“Do you believe her?” River asked.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know Carla very well. I asked her if she knew a Beverly Cormack and she said yes, she had bought a horse from her many years ago. She said she didn’t know Dean had bought his horse from Beverly but that it was certainly possible. Dean is nineteen and can legally sign a contract.”
Running her hands through her short hair, causing it to momentarily stand on end, Tess said in an anguished tone, “Kids, I don’t know how they managed this, but I don’t know what I can do. The courts are on their side, no matter how unjust it seems.”
“There’s got to be something,” Sierra cried out angrily. “This is something Crystal and Dean have plotted together. She was there today, and it’s obvious that both of them are gloating with revenge.”
“But how can you prove they have done anything illegal?” Tess snapped in frustration.
No one had an answer. They parted in a damp, depressing atmosphere.
*****
Chapter 16 A Break-in
Don't be the rider who gallops all night and never sees the horse that is beneath him - Rumi
*****
“Don’t,” River mumbled, pushing away Storm’s wet nose that nuzzled against his cheek. He did not want to wake up; he didn’t want to leave the dream he had slipped into after tossing and turning into the darkest hours of the night. In his dream, Cory had returned to him and he rode bareback across a grassy field, his horse an extension of his own body and soul.
Storm emitted a soft bark and nuzzled his cheek again.
“Okay, okay.” Resentfully, he pushed Storm’s head away and rolled out of bed to face grim reality. He dressed quickly and descended downstairs, greeted by the smell of coffee. Sierra is here already. Sunday morning, it was too early for Rosa to have made the pot. But thinking of Sierra, seeing her sad brown eyes in his mind, only further caused him to want to retreat back upstairs and bury himself under covers. It was as if a fist reached inside him to grab his heart and twist and squeeze it painfully, whenever he saw her unhappy – especially when her sadness was for him. I can’t run away anymore.
After opening the door to let Storm out, he poured himself a cup of the fresh, strong coffee, and then prepared a bowl of cold cereal and somehow managed to swallow it down. He plucked an apple from a basket on the counter that Rosa kept filled, and left the lounge to begin the day’s work. He dragged his feet as he walked to the stable with slumped shoulders, trying to decide which was worse, not knowing where Cory lived with the hope of maybe he had a good home, or facing the awful truth of knowing where he lived now. He just didn’t know.
“Hi,” Sierra stepped out of the feed room where she had been filling grain buckets.
Looking at her turned down mouth and melancholy eyes; his first instinct was to turn away. Don’t, he commanded himself. Don’t hurt her more by walking away. He watched her come to him; and then wordlessly, she enfolded him in her arms, pressing herself against his chest. He found his own arms pulling her in closer. He held her so close he could feel her heart beating, and her warmth seeped into him, stirring his own heart. Why would I ever want to run away from this? I love her. They held each other for several long minutes, until several beckoning whinnies from the hungry horses broke them apart. River took his arms away, but cradled Sierra’s face and kissed her softly on her lips. Then hand-in-hand, they walked to the hay-filled electric cart to begin the morning feeding.
The gloomy atmosphere pervaded the stable as boarders arrived and heard the news. A few of them remembered Dean from last season and the rivalry between him and River; and those who didn’t know, soon heard the story as gossip flourished. River was surprised and touched by the anger and sense of injustice that he observed, even when the boarders didn’t know he was close by. At one time, he would have resented their sympathetic greetings as pity, but something had changed inside him recently. Is it because I believe Sierra cares about me? Do these people care, and does having people care about you take getting used to? Now he felt their sympathy as genuine and supportive. They were on his side. It was a very new feeling…and he liked it. Also surprising himself, he thought he would like to talk to Mrs. Montoya about these feelings. He shook his head in confusion.
Working with his assigned horses also helped, for he long ago had learned how to shut out everything around him to focus on the horse beneath him. They deserved his full attention. The time he spent in the saddle was the only time he could forget about Cory. He gave Sierra and Katrina a lesson, and again, found working with the girls who tried so hard to follow his instructions, another beneficial distraction.
