Schooling Horse (9 page)

Lisa lay on the cold, dead grass. She couldn’t believe that Milky was just standing there, eating, as though he hadn’t just thrown the worst fit she’d ever seen a horse throw. She couldn’t believe it. Her shoulder ached where she had landed on it, but she knew it would only be bruised. Her spirit, however, was crushed. She had been scared before, but now she was petrified. Milky could have killed her. Accidents could always happen around horses, but this wouldn’t have been an accident, because Milky had done it on purpose. Lisa had no doubt of that.

Lisa’s shoulders started to shake. She pressed her face into the ground and let herself cry loud, heart-wrenching sobs. She didn’t want this horse. She was afraid of him. She would almost rather not have a horse than have this one.

Almost. Lisa quit crying. She drew herself up into a sitting position and watched Milky graze. Part of her—most of her—wanted to give up. But if she could fix him, wouldn’t he be worth it? And wouldn’t she feel terrific,
knowing that she’d tamed and befriended such a wild horse?

But
could
she fix him? She wiped the last traces of tears from her face and got to her feet. She just didn’t know.

L
ISA WALKED SLOWLY
toward Milky. He lifted his head and watched her approach, but he didn’t show any signs of anger or fear. His reins hung loose under his chin, and his bit was smeared with half-chewed grass. “Steady,” Lisa said, as much to herself as to Milky. She reached for the reins. Milky dropped his head to grab another bite of grass, but Lisa tugged on the reins and he gave up.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked him. Horses didn’t understand English, she knew. But she had the feeling that even if Milky could speak to her, she wouldn’t trust his answer.

Still, maybe there was some logical, easily solved reason for his crazy behavior. Maybe Milky was in pain. Maybe
something started hurting him when Lisa rode. Maybe there was a burr on his saddle pad.

That was it! That really could be it! It would be un-usual, but it could happen. Lisa walked Milky over to the fence line and quickly stripped his saddle off. She hung it on the fence and went over the fleece saddle pad as carefully as possible, squishing the white padding between her fingers. A short piece of hay could be as sharp as a needle.

The saddle pad was clean except for a few of Milky’s silver hairs. In fact, it looked as if it had been freshly washed. Lisa put it down and began to examine the saddle—maybe part of it was broken or something was stuck to it—and then the girth, but to her disappointment both seemed entirely normal.

Next she turned her attention to Milky himself. Could he have a sore or a bruise where the saddle fastened tight around him? She ran her hands over him, first lightly, then pressing hard, and watched his face and ears carefully for any change in expression. Milky looked bored, even uneasy, but he never looked as if he was feeling any sort of pain, and Lisa couldn’t find any bumps or marks on his smooth skin. In the end, she had to conclude that nothing had caused him any sudden pain.

Could he be hurting from an old injury? Lisa considered the idea but discarded it. Max always had Judy Barