by Jessie Haas
For the first few minutes after she’d stretched out in her sleeping bag on top of the bales, Sarah wished she’d brought Star along. Something was rustling in the corners of the barn. Mice, she assured herself. They had never seen rats here. Why would there be rats?
But soon she got used to the sound, and it didn’t come any nearer. She folded her arms behind her head and looked up through the square window in the eaves. The stars had been blurry with haze and humidity for most of the summer. Now they seemed bright and clean.
What do I do now? Sarah wondered. For the first time all summer everything was up to her. For the first time in my life, she realized. She had never made a decision this big before. She had no idea how to do it.
It wasn’t even supposed to be a decision. She’d imagined it like falling in love. All at once you met somebody, and that was it. Now she’d fallen in love twice. One horse was too young and one was too old, and there was a horse in the middle that was just right, but she wasn’t in love with him.…
And on top of it all, Mom. I’m expecting you to choose well.… In her mind Sarah chose Beau, just to see Mom’s face. Beau was not a wise choice—and, she suddenly realized, he wasn’t even a choice she wanted to make. The image of Beau had worn thin, like a book that isn’t good enough to read twice.
Thunder, then. Thunder she could go back to, again and again. Every morning he’d be out there. She was riding him down all the trails she used to ride on Barney, and it was all just the same as last year. It was just exactly what she wanted.…
A piece of hay stabbed up through the sleeping bag. Sarah rolled off it and stretched. Her toes pressed against the bottom. Her toes never used to touch the bottom of this sleeping bag! Not while her head was sticking out the top anyway. She was growing. She’d always been growing, but this was the first time in a long while that she’d really felt it.
She stretched again, long and hard. Maybe this was why Barney was easier to handle this year. Some of it was the lessons, but some of it must be just because she was bigger, longer-legged, stronger.…
Maybe soon she’d grow enough to be able to handle Roy. Maybe even he would become easy—
But she wasn’t going to find out.
Now she was on Thunder’s back again, riding across the field. A gentle canter, then faster … now a terrifying surge and leap … no, that was Roy and the flower barrel. A gentle canter …
Star awoke her, pawing at the sleeping bag and whining. When Sarah popped her head up, she was instantly smothered in warm pink kisses. The sky was bright blue through the little square window, and a cool, fresh breeze blew between the barn boards.
“I’m starved! Ugh, no, Star, no more kisses. Get off me!” Below, Goldy let out a piercing bleat. “Hi, bad goat!” Sarah struggled out of her sleeping bag, dropped an armful of hay through the trapdoor into Goldy’s manger, and headed for the house. In only pajamas she felt a little chilly.
Mom was cooking breakfast for what seemed like the first time all summer. There was bacon in the pan, and Mom was mixing waffle batter. Even Dad looked almost bright-eyed as he sat at the table with his first cup of coffee.
Sarah went upstairs for her warm bathrobe. When she came back down, Mom was just closing the lid of the waffle iron. “Sleep well?” she asked.
“Great, till Star found me.”
Mom laughed. “She ran straight to the barn as soon as I let her out, with her nose to the ground. Clever girl!”
Sarah poured herself a glass of orange juice and snitched a slice of bacon from the platter. She bit off the end, and it was so good to eat something like that again, it was so good to feel chilly and to see the blue sky that what she had to say to Mom slipped out easily. “I’ve been thinking, and there are two horses I’d like you to see.”
Sarah called Nancy Page first. It seemed important to arrange this. The Amsters would be home and eager. She could see them anytime. But before she went back there and saw Thunder, Sarah knew she had to ride Roy again.
“I’m going out right now, but I’ll be back later,” Nancy Page said. “Could you come in the early evening? Around six?”
This evening? Sarah swallowed. “Yes. That would be fine.”
Mom didn’t have her garden to work in anymore, and she didn’t seem to have anything else to do. She took over the hammock and lay looking up through the leaves at the sky. But Sarah recognized the strong, restless kick with which Mom rocked the hammock. All summer Sarah had been kicking in the hammock the same way: waiting.
At least Sarah had Herky to ride.