After riding six horses, he was finally finished with his assignments for the day, and he still had time to work with Oberon.
The bay horse must have sensed River’s despondent mood, for he kicked out and ran off when River approached him. It was the first time he had resisted being caught since River had worked that out with him.
“You idiot,” River grumbled under his breath as he returned to the stable for a ground whip, something he had not needed for quite some time. At sight of the whip, Oberon stood and allowed River to come up to his shoulder and place the halter. But as River led him into the stable, Oberon dragged his feet and resisted the tug on the halter, so that River had to frequently flick at his hind end with the whip to get him to step up politely to follow on the lead.
In the crossties, Oberon kept his ears flat, and frequently bared his teeth threateningly as River groomed him; behaviors he had given up some time ago.
“Yeah, well I don’t much like you either,” River said in frustration, stepping back once again to push Oberon’s hind end away when the big gelding flattened his tail and humped his back, ready to kick. River struggled to maintain a patient, quiet attitude.
Maybe I should just forget about working with him today, River considered, realizing how sensitive the gelding was to his dark mood. But with the show yesterday and with extra horses assigned during his school break, he had not had time to work with Oberon for five days. The horse needed to work, and this was the last day of the break. He didn’t know if he would have time tomorrow since he would have to go back to school.
The last time Ben had come to help him with Oberon, they had spent close to an hour coaxing him to politely take a bit in his mouth. Since then, River had put him in a bit and bridle to work him on the lunge line. Although Oberon never willingly opened his mouth for the bit, he had at least stopped throwing his head when River gently slipped his fingers into the bars between his teeth to get him to open his mouth – until today. Oberon stiffened his neck and held his head high as River slipped the bridle’s noseband up over his nose and attempted to offer the bit. His patience worn to a frazzled thread, River dropped the bridle and thumped Oberon on the neck with his fist. “I had the best horse in the world, and what am I stuck with?...you.”
If you lost one of your herd, maybe you should just get him back. What kind of a leader are you?
Inside his head, River distinctly heard the words. His eyes opened wide and he sucked in a breath as he met Oberon’s eye. The gelding looked at him with an expression that River interpreted as accusing.
“You think I should get him back?” River asked, staring at Oberon. The horse turned his head toward River and lowered his muzzle. He blew out one loud snort.
Still with his eyes on Oberon, River staggered backwards and froze. The horse followed him with his eyes, lowered his head, and struck out with one foreleg to paw the mat underneath. He snorted again and fixed an eye on River.
“Oh my God,” River breathed out. Did that horse just talk to me? Am I going insane? Or did his own guilt, that he didn’t do enough to keep Corazón, just now surface; expressing what was deep in his heart? He stared at the dark bay standing quietly for the moment with all four legs square beneath him and flicking his ears instead of flattened. “Lo siento; I’m sorry,” River murmured to him, and stepped back up to stroke Oberon’s neck.
For the first time, the horse didn’t flinch at his touch. Laughing softly River said, “I just hit you and now you don’t seem to mind me touching you?” He gently stroked the fine neck a few more times, until Oberon actually took a step away. Again River laughed and said, “I guess that’s about as much human touch as you can tolerate.” He picked up the bridle and stepped into position to offer him the bit. “Shall we try this again?”
Oberon opened his mouth and allowed River to slip the bit in and pull up the bridle’s crownpiece behind his ears.
The rest of the session, Oberon’s attitude reverted to his usual begrudging obedience as River worked him on the lunge line.
But there had been those few moments where River had finally felt a connection with Oberon. And as he thought about it now, he convinced himself that what he heard in his head was his own thoughts. Nevertheless, somehow…some way…he was going to get Corazón back.
*****
“Are you doing okay?” Sierra asked from the door of the tack room where she watched River walking toward her with his eyes on the ground.
