) and then to climb back into the saddle. The girl had guts. Mark, holding just the reins, no mane, said, “Me, too.” Mark had guts, too.

  I climbed back into Topside’s saddle—well, a good three inches above it, but you know what I mean—and we were off.

  It turned out that that was the easiest part of the day. I was right about the ponies not running very far, but the best news was that they were all together. Horses and ponies are social animals with a herding instinct. When they aren’t following a human’s instructions, they’d just as soon be with other horses. All three of them were in a small open area of the forest, nibbling at fresh greens just as if nothing bad had ever happened. We rode up to them.

  “Here’s how you lead a horse while you’re on horseback,” I said, handing Jessica a set of reins to hold. She did it very well. So did Mark. The ponies seemed a little relieved to be told what to do and stopped their nibbling right away. I dismounted and straightened out Nickel’s saddle. He nickered when I got it on right, indicating that it had been as uncomfortable as it looked. Then I got back in (above) Topside’s saddle and we returned to the quarry with the ponies in tow.

  “Oh, Nickel, you’re all right!” said Leslie. She limped over to him and gave him a big hug. I knew I wasn’t going to have any trouble getting her back in the saddle when we were ready to go!

  Natalie and Reuben each took their pony’s reins and then I showed all of the kids how to secure a horse or a pony so they wouldn’t run off.

  “It’s a really bad idea to use the reins,” I explained. “You’re always supposed to use a lead rope so you don’t damage the reins and so the bit won’t move every time the horse moves. Still, it’s a whole lot better to use the reins than to use nothing!”

  “I guess we learned that already,” said Reuben sheepishly.

  “I guess you did,” I agreed. “Now let’s see what else you’ve learned.”

  I had in mind to have a little talk with them to be sure they were all calm before we headed back to Pine Hollow. So, once I was sure all the ponies and Topside were well secured, I perched on the edge of a rock in the quarry and the kids all sat down with me.

  “Are you angry with us?” Leslie asked.

  “Angry? No. I’m just relieved to know you’re all okay. I should have been there with you. I had no business leaving you all alone when Red left. You guys should be angry with me. Aren’t you?”

  “Nope,” said Mark. The rest nodded, agreeing.

  “Well, since nobody’s angry, maybe we can just take a minute here to get a few things straight.” I was putting on my teacher voice. I’ve heard enough teacher lectures in my life to know just how to do it.

  “Trail riding is something experienced riders can do without an instructor. It’s something intermediate riders can do with an instructor and it’s something novice riders—that’s you guys—can’t do at all.”

  “But we did it, didn’t we?” Reuben said smartly.

  There was something about him that reminded me of myself.

  “Yes, you did it, and look what trouble it got you into!” I was very aware of sounding like Miss Fenton, the principal of my school. I’m not proud of it, either, but I persisted. “What on earth were you
all thinking of when you decided to do this?”

  “You,” Leslie said simply.

  “Yeah. We wanted to find Merlin for you,” said Natalie.

  “We heard what you said to Red about never being able to ride again and, well, we just thought, maybe …”

  My face turned red. This whole thing was my fault. “Look, guys,” I said. “That’s just pretend. There’s no such thing—”

  “But you told us the whole story!” said Natalie.

  “Story. That’s what it was. A story. There’s nothing to it. There never has been.”

  “It’s a legend,” said Leslie. “Everybody knows that there’s always some truth to a legend.”

  “Not this one,” I said. “I made up the whole legend right then and there in the stable yesterday. There never was a witch; she never had a horse.”

  “But there’s the house on Garrett Road …” Leslie reminded me.

  “Well, there’s a North Pole, too, but do you really think that a red-suited man lives there, makes toys, and trains flying reindeer?”

  The look on Reuben’s face indicated that he at least sort of hoped that one was true.

  “Reuben?”

  “Nah, I know better, really.”

  “And do you know better now than to believe in a witch and a magical horse?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Yeah, maybe it’s true and you just don’t know it.” There was that side of him again.

  “Right. Did you ever think of that?” Leslie piped in.

  Mark, Natalie, and Jessica started nodding, as though they were agreeing with Reuben and Leslie.

  I stood up and put my hands on my hips. I knew they were young and all, but I couldn’t help feeling surprised that any one of them could actually believe in the tall tale I’d told them.

  “I made it up. I fabricated it from thin air,” I said impatiently. “I should have been telling you all about grooming and instead, I invented a story about a magical horse who never was and never will be and who doesn’t have any magic.”