Hannah explained to him that Bird had begun to talk at a normal age. By kindergarten she was already reading and had a vivid imagination. She interacted with people. She was somewhat shy but made friends easily. Kids and animals were drawn to her. In fact, she had an uncanny ability to understand what people and animals were thinking. Then, everything had changed when she was six. Only Bird knew why.
The doctor had looked her in the eye and pronounced her an “elective mute.”
“It’s not that she can’t talk, Ms Bradley,” the doctor had said in a kind, gentle voice. “She chooses not to.” Bingo, thought Bird at the time.
Now, a small tear of self-pity dripped onto Bird’s sleeve. Her stomach was in knots. Her own mother was ashamed of her — too ashamed to call her her daughter. Suddenly the farmhouse seemed too small. Bird needed to be outside in the fresh night air, with nothing around her but the night and its noises.
SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED TOO soon for Hannah. Sleep had eluded her after her sister’s call. A little after three she’d gotten up for a glass of water and had spotted something in the field. It was the white fabric of Bird’s cotton pajamas shining in the moonlight. There she was, sleeping in the field with Hector curled up beside her and the new horse standing close by. Hannah had approached quietly, not wanting to panic the horse, but he’d been watching her from the moment she’d neared the fence. Hector sat up and thumped his tail on the ground, happy to see her. Bird jerked, settled, then stared at Hannah defiantly. Hannah couldn’t think of one good reason to bring her back to bed by force, so she retrieved a couple of heavy horse blankets from the barn and gently tucked her in. The horse never moved.
Now, in the light of day, Hannah looked out her bedroom window to see Bird dragging the blankets across the field. She looked happy.
To Bird, the morning smelled delightful. Dewy grass, clean air, horse smells, new wood from fence repairs, and mouldy horse blankets, damp with dew. I bet camp smells like this, she thought. Or home on the range, when the cowboys go out for weeks at a time to bring home the cattle. Cattle drives, they’re called. Bird breathed deeply and smiled.
Hector walked stiffly beside her, wagging his tail. After a moment, the new horse followed. Bird awkwardly managed to push the blankets over the fence, then reached to pat the horse’s face. He turned away and stuck his nose high in the air.
Bird tried once more to reach him.
Big horse, will you talk to me?
The chestnut swung his head around and looked at her passively.
Who made those cuts across your back? Who hurt you?
The horse looked startled for a brief second, then closed down again. He turned away from her and moved into the paddock to begin his day of grazing. He ignored her, but Bird could see that he was keeping her in his field of vision. She watched for a minute, pleased that she’d gotten through, however briefly. There is damage piled up in that horse, Bird thought, as she began her morning chores. And no one will get through that damage until he decides to let them.
At Saddle Creek Farm, the heavy work was done by two trusted employees, John Fraye and Cliff Jones. Daily, they mucked the stalls, scrubbed the buckets, and kept the farm looking neat and smelling fresh. They put out the horses for their turnout time wearing blankets or boots, depending on the owners’ requests. Seasonally, Cliff and John kept the lawns cut and the fields free of burrs, and plowed the driveway clear of snow. At all times, they dealt with the surprises and emergencies that were part of life on a horse farm.
Bird’s work was lighter, and she took pleasure in it. With Hector following, Bird began cleaning and filling the outdoor water troughs. Another of her responsibilities was to check gates, fences, and loafing sheds for any needed repairs. It was an important job, and one that Bird took more seriously after three horses had run down the road and almost caused an accident after she had failed to call attention to a faulty latch. “If a horse can get into trouble,” Hannah repeated time and again, “he will.” It was Bird’s daily duty to minimize the possibilities.
While she worked, John and Cliff led the horses out to the fields. Hannah’s horses were out all night in the warm summer months, but the boarders’ horses were kept inside. If the animals were to decide, Bird knew, they’d all be out in the cooler night air and inside during the heat of midday.
