Nothing But Horses

by Shannon Kennedy

  “A what?” Tom McNeely, a blond senior asked. “How will that do any good?”

  “It’s a newspaper. If you check out the editorial pages of the Seattle or Everett papers, you’d see that they welcome columns from knowledgeable people,” I said. “Vicky writes one that tells all of the ‘deets’ about your food drive and that toy drive she plans for next Christmas.”

  “And the coat and blanket drive in January.” Vicky smiled at me. “Great idea, Sierra. Can I email you a draft?”

  “Yeah, I guess. You promoted my ‘Deck the Stalls’ contest. I’ll help you write a letter, but you have to convince the morons at the paper to run it.”

  “That’s a good solution. Thank you, Sierra.” Mrs. Claus or Ingrid, which was her real name, smiled around the group. “Let’s move on.”

  Now, it was time for her to give us the sitcom pabulum about being nice to each other and nice to everyone in our little worlds. That way we would all have the perfect holiday experience. I struggled not to groan aloud. This was more of the stuff I shoveled in the barns. No, the manure was more useful because when I spread it on the fields, the grass grew.

  We went around the circle with Ingrid asking us to share something positive we’d learned last week or were going to try to do during the next week. As usual, it got to me and I said, “I’m positively going to teach Summertime not to be afraid to ride outside if it snows again.”

  “Wasn’t that your goal last week?” Tom asked, channeling Dr. Phil. “How’s that working for you?”

  “It didn’t. Last week I was trying to convince him that trees didn’t eat horses. He’s still scared of them. We’ll have to go back to it. He decided that my little sister’s snow people ate horses.”

  “I’d really still like to see you work on self-improvement,” Ingrid told me. “What could you do to make your life better, Sierra?”

  “I’m still holding out for a few million dollars,” I shot back, “but nobody’s bought me a lottery ticket yet, and I can’t get my own because I’m only sixteen.”

  Chapter Two

  Shamrock Stable, Washington

  Wednesday, December 18th, 3:30 pm

  It was a great day when I got to ride with other students and I didn’t have to babysit or horsy-sit. Mom was down in the indoor arena discussing the Saturday schedule with Vicky while she prepped the young Arabian, Aladdin she was training. Robin had Prince Charming and I had my big, red bugger, Nevada.

  Across the barn aisle, Robin sang an off-key version of Blue Christmas. Charm didn’t complain about the sound effects and I kept my mouth shut. She didn’t need to hear that I thought she ought to turn up the music on her IPOD instead of trying to sing along. I liked Robin. I really did. If she just wouldn’t sing!

  Well, if I couldn’t block her out, I’d join her. While I cleaned Nevada’s hooves, I chimed in on being blue without whoever. Oh yeah, sure. Personally, I thought the holidays sucked. I was always glad when my mom got rid of her latest boy-toy so they couldn’t demand all of the attention and presents under the tree. Autumn, my little sister was more mature.

  “What do you want for Christmas?” Robin asked, from the stall on the other side of the barn. “I mean besides a new saddle blanket since you told me that Nevada chewed the fringe on his.”

  “Just to keep all of the horses,” I said. “I hate it when my mom says we have to sell some. My grandparents will be here tonight and Grandpa always wants to know who we’re sending down the road.”

  “The stable belongs to your mom, doesn’t it?”

  “She’s buying it from them,” I said, “and since they hold the mortgage on it, Grandpa still likes to think he’s the boss of the world.”

  “Wow! I thought that was your title.”

  “Stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine.” I curried Nevada’s red hide and he leaned into the pressure. He adored being groomed. He loved treats. He just thought the riding portion of the lesson stunk. He had issues with unbalanced dudes who sat like rocks in the saddle and pulled on his mouth. When he got ticked enough, he opted for flying lessons. He’d drop his shoulder, add a baby buck and watch the wanta-be cowboys and cowgirls go splat. I swear he snickered at them, especially if they landed in a pile of horsy poop.

  I moved around to the right side and curried some more, bringing up the dirt with the circular motion of the rubber comb. “I think he found some mud somewhere. It’s kind of hard to believe because I’d swear the dirt was frozen out in his paddock.”

