Glass Girl

by Kurk, Laura Anderson

  Then he disappeared to the back of the barn and, after a minute, he reemerged leading a beautiful tall brown horse with a large white patch that covered its hindquarters. Inside the patch were dozens of brown spots. His face was beautifully mottled with brown and white. I smiled and tried to breathe normally. This was the most beautiful horse I’d ever seen. I couldn’t quit staring.

  Henry saw my smile and quietly answered my silent questions. “He’s mine. His name’s Ben—he’s an Appaloosa gelding. I bought him a couple of years ago from an Arapaho breeder. Best horse I’ve ever had; he can run like nobody’s business.”

  He patted Ben and gave him a handful of oats. He grabbed a bag and shoved two bottles of water in and hung it from Ben’s saddle.

  Then he stepped over to an old wooden cabinet next to the barn door, opened it and pulled out his coat. He held it up and inspected the front and back of the coat. Then he reached into a drawer, dug around, and pulled out a pair of worn leather gloves. He brought the coat and gloves to me.

  “You’re going to want these. You’ll freeze without them.” He slipped his coat on me and held a glove out for me to put my hand in. His coat smelled like hay and Henry. I wanted to keep it.

  “These are the smallest gloves in the barn—and the cleanest. Will they work okay?” He looked embarrassed as he put the other one on my hand.

  “They’re fine. Thanks, Henry. I should have come better prepared. What will you do without a coat?”

  “I’ll borrow James’ coat,” he said, shrugging easily. “Are you hungry, Meg? We might be gone a while.”

  “I packed some sandwiches and water for both of us in my backpack,” I said.

  “Perfect. Thanks for thinking of that.” He smiled like he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind.

  James grabbed a stool and placed it next to Trouble and then smiled at me. “Okay, Meg, time to saddle up,” he said. He held his hand out for me to take, and I bravely stepped up on the stool. “Just put your left foot in the stirrup, grab the saddle horn and swing your right leg over.”

  I glanced at Henry and saw the smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He was definitely enjoying this; in fact, the whole crowd was watching now, probably taking bets on how many bones I would break when I flung myself up one side of this horse and then fell down the other. I forced myself to take a breath, and then I stuck my foot into the stirrup and kicked my leg over. It wasn’t so bad. I landed in the saddle and it made the best creaking sound in the world when it moved under me. I was on a horse—an actual living horse. I reached down and stroked Trouble’s beautiful, strong neck. He blew air out of his nose quickly, and I jerked back in reaction, making Henry and James chuckle.

  “He’s just telling you he likes you, Meg,” said Henry, in a calming voice. “He’ll make all kinds of noises you’ve never heard but he’s the gentlest guy we’ve got. You’re gonna love him before we get through.”

  “What kind of horse is he?” I asked, trying to sound unruffled.

  “He’s an American Morgan,” said Henry. “He’s fifteen years old. Don’t let his name scare you. He’s never been a day of trouble in his life.”

  Henry walked over to me and grabbed my left foot and held it. Then he started adjusting the stirrup. He did the same for my right foot, murmuring the whole time to Trouble. I watched him, mesmerized. Then he stood up and took both of my wrists in one of his hands. He put the reins into my left hand and turned my hand so that my thumb was up. Then he gently pulled my hands and the reins to the right.

  “Tell him to go right like this,” he said quietly, so only I could hear. He pulled to the left and said, “This tells him to go left.”

  He pulled back on the reins until Trouble argued and dipped his head down. “That tells him to stop. If he starts eating grass on the trail, pull his head up hard. We don’t want him to because it makes him think he can stop and eat anytime. He’s supposed to remember that he’s working.”

  He patted Trouble forcefully on the neck and told him to be a gentleman, and then he took two long strides and pulled himself up onto Ben without any effort at all. Henry on a horse was a force to be reckoned with. He could star in any western that Hollywood dared to put out. He and Ben looked so perfect together; my heart ached with the beauty of it.