Duties done, Bird stretched up her arms and admired the blueness of the sky. She filled her lungs with the fresh morning air and sighed contentedly. Hector plopped down by the barn door in the sun. She knelt, ruffled his fur, then cast another glance at the new horse. The enigma.
Her eye was caught by the unmistakable figure of her aunt as she marched toward her from the house. Even from a distance, Bird could feel her stressful mood. Hannah strode up to Bird carrying a small brown paper bag. She was dressed to ride.
“I made you a bacon sandwich. You must be starving.” She held out the bag. Bird felt immobilized, uncomfortably alert to Hannah’s clipped speech and quick movements. She didn’t take it. “I’ve got to get going. Do you want to come to the show with me? I’m taking Kimberly and Jo and Peter and Melanie.”
Bird could only stare. Hannah was upset, and suddenly Bird knew why. All the joy of the day drained away as Bird recalled last night’s phone call from her mother.
Hannah spoke firmly. “Bird, answer me. Look, how am I supposed to deal with you? Do you want to come with me or not?” With a heavy heart, Bird looked down.
No, I don’t, she thought.
I want to be alone.
She glanced up and saw her aunt’s worried eyes. She felt sincerely sorry for Hannah. It’s not her fault, Bird thought, that her weird sister burdened her with a weird kid whom she now wanted to disown. I shouldn’t be so difficult. I should get my act together and go to the horse show. I could be a help. Bird looked back down at the ground and studied a line of ants as they paraded past in the dirt. But no. She felt too upset. Best to avoid the company of people today. Today, when no one was around, she would get up on the new horse’s back.
“Look, make you a deal. You’ll stay here with Cliff and John unless you’re in the truck by the time the horses are loaded. And if you decide to stay here, whatever you do, you are not to get on the new horse’s back.”
Bird looked up at her aunt quickly. Was she that transparent?
Hannah thrust out her arm and dropped the paper bag with the sandwich. Bird caught it. Hannah smiled briefly. “Good reflexes.”
A short while later, Bird watched as Hannah pulled away with the rig, four horses safely aboard. “Saddle Creek” was emblazened in green, grey, and red on the sides of the white truck and trailer. Saddles, bridles, boots, wraps, and grooming kits were stowed in the tack room at the front of the horse trailer, as well as a safety box fitted out for every possible emergency.
Two cars followed. One with Jo’s mother driving Jo and her best friend Melanie, and one with Peter and his mother. Kimberly always met them at the shows, a subject of discussion at the barn as this left the preparations up to Hannah.
Bird climbed on the fence to eat her bacon sandwich and watch the new horse. Hector had moved from his usual position at the barn door to lay on the ground at her feet. He kept one big brown eye on Bird’s sandwich, hoping for a spill.
I’m happy you stayed.
I’m happy to spend time with you, Hector. Bird leaned down to rub his soft yellow head.
Can I have a bite?
You had your breakfast. This is mine.
It’s going to be an unhurried day, she thought. Good. Lots of time to sit and understand this horse. Bird felt her sadness fade away as she ate and watched. She loved how the sun danced on the horse’s coat. She admired his motion. He moves gracefully, like a dancer, she thought. And he’s the orangey colour of the sunset. That’s it. I’ll name him Sundancer — Sunny for short. Even though there’s a darker side to him, too. He’s a veiled horse, like the wild mustangs of the ancient Indians. A mystery horse with hooded eyes and many secrets — secr
ets that even Paul Daniels doesn’t know.
Unfortunately, what Paul Daniels did know was shocking.
He’d told them that, one time, Sundancer had been in a trailer accident. Because of a faulty hitch and rusted undercarriage, the horse trailer came loose from the truck on the highway. Unguided, it smashed into a hillock on the side of the road, knocking the horse from his feet and sending him sliding under the chest bar. He was lucky. Had the trailer gone into the two lanes of fast-moving traffic, things could have been much worse. As it was, Sundancer survived with nasty scrapes and a lifelong distrust for trailers.