It felt different taking him out today. They’d been through a lot together. Sarah couldn’t tell if he remembered, but she felt comfortable and happy with him. They were partners.
That’s what it would be like with her own horse, after a while. When they’d seen enough trouble together …
Once more Nancy Page was waiting at the barn, in her beautiful, light-colored riding clothes. The little pack of Jack Russells surged out from the patio as before, and the borzoi barked in a reserved and stately way. Roy was waiting, fully groomed, in the crossties.
“Oh, Sarah, he’s beautiful!” Mom said, holding out her hand for Roy’s eager sniff. Mom had no reservations, but then there were a few things about Roy that Sarah hadn’t told her.
“I wonder if he remembers you,” Nancy Page remarked as Roy looked past Mom to Sarah.
He will! Sarah thought. She shifted the hard hat she carried—her own hard hat!—under her arm and held out her hand to Roy, too. His eyes were bright and eager, and he moved restlessly in the crossties.
Sarah had to borrow a saddle this time. Nancy Page brought out one of the new synthetic kind, lightweight and durable and easy to clean.
“I’ll saddle him for you,” she said. “These girths are hard to figure out.” She girthed up, and she and Mom chatted about the new saddles. Sarah stood back a little, watching Roy’s head.
He looked smart; there was no getting around that. He looked handsome and honest and kind. He was the horse she should choose, based on his head, based on his nice, strong legs, based on his well-remembered power and speed.
When Roy was tacked up, Nancy Page handed the reins to Sarah. She wasn’t going to watch this time either.
Sarah looped the reins over her arm while she snapped on her hard hat. Its snug fit was reassuring. “Okay, Roy, let’s go.” She led him out onto the driveway.
Roy’s step was eager, and his head high. “He hasn’t been out in three days,” Nancy Page called from the barn doorway. “He’s pretty hot to trot, but you shouldn’t have any problems.”
Oh, God, just what I need! Every time Sarah even blinked, the white flower barrel flashed before her eyes. Hot to trot!
I don’t have to do this! she thought. Nobody’s making me.
She could stop right here, on this path. She could explain it all to Mom and just turn around and take Roy back to his stall. She looked at him.
His ears pointed forward up the path, as if going to that ring and being ridden were the most fun he could imagine. He looked so nice, like Herky or like Barney.
Sarah reached up and patted his neck. He dipped his muzzle toward her briefly and then looked ahead again.
Okay, Sarah thought. I’m doing this to find out if it was me or the helmet. I’m going to find out if I can handle you, buster!
With Roy’s first step, Sarah felt the power and the energy, like Herky this afternoon or Barney yesterday.
“Big deal,” she muttered. “They’ve got brakes!”
Roy took the sound of her voice as permission to trot. “Massage his mouth!” Missy shouted, loudly and clearly in Sarah’s memory. She obeyed and, as before, felt the glorious transformation. For a second she just coasted along on the wonderful trot. Then she made herself remember.
“This is great, but I didn’t tell you to. Walk, Roy!” She sank herself deeper in the saddle and once again felt the mysterious, beautiful way her back, legs, and hands all worked together. It wa
s new enough to surprise her every time it happened. She couldn’t tell if Roy was surprised, but he did walk.
Sarah kept him walking, halfway around the ring. “All right, now trot!” Around and around they went, walk and trot, turn and stop. Roy was perfectly responsive, like a machine—
Yeah, ’cause I’m scared stiff, Sarah thought, and I never take my mind off him for a second. Of course, with that thought her mind did stray. She wondered if Mom, watching from the center of the ring, was having as good a time as she’d expected. Roy was still trotting calmly when Sarah remembered to think about him.
Okay. Time to try it!
She brought Roy down to a walk and collected him tightly. The surface of the saddle felt grippy, she was deep in it, and her hard hat was secure: “Canter!”
Roy rose to his rocking-horse canter, perfectly balanced. Sarah felt his strides start to lengthen almost immediately. He wanted to go faster, but this time she was ready and kept him to a steady speed. He felt light and even slow: Sarah could hear clearly the separate beats of the canter.