  He caught me staring and his eyes smiled. “You ready, Meg?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I said, trying to sound relaxed, but I knew as soon as Trouble moved, I’d be hanging on for dear life.

  Henry clicked his tongue and Ben eased forward out of the barn. Trouble followed without question, and he had a slow, gentle gait. Henry sat almost sideways in the saddle with his right elbow resting on his left thigh so that he could watch me and Trouble. His forehead was creased and his eyes were serious. He didn’t want me to know, but I could tell he was trying to decide if he was going to regret putting me on a horse once we reached the trail. I sat up a little taller and met his eyes with as stubborn a look as I could muster. An amused smile flickered across his lips.

  “Aren’t you gonna pony her?” James yelled with his hands up in question.

  “Nah, she’ll be okay,” answered Henry, still meeting my eyes and smiling. “If Trouble decides Meg’s not the boss, I’ll pony her.”

  “Pony me?”

  “I’ll take your reins from you and lead Trouble myself,” he explained. “It won’t be necessary, I don’t think. Just remember Trouble is bigger than you so you need to be forceful enough to let him know you’re in charge. We usually only pony little kids, although I think even they have more experience than you.”

  Trouble whickered loudly; I jumped and both of us laughed.

  We headed onto a dirt trail that seemed to have been carved from years of horse travel. There were large, smooth rocks everywhere, and Trouble’s graceful footing amazed me. He rocked me from side to side, and I figured out quickly the allure of horse riding. It was so relaxing. I leaned down and patted Trouble’s neck. “Good boy,” I said. I glanced up and caught Henry looking pleased.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, looking around me for the first time.

  “We’re headed over to the Arapaho trail. We’ll take it to the top of one of the smaller peaks in the foothills so you can see the valley. You’ll be able to see the rivers, and Chapin, and probably some wildlife.”

  He turned into a tour guide for a second. “Did you know aspen bark is a painkiller? Indians used it as medicine. We think animals bite it when they’re in labor, too.”

  Trouble veered awfully close to an aspen tree, and I watched it nervously.

  “When he does that, just reach out and push yourself off the tree. He’ll step aside. Hey, rub your hand on the bark when you get near enough and look at the powder on your hand. It’s supposed to be a natural sunscreen.”

  I rubbed the tree bark and then examined the white coating that it left on my hand. I rubbed a little on my nose and Henry laughed.

  The horses ambled slowly down a hill and I heard a river spilling softly over rocks.

  “We’re going to cross the river where it’s low up here. The horses are used to it. Sometimes they’ll stop to drink.”

  We made it to the water, and Ben headed in without pausing. It wasn’t deep here and Ben stopped and kicked at the rocks for a moment. Trouble followed and stepped over the large rocks. He stopped in the middle and took a long drink. He seemed to find this place acceptable and decided to stay.

  “Give him a little kick with your heels,” called Henry.

  I tried but nothing happened.

  “You have to actually kick him, Meg,” he laughed. “He didn’t even feel that. You can’t hurt him with your little feet. I don’t much approve of spurs, but I’m going to have to strap some on you, if you can’t make him move.”

  I kicked as hard as my conscience allowed and Trouble picked up his feet again. I leaned down to his neck and quietly apologized.

  We began climbing now and the trail wound into a thick forest of p
ines, making the day seem darker and quiet. The ferns on the ground were lush and green and the rocks were covered with a dark mossy carpet. I saw one large boulder with a small pine tree growing right out of the top of it and I stared at it, trying to figure it out. The little tree was pathetic, like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. How could something so weak push through the middle of a rock?

  “It’s a brave little tree, isn’t it?” Henry said when he saw me staring. “It has no idea how impossible that is. It just knows it’s got to keep pushing up. The boulder’s split, and that tree found a way through the tiny crack. When I was a kid, I’d sneak into this forest with a tent and camp out next to that rock. You’re not actually supposed to camp in here—it’s on the reservation. I loved it. Never knew when I might meet a bear or a Shoshone. I wouldn’t build a campfire because that would’ve gotten me caught. So, I’d eat sandwiches that I’d made at home and climb in a sleeping bag with my flashlight. I’d read and listen to the forest until I fell asleep.”

