Horse

by Talley English

  Hope rode in front and Susanna rode behind. The strategy of this order wasn’t lost on her. They’d put Teagan in the safest place. If Ian tried to run forward, Hope could use her horse to block him, and if he backed up, Susanna could use her horse to push him forward. Ian walked comfortably, and he seemed calm, interested in his new surroundings. Teagan couldn’t shake the impression that he wasn’t paying much attention to her. She seemed insignificant, even though she was supposed to be important, in control, his rider, after all. He should pay attention to her. She wasn’t sure he cared.

  Ian seemed to be speeding up, his long strides getting longer as they started downhill. She prepared to slow him, and as soon as she lifted the reins he slouched back onto his hind end and slowed. It was clear to her that he was well trained and responsive, obviously athletic, but also unafraid and powerful. He was a little bit frightening. If Ian decided to get rid of her, he would have no trouble doing it. But his big rib cage swung side to side in an easy rhythm as he stretched out his neck and walked with a ground-covering stride, as if moving was what he was made to do.

  Ian was going to be her father’s horse. Susanna and Robert hunted, and if Ian passed his trial, they would have a pair of hunters again. Teagan didn’t mind that her parents hunted. She was aware that their version of foxhunting had very little to do with killing foxes, and more to do with riding across fields and through woods. It also involved a certain amount of ceremony and pomp, the way the horses and riders arrived clean and shiny; the way riders bid good morning to the field master; the way a (sometimes silver) tray of doughnut holes was offered, lifted up to the riders in their saddles; the way the (sometimes silver) stirrup cup was passed, a deep blood-color port drunk from a communal cup; the idiomatic cup of courage; the way the huntsman called the hounds together, the way he blew his horn, the way the hounds began to run, the way horses followed on, the way the fox outwitted even thirty hounds, the way the fox crossed a stream to break the trail of his own scent, the way the fox crossed the stream again to leave his scent in two directions, the way the fox walked the top of the fence, up where hounds couldn’t smell him, and when the fox was treed or went underground, the hunt gave him up. No wiry terriers were sent down a fox hole, and, as far as she knew, no one carried a gun. Her parents’ hunt club went so far as to monitor the fox population year-round. It made sense to her. If they wanted foxes, then they should care about the health and habitat of foxes.

  * * *

  —

  She has seen the flash of rust color disappearing up a grassy bank when she looked at the right moment from the car window. The red coat and white-tipped tail she has seen from a distance across some fields. She has come face-to-face with the red-and-white face, the black paws, the black-tipped ears, when she was in the woods. It was evening, the daylight was fading, and the fox came trotting, always as if he had a purpose, a place he was heading to. The fox stopped and she stopped. The fox left first, turning to go back into the woods, and she walked on.

  * * *

  —

  Once, at Blue View Farm, she was having a riding lesson from Hope. They were in the riding ring, a grassy oval marked by a wooden fence. Hope told her to stop, so Teagan halted. A silver fox, the body supple like a cat’s, but on tall legs, and the head like a dog’s pointed muzzle, was carrying something in her jaws. She trotted quickly across the grass arena and loped up and over the hill. Hope said it was unusual. They kept going with the lesson, but soon Hope told her to stop again. The fox was back. From atop her horse Teagan could see the gray body disappear into the woods. She on her horse, and Hope standing nearby, waited for something to happen. The fox crossed again, another small thing in her mouth, and again up and over the hill. Hope guessed that she was moving her family. The things she carried in her mouth, one by one, were her pups. Each time the momma fox came with her pup in her mouth, they held still. Teagan silently wished her well.

  * * *

  —

  She sometimes saw the evidence of a fox killed by a car, the tail blowing in a breeze, the body eternally still on the roadside. Once she begged her mother to stop the car. She had seen two foxes, a few yards apart. She pleaded with her mother, her need unexplainable, and Susanna, against her better judgment, pulled over. Teagan ran down the road shoulder to the first body and searched in the ditch for some sticks. The first fox was whole. The undersides of the dark paws had leathery pads. She worked the sticks under the body and carried it, bier-like, to the stiff grass beyond the ditch. The second fox had an eye popped almost out of the socket, like a cartoon illustration of surprise. The eye was round and almost all white, except for the deep brown iris. She pried the red body off the road. She couldn’t think what had caused them both to die so close together, and she couldn’t explain why she wanted to move them.