  “Maybe, he thawed it by peeing on it,” Robin suggested. “He can be disgusting.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not a total slug like the guy you love.” I switched over to the body brush and used the stiff bristles to sweep away the crud. Nevada nudged me in search of treats and I gave him a piece of carrot.

  “You’re lucky we’re a team,” I told my horse. “Otherwise, I’d ride your mom.”

  I had him saddled and ready to go in another ten minutes. I bridled him up with the snaffle I preferred for arena work. Then, I went to check on Charm. Robin usually tacked correctly, but it was an insurance requirement that every horse was inspected before a student mounted up. Okay, so the agent wasn’t standing in the barn verifying that I’d done my job, but I didn’t want to lose the family home because I was negligent.

  There wouldn’t be anywhere for us and the horses to go if we were sued. I so wasn’t taking responsibility for that. I started by checking the placement. The pads lined up with the front of the arm. Yes, horses had those too even if they were part of the leg. The saddle was in line with the back of Charm’s arm.

  I ran my hands over the saddle. Cinch okay, not twisted. The left and right latigos were even with each other. The breast collar fitted above the shoulders and didn’t cut off the windpipe so Charm would be able to breathe during the lesson. The tie-down snap on the middle cinch ring faced downward and that meant it wouldn’t be gripping skin instead of metal – no blood blister.

  “Nice job,” I said. “Let’s go to class.”

  “I can’t believe you still take lessons,” Robin told me. “I’d think you’d know everything your mom has to teach.”

  “I may know most of what she does,” I said, “but Nevada still has gaps in his horsy knowledge and thinks he should be the class clown.”

  Robin laughed appreciatively. She stepped up to Charm’s left side, warming the bit in her hands. Then, she eased the western curb into his mouth. She adjusted the chin strap, fitted the headstall over each ear. She finished by giving him a carrot. “You’re such a good boy.”

  He nuzzled her and earned a hug. That got him a second treat. He knew how to play the game and win the prize. I gave Nevada a carrot so he wouldn’t feel like his little half-brother got all the love. Then, we headed down to the indoor arena. Vicky was ready to ride Aladdin when we arrived.

  Jack sat on the bleachers. He waved at us when we walked in with the other two horses. I led Nevada past him. “Are you here for system support?”

  Jack nodded, all concerned boyfriend. “I know Vick has already ridden him a few times since she came off him a couple weeks ago, but I just want to be here for a while.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I said. “You’ll give her confidence.”

  He grinned at me and I caught my mom rolling her eyes. Oh, come on, I thought. Quit channeling teenagers, Rocky. That’s my job!

  Even if I claimed that most men were lazy, no-good bums who preferred to watch us muck stalls rather than taking part, I did like a few guys. Granted, they were usually the ones my friends dated since they didn’t opt for scumbags. Jack and his buddies were pretty decent. I wasn’t just saying that because they came in and mucked stalls on a snow day so I could go shopping with Robin and Vicky.

  I led Nevada around the arena on the left track a few times, then switched directions so he could see there weren’t any monsters lurking in the corners. Robin followed me with Charm. Vicky and Aladdin brought up the rear. Once, we’d shown them that the ring was a safe p
lace for the next hour, we tightened our cinches and mounted up.

  I started the warm-up with the Shamrock Stable version of Cowgirl Jumping Jacks. We all dropped our reins on the necks of our horses and clapped our hands over our heads. Then, Robin took us through ten reps of Cowboy Jumping Jacks. It was basically the same exercise, but we did it standing up. Vicky finished up with the twists and turns, we’d named This-a-ways, That-a-ways.

  After that exercise, I lowered my arms and sat down in the saddle, leaving my reins behind the saddle horn. “Okay, let’s get started. I’m Sierra and this is my best horse ever, Nevada. First and most important, let’s review balance. Everybody place your hands on your shoulders and make sure they’re over your hips in a straight line. Point to your heels. Are they below your hips?”

  Once we had the proper form for Western riding, I collected my reins in two hands. It wasn’t normal for the equitation class, but I wanted Nevada to focus on everything I told him to do and he performed better on the snaffle bit. I glanced at my friends to be sure they were ready. “Pick up your reins and say, whoa. That’s the second important thing we’re going to do today, learn how to stop.”

