Dante of the Maury River (23 page)

“Stop,” Mrs. Straff barked. “Stop, stop, stop. All you’re doing is pulling his head down.” That new trainer really got after Ashley. She came right up beside me, grabbed Ashley’s leg, and pressed it into my side. “His movement needs to come from your leg and his hind end.
Never
seesaw. I want you to try that circle again, and this time use your leg to push him forward and into your outside hand. I don’t want to see you turning with the inside hand.”

I picked up a very intense sensation of heat from Ashley’s face and, sure enough, that first tear to hit my neck liked to singe my coat. By then, teardrops for Ashley were becoming as routine as peppermints for me. We were a pair of highly talented, high-maintenance athletes, all topsy-turvy and out of sync. But we didn’t quit.

Again moving me into a trot, I felt Ashley press her leg against me, asking me to move differently. Ignoring this because I didn’t care for it a lick, I trotted the circle with my head up and moved my legs faster.

Mrs. Straff shouted, “Ashley, you have spurs. Use them. He’s just running out from under you.”

She pressed her spur into me, and I tossed my head. What on earth was Ashley doing to me? She didn’t back off, and after tossing my head and kicking out a couple times, I launched into a series of teeny-tiny bucks. Tit for tat, because that really hurt, Ashley needed to stop, and this was not part of our bargain. When she didn’t stop, I came up with more force. Not quite a lift and hurl, but close.

“Dante!” Ashley screamed.

“I can see he has never been in front of or responsive to your leg. Make him keep going forward.”

The spurs returned, and, trust me, I was done with that. I stopped and did something I hadn’t done in quite some time.

I reared.

And I reared, and I reared.

I came back to the ground snorting and all fired up and foaming at the jowls. Pretty quickly, though, I felt ashamed, for I could feel Ashley up there in the saddle shaking like December’s last lone sycamore leaf shivering and quivering over the Maury River.

I knew she was going to get those spurs off of me sooner or later. Sooner, I hoped. I figured we’d make up when we were eye to eye, after she apologized. I really didn’t, and still don’t, like pointy things.

Suddenly, Ashley smacked my rump with her crop, an accessory she had often carried but never utilized. And with an attitude I’d never heard from her before, she said, “Get on, Dante.”

Her tone smarted about as much as the whip. There was no getting through to her. All around the circle, she pushed me with her leg and voice and one more tap with the crop. Her hands held the bit on the outside, and she pressed her legs to turn me.

Here’s the big surprise. Mares-in-heaven, the bit had never felt so good in all my life.

I chewed and moved my mouth around on the bit, and as Ashley relaxed little by little, so did I. My back was swinging loosely with every step, and I pushed myself forward on every stride. Ashley’s back straightened, and her leg encouraged and aided me.

I can truly say that for half a circle, we floated. Just like swimming in the river. And then her leg came off, and her hand stayed on. Feeling the support leave, I immediately walked, then stopped.

Everybody stood there in stunned silence. Ashley and I most of all. We were shocked by what we had felt, and our teachers were surprised by what they had seen.

“Well, Isbell. You didn’t tell me he could move like that,” said our dressage sergeant, Mrs. Straff. To Ashley and me, she said, “You passed the first test. Let’s keep working.”

I
’ll admit I was surprised the next morning when Ashley actually showed up for our second dressage lesson, this one with Mrs. Maiden.

Of course, I liked Ashley a lot. She was a good rider. Willing, eager, and obedient.

That’s right, obedient. Up until our meeting with Mrs. Vera Straff, Ashley always did what I asked and what I wanted. She let me decide and never gave me an ounce of trouble at all. Sure, every now and again she’d swat me on the rump or the shoulder. Once, I mistakenly stomped her foot. She apologized.

“Oops, sorry, Dante. Move, please.”

No complaining from her at all. For the most part, she also was a balanced rider. I never had to worry much about her coming off me. Her legs stayed steady and even. Looking back, I can say that the problem wasn’t only Ashley, but it wasn’t all me, either. It was us together.