  * * *

  —

  They walked the horses on the dirt track. Alongside it a finger of a creek trickled, hidden below a treed bank. They turned in to the woods and after a while came to the clearing on the hill. They walked their horses down the hill a different way, and at the bottom was the creek again. There were two skinny logs along the track next to the cow field. Hope wanted all of them to jump. They first jumped away from home, meaning they jumped so the horses weren’t running in the direction of the barn. It didn’t matter that the barn was across a field, through the woods, and up another hill. Horses know where the barn is. Don’t stop riding until you are off your horse was a saying of Hope’s.

  * * *

  —

  They jumped as they might in the hunt field, one after the other, with Hope leading. Ian passed that test. When he led off he did fine, too. Then Hope wanted them to jump separately. She explained to Teagan that it takes discipline for a horse to stand while another horse moves away from it. Horses tend to want to stay together, like in a herd. To begin, Teagan jumped Ian first and halted him, waiting for the others to come over the jump. He kept his head turned toward them but otherwise stood quietly. Then it was time to take the jump toward home, which was always harder. Hope jumped first and Susanna waited with Teagan. Ian seemed happy to wait with the mare.

  Susanna started to move her horse toward the jump. Ian stepped forward to follow, but Teagan held him back. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to be left. He tossed his head and shifted sideways. She held him. Duchess was just over the jump when Ian threw his head high in the air. Teagan had no leverage on the bit with his head so high, and Ian charged forward. When his head dropped she pulled him back, but only for a moment. As if it was her idea to go, she raised out of the saddle to let him move forward. He went from standing still into a canter, took a few enormous strides, and jumped, galloping even faster on the other side to catch up with the other horses. As soon as he did, he halted himself. Ian seemed happy. Teagan was shaken. The horse was too difficult for her to handle. She took a deep breath and quickly assessed herself. She was fine, really, and the horse was suddenly calm. A stronger rider could have held Ian. Her father would be able to handle him.

  Hope and Susanna had been talking when Teagan jumped, and they turned around as she reached them. They were surprised to see her right behind them. When Hope asked what had happened, Teagan had to tell them that Ian had fought her and she’d decided to let him go rather than hold him. Susanna wasn’t happy to hear that. Teagan, lying before she could stop herself, said it wasn’t a big deal.

  “He just pulled a little,” Teagan said, playing it down, although she wasn’t sure why. Ian’s bony skull had come within an inch of her face when he had tossed his head. The ratio of the horse’s power to her ability to handle him definitely favored the horse. But he would be ridden by her father. She wasn’t worried. As they walked up the hill to the barn on their horses, Susanna told them the story of when she and Robert went to look at Ian for the first time.

  Robert had been standing next to Ian, and the horse had reached over and bit
him on the arm. Robert had laughed and made an offer on the horse right there. When they loaded him on the trailer to bring him to Blue View Farm, the wife had said, “I hope you’re good riders. I’m afraid of that horse.”

  Susanna had pretended she hadn’t heard.

  Dobb

  On a Saturday, when Robert had to go into the office for a few hours, Susanna got an interesting piece of mail. It was a hand-addressed envelope, and she said it was from her old college roommate. She opened it at the table and took out a newspaper clipping. As she read it, her hand went to her mouth and she sighed deeply. Charlie looked up from his magazine. Teagan walked through the kitchen. Something about her mother and brother caused her to stop.

  “An old friend died,” Susanna said. She folded up the newspaper and read the letter that came with it. “The funeral is next week.”

  “Who was it, Mom?” Charlie asked.

  “His name is Dobb. He was my high school boyfriend. He was married and he had at least one child. A son,” she said.