Another time, as he was being led down the road behind another horse, he pulled free and began to gallop away, dragging a long rope. He ducked in behind a farmhouse, jumped a hedge into the back garden, and leaped out over another hedge. Unfortunately, that second hedge sat at the edge of the Niagara Escarpment, the rocky ridge that runs through the Niagara peninsula. The landing was thirty feet down into big rocks. Again, he was lucky, because if he hadn’t stopped rolling there, he would have gone a hundred feet more. That time his injuries almost killed him.
Sundancer had many idiosyncrasies, too, that Dr. Daniels mentioned. Some were obvious, like his dislike of trailers and his fear of heights. Others were harder to understand.
He always assumed that a person was going to hit him with whatever they were carrying, be it broom, water bucket, pitchfork, or hairbrush. He was suspicious of everyone. The first of his nine trainers tried to desensitize his nervous nature with noises, pokes, and slaps, all of which led to a fear of surprises. Sundancer took to hiding in his stall, shaking, anticipating the next scare. He scooted alarmingly fast when touched on his sides. He had a penchant for running away, as well. No fence had been high enough or strong enough to keep him in. Bird wondered if Sundancer would run away from them. More likely it was a matter of when.
Bird gave Hector the last bite of her sandwich and wiped away the crumbs. She waited for the man who’d come up behind her to speak.
“Hello there, Bird.”
Bird didn’t look around. She knew it was Paul Daniels by the feel in the air. His aura, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was good — safe and intelligent.
She also sensed that his son, Alec, might be sitting in the car. She glanced over quickly to sneak a peek. Yes. There he was. So far, he hadn’t moved to come out. That was good. Bird always got agitated when he was around. It wasn’t Alec’s fault. It was just that Bird had always had a bit of an interest in him. He was his own person and had his own thoughts, unlike the other boys in her class who ganged up to make fun of her. Bird thought he was cute, although that wasn’t the common view. He wasn’t the most popular guy at school, and he got into trouble for asking too many questions, but Bird liked him just the same.
“Good looking horse, isn’t he? Have you named him yet?”
Paul knew that Bird never spoke, but he always tried. Bird appreciated his efforts to treat her like a normal human being. It was more than most people could manage.
“I was glad when your aunt said she’d take him in. Didn’t know where else to try. Didn’t even have a second choice. I thought of Abby Malone because she’s so good with problem horses, but she’s going off to school in New York next month, and good for her. She’s worked hard for it.” Bird could hear the smile on the vet’s face.
“Is he settling in?” Paul sat on the fence beside Bird. Not too close. Just the right distance. “Sure looks it. Horses like it here. They settle in faster here than anywhere else I know.”
They sat in silence for a while, both engrossed in the new horse.
“I don’t know why I saved him, Bird. I’ve never done this before.”
Bird found herself looking at the man beside her. Dr. Paul Daniels had a quiet, leathered, handsome face and a relaxed, lanky body. He was old. Probably as old as Hannah. Over forty at least. Most of all, though, he was a person she could trust, if she ever needed to trust someone.
Paul turned to meet her eye, and Bird could see acceptance in the vet’s face. She didn’t look away. She met the man’s gaze and held it until they both turned back toward the field at the same time.
Sundancer suddenly lifted his head in a fluid motion and stared at the driveway. Hector began to bark. A silver sedan stopped at the kitchen door and a nice-looking man in a golf shirt and khakis got out. He slammed the car door shut and walked to the house, combing his fingers through his short greying hair, oblivious to the man and the girl on the fence.
As he was about to knock, Paul called out, “Hi there, Stu. Come to see Hannah?”
Stuart Gilmore, the elementary school principal, spun around. “Paul! Didn’t see you there.” He walked toward the fence with a warm smile on his face. “Hello, Bird. I came to speak to your aunt about school this fall. She called yesterday and left a message.”
His demeanor was more energetic than the vet’s. He moved with a slight self-consciousness and some other tension that she couldn’t quite define. Ah, yes, she thought, suppressing a grin. He was here with bad news about school. Good.
“Is Hannah here?” Stuart spoke to the vet, not to Bird.
