Champion Horse (7 page)

Our job over the fences started easy and got hard. First we were to trot and canter over the smaller vertical, then to canter that same vertical, turn right, make a loop, and canter the larger vertical. Then we were to do these two, canter out, come back over the brush, turn right again, and canter down over the oxer. I saw that by the end of the lesson, we would probably be approaching each of these fences from both sides, making a course of eight jumps with lots of turns and loops. Really, it was like the day before with the poles. The jumps themselves were not terribly hard, and the turns were not tight. The ‘courses’ Peter Finneran made of these four jumps were smoother and less complicated than show courses, and there was a part of me that really liked the idea. There was not a part of Blue that really liked the idea. All of the other horses were better than he was, even the four-year-old. After the first two-jump section, for which Blue was his nervous self, Peter Finneran handed me a whip. When I took it by the handle with the lash pointing down, he took it back and turned it so the lash pointed upward. Then he said, ‘This is a whip. If your horse doesn’t go willingly to the jump, then you must actually use this implement to remind him of his job. With this animal, I think once will be enough, but you have to mean it.’

I said, ‘To mean what?’ But I knew what he wanted me to do. He wanted me to take my reins in my left hand and smack Blue a good one on the haunches as soon as he shifted his weight backwards or showed hesitation. Dad would have certainly agreed, but he would have used a quirt, not a whip. That was what the expression ‘the carrot or the stick’ was all about. If a horse didn’t understand something, then you made him understand it, either by showing him some food or giving him some pain. The problem was that I had decided in the spring, when we first got Blue, that he liked the carrot and hated the stick. I had never whipped him because I thought it would just make him more nervous. I looked Peter Finneran in the eye, and I almost said, ‘He won’t like it,’ but thinking about what he had said to the other girls, and the fact that his mind was not going to be changed by a thirteen-year-old, I nodded. Holding the whip as he had shown me, I turned Blue away from him, picked up the trot, then the canter, and went down to the jump. When Blue pricked his ears and hesitated three strides out, I brought the whip down on his right haunch, and a moment later over he went, high and fast.

Peter Finneran waved me over to him. He said, ‘Now, you do the exercises, and you make sure you carry that whip the way I showed you, so that he can see it. He’s felt it once. Maybe he’ll need to feel it again, but maybe not. But he does need to see it.’ He stared at me until I nodded.

After that we did all our jumping exercises the way we were told to do – over, turn, back, over, out and around, over, turn the other way, back, out and around. Over. Every time fast and high. When ten-thirty rolled around, I was a little surprised. I was also breathing hard, and Blue was sweating and panting. Donegal, by contrast, was cool and dry.

I saw Mom from time to time as I went around. She met me when we came out of the gate and walked with me back to the barns. She held Blue while I hosed him off, and she put his sheet on him. She gave him two carrots and fluffed up the straw in his stall. But she didn’t say a word. And when we went shopping, she let me pick my own clothes – two sweaters and two skirts, a jacket, a pair of brown loafers, and two shirts. I also tried on this A-line black-and-white geometric dress with short sleeves and a square neckline. We both really liked it, but it cost forty dollars and we could not imagine where in the world I would wear it.

When we got back to the stables in the afternoon to check on Blue and give him his hay and water for the night, Jane came running up to us and said, ‘Peter Finneran has told me, Abby, that he would like you to ride a more experienced horse tomorrow. Sophia and her dad have agreed to let you ride Pie in the Sky.’

‘That’s the chestnut?’

Jane nodded, then said, ‘You’ll do fine on him, Abby. He’s been waiting for someone like you, to tell the truth.’

I didn’t know if that was a good thing.

She must have read my expression, because she said, ‘Come out early and ride him for a bit. Sophia won’t be here until the afternoon, and if you’re going to ride him for Peter Finneran, you need to get used to him.’

I said, ‘What time?’

‘Eight would be good.’

I saw what she meant. Colonel Hawkins would not be around at eight. 