“What? Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He looked up and gave her a weak smile, and then reaching her, leaned in to kiss her once on the lips. “I’m doing okay.”
“How was Oberon?”
“Good,” he answered. He wanted to tell her all that had happened, but he needed to think about just how much he wanted to say and how to tell her so that he didn’t sound crazy. “How was your trail ride?” He knew she had been assigned Meridian for a conditioning ride.
“He was great,” she answered enthusiastically and with a genuine smile. “We cantered that stretch with the two small hills. He never lost his rhythm going downhill.”
They talked about the horses they had worked with today as they cleaned their tack, carefully avoiding the subject of Cory. Then it was time to bring horses in and feed, and somehow, they had gotten through Sunday.
“Do you want to come over tonight?” Sierra asked as they finished in the stable.
“No thanks, not tonight,” he answered but softened his refusal by taking her into his arms and holding on several long minutes before he kissed her and they broke apart. “I didn’t get much sleep last night and I’m just going to eat, shower, and go to bed.”
She nodded, understanding that River preferred to be by himself when he was down. “Okay, I’ll pick you up for school in the morning.” He walked away to the lounge and Sierra watched him a few moments before going to her truck.
Her heart ached with worry over River; and dark thoughts of Corazón pervaded her mind as she pulled into her driveway. At least this was her mother’s weekend off and Sierra looked forward to her comforting presence. Charlie bounded down the back door steps to greet her as she came around to the back side of their cottage.
“Mom,” she called out, as she entered through the utility room. In the kitchen she found a note magnet-attached to the refrigerator door – out to dinner with Ron, pizza and salad in the fridge.
“I don’t want pizza!” Sierra shouted angrily into the empty air. She slammed her backpack onto a chair, hard enough to cause it to tip backward and crash to the floor. “Mom,” Sierra wailed out loud, “I need you home…now!”
Charlie, with his tail tucked, retreated to the kitchen door and hunched down, looking at Sierra with anxious eyes.
“It’s okay, Charlie.” She tried to sweeten the tone of her voice, but she had too much anger right now to really soften her mood.
Nevertheless, Charlie cocked an ear at her, and as if he understood, slunk toward her with bowed head and tucked tail to lean against her leg; offering what comfort he could.
And it did help…some…enough that she could swallow down her rage to drop to the floor beside her dog and then, throwing her arms around his neck, sobbed into his fur.
When her tears at last dried up, Sierra sat up and as she stroked Charlie’s fur, her thoughts churned violently in her head.
Crystal and Dean wanted revenge for whatever wrongs in their twisted perceptions they thought had been committed by River and Sierra. They knew the best way to get that revenge would involve horses – hurting horses that River and she cared about. Somehow, they had come up with a plan to get possession of Cory. Sierra wondered how…how had they managed a legitimate ploy to acquire River’s horse? It was just too convenient and coincidental to not be a scam.
When her stomach growled, Sierra realized that in spite of the heavy lump residing there, she was hungry, and she hadn’t fed Charlie or Socrates yet. “Come on, Charlie,” she said with a final pat on his head and getting up from the floor. She fed him first and then filled Socrates’ empty dish. Hearing the sounds of food, Socrates trotted in from the bedroom where he had been napping on Sierra’s bed, and the two animals ate from their separate bowls companionably side-by-side.
Then Sierra fixed her own supper; a plate of salad and two slices of pizza that she didn’t bother to heat up, while she continued to sort out her thoughts.
Tess seemed convinced that her lawyer had pursued all possible legal courses to keep Cory, and there was nothing more that could be done. Whether true or not, Sierra had no idea how to go about a legal course. That left only an illegal course of action.
“Could we steal him back?” she said out loud, just after finishing her last bite of pizza. “It’s that simple.”
Well, not so simple. Sierra had never stolen anything in her life, and she had no idea how to go about stealing a horse.