“Don’t know,” answered Paul. “Her truck’s gone. She’s likely off to a horse show with some of her students. Right, Bird?”
Bird nodded.
Stuart looked at his watch. “I was hoping to catch her. I guess I’ll have to call in later tonight.”
The rush of confused emotions emanating from Paul Daniels was so strong that Bird almost fell off the fence. Jealousy. Hmm.
“I was thinking of stopping by the fairgrounds.” The vet climbed off the fence and stood to his full height. “I’ll tell Hannah that you were by.”
Well, well. The vet liked Hannah and saw the principal as competition. Interesting. Bird couldn’t quite figure out why Dr. Paul would bother. As far as she knew, Hannah wasn’t interested in romance. He was wasting his time.
She chanced another quick look at Alec. He was listening to music through his earphones, gyrating in the front seat and singing along to a wild tune that only he could hear. He caught Bird looking and stopped dead. He gave her a sweet, crooked smile and an apologetic shrug.
Bird grinned. Then, because she felt happy, she mimicked the way he’d been moving around and throwing his head. She was stopped cold by the surprised look on his face.
He thought she was making fun of him! Bird was mortified. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings or make him feel stupid. She wanted to hide in a dark hole and never come out. Head down, she ran for the house.
2
BIRD
I am not vicious, but I have a mean streak from my grandfather on my mother’s side.
Bird waited until Cliff and John finished their Saturday morning chores and took off for breakfast at the Coffee Bean Cafe. Then she slipped out the kitchen door and climbed over the fence into the front field. In one back pocket of her jeans was a vial of WonderDust; in the other some apple slices. She deposited a plastic bag containing a brush, comb, and hoof-pick on the ground beside the fence.
Her plan was simple: gain his trust, disinfect his wounds, groom him, then get on his back. She had about an hour before the men returned. Plenty
of time. Horses generally took to her right away, but this one was different. Some time alone would surely help.
She watched for a few minutes, then approached the new horse with confidence. Sundancer. That’s your name, better get used to it. And you’d better get used to me, too. I’m not going away.
The gelding lifted his head gracefully and looked at Bird. Then he casually turned his back. Bird walked around him in a wide arc and faced him again.
Let me fix your cuts, Sundancer. They’ll hurt if they get infected.
The horse turned his back again and took ten steps in the opposite direction. Bird followed, positioning herself so that he could see her peripherally. Not wanting to seem threatening, she avoided making eye contact by keeping her head tilted down.
Every time the horse moved, Bird moved, too. If he turned right, Bird would counter, turning him left. If he turned around, Bird would circle him to make him face the other direction. A slow dance, thought Bird, but at least I’m leading. She had seen Hannah perform this exercise with countless horses. It required patience, but eventually the animal would give up and allow himself to be caught. Out of boredom, if nothing else.
Time for the apple, Bird thought. She stretched her hand toward Sundancer, palm upward, with an apple slice on it. The horse looked insulted. He snorted and trotted away. Bird couldn’t help but laugh. He’d just let her know that he couldn’t be bought. This was going to be interesting.
Bird placed all the apple slices on the ground in a little pile and stepped back. She waited as Sundancer grazed his way over, then greedily munched up the apple bits, never taking his eye off her. He ate every one and looked for more. This was more like it.
I gave you the apple pieces, now can I put this powder on your cuts? It won’t hurt.
Suddenly Sundancer reared up, forcing Bird to jump back. The horse spun and dropped back to earth, then trotted away. As he moved across the field, Bird admired his fluidity. His shoulder action was tremendous, with his front hooves flicking out firmly before hitting the ground. His hind end powered his forward movement, and with no discernable effort he was across the large paddock and circling back at a canter.
He carried his head level with his shoulders, and his elegant neck was arched and muscular. Bird watched, transfixed, until she realized that he was coming towards her with his ears flat and his eyes cruel. He was rapidly gathering speed. It looked for all the world like he was going to mow her over.
Sundancer Page 2