When I first saw her, Sophia had two horses, a grey mare and Pie in the Sky. The grey mare won a lot, but she was a hunter, and after getting Onyx, Sophia had decided that riding jumpers was more interesting. Also, as Jane had told me, ‘they got a nice piece of change’ for the grey mare, who ended up down in Los Angeles. Sophia didn’t seem to like Pie in the Sky, but he had won a few classes, including, Jane said, an important one at the recent show. I had seen Pie in the Sky jump several impressive courses, but I had also seen him refuse. Once he refused so sharply that Sophia slipped forward and had to grab his neck not to fall off. This did not make me want to ride him, so that night I called Danny.

He sounded kind of sleepy when he answered, but I ignored that and said, ‘Can you come to the stables and help me with Pie in the Sky?’

‘Who’s Pie in the Sky?’

‘He belongs to that girl, Sophia, who bought Black George. He’s her other jumper. I’m supposed to ride him in the clinic.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they want me to jump big jumps, I guess.’

‘I gotta work.’

‘Can you please call Jake and ask if you can get there at nine-thirty or something? I am a little scared of him. He’s tricky.’ Then I thought of something. ‘He cost them fifteen thousand dollars.’

‘He did?’

I said, ‘Mmmp,’ which I knew Danny would think was a yes. I was sure Danny would be very interested in a fifteen-thousand-dollar horse. Of course, I had no idea how much Pie in the Sky had cost, but I also thought that Sophia wouldn’t look at a cheap horse, or even a rather expensive horse. Only a
very
expensive horse would be allowed to hang around if Sophia didn’t like him.

He said, ‘Okay. Forty-five minutes. I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive out there and you’ll have exactly forty-five minutes of my precious time.’

Well, it was precious, at least where horses were concerned.

Jane, of course, had told Rodney when we would be there, and Pie in the Sky was tacked up and ready, with his own Pariani saddle, running martingale, breastplate, and jumping boots. He looked like he was about to go into battle. Rodney seemed to know perfectly well what we were doing there – he pointed to one of the far-off smaller rings and said, ‘Well, miss, I’m guessing you’ll have that spot all to yourselves.’

I said, ‘Thanks, Rodney.’

He said, ‘Watch yerself, then, miss.’ Rodney had never cautioned me before. He and Danny exchanged a glance.

But I don’t know if there was a horse that had ever made Danny nervous – and it wasn’t just because he would ride anything. It was because he wasn’t too lazy to take his time and be careful. In this case, as soon as we got to that small arena, with Pie in the Sky snorting all the way, he took all that tack off the horse and let him skitter around on his own for five minutes. Then he stepped forward and began to
direct
the skittering, so that Pie in the Sky could still be moving, but he had to move because Danny told him to, and in the direction Danny indicated. In another five minutes, Pie in the Sky was no longer skittering – he was trotting around and then cantering around, smooth, though fast, with big strides, and with his neck arched and his ears forward. Danny stepped over to him, put the bridle back on, and asked him to step under. He didn’t know what we were talking about, but he was willing. I saw that he was pretty supple, either from training or naturally; stepping under was something he could easily do.

Then Danny put the saddle back on him with the breastplate, but not the running martingale, and let him do all his moves with that darn stuff flapping all over him. He settled down. And then he did a funny thing. He turned, dropped his head, and came over to us. His face was calm and he was not looking for carrots. I petted Pie in the Sky on his bright red cheek and said, ‘What’s this all about?’

‘I think he’s saying he’s ready. It’s not like he doesn’t know what his job is.’

Danny stroked him down his neck, tightened the girth, and then cupped his hands. I went over and he legged me up into the saddle. Danny said, ‘Step him over a few times, both directions.’

This was the great Jem Jarrow lesson for all horses and riders – you lift the horse’s head to one side with the rein, and he learns to soften his back and step one hind leg across in front of the other, thereby turning his body in a small circle. It shows him where his feet are (you would be surprised how many horses have no idea where their feet are), it loosens his muscles, and it also makes him aware of the rider as someone who does something other than kicking him forward or pulling him back (or both at once). After we did this a few times, I trotted him in curving lines around the arena, asking him to change direction over and over. He did it, as I would expect him to.

It wasn’t that he had no bad habits – he stuck his nose out more than I liked, and his idea whenever he didn’t understand something was to go fast. But he felt agile and mostly willing. By the time Danny had to leave to get to work, I was as comfortable on Pie in the Sky as I was on most horses that I rode for the first time – there is always the first time. No horse feels the same as any other horse.