Down the long side, easy and steady, turning one corner, turning the next … The long side stretched ahead again, and Roy made a little snatch at the reins, wanting to go faster. Sarah let him.
The sound of his hooves drummed louder, faster, and the flower barrels loomed. All right, Sarah thought, let’s find out! Deeper in the saddle, shorten the reins …
Roy slowed down.
Sarah was so amazed she almost didn’t turn him. For a few strides he felt unbalanced and scrambly. Then they were past the barrels, turning the corner, and going down the long side again. This time it looked inviting. Sarah loosened the reins and booted Roy, and he took off like a racehorse. It took a lot more strength and skill to slow him this time. She turned him in a circle and got the slow canter back and stopped.
Mom stood frozen in the center of the ring. Sarah walked Roy over to her. He pranced and tried to steal more rein, but Sarah’s hands were steady, and when he pulled against them, they did not give.
“Whoa,” she said, and got down out of the saddle. She was shaking, and she thought she might be going to cry. Without planning to, she found herself hugging Mom, and Mom felt warm and firm and good.
“Sarah,” Mom said, and couldn’t seem to go beyond that. She rubbed the back of Sarah’s neck, underneath her braids. After a moment she asked, “What’s the matter? Did he run away with you?”
“Not this time.” Sarah stood back now, out of Mom’s arms, and turned to look at Roy. He was watching them, with a curious and rather sweet expression. He still breathed hard from his gallop, but he looked ready to go.
And suddenly Sarah was ready to go with him. She wanted to take him down a trail, see some countryside between those little pointed ears.
All at once she knew: Roy was the right horse. He was a challenge—not like Beau, an impossible challenge, but something she could realistically take on, something she could see herself needing to take on for years to come. It would be a long time before Roy stopped surprising her.
But what about Thunder? Did a horse have to be a challenge?
Mom was looking at Roy, too, with a wary expression. “He seems so … I don’t know. Big. And energetic. He isn’t much like Barney.”
“He’s a lot like Barney, really,” Sarah said. Roy was bigger and scarier, but Barney had scared her plenty of times. Mom just didn’t know about most of them.
“So you’re seriously considering—Roy, is it? How much did you say they wanted for him?”
“Eight hundred dollars.”
“Goodness! That’s less than half what I expected to pay.” Mom came up to pat Roy, cautiously and respectfully. “I must say, he’s a little more horse than I’d want to tackle. You think you’d be able to manage him?”
Sarah nodded as they started with Roy down the graveled path. “He’s the one Missy wants me to get.”
“Well, Sarah, I am impressed. You didn’t just go out and fall in love with the first horse you saw, the way I was afraid you might.” Mom put her hand on Sarah’s shoulder for a moment. “I think you’re showing good judgment.”
Sarah patted Roy instead of answering.
17
And Thunder
Mom loved the drive out to the Amsters’, an especially long one since Sarah missed a turn and sent them several miles out the wrong dirt road. It was a lot like driving with Missy. Mom, too, slowed down to look at horses in the fields, and cows, and people’s gardens. Once some curtains in a farmhouse window caught her eye, and she nearly drove into the ditch, looking at them. Sarah felt guilty. Drives like this must have been just what Mom was looking forward to, but there weren’t going to be any more drives. One way or another, Sarah had already found her horse.
The Amsters had Thunder out in the yard when Mom and Sarah finally arrived. He was happily eating the lawn but lifted his head to look at them. Mom cried, “Oh, Sarah! He’s just like Barney!”
“Mm.” What kind of horse did Mom want her to get? Maybe Dad had gotten things wrong again.
Mom was supposed to be fading into the background, and Sarah was supposed to be making the decisions. But Mom was feeling down Thunder’s legs, she was checking his teeth, she was talking a mile a minute with Mrs. Amster. He’s twenty years old! Sarah felt like saying. Did you happen to notice that? Her fling at independence and responsibility had been awfully brief.
Finally Mom did seem to remember, but Mrs. Amster wouldn’t let her escape into the background. Mom was the grown-up. Obviously Mom must be the buyer, and Mom had to be told all about Thunder’s circumstances. No one here to care for him this winter. No one interested in buying him. Such a wonderful horse, and so well loved. “We were hoping he’d go to someone nearby,” Mrs. Amster said, “so we wouldn’t lose track of him. I know Kate would want to see him when she comes home to visit. At an auction he could go to anybody.”