  “Did your parents know where you were?”

  “Yeah, my dad’s the one who told me to do it. Wanted me to have adventures and be a man and all that. The only time I got in trouble was when I camped out on a Saturday night and didn’t show up for church Sunday morning. You’d have thought I had killed a man. Dad made me double up on chores and lead singing at church for a month. It’s not a good memory.”

  I chuckled at the thought of an adorable young Henry leading singing in front of a congregation. “How old were you when you started working on the ranch?”

  “I started painting fences and mucking stalls when I was four,” he grinned. “I got a hardship driver’s license when I was eleven so I could drive between our tracts of land to deliver supplies to my dad.”

  “Are you going to stay here and take over the ranch one day?”

  “Well, it’s mine if I want it. It’s in my blood. I love it, Meg. One of these days, I’ll be foreman for my dad. But I’d like to see some of the world before I take it on.”

  “What about college?”

  “Yeah, there’s college, too. I just found out I got early acceptance to the University of Wyoming. I plan to accept but delay entering for a year. I’ve been asked to help out with something before I go to college and I think I’m going to do it.” He threw a look back at me to gauge my reaction.

  “Do you mind my asking what it is?” What could be important enough to delay college for a year?

  “My oldest sister and her husband run an orphanage in Nicaragua. They went as missionaries several years ago and fell in love with the kids at this place. The man that was running it needed to come back to the States because of his health. He asked Kate and John to take it over.”

  “And they want you to move there for a year?” I could barely hide my disappointment.

  “Well, they started building a new dorm last year and the contractor took off without finishing it. They want me to use some of the locals and finish the dorm. And they want a fence built around the property, and a couple of other minor building repairs done. They’re convinced it’ll change my life. I’ve visited them a couple of times and it does have a way of getting into your heart. Those kids have nothing. One meal a day—that’s all the orphanage can give them—but to them it’s like Christmas every day. They’re so grateful for anything you do for them.”

  We were quiet for a few minutes. I told myself I had no right to be sad about this. This was his life! I had no claim on him. But I realized that I didn’t want him to leave.

  “I’ll miss you, Henry,” I said, quietly. “It sounds like a great thing to do, though.”

  “You should definitely come down to visit,” he answered, smiling now. “You’d want to bring those little babies home with you if you could see them. They would fall in love with you, Meg.” He stared at me, trying to read my mind. I was worrying about the little hungry babies in Nicaragua.

  “Hey, do you hear the waterfall?” he asked.

  I listened closely and I did. “How far away is it?”

  “Ten minute ride,” he said. “Look at the meadow down there. Can you see the wagon ruts? People heading west would camp in that meadow. A major trail came right through here.”

  “I can’t believe that! How are the tracks still there?”

  “Hundreds of wagons came through here and followed the same trail. They packed this old hard dirt down, and now the meadow is protected so nothing ever comes through there to mess up the ruts. You can’t get off trail here, even on a horse.”

  “I’m totally blown away by that.” I stopped Trouble and stared at those wagon ruts. I thought about the families who were hopeful and terrified as they came through here. They were losing their loved ones to illness and to Indians, all to find a better life, or gold, or whatever the draw was. I can remember reading about how they would have to bury their babies that died, and then move on down the trail without looking back, without the hope of ever seeing that little mound again. I was stuck on that depressing thought for weeks in seventh grade history. I even wrote a term paper on how babies died on the trail. Finally, Mr. Diehl reminded me that some good things came out of westward expansion. It wasn’t all about the dead babies.

  Henry called back to me. “The Shoshone camped all through this area. You can find arrowheads everywhere. This was their summer campground. They would cross to their winter camp by climbing over the Owl Creek range, pretty much the same way we’re going.”

  The scenery made me breathless. The aspens quaking, the grass blowing in waves below us, the sound of the waterfall, the mountains ahead of us, and best of all, Henry ahead of me on Ben. I wanted it to last, but Henry clicked his tongue and Ben and Trouble started walking.