I took Pie in the Sky back to Rodney, and Rodney gave me a pat on the shoulder and said, ‘Yer a quiet thing, miss, but tough as an old boot, aren’t ya?’ I did not know if this was a compliment.

I went over to the big arena, where Lucy, Monica, and Penny had been joined by Nancy on Parisienne. It was after nine, so they were already going at it. Peter Finneran had his back to me, his hands on his hips. The girls were doing flat work – they were walking. But even so, Peter Finneran had plenty to say. ‘What do you girls think a walk is? A stroll? No sirree! A walk is a four-beat gait, four distinct beats. That horse needs to be saying, “I am walking, hut two three four, hut two three four.” That horse needs to soften his jaw and hinge at the poll and step out step out step out. And he needs to go straight. Lucy! Your horse is going sideways, and you don’t even know it, do you? Where is your hind end? Your horse’s hind end? Well, it is not behind you, it’s beside you! It’s going to pass you if you don’t watch out. Come over here!’

Lucy and Donegal turned and walked over to Peter Finneran. They halted in front of him, and he said, ‘Here’s a funny thing that is especially obvious on this horse. His back end is wider than his front end. It’s true of every horse, even the most delicate Thoroughbred!’ He nodded towards Parisienne. ‘No, keep walking! You can do two things at once, I hope!’ With two little motions, he made Donegal stand square, then he said, ‘If you are moving straight forward and your horse’s spine is straight, then he cannot be parallel to the rail. There are some times when I want him to be parallel to the rail – so that he is a tiny bit bent to the outside – but I want you to know the difference between parallel to the rail and therefore a little bent, and straight, therefore not parallel to the rail. Lucy, sit up, apply your legs equally, and look ahead.’ She walked a few strides, and Donegal looked straight to me. He did have large haunches, and you could see that he was a little triangular from front to back. Peter Finneran said, ‘When do you want them absolutely straight?’

Nobody dared answer. All of a sudden, he whipped around and said, ‘Abby? What do you think?’

I said, ‘Going down to a jump?’

‘Finally! Some sense! Yes. Now, I want you girls to turn your horses in a line and walk down the centre of the arena and see if you can sit up, go straight, and balance these animals.’

I backed away from the arena, and carried the bag Mom had given me of peanut butter and jam sandwiches for breakfast around the big announcer’s stand and clock stand to where Peter Finneran couldn’t see me and I couldn’t see him. But I could hear him. It was exhausting. The clock said nine-thirty. My group didn’t go until after lunch.

The morning was very dull except for one time when Jane came out of her office, saw me, and said, ‘Oh, come talk to me for five minutes. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you lately.’

The stables hadn’t stopped for Peter Finneran. He had the big arena, but other lessons were being given, trail rides were going out, and the grooms and workers were cleaning stalls, turning out horses, and otherwise tending to the stables business.

Jane had papers laid out on her desk – a map of the stables with names written over each stall. She also had a pad of paper and a stack of envelopes. I thought maybe she was making up bills or something like that. I sat down.

She went around, plopped into her desk chair, and said, ‘You know how to make sure you never ride?’

I shook my head.

‘Run a stables!’ She laughed. Then she leaned forward and said, ‘Did you ride Pie in the Sky?’

I nodded. ‘Danny helped me.’

‘He’s not a bad horse. He’s got air to spare.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I saw him jump a five-foot course one day, easy as you please. He’s got amazing spring. But they – well, anyway. I’m sure your brother had a few ideas.’

‘Pie in the Sky came right over to us when he was finished loosening up, like he was saying he was ready.’

‘They do lunge him. But he’s so valuable that they never let him play or jump around. Might hurt himself. Not my business, but it could be said that if Sophia would pay more attention to him, she might like him better.’ Then she looked at me and said, ‘When you’re going down to the jump, sit up a little. That’s all. I’ll be finished with this in time to come watch you.’

The first thing I did when we were mounted and doing our own flat work was lift the inside rein every so often, at the walk, trot, and canter, and in both directions – not enough for Peter Finneran to see, but enough for Pie in the Sky to feel and to respond to by lifting his inside shoulder and relaxing his back. When Jem Jarrow first taught me that trick, it had worked even with Rally – or Grumpy George, as he was called then – who was about as stiff in his back as a horse could be.