  Robin taught us to ride forward four steps by using our seat and legs. Vicky reviewed backing. My turn again and I talked them through a left-hand circle. Onto Robin and she led us into a right-hand circle. Then, it was onto more exercises with Vicky. My mom came and stood in the center of the ring to watch us finish the warm-up that she called, ‘Round-Robin,’ and yes, it was named after my friend. She’d started it three summers ago because then the day-campers remembered how to do the horsy basics.

  I glanced toward the gate when it opened and saw my younger sister come into the barn. She still wore her school clothes, a red jacket, blue jeans and running shoes. She plopped her backpack on the bench by Jack and climbed up to sit next to it. Queenie, our year-old, sable collie mix who adored Autumn, stood in front of them, plumed tail waving as they petted her. All was right in her doggie world, now that the school day was over and my sister was back where she belonged.

  “Okay, ladies,” Mom said, “let’s get moving. Turn your horses to the right and follow Sierra around the arena on the left track. That will put Aladdin at the end of the line. Pay attention since Q.U.E.E.N.I.E. has graced us with her presence. Horses have been known to spook when they see D.O.G.S.”

  Robin and Vicky both knew that the reason my mom opted to spell out certain words was to keep Queenie out of the arena. If Mom used the dog’s name or even said the ‘d-word,’ it meant it was time to round up the horses, whether they had people on their backs or not. Spelling avoided that hassle. Of course, Mom ordered the collie to stay near the porch on weekends or deal with the dreaded chain or jail in the back yard.

  However, when it came to driving a colicky horse forward and keeping them on all four hooves, Queenie was a blessing. She’d work all night with Mom and never give up. I walked Nevada past the benches and our audience. He didn’t care. They didn’t even deserve a flick of his ears. Of course, that could have been because I alternated squeezes with my legs, urging him to pick up a brisk, active walk.

  There was a method to my proverbial madness. Charm was super calm in the ring, what Vicky called a dependable slug. He’d go along with whatever his big half-bro, Nevada did. Meanwhile, Aladdin was a fairly young horse who might spook at the dog, my sister and possibly Jack. The bay Arabian had issues with guys.

  We couldn’t get any answers from the breeder about what Aladdin had been through at that barn and the person who donated him to us didn’t know the questions to ask. Still, it didn’t take much for Mom or me to know an abused animal when we saw one. I turned at the letter, ‘C’ and began a series of half circles on the imaginary line toward the letter ‘A’ at the opposite end of the arena.

  “Serpentines,” Robin said. “Really, Sierra? Aladdin’s a baby.”

  “He does them with Vicky all the time,” I said. “This is the same thing, but she’s on his back instead of the ground.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Vicky said, petting the horse she’d been training for six months. “We can do what the other guys do. Aladdin has on his big boy saddle.”

  I laughed and turned into a circle that took up the top half of the ring. Nevada bent his body around my inside leg like he did it all the time and it wasn’t a rarity. Normally, he sulked his way through the lessons, but we’d been hitting the arena a lot lately and it seemed like our practices were paying off. I did love riding, but usually school took priority. I’d been having some issues with my new choir director and my soccer coach. It’d gotten to the point that I was ready to change my schedule if things didn’t improve.

  During our phone conversations Grandma had said that she had an in at some of the local private schools and set up interviews for us with the headmasters or principals. We’d be touring Stewart Falls Academy and Centennial Middle-High tomorrow. I wanted to check them out, but I’d much rather go to Lincoln High in Marysville where my friends went.

  I’d think about school later. Right now, I needed to pay attention to what Mom said. She signaled me and I nodded. “Okay, let’s do a four-point halt. Seat down, heels down, squeeze your shoulders and close your hand on the reins. Once the horse has stopped, make sure he stands square and balanced. We’ll review this two more times, then instead of transitioning to a walk, we’ll go for a trot.”

  When I did the final walk-through of the barns after chores, I wasn’t surprised to find that Aladdin had about five pounds of organic carrots in his manger. He had totally focused during our lesson and was even able to trot once around the ring. Then, my mom called him into the center to stand and watch Robin and me work. Vicky claimed that the youngster could finish the work at higher speeds, but Mom didn’t want to push him and I agreed.