  We were climbing a steep grade now. The climb seemed effortless for the horses. Their heads ducked with each step as they used their necks and backs to lift. I leaned forward, close to Trouble’s neck, trying to help. He breathed slow and easy.

  We doubled back on the trail and suddenly we were standing on a cliff that overlooked a narrow waterfall dropping several stories to the rushing river below. The spray was cold and I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of the mist coming off the waterfall. The falls were so loud, they blocked out all other sounds.

  Henry slid off Ben and picked up a rock to throw in. I watched the rock disappear in the water. He opened his saddle bag and took out two waters. He twisted the cap on one and handed it to me. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until I heard the sound of the waterfall. He drained his water in a couple of long gulps and then distracted himself with throwing rocks. This place was such a part of Henry. He was able to just be; he knew there was nothing he could add to the beauty of it all—so he stayed quiet and let me soak it all in.

  Beauty is a funny thing—most people can stop at an overlook, take in the vista, and drive on to the next one, while they wonder what kind of sandwiches are packed in their ice chest and if they’ll pass a picnic area soon. Me—I lose all sense of my place in the scheme of things when I’m surrounded by beauty. I can’t stand back and look objectively; the beauty pushes into my pores and fills up my brain until I’m dizzy.

  “Let’s keep going,” Henry called. “We can have lunch at the top of the trail.”

  He checked my stirrups and saddle, took my water bottle, and then threw himself back in his saddle, with a movement that seemed altogether fluid. We continued on the trail quietly. When we reached the top of the trail, Henry and Ben stopped and we looked around us. I could see a canyon so many miles away. I could see the other peaks in the range, with several visible waterfalls. A whole community of tiny ground squirrels and chipmunks ran around through the rocks. A hawk circled far above us, and the wind blew so hard I was thankful for Henry’s coat.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Henry asked.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “I could eat. But I could also stay right here forever. I’ll follow your lead.”

  “There
’s a rock shelter down the trail about five minutes from here. That’ll get us out of the wind and we can eat lunch.”

  He kicked Ben into a slow start and Trouble followed obediently.

  After a minute, I saw the shelter—a cliff overhang that looked like a hollow rock in the side of a hill. Henry jumped down and tied Ben to a nearby tree. He walked over to Trouble and held his arms up like he wanted me to jump.

  “Are you waiting for me to jump?” I asked.

  He laughed. “No, just swing your right leg over behind you and I’ll take it from there.”

  I swung my leg over, and before I had time to adjust, Henry lifted me off Trouble. He set me down gently and made sure I was steady before he let go.

  “Okay?” he asked. “Sometimes your legs can feel like they’re gonna give way when you’re a new rider.”

  “Not that you would know, though.”

  “No,” he chuckled. “Not that I would remember, anyway. Let me tie up Trouble and then we’ll eat.”

  Ben neighed loudly and Trouble snorted and pawed at the ground. I wondered about the joke they just shared. I’m pretty sure they were laughing at me. Henry took my backpack from me and started walking up a narrow trail. We used tree roots as stairs to climb a steep incline. He pointed out a path to the shelter and took my elbow to steady me. We climbed a huge boulder carefully and then Henry dropped down onto the rock where we’d eat. He put down my backpack and then reached up to lift me down.

  In the rock shelter, I couldn’t feel the wind and I wasn’t nearly as cold. The afternoon sun shone directly onto our rock, and the world seemed eerily quiet now after the noise of the wind was gone. Henry spread out the blanket that he had behind his saddle. We sat down and I handed him a sandwich and water.

  “Thanks. I’m starving.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ve never seen anything like this place.”

  “I knew you’d love it. I knew you’d see it for what it is. Seems like a lot of times the people who grow up here get jaded. I wake up every day wanting to see it all again. And it’s cool to watch your face, seeing these mountains for the first time. Of course, you’re getting a better tour than our average customer.” He smiled and handed me another blanket that must’ve been behind my saddle. “Put this around you so you don’t freeze.”