  “How did he die?” Teagan asked.

  “He’s had health problems,” Susanna said.

  “What was wrong with him?” Teagan asked.

  Charlie gave her a look, but Teagan wanted to know.

  “He had stomach problems, or intestinal problems. He got injured, and he was sick a lot after that.” Susanna stuffed the letter and clipping back into the envelope.

  “Was it a car accident?” Charlie asked.

  “No. But it was really tragic. He was hunting with his brother, Mick, and they were climbing over a fence, and Mick’s gun went off accidentally, and the bullet lodged in Dobb’s stomach. It was awful. I remember he was in the hospital a long time. It really changed him. His system was just so damaged. Anyway. I’m sure it had something to do with that. His poor wife. I met her. She’s very nice. He was my year in school. You just don’t expect it.” She made a noise, a little hum, and dropped the envelope on the table and got up and walked out of the kitchen. Teagan picked up the envelope.

  “That’s Mom’s personal stuff,” Charlie said, reaching out and taking hold of it.

  “I want to read the obituary. It’s from the newspaper,” she said.

  Charlie let go and went back to his magazine, sipping a Fresca. Teagan fished out the thin, gray newspaper clipping and looked it over, but it wasn’t that interesting to her. There was no photograph. She slid the clipping back inside the card.

  “I guess she’ll go to the funeral. Do you think we’ll go, too?” Teagan said.

  “Probably not. We didn’t know him,” Charlie said.

  “I’d go though, if Mom wanted us to. Did you know about her boyfriend?” Teagan said.

  Charlie gave a one-shouldered shrug and shook his head, still reading. Teagan picked up a pencil and balanced it between her pointer fingers, the dull tip pressing into the pad of her fingertip. Then she held it vertical, aimed, and flipped it at the back of Charlie’s magazine. It hit. He frowned.

  “Teagan,” he said, and he moved the pencil to the side. “Go do something.”

  * * *

  —

  Later in the week, Teagan sought out her mother in her bedroom. It seemed that she hadn’t seen much of her mother in the past few days. She was folding sheets on the big double bed.

  “Hi,” Teagan said.

  “Hi,” Susanna said, continuing to fold.

  Teagan sat down on the opposite edge of the bed.

  “Teagan, don’t get in my way. If you’re going to do that, take this,” Susanna said, tossing the end of a sheet to her. Teagan picked it up and they folded it in half, to the side, and Teagan reached across to hand her corners to her mother. Susanna picked up a new sheet.

  “When are you going to the funeral?” Teagan asked.

  “What funeral?” Susanna said.

  Teagan was suddenly embarrassed. “Your high school boyfriend.”

  “Oh. It’s already happened. It was Monday,” Susanna said, waiting for Teagan to line up corners.

  “Why didn’t you go? Was it far away?” Teagan asked.

  “It wasn’t that. It was just we couldn’t get a babysitter for you and Charlie, and anyway, it was too expensive,” Susanna said. She wasn’t looking up.

  “Charlie and I could have stayed by ourselves,” Teagan said, a little confused.

  “No. You’re too young for me to leave you without an adult in the house. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that.”

  “I don’t think we’re too young,” Teagan said.

  Susanna took the sheet from her. “I’ll finish these. You go find something to do,” she said.

  “Why was it too expensive?” Teagan said.

  Susanna bent down and fluffed out a fitted sheet. “We’ve made a big purchase recently.”

  “The BMW?” Teagan asked.

  Her mother lined up the unruly edges of the elastic. “I need you to go somewhere else now, so I can finish this. You’re getting in my way,” Susanna said.

  Teagan walked into the hallway. The house was quiet. She decided to go to the barn.

  * * *

  —

  After she’d cleaned her saddle and bridle and girth, and her mother’s, too, she pulled Zephyr out of his field and groomed him thoroughly, just for something to do. When she turned him out again, she followed him, just to see where he would go. He stopped to sniff her, looking for food, then walked away. She sat in the field, looking out at the mountains. She wondered if it would be possible to walk in a straight line from where she was to the top of the mountain directly in front of her. She sat until the insects began to whine. When she got to the house, Charlie was watching TV on the couch.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “In her room,” Charlie said.