But she knew where Dean lived; everyone at school knew he lived on the southern hillside; the most affluent neighborhood in Firwood. Okay, she told herself, Dean and Crystal abuse Cory, but maybe the stable hands take good care of him. If I could just see where Cory lives; if at least he receives good care when those two aren’t around…surely they don’t spend that much time around him. Maybe that knowledge would be a little comfort for both her and River. She scribbled her mom a quick note, stuffed her wallet, phone, and a small flashlight in her jacket pockets, and grabbed her keys.
It took about twenty minutes to drive to the southern hillside, and as Sierra drove past spectacular gated and tree-lined drives leading to mansions, she decided this area could hardly be called a neighborhood, for each estate and its grounds were acres away from the next. She didn’t exactly know where Dean lived, but after passing three estates, she drove by a pair of black, wrought-iron gates inside an impressive brick archway that spanned the driveway, and flanked by a six-foot tall brick wall. A bronze plaque imbedded into the right hand pillar of the arch had been engraved with the name Clark.
She turned around and drove about a tenth of a mile back, to where she had first noticed the brick wall alongside the road, and then several yards farther on, found a place where she could pull off the road and park her truck. Then she walked quickly back to the brick wall and followed where it turned the corner away from the road and stretched back up the hillside, defining the Clark estate’s border. She doubted the brick wall would surround the entire estate. She hoped to find where it ended and see what other type of fence or barrier there might be.
Sure enough, the brick wall made another right angle turn, and Sierra could see many levels of rooftops inside the wall. It appeared that the brick wall surrounded what must be a huge house and grounds.
Where the brick wall ended, a white fence of four vinyl boards stretched up the hillside. Far up the hill, she thought she could see where the fence right-angled at the back of the estate. Cross-dividing the property, several other stretches of fence created large, separated pastures. The land dipped, but she thought she could see another rooftop that she hoped might be a stable.
She glanced around the area. It was nearing dusk and no one appeared in sight. At a jogging pace, she followed the fence up the hill, hoping she could see what lay beyond where it dipped.
She reached the top of the low hill and peered down the other side. Yes! Beyond the pastures sat an attractive, large stable, an outdoor riding arena w
ith jumps set up, a long covered shed with a horse trailer and equipment inside, and two other large, closed sheds.
“Cory, are you in there?” she whispered. She glanced all around; no one in sight. Did she dare slip in between the fence boards to see if she could get closer to the stable; maybe find a window she could peek in?
Sierra was not accustomed to doing anything in which she needed to worry about ‘getting caught’. Now, her heart raced and she felt light-headed at the thought of sneaking onto the Clarks’ property. How humiliating it would be if she were discovered, especially by Dean! She began to formulate an excuse – I only wanted to visit Cory and I didn’t think Dean would let me – that sounded reasonable and it was actually the truth. Surely the worst that might happen if she were caught would be they would call her mother. She shuddered at how disappointed her mother would be, but then she thought her mother would understand once she explained. But, she supposed, the worst might be they would call the police and have me arrested for trespassing, or even accuse me of trying to steal Cory.
I’m only making this harder, she told herself. Then as the sun dropped behind the hill and the sky darkened, she decided she would wait another few minutes; wait for the sun to completely set and then she would have darkness to help conceal her.
The twilight shadows merged together into darkness, and Sierra could think up no more excuses to delay. Either do it now, or go home. With several deep breathes to try to calm her racing heart, she slipped between the fence boards and on shaky legs, made her way to the stable. As she came closer she could make out details; six Dutch doors on the long wall that had to be stalls. She reached the end corner of the stable and keeping close to the wall, tiptoed to the first set of double doors. The bottom half of the door had a conventional doorknob, and the top half, a simple latch. As she expected, the lower door was locked, but to her surprise, she was able to open the top half of the Dutch door and look inside. A horse in the stall snorted and raised its head to eye her warily. “Sshh,” she whispered as she shone her flashlight low on the horse’s body, and noting a chestnut coat, she quickly closed and latched the door, and moved to the next stall.
For The Love of Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center) Page 25