Riding Class

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Not that you’re going to be injured,” Stevie said hastily. She couldn’t believe Lisa, giving this poor woman a reason to be nervous! “The horses are terrific. They won’t do anything to make you fall off, so you don’t have to worry about that. But you should wear a riding helmet, just in case—” She pulled Dr. Dinmore into the locker room, where a pegboard covered with helmets took up a whole wall.

  “I left my hat at home,” Dr. Dinmore said. “It took up too much room in my suitcase.”

  “You need a special hat for riding,” Stevie said. “It’s not like a cowboy hat; it’s more like a bike helmet. It’s light-weight, but it’s very protective.” She pulled one of the helmets down and put it on Dr. Dinmore’s head. The brim covered the woman’s eyes. “Whoops—too big!”

  Lisa handed Stevie a smaller hard hat. This one fit, and Carole reached out and buckled it beneath Dr. Dinmore’s chin. “How does that feel?” Carole asked.

  “Fine.” Dr. Dinmore looked slightly amused. She’s probably not used to having people make this much of a fuss over her, Carole thought. She was proud of herself and of The Saddle Club. They knew how to treat visitors at Pine Hollow. “Let’s go find you a good horse,” she suggested.

  “Mrs. Reg’s probably assigned her one already,” Lisa said.

  “Yes, but”—Carole shot Lisa a significant look—“we’ve met Dr. Dinmore, and we can probably do a better job finding her the right horse than Mrs. Reg. Mrs. Reg only talked to her on the phone.”

  Lisa understood. Mrs. Reg probably wouldn’t have guessed how thin and frail and old Dr. Dinmore was. “That’s right. We’ll find you a horse that won’t be too strong for you.”

  Dr. Dinmore laughed. “Girls, don’t put me on an old plug!”

  “Oh, no, we wouldn’t do that,” Carole said. “We don’t have any bad horses at Pine Hollow. All of our horses will do what you tell them to do—at least, most of the time. But it’s very important that you ride a quiet horse when you’re just starting out.” Carole patiently explained how a too-spirited horse could make learning to ride both difficult and scary.

  Dr. Dinmore smiled gratefully. She’s glad that we’re taking so much trouble over her, Stevie decided. She’s glad that we really care. “I think you might like Patch,” she said.

  “I completely agree,” Carole said. “Patch is a wonderful horse.” They led Dr. Dinmore to Patch’s stall. Patch was an old pinto that many children took their first lessons on. His knees and feet were huge, like a draft horse’s, and his head was thick and his neck was stubby. His eyes were kind.

  “You won’t have to worry about Patch running away with you,” Lisa explained. “He can’t go that fast.”

  Dr. Dinmore patted Patch’s neck. “So this is the horse you all think suits me?”

  Stevie nodded sincerely. “You’ll be very safe with him,” she said.

  “Hello!” Mrs. Reg called down the aisle. “Are you Marian Dinmore?” She came up to them and shook Dr. Dinmore’s hand.

  “These girls have been showing me around,” Dr. Dinmore said. “They’ve chosen a horse for me.”

  “Patch?” Mrs. Reg raised her eyebrows. “Why would—oh, never mind. Thank you for your help, girls. Go ahead and ride, now, and I’ll help Dr. Dinmore.”

  As The Saddle Club returned to the tack room, they heard the two older women break into laughter. Lisa grinned. “It’s not like Mrs. Reg to tell jokes,” she said. “She must really be trying to put Dr. Dinmore at ease.”

  “I’m sure we helped, too,” Carole said.

  “Saddle Club projects all over the place,” Stevie announced with satisfaction. “We’ve earned this trail ride!”

  A HALF HOUR later, the girls were picking their way through a low spot in the corner of a field. “This is wet, but it’s a lot drier than it was last week,” Carole said. She gave Starlight his head and let him find the path he preferred.

  “At least it’s negotiable,” Stevie agreed. She halted Belle and watched as Lisa coaxed Prancer through the puddle. “Poor Prancer! She doesn’t like getting her feet wet,” Stevie noted.

  “Streams she likes, puddles she doesn’t,” Lisa said, laughing. “I don’t understand Prancer sometimes.”