  “What are you watching?” Teagan said.

  “Cop show,” Charlie said. “It’s not that good.”

  “Why are you watching it?”

  “Why don’t you go bother someone else?” he said.

  “Like who?” she asked and sat down to watch the show.

  Charlie flipped through the channels during the commercials, and Teagan couldn’t stand it. She asked him to stop.

  “This is my show. You don’t have to watch it,” he said.

  “There’s no point in flipping channels if you’re not going to watch any of them.”

  Susanna emerged. “I’m going to start dinner,” she said and was gone.

  “Go help Mom,” Charlie said.

  Teagan ran up the stairs to her bedroom and lay on her bed.

  * * *

  —

  It was late when they sat down to eat dinner. Four places were set. Susanna told Teagan to eat her salad.

  “When’s Dad getting home?” Charlie asked.

  “Later,” Susanna said, picking up a forkful of lettuce.

  “I want dessert,” Teagan said.

  “I don’t think we have anything for dessert,” Susanna said. “We have fruit.”

  “Fruit isn’t dessert. Ice cream is dessert,” Teagan said.

  The kitchen door opened, and Robert walked in wearing his work clothes, khaki pants and a button-down shirt and a tie.

  Teagan leaned back in her chair. “Hi, Dad,” she said.

  “Hi, girl,” he said. He stopped at the fridge and popped open a beer and sat down. “Sorry I’m late. What are we eating?”

  “Salad on the counter. Pasta is on the stove,” Susanna said.

  Robert got up to fill his plate.

  * * *

  —

  Teagan woke to the sound of voices. She got out of bed and listened in the hallway. It was like hearing a storm coming over the mountain, the thunder rumbling and getting louder. A door slammed. Then she heard her mother yelling. Her father’s deep voice was yelling, too. Teagan walk
ed to Charlie’s door and knocked softly. He didn’t answer, but she opened the door a crack and looked in. He was sitting at his desk, the lamp on, a magazine open. She walked over to him. He didn’t look up. Something else made a loud noise below their feet, and the voices rose and fell again.

  “Charlie,” she said. Her voice shook. “Charlie?”

  “Go back to bed,” he said.

  “What’s going on?” she said.

  “Go to bed,” he said, still not looking at her. She stared at him, then walked back to her bedroom and pulled a pillow over her head.

  Phone

  Teagan couldn’t sleep. She looked at the shadows in her room. The house was quiet. She got up and looked out the window. One floodlight was on at the barn. She couldn’t see any animals. She wondered if the cats were asleep or hunting. She decided she wanted something to drink. In the hallway she heard a voice speaking softly. She walked into the kitchen and saw her dad, in jeans and polo shirt, wearing his shoes. She stood and listened to him whisper something into the telephone. He turned and saw her, and slammed the phone down.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said.

  “Me either,” he said.

  “I’m going to get a glass of milk,” she said.

  “That’ll help you sleep,” he said and left the room.

  Mornings Are Repetitive

  Barbecue sauce, chicken juices dried with oil circles at the bottom of the Dutch oven, peas shriveled in a pot on the stove, a yellow bowl crusted with salt where the potatoes had been, and plates stacked like the leaning tower stuck to a pan stuck with sauce. The forks and knives lay in a swampy grave at the bottom of the sink. I filled the carafe under the tap and then poured water into the coffeemaker. With dull fingers I fit a paper filter in the plastic cone. The coffeemaker gurgled and steamed. The coffee made, I poured it black and took greedy sips. The corners of my eyes leaked tears, because of the canyon of dishes, I thought. On the table was a notepad. Near it was a pen. I wrote, “Barbecue sauce, chicken juices dried with oil circles at the bottom of the Dutch oven, peas shriveled in a pot on the stove.”