We did half an hour of flat work, and I could see Sophia watching me, and Sophia could see me watching her. The best thing for getting used to
another
person riding your horse (and there was still a part of me that thought of Onyx as my horse) is to watch that person riding your horse – after a while, he stops looking like your horse, and she stops looking so odd on  him. Sophia was maybe the thinnest person I ever saw, but not skinny – more like made of steel cables. She had long plaits to the middle of her back, thick and blonde, and she had big braces in a thin face. As far as I could tell, Black George – Onyx – behaved perfectly for her. But Peter Finneran acted and talked like he thought she was a mess. If he wasn’t shouting, ‘Corner, Sophia!’ then he was shouting, ‘Sophia! Please ask that horse to wake up!’ or ‘Elbows, Sophia! Bend your elbows!’ And then once we were warmed up, instead of having us trot over a jump (there were six set up, plus a long row of crossbars), he had us line up and dismount. Then, one by one, he got on each of our horses and took him or her down over a vertical, maybe three-foot-three,and four strides after that, a triple bar, a pretty high jump, maybe three-foot-six. The first one he got on was Onyx. Once he was mounted, he said to us, ‘All right. I’m going to jump the first jump the way you girls jump, and then I’m going to jump the second jump the way it should be done.’

He turned Onyx in a small circle and cantered towards the first jump. At the very last moment, Onyx made an extra tiny stride, then he jumped awkwardly, but he got over. Then he galloped to the second one, jumped perfectly out of stride, and made a small circle and came back to us. Peter Finneran said, ‘Scary, wasn’t it?’ He pointed to the triple bar. ‘Well, my heart is in my throat every time you girls head down to a fence. If your parents aren’t passing out with anxiety, they’re fools. But then, buying you these horses was pretty foolish, so maybe they are fools.’

He got off Black George and onto Eileen’s bay, then did the same thing, right down the line. Standing there watching Pie in the Sky do this, ‘chip’, did not make me want to jump anything, but I had to admit his second jump was bold and graceful. After I was back on (and I had to mount from the ground – no leg-up from Peter Finneran), he sent us to the rail again, and we practised shortening and lengthening our canter strides – eight strides short, ten strides long, seven strides short, twelve strides long, six strides short, four strides long. There was a lot of barking about where had we learned to count and what was wrong with schools today.

When we started jumping, Pie in the Sky and I had to go first. Peter Finneran pointed to one of the fence posts and said, ’You begin your canter there, and you get to that fence in four medium strides, and jump the first one, then four more strides to the second one. Easy as can be.’

I sat up, put my heels down, and did what Peter Finneran said. Four strides to the first fence was a little bouncy, four strides to the second fence was a little gallopy, but Pie in the Sky had no trouble, and he didn’t even seem to think of stopping. Each horse after me had a slightly different starting spot and a slightly different count, but we all got the job done. He nodded the first four of us through. Then for Sophia it was ‘One! Two! Three! Sophia! Where are you? You are half a stride off. That horse is a saint, the way he saves you every time! Try it again! Try it again!’ After the fourth try, all of which looked okay to me, Sophia began to look rattled. I could see that her eyes were red. Peter Finneran said, ‘Well, goodness. Go to the back of the line and ponder your sins.’

The next exercise was over a hogback set in the centre of the arena, also pretty high – gallop towards it at an angle, jump, gallop away, loop around, and come back at the opposite angle. I thought I would have to pay attention to Pie in the Sky’s canter lead, but not at all – he did his own leads. All I had to do was make sure he was level. In this exercise, Margie’s horse ran out to the right, but really, it was the easier thing to do. All Peter Finneran said was ‘Try again,’ and she did, and she jumped it. As for Sophia, I don’t know why she looked down going over the fence, but she did, and even though Onyx performed every step correctly, Sophia got yelled at for three minutes about the first thing you ever learn about riding a horse, and how looking down is falling down, and did he need to tie her plaits under her chin to remind her of the most basic rule? I almost asked Eileen if Peter Finneran had yelled at Sophia like this in every class, but I didn’t dare, because his hearing was like radar.