The Tale of the Dancing Slaughter Horse

by Shade, Victoria;

  “Moony,” I called softly, in stark contrast to Richard’s yelling. I made sure to pet his hindquarters just after I called him, to let him know I was there, and he wasn’t alone. I knew he sensed me when I saw his left ear flip back toward me, on his left side. I had at least half of his attention.

  “Moony, I’m right here, you’re OK, it’s OK, buddy,” I talked to him, petting the left side of his body, making my way up to his head.

  “Get away! I’m handling this!” Richard bellowed at me.

  I ignored Richard, knowing that I had Moony’s focus with that one ear. I had initiated a dialogue. Now I had to ask for what I wanted. I had no idea whether Moony trusted me as much as I trusted him. Would he follow me into a dark trailer, the thing he hated, the thing that used to take him back and forth to those correctional facilities? I had no doubt that he had only bad memories of trailers. I also had no doubt that Richard’s antagonizing him would not encourage him to step right in. But I did doubt that those two things would overpower the bond I had created with him. So, I tested that bond.

  “Moony,” I called long and sweetly, trying to make my voice sound exactly like it did every time I greeted him in the barn. I tried hard not to let my voice quiver, and to hide how upset I was. I knew that if Moony sensed danger in my voice, he would never get in the trailer. I turned toward the ramp, facing the inside of the trailer. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his eye watching me, as he continued to struggle with Richard. I knew I had him. I then shoved my right hand into my pocket, which Moony knew was always filled with treats. Moonshine could never resist those treats. Then, with my hand in my pocket, jiggling the treats inside, I walked up the ramp.

  As Moonshine watched me amble leisurely up the ramp, he lowered his head and approached the ramp himself. He gingerly put one foot on the steep ramp while Richard brushed past him, to “lead” him up. Richard was clearly no longer part of the dialogue, even though he was holding the lead rope. I called Moony, and now my horse was coming to me.

  Richard started up the ramp toward me. From inside the trailer, I turned my back to Moonshine, shaking the contents of my pocket, as if to tell him, “If you don’t catch me, I’m giving these treats to someone else.” When Moony saw me turn my back and walk away into the darkness of the trailer, he scrambled up the ramp. As soon as he was inside, Richard shoved him into the last empty stall and hooked his halter up to the cross-ties.

  “Good boy!” I praised, bursting with pride, as I fed him the carrot in my pocket. As he crunched the carrot from my hand, I couldn’t help but admire my horse. I searched his eye for some sort of acknowledgement that he knew I would do anything for him, but he was totally focused on the treat he was devouring. It didn’t matter. I knew we were a team now; he did trust me as much as I trusted him. As much as he drove me crazy, we were bonded. He was my horse, and I was his person. It was now me and Moony against the world.

  As I made my way down the ramp to let Richard latch up the door, this escapade reminded me that adults don’t always know best. I was proud that I disobeyed both my mother and Richard. I was glad to have been brave enough to do what I knew I had to do to get Moony in the trailer. I was disappointed that no one else tried to help. I was also surprised that I somehow knew what to do, and yet nobody else did, not even Richard.

  “We’re leaving now!” Richard announced to everyone watching. As he began to close up the trailer, I heard kicking and watched the entire trailer rattle with each blow. I knew it was Moonshine.

  As Richard brushed past me to the driver’s seat, he said, “If he breaks anything, you’re paying for it.”

  The four-hour drive was relatively uneventful, despite the unyielding barrage of kicking coming from the stall in the back left side of the trailer—Moonshine’s stall. I watched the changing landscape on the drive down and marveled at the wide, open fields I saw from the highway. I rolled down my window and took in the fresh, clean air. I daydreamed of winning all of my classes at the competition. I couldn’t wait to get in the show ring.

  The show grounds were like no other farm I had ever seen. It was massive—the show organizers said it was 300 acres and there were 500 stalls. It took ten minutes just to drive through it all and get to the barn reserved for our team.

  When the trailer finally parked, I jumped out of the car and ran to my horse. As Richard lowered the ramp, I asked, “Can I take Moonshine out?”

  “Don’t let him step on you, and stay in the middle of the ramp. And go down slowly,” he ordered.

  I know how to handle my horse, jackass, I wanted to say, but simply responded, “OK.”

  I hopped into the trailer and petted Moonshine on his nose as I grabbed the lead rope, and snapped it onto his halter.

  I led Moonshine out of the trailer, slowly down the ramp, and he followed me at the pace I had set. When we set foot on the ground, he looked to his right, then to his left, and then started grazing. He was calmer now than before he was in the trailer.

  “Victoria, get out of the way! Get him in a stall, and get him a bucket of water!” Richard bellowed from the trailer.

  I did as I was told, leading Moony to his stall, and then grabbing a bucket from the car, to fill with water. When all of the horses were unloaded from the trailer, Richard marched to my mother.

  Ugh, now what did I do? I thought as I hauled the bucket full of water to Moonshine in his new stall.

  “That damn horse kicked a hole straight through the divider. You owe me two hundred dollars,” he told her.

  I rolled my eyes and stopped listening, shifting all my attention to Moonshine. I found a hook in his temporary new stall on which to hang the water bucket and made my way to the hay and shavings, to give him food and lay down bedding.

  I let Moonshine rest for about an hour before taking him out of his stall. Then, I tacked him up, got on, and we walked to the warm up arena. By now, most of the competitors had arrived and many of them were riding in the main warm up ring.

  When I got to the warm up ring, I froze at the entrance.

  Oh my God, Moony! That’s Robert Dover! And Ashley Holzer! And Betsy Steiner!

  I was starstruck. I hadn’t expected to see big time dressage celebrities in this ring, where I was going to ride. These were the guys in Dressage Today magazine! These were dressage’s celebrities, my heroes—Olympians, World Cup competitors, international caliber equestrians. And I was stepping into the very same warm up arena as them! It was hard to focus on my own ride, as I was overcome with intrigue at how my idols were training. I couldn’t stop gawking at them. My ride on Moonshine was short, about a half hour. I spent twenty minutes letting him walk on a loose rein so that I could watch them train.

  After my ride, I walked Moony back to his stall, where my mother was setting up the rest of the equipment.

  “Mom, Robert Dover is here!” I shrieked quietly.

  “So?”

  “What do you mean ‘so’? It’s Robert Dover! He’s an Olympian!”

  “I know,” she stated flatly.

  I sighed in exasperation. I was shocked at her lack of interest. These were superstars! At the same show! In the same ring as me! How did this not blow her mind?

  I always hand grazed Moony after I rode, and since there was grass all around the warm-up arena, I figured why not let Moony graze while I watch the superstars train?

  I observed with complete focus. The horses floated around the arena. Each horse and rider pair moved like they were one. The equestrians’ bodies didn’t move at all; it looked like all of the riders were motionless aboard their horses.

  How are they so still? I wondered. Where are the cues?

  I watched until Moonshine started back toward the barn.

  “Is it dinner time, buddy?” I asked Moony as we walked briskly back to the barn. Moonshine always knew when it was feeding time, and if any of his meals were ever late, he was one of
the loudest protesters in the barn. Food was a definite priority to my horse.

  I fed him his grain and tossed him a few flakes of hay for the night.

  “Night, Moony,” I said as he gobbled the grain in the bucket.

  I then realized I was hungry myself, and exhausted, but content. I was so happy.

  The next day, I arrived at dawn to feed Moonshine and braid his mane, as I had learned from one of the girls at the farm.

  Moonshine was picking at the last remnants of the hay on the ground. I dumped his morning grain into his bucket, tossed in two more flakes of hay, and then filled the water bucket. Then, I grabbed a pitchfork and wheelbarrow to muck the stall as he ate. I finished after about ten minutes.

  “I’ll be right back, Moon.” I had fallen into the habit of talking to him as if he were a person.