After weeks and weeks of practice on the flat, Ashley and I still struggled. Mrs. Maiden framed the trouble exactly.

“Ashley, do you have any idea why I put a stop to you and Dante in jumpers for now?”

All too fast, Ashley checked out. “No, ma’am.”

Even I had learned around Mrs. Maiden that you had to at least pretend to try. If a student complained too much about the heat or the cold or being tired or sore, Mrs. Maiden would say, “Take my advice: fake it till you make it.”

Ashley should have heeded those words.

Now, Mrs. Maiden didn’t get too riled up. She didn’t raise her voice or flap her arms, but the tone in her voice turned as chilly as dawn in December. A sure-enough reminder that winter had arrived.

Mrs. Maiden asked the question again. Pretty clearly giving Ashley a second chance. Mrs. Maiden liked to give everybody a second chance. “Think about it. Why would I ask you to stop jumping?”

Ashley shrugged.

Uh-oh, Ashley
, I thought.
There’s nothing Mrs. Maiden hates worse than not even trying
.

Ashley stood to my left, her posture drooping and her eyes avoiding. I snapped her with my tail to wake her up a little bit.

She looked at me and smiled. “Stop, Dante.”

I stomped my foot, and she laughed.

“Here’s exactly why. Who’s in charge of this situation?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, who is making the decisions out there?”

Nothing from Ashley. Not an eyebrow lift, not a chin tilt, not half an answer lodged in her throat nor a cough to bring it up and out and into the open.

“Dante, your horse, is in charge,” Mrs. Maiden said, and did she ever sound frustrated. “You’re letting him make the decisions. He’s happy to do it, most of the time, but I’ll tell you right now, there’s nothing more dangerous.”

Ashley sure raised her eyebrows then.

“You need to be the leader. You’re a good little rider, but you need to get smarter. You give up too much. Your horse tries to help you out. He’ll jump, all right. Long, short, he’ll find some kind of spot, somehow or another. But that’s not fair. You have to help him.”

Ashley’s bottom lip started a-quivering, and Mrs. Maiden softened her eyes.

“Why in heaven’s name are you crying? This is nothing to cry over. You just have some work ahead of you.”

So, we got to working. Ashley came back, and we practiced until the ride was second nature to both of us.

Twice a month, Mrs. Straff drove across the mountains to get after us for a good solid hour. Most days, Ashley and I walked around so sore that we both needed lotions and ointments to ease the deep pain in our muscles.

Finally, after much consultation and after hundreds of circles and transitions, changes of rein, and straight center lines, Mrs. Maiden and Mrs. Straff agreed it was time to ride our first official test: Introductory Level Test A.

Back to walk-trot, but this time with focus and rhythm and roundness. We hoped.

By then, a new year had opened up and, with it, the hope of knowing beyond certainty that even though I was not a champion racehorse, I would have a forever home at the Maury River Stables. I had just turned eight and was embarking on a second career.

For my first dressage outing, we’d trailer over to Tamworth Springs to try to redeem ourselves.

“If you see that mule Molly, tell her I said she’s a real stinker, and she’s got long ears,” Napoleon said.

Turns out, the Belgian had practically been raised by the Tamworth Springs mule. He came to her defense. “She’s like a mother to me,” Macadoo said. “She taught me everything I know about Saddle Mountain and the river.”

Napoleon taunted him. “You’re quite a clumper yourself, Mac.”

I left the two of them swapping insults and chasing each other around the field. And enjoying every stride, by the looks of it.

At our first dressage show, Ashley did her job before tacking me up. Peppermints and longeing ruled the day, and we took plenty of time in the practice arena.

Mrs. Maiden, Dana, and Claire drank hot chocolate and watched us warm up. Everyone was in good spirits, including Ashley and me. We’d put in a lot of hours and effort, and today was our day to shine.