  “She’s come a long way,” Carole reminded her friend. “Trail riding isn’t always easy—there are so many things that can distract the horses.” As she spoke, Carole headed Starlight onto a trail through the woods. Ahead of them, an engine roared to life. Starlight wheeled around and bumped noses with Belle. Belle put her ears back and jumped sideways. Prancer jumped a little bit, too. “Whoa!” Carole said to Starlight. She turned him and urged him forward gently. Starlight shuddered, but took a step down the trail toward the noise.

  The noise came around the corner and turned out to be a tractor. Max was driving it, pulling a load of hay bales on a trailer. He looked as startled to see The Saddle Club as the girls and their horses were to see him.

  “Hello!” he said. He cut the engine and the horses quieted.

  “What are you doing out here, Max?” Lisa asked.

  “I could ask you the same question,” he replied, looking a little sheepish.

  “It’s obvious what we’re doing,” Stevie replied. “We’re riding. It’s not nearly so obvious what you’re doing. Does it have to do with your surprise?”

  Max grinned. “You bet it does,” he said. “Take another trail, please. This one is closed.”

  “Well,” said Lisa as the girls and their horses went back across the wet edge of the field, “I wonder what that was about.”

  “If we wait a few minutes,” suggested Stevie, “we can sneak back—”

  “No.” Carole interrupted her friend. “If Max sees us back there, he might not let us do whatever it is he’s planning. There are plenty of other trails to ride.”

  They turned away from Pine Hollow and entered the woods in a different place. The fresh spring breeze had dried up much of the mud, and the horses walked confidently and happily. The air smelled sweet.

  Stevie took a deep, appreciative breath. “This is my favorite part of riding,” she declared. “My absolute favorite part.”

  “I thought it was dressage,” Lisa said.

  “No,” Stevie said simply. “Dressage is my favorite competition riding—my favorite stuff to do in a ring. This is real riding, out here. Remember all the neat trail rides we’ve had? The mountain rides and the bareback rides at dawn?”

  Carole and Lisa nodded. “Being out in the open on a horse,” Stevie continued, “is the best thing in the world. It makes you feel free.”

  “I agree,” Lisa said. She reached forward to give Prancer a pat. Prancer had a wild streak because of her racehorse breeding, but even she seemed to find the trails calming. They rode in silence for a while.

  “I wonder if Emily has ever ridden on a trail,” Carole said suddenly.

  The three girls looked at one another. “Do you think she could?” Lisa asked at last. “It can be a lot harder than riding in a ring. If the horse decides to run, there isn’t a fence or anything to stop it.”

  “And it takes more balance, and more strength, because the ground is uneven,” Carole said. “I don’t know if Emily could do it.”

  “We haven’t seen her ride,” Lisa reminded her friend. “We don’t have any idea what she can do.”

  “P.C. could do it, though,” Stevie said.

  There was another silence. Stevie’s joy was not quite as complete as it had been. If she felt this free on a trail ride, she could imagine how free Emily, who could hardly walk, might feel. “She sure acted like she knew her way around a horse,” she said.

  Carole repeated, “We just don’t know.”

  WHEN THEY CAME back from their ride, the girls dismounted outside the stable and walked their horses in the driveway to cool them off. They hadn’t ridden fast, but the warm day and the horses’ thick winter coats had combined to make the horses damp with sweat. They had to be walked until their coats were dry so that they wou
ldn’t get chilled and then sick.

  As Carole walked Starlight past the door of the indoor arena, she looked inside. Veronica was riding Danny alone over a grid of poles on the ground. Carole watched in appreciation as Danny naturally shortened and lengthened his trot stride over poles that were spaced different lengths apart. Veronica sat quietly on his back. She wasn’t getting in his way at all, which was, Carole realized, the best way for Veronica to ride him. Danny knew how to do everything without any help from Veronica.

  Stevie and Lisa brought their horses up beside Carole. “What’re you watching?” asked Stevie. “Ohhh,” she added when she saw Veronica. Veronica nodded curtly in The Saddle Club’s direction, then turned Danny down the diagonal and let him lengthen his stride. His legs flashed forward, elegantly and beautifully. Veronica turned at the far end and rode him back across the other diagonal. This time she shortened him; instead of becoming slower, his stride became more upright, his legs moving up and forward with precision.