  It was better to go slow and careful, keeping in mind that we wanted the Arabian to be useful for the next thirty years. We didn’t want him to go too fast and be a nervous wreck like his best barn buddy. Summertime could work in the indoor or outdoor arenas now, but he totally freaked when I took him on the trails. He knew all the trees in the world would jump out and eat him. People who didn’t teach their horses to work in every possible environment completely irritated me.

  I clicked off the lights and went toward the parking lot. Robin, Vicky and Jack were already by his pickup. Vicky waved and I hurried to join them. “What are you guys up to?”

  “Dinner on the way home,” Vicky said. “Call and tell us what the other schools are really like. I’ve only visited them during rec cheer. The gym at S.F.A. is amazing.”

  “We want Sierra at Lincoln High,” Robin said, “not at Snob Hollow, or its clone.”

  “Oh, come on.” Vicky elbowed her best friend. “If you want to see snobs, check out Mount Pilchuck. I’ve cheered against the S.F.A. and Centennial squads at competitions. They’re way decent. The captain at C.M.H. even congratulated Evie when we beat them a couple weeks ago.”

  Robin narrowed brown eyes. “I still want Sierra with us.”

  “Yeah, well we don’t always get what we want, Princess Robin,” Jack said, walking around to the driver’s side. “Now, get in the truck so we can stop for burgers.”

  Still complaining, Robin climbed into the passenger seat. I watched them go and debated following to close the gates at the highway. I decided against it. My grandparents would be along in a couple hours and Grandpa would need mass room to get his land yacht…er Winnebago off the highway. I walked up to the two-story farmhouse and Queenie barked at me from the porch.

  “Oh, yeah.” I petted her white ruff. “Now, I feel majorly threatened.”

  When I walked into the house, I found Mom and Autumn in the kitchen rolling out Christmas cookies. “What happened to dinner?”

  “We’re waiting for Grandma and Grandpa,” Autumn told me. “Want to help me cut out the reindeers and Santa and cowboy boots? You gotta wash your hands first.”

  “Okay. I’m in. You had
me at cookies.”

  Mom grinned and my little sister laughed. Autumn chattered about the different colored buttercream frostings. Would I make them all taste funny, one of our holiday traditions? After I obediently washed the horse off my hands, I found the flavorings, peppermint for green, raspberry for red, and caramel for yellow. I left the blue alone – that way we’d have a color to use for accent.

  We were on the second tray of cookies when the dog alarm went off. Autumn hustled toward the front door, Mom right behind her and me after them. Mom opened up and the three of us rushed to meet the two of them. Grandma was the first one out of the motor home. In spite of the way I teased them, the Rialta wasn’t that huge—a little less than twenty feet. I frowned when I saw the little red car behind it. What was happening? Normally, Grandpa drove the Winnebago everywhere when he was here. He could park it pretty much anywhere, even if it did take two long spots on the street.

  If Grandma wanted to visit somewhere when they were here, she’d borrow the Ranger or go with me or Mom. Speaking of which, it was my turn for a hug. I stepped up and was squished against my grandmother’s short, plump body. She kissed me, then I was free while Autumn clung to her hand.

  I went to hug Grandpa, a tall, lanky, gray-haired cowboy in a western shirt and jeans. He put an arm around my shoulders and said, “What’s for supper? I could eat a horse. Where’s yours?”

  “In the barn, safe and sound from the likes of you.”

  Mom always said that we had to go to bed on time so we could get up early the next day. We never quite managed it on the nights that Grandma and Grandpa arrived. We had cookies as an appetizer while he grilled steaks. I made a huge salad and Grandma nuked spuds in the microwave. Grandpa complained about that, but I noticed he ate his.

  Once the dishes were done, we pulled out the Scrabble game and played a quick round while more cookies baked. Holiday music from the radio filled the air. Grandma described the trip north and talked about the snow they’d run into and what a great driver, Grandpa was. When I asked about the car, he said it was so she could run around without inconveniencing us. I expected Mom to say that borrowing the farm truck wasn’t a hassle, but she didn’t.