Sarah almost couldn’t make herself say it, standing out on this green lawn looking at Thunder, so fat and pretty. But she had to. “He could go to a slaughterhouse.” Everyone turned to look at her. “There are so many horses for sale, a lot of them are going for dog food, Missy says.”
Mrs. Amster’s eyes were very wide. “Oh, no!” she said faintly. “I didn’t know …”
“Well, not a horse like Thunder,” Mr. Amster said uncomfortably. “He’s got a lot of good years left—”
“Dealers buy them cheap,” Sarah said, “and they sell them by the pound.”
“Sarah,” Mom said, in a warning way. Stop, she meant. You’re upsetting these people. But they had to be upset, because if they were still planning to ship Thunder to auction, Sarah would have no choice.
Mr. Amster said, “Well, maybe it won’t come to that. I’ve got his bridle here. Did you want to ride him again?”
Sarah didn’t really, but she nodded, and since Mr. Amster didn’t seem to know how, she bridled Thunder herself. Mom gave her a leg up, and she took him out across the field again.
She had known what it would feel like. Thunder was bouncy, and lively, and fun. He was beautiful to ride, his little red ears pricked, his black mane flowing. She loved him.
But after Roy, fun just wasn’t enough. There had to be more: threat, and power in reserve. Power for the future, when she was going to try things that she couldn’t even imagine now. Thunder didn’t have it. After Roy he felt tame.
Sarah rode him out to the end of the field anyway. He wanted to go. He was happy and eager and innocent. Life had always treated him kindly. Sarah could hardly stand it when he stopped at the gate again and looked along the little trail. She closed her eyes fiercely against the tears and walked him soberly back to where Mom and the Amsters waited.
When Sarah slipped off his back, Mom said, “Would you give me a leg up? I’d like to try him, too.”
Of course! thought Sarah. She likes Thunder best. She cupped her hands to make a stirrup, and Mom got up onto Thunder’s round back.
The last grown-ups S
arah had seen riding were at the Combined Training event, taking those enormous jumps. They had looked very different from Mom—so skilled and moneyed and so high in the air on their tall horses. Thunder seemed a little short for Mom, and the two of them looked more like a kid and a pony at a 4-H show.
“Careful,” Sarah warned as Mom turned toward the field. “He likes to canter, coming back.”
“I trust I’ll be able to handle that!” Mom said, sounding more confident than Sarah thought she had any right to be. She and Thunder disappeared.
When they came back, Sarah saw that she’d been right to worry. Thunder was cantering happily, and Mom was hanging on tightly to his mane, sliding, pulling herself back into place, and grinning like a fool.
“Easy!” she cried. “Easy!” Thunder dropped into a hammering trot that was much worse for Mom’s balance. “Massage his mouth!” Sarah shouted, forgetting that Mom wouldn’t know what that meant. Anyway, it was too late. Thunder stopped abruptly and put his head down to eat, and Mom fell off.
When she stood up, she was still grinning. She brushed herself off, a little tenderly, and led Thunder back to them. “Impressive, hmm? Oh, he’s wonderful!”
The Amsters looked eager and hopeful but couldn’t quite bring themselves to ask the question that must have been trembling on their lips.
“You understand,” Mom said, “that this will require family consultation. We can’t make any decision just yet. But call us, won’t you, if anyone else seems interested.” She handed the reins to Mr. Amster. Thunder stood looking hopeful.
“He wants his carrot,” Sarah said.
“Oh, of course!” Mrs. Amster hurried to the garden, and Sarah stood looking at Thunder’s bright face, trying to convince herself that she was perfectly thrilled with the train of events.
Mom slid herself behind the wheel, wincing slightly. “Oh, I’m going to be sore tomorrow! I haven’t fallen off a horse in twenty years!”
“Are you okay?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, yes, it wasn’t much of a fall. But what a nice little horse, and what nice people!”