  I went to the show office to see the indoor stadium that everyone had been talking about. The food vendors were also in the indoor, so I figured it would be a good opportunity to get breakfast. I walked in at the top of a long row of bleachers. As the rows descended from where I was, I saw hundreds of rows of chairs, and then the ring itself. I had just walked into a stadium.

  “Wow.” The magnificent scene took my breath away. It was beautiful.

  It’s bigger than Madison Square Garden, I thought, mesmerized.

  After a few minutes of scanning the arena, I realized I was hungry. I went over to the food vendors to buy a bagel and orange juice.

  “Program!” I heard someone call out.

  “Hi, can I have one?” I asked the man with the programs.

  “Sure, here you go, kid.”

  I flipped it open to the first page, to see where my two classes of the day would be held.

  “OK, first class is in ring five. Have to find ring five,” I muttered to myself.

  Equitation class is in the stadium? That can’t be right.

  “Excuse me, is this the final program?” I asked the volunteer.

  “Sure is!”

  Why is my equitation class in the stadium? Wait, it’s at 8:00 p.m.? Why is it so late at night? I wondered. Normally, all my classes were any time between 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., during show hours.

  Carol had arrived that day and I saw her at the barn when I got back.

  “Hi, Carol!” I was thrilled to see her.

  “Hey there, how’s it going?” she beamed.

  I was immediately comforted by her usual greeting. She always greeted me with, “Hey, there,” it may as well have been my name. I had wondered in the past why she never used my name, but this time, I found her usual greeting overwhelmingly appeasing. Perhaps in the midst of all of the newness, I did appreciate the familiar.

  “Great! Moony’s great! But I have a question. I think my equitation class is in the stadium. And this program says it’s at 8:00 p.m. Can that be right?” I asked.

  “Sure, why not?” she smiled and winked.

  I had no idea what she meant by the smile and wink, so I simply responded with an eloquent, “Ummm, OK.”

  __________

  My first class was in ring five, which I discovered was actually set up on a racetrack at the other end of the show grounds.

  I got on Moonshine and we headed for the other side of the property. Moonshine walked calmly through the crowds, vendors, dogs, and horses. It was like walking through a crowded flea market on horseback until we got to the show ring. I assumed that since the crowds didn’t faze him, he would be calm during the whole show. But then he saw it—the racetrack. He must have remembered his racing days because as soon as he stepped onto the sand, he bolted. My back snapped as he took off down the track. Amazingly, my legs knew to hold on tight as I worked to gather my reins.

  Most horses that I had ridden would take off because they were running away from something. Not Moonshine! Moony’s ears were pricked forward, so he was focused on something ahead of him, and he was picking up speed. Moonshine was running toward something. This was the first time I had ridden a horse that was acting like a predator, rather than prey.

  “Moonshine! Oh God!” I panicked as I realized that he was running toward the arena with a horse and rider already in it, competing!

  “Moonshine, no!” I whispered loudly as I yanked his head to the right. I managed to turn him away just as he was about to enter the arena. I thought I had broken his momentum, which would make him stop, but as soon as he was turned around, he took off down the track in the other direction! At least this was going away from the two competition arenas, but I really hoped the judges weren’t watching. This wasn’t my idea of a respectable first impression.

  I realized how strong Moonshine had become from the power with which he ran. I tried and tried to pull the reins and sit back to stop him, but the more he ran, the stronger he became and the more impossible it was for me to stop him.

  Well, it’s a big track, hopefully he’ll get tired soon, I hoped, as the wind whipped me in the face, realizing the futility of interfering with Moonshine’s resolve to have some fun.

  Luckily, he did; after about five minutes of a flat gallop, he began to slow down, and finally came back to a trot. Then, I turned him around and trotted him back to the show ring.