  “I can’t stand it,” Stevie groaned. “She’ll have that horse doing a piaffe next. It’s not fair.” The piaffe, an elevated trot in place, was one of the most difficult and advanced dressage moves. Only the most athletic horses could even attempt it.

  “She’s riding well,” Lisa said reluctantly. “It’s not like her to be here on a Sunday, though. She must be practicing for Max’s surprise.”

  “Of course she is.” Stevie’s voice was bitter. “Miss Upper Class on her high-class horse. It’ll be Danny’s first show since she got him, and Veronica wants to be sure they’ll win so she can prove how superior they are to the rest of us. And I’m sure they will win. Look at that horse.” Danny was cantering in beautiful balance and control down the long side of the arena.

  “Don’t be sure,” Carole said gently. She laid her hand on Stevie’s arm. Carole always wanted Starlight to do his best, but she honestly didn’t care if his best was a blue ribbon. Stevie was much more competitive: She really wanted to win. Carole and Lisa sometimes felt Stevie wanted it too much. “You love your horse and she loves you. That counts for a lot. And Belle is a great horse, too.”

  “I know,” Stevie said. She turned around and scratched Belle’s forehead, and the mare lowered her head and sighed.

  “Let’s look on the bright side. Max said his ‘event’ was going to be different,” Lisa reminded them. “He practically told Veronica not to count on winning.”

  “And she practically told everyone that she would,” Stevie said. “I hope Max is right. I really hope I can beat her. I hope we all can. She’s been way too superior ever since she got Danny. She needs to be taken down a peg or two.”

  “She sure does,” Carole agreed. “Well, she does!” she repeated when her friends looked at her in surprise. “I’m with you, Stevie—let’s beat her!”

  ON MONDAY AFTERNOON Lisa’s mother took The Saddle Club to Free Rein.

  This time the horses were in their stalls and the stable was full of people—more than a dozen, by Lisa’s quick count. Ms. Payne spotted The Saddle Club and came to greet them. “It’s always a little hectic around here when lessons are going on,” she said. “Pat, our regular instructor, is teaching a private right now. We’ve got three to get ready for the four-thirty lesson.”

  “Only three?” Carole was amazed. At Pine Hollow, group lessons usually had six to eight riders, but even then there weren’t nearly this many people in the barn.

  “Three riders,” Ms. Payne explained, “eight volunteers for the lesson, one instructor, two volunteers who are cleaning stalls, three parents watching their children ride, the three of you, myself—”

  “And there’s Emily!” Lisa spotted their friend outside P.C.’s stall. They waved, and Emily waved back.

  “And Emily. That’s, let’s see—”

  “Twenty-two people,” Lisa supplied.

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you say eight volunteers for the lesson?” Stevie asked incredulously. “Eight volunteers for three riders?”

  “That’s right,” Ms. Payne said again, nodding. “Some of our riders ride independently, the way you do, without anyone standing close by. Most require a leader; that is, a person who stands at the horse’s head and leads it with a rope to be sure that it stays under control while the rider rides. Many also need side-walkers, who stand at the side of the horse and make sure that the rider doesn’t fall off. For this lesson, two of the riders need two side-walkers, one on each side of the horse.”

  “And the third rider just needs one side-walker?” Lisa asked.

  Ms. Payne sighed. “Well,” she said, “I don’t know if Joshua really needs a side-walker at this point, but I don’t know if he’s ready to ride without one, either. It’s hard to tell with Joshua. He’s autistic. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

  Joshua was twelve or thirteen years old. He was standing in a stall with a big-boned Appaloosa and two volunteers who were a little older than The Saddle Club. “We’re going to groom Ditto now, remember?” one of the volunteers asked him. Joshua didn’t reply. Physically he looked perfectly normal, as far as The Saddle Club could see, but he didn’t seem to notice anything going on around him. He stood beside the horse, staring at it, and he didn’t turn when they entered the stall.

  “What do we do first?” the volunteer asked him. The boy didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to hear her. “Joshua?” The volunteer stepped in front of him and held up a grooming bucket. “What do we do first? Show me.” Slowly, without looking at her, Joshua reached forward and touched the rubber currycomb. “That’s right! Good!” Joshua turned his gaze back to the horse. The volunteer gently placed the currycomb in one of his hands, and he began to groom the horse.

  “Girls, meet Joshua, Sarah, and Darcy,” Ms. Payne said. “Joshua, Sarah, Darcy, this is Lisa, Stevie, and Carole. They’re going to be helping us today. It’s their first time helping with a lesson.”

  Ms. Payne left Carole with Sarah, Darcy, and Joshua. Carole watched as Sarah led Joshua through all the steps of grooming a horse. Joshua seemed to know exactly what to do, but he never did it until Sarah asked him to. His face remained expressionless. When Sarah sent him out to get Ditto’s tack, Carole asked about him.

  “Autism is strange and I don’t really understand it,” Sarah told her frankly. “It’s something people are born with. Autistics typically have a great deal of trouble communicating with people, and they don’t cope well with changes in their environment. Joshua seems to understand language, but he doesn’t talk. He’s never spoken to anyone in his life.”

  “Does he like riding?” Carole asked.

  Sarah shrugged. “Who can tell?” she said. “No, that’s not true. He must like it, or he wouldn’t do it. But he never smiles or looks happy.”

  LISA FOUND HERSELF helping a small boy named Toby groom his horse. Toby had Down syndrome, but he knew everything about grooming. A volunteer named Sam peppered Toby with questions as they brushed a gray mare named Duchess. “How many legs does Duchess have?”

  Toby bent over and counted. “Four!”

  “Good! How many feet?” Sam asked.

  Toby chuckled. “Four—that’s silly. It’s the same as legs.”

  “Yeah, Toby,” Sam said. “Here’s a hard one: How many shoulders?”

  Toby paused and thought hard. You can do it, Lisa thought. “Two,” he said at last.

  “Good!” Lisa said. She wanted to try this herself. “How many of us are in this stall?” she asked him.

  “Four,” Toby said.

  “Oh, no.” Lisa felt unreasonably disappointed. “Three, Toby. You, me, and Sam.”

  Toby grinned. “You’re wrong,” he told her. “You, me, Sam, and Duchess. Four.”

  “You’re right. I forgot Duchess,” said Lisa, grinning back.

  “I’m right, I’m right,” Toby chanted happily.

  STEVIE’S RIDER WAS a ten-year-old girl named Claire. She was developmentally disabled, like Toby, and she was blind. Her horse stood on cros
s-ties in the aisle. Emily had P.C. on the cross-ties just behind Claire’s horse. Stevie greeted Emily and then got to work.

  “Just watch for now,” Wendy, another volunteer, said to Stevie. Claire couldn’t reach very high, but her horse was small and she could groom most of it herself. To Stevie’s surprise, Claire knew exactly what to do. She knew where the grooming bucket was kept on the shelf, she knew all of the grooming tools by feel, and she knew where and how to use them on the horse. Claire kept both hands on the horse’s side.

  “Tell Stevie why you keep both hands on the horse,” Wendy instructed.

  “So I can feel the dirt, and so I can tell when the horse moves. I don’t want to get stepped on.”

  “I don’t want you to get stepped on, either,” Wendy said. “What do we do if the horse moves?”

  Claire laughed. “We dance with the horse! Stevie, we just dance with the horse.”

  “But no aerobics,” Emily cut in from the back.

  “Ballroom dancing,” Stevie agreed. “Do you do a waltz, Claire? One-two-three, one-two-three—” Stevie could remember when Lisa had had to take ballroom dancing.

  “A fox-trot,” Emily supplied. Emily and Stevie cracked up.

  “Hey, Emily,” Claire said, “what’s P.C. stand for today?”

  “Peanut-butter Cookie.”

  DURING THE LESSON, The Saddle Club didn’t do much except walk beside the horses, paying close attention. The experienced volunteers led the horses and made sure the riders didn’t fall off, but the riders held the reins and told the horses which direction and how fast to go. Most of the lesson was at a walk, and most of the time was spent playing what The Saddle Club thought of as games.

  First the riders walked their horses around a series of cones on the ground. Then they walked them over ground poles while standing up in their stirrups. They leaned forward in the saddle and touched their toes. They touched different parts of the horses’ bodies. They threw soft foam-rubber balls at a basketball hoop. Finally, toward the end of the half-hour lesson, the instructor, Pat, had them trot one at a time.