I thought our outing would be a cinch, because no single component of the dressage test we planned to ride at Tamworth Springs presented a challenge. Matter of fact, the whole purpose of the introductory level was to give horse and rider a taste of the sport. Our job in Intro Test A was to show the judge how well we could move forward with a good, steady tempo, both keep our balance, and show that we could ride the pattern. Technically, not much to this one: free walk, medium walk, working trot, twenty-meter circle, and halt through the walk. Not a problem, as Napoleon liked to say.

The judge sat in a truck with the engine running, keeping warm, at the top of the arena. I could hardly make out her face. When she was ready for us, she honked the horn, then Ashley put her leg on to ask for a working trot. We circled the outside of the ring once, entered at the trot, and halted square, facing the truck where the judge waited to evaluate our every move. Ashley bowed her head and extended her right arm down through her fingertips in a formal, crisp dressage salute.

Throughout the entire test, Ashley didn’t speak. She wasn’t allowed to make any noise. She had to do all her talking with her spurs, her seat, and her hands. We didn’t keep ourselves in that good river-floating place for every step of Intro A, but we had some smooth moments where we moved like the Maury. With the final halt and salute, Ashley broke her silence. “Good boy, Dante.” She patted my neck, and our Maury River Stables family clapped politely. Dressage folks don’t hoot and holler, but I know our people wanted to.

After the test, we all huddled up together to keep warm. We waited, then waited some more to get our results. I ate hay and let Claire practice leading me around, which went better than the first time.

Finally, Ashley stood beside me, silently reading our scores and the judge’s comments. Now, I am a horse of many talents, but I cannot read.

I stomped once.

I pawed.

Then I lifted my hoof up to get her attention.

“Dante, what?”

I pushed my head into her arms, nudging her to get on with the sharing.

Finally, Mrs. Maiden seemed to read the one thing that wasn’t getting read: my mind! “Read the test out loud, Ashley. So we can all hear.”

Ashley took in a deep breath. “All sixes, one seven, and one eight.” She scrunched up her face.

“That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Maiden said. “Those are terrific scores for your first time out there.”

Ashley made a face. “But listen to this: ‘Stiff through turn. Needs more supp. Hollow. Fussy in contact. Rider needs to relax so he will relax. Keep trying!’ ”

“Now read the compliments,” said Mrs. Maiden.

“At the free walk, the judge wrote, ‘Shows relaxation.’ She wrote, ‘Nice forward, fair shape,’ for our twenty-meter circle.”

“Let me see. Anything else?” said Mrs. Maiden.

“Umm, not really. Oh! This is good. ‘Rhythmic entry, smooth transition. Talented, athletic, and opinionated horse. Cute pair, lots of potential.’ Mrs. Maiden, what does the judge mean, ‘more supp’?” Ashley asked.

“She means that sometimes Dante looked tight and stiff. He could stand to be more responsive, but we knew that. This is a terrific test. You should be very proud of yourself and your horse.”

“I wish Dante could be my horse. I love him so much.”

Mrs. Maiden put her arm around Ashley. “As long as he and you are at the Maury River Stables, he’s yours to ride and love.”

A wide and full smile broke across Ashley’s face.

We hung around Tamworth Springs long enough for the results to get posted and to collect our pink ribbon. Fifth place.

Dana put her arm around Ashley. “Sweetie, I’m so proud of you and Dante.”

“You’re not disappointed in us for only getting fifth place?”

“Not even a little. I know winning is fun, but give yourself and your horse a little credit. Some days, the big victory is showing up and sticking with it.”

“Really?”

“Really. In a few months, you’ll look back to today as the beginning of something special. I’m so happy I was here to share this with you.”

“Me, too, Mom.” Ashley nuzzled me, and the whole herd of them gathered around me. Mrs. Maiden, Claire, Dana, and Ashley.

“Group hug with Dante,” Dana said. They all laughed.

I closed my eyes and couldn’t help but let out a big old sigh. I knew there’d be fresh hay waiting in the net when we got back to the trailer, but, for once, I was in no hurry to be anyplace else.