  My mother was still standing by the entrance of the track and when she knew I had caught her eye, she lifted her hands in emphatic applause. She was clearly humored by our performance. Even though my horse had just taken off with me, I couldn’t resist laughing and dramatically bowed my head and hand in appreciation of her teasing applause. Luckily, Carol was helping Beth prepare for her ride in another arena, so she wasn’t around to witness the mockery I was making of dressage. She did have a sense of humor, but this display of a blatant lack of control may have been too much, even for her.

  I waited patiently by the entrance of the show ring on Moonshine, as my ride time was approaching. The rider before me had just completed her final salute. It was my turn. I trotted Moonshine once around the outside perimeter of the arena to make sure he was comfortable with the surroundings. He was, as usual. Nothing ever spooked this horse.

  The judge blew the whistle. I entered and saluted. Moonshine and I executed every movement as precisely and correctly as we could. I had put every ounce of effort I had into performing all of the movements perfectly. I tried to cue Moony to execute every transition crisply, and exactly where the test mandated in the arena. I sat up as tall as I could, keeping my eyes and head up, as Carol instructed. I maneuvered Moonshine as deep into the corners as his stiff body would allow, for extra points. Then, I gave the final salute. I could hear two people applauding (the large crowd for the previous rider having dispersed); I knew one of my two fans was my mother. I petted Moonshine, but I knew we were nowhere near as good as the pair just before us.

  “Oh well, we tried,” I said to my mother as I passed her, heading towards the barn.

  “It was good!” she encouraged.

  “Yeah, that was a nice test, sweetie!” remarked the rider who had ridden just before me.

  “Thanks!” I was flattered by the compliment from the elegant rider on the talented horse.

  The loudspeaker then announced the results of my class, I had received a mediocre score, and had landed in fifth place—out of six riders.

  “At least you didn’t get last!” Carol joked. I usually appreciated her humor, but this stung a little. Then, more seriously, she added, “You’ll get them tonight.” And I believed her. If Carol told me I could fly, I would have believed her.

  __________

  I had to wait six hours for my final class of the day. The rest of the team went to dinner, but I stayed behind. I wanted no distractions. I wanted to be completely focused.

  I got on Moonshine a half hour before my class to warm up. Carol came to the warm up arena to supervise.

  On my first break, she told me, “Just remember to focus o
n yourself, Victoria. In this class, they don’t look at the horse at all. They’re just judging you and your riding ability. Remember to ride from your seat.”

  “OK,” I replied.

  Then it was time for the class to begin. Unlike other classes where each horse and rider pair ride alone in the show ring, in this equitation class, all of the riders were shuffled into the stadium at the same time. Moonshine was completely unfazed as he descended the long, wide ramp and the magnificent arena swallowed us in.

  Carol was waiting for us at the entrance. As we approached her, she said, “Good luck.” Then, she stepped closer to me, looked me in the eye and said, “Smile.”

  I then turned and looked ahead, into the massive, brightly lit arena. As Moonshine and I emerged from the darkness, I smiled.

  Moonshine marched proudly onto the sand as if he belonged there. As soon as he stepped into the bright stadium, I could feel him grow bigger. He seemed to puff his chest out like an actor taking his stage.

  There were fourteen other young riders in the arena. The announcer said through the speakers, “Riders, please line up and salute the judge.” As everyone got into formation, I glanced up at all of the empty seats in the stands.

  But, in the middle of one section, I saw everyone from the Oakwood Farm team! I was touched that they had come to watch my class. I saw Carol standing by the entrance and was comforted by having her there, watching. My mother also stood silently next to Carol. I was struck by how white my mother’s face looked, in stark contrast to Carol’s tanned and flushed face.

  The judges then ordered the riders to make their way out to the rail. Then, I heard, “All trot please, all trot!” over the loudspeaker.

  All riders picked up the trot.

  “Change direction, please, change direction!”

  A cluster of horses and riders started to crowd around Moonshine. I feared that he would kick anyone who got too close, which would cost me the class, so I looked for an opening through all of the riders. I waited to get closer to the opening, and then I slowly trotted Moonshine in a big circle, to land in a less congested part of the ring, just like Carol told me to do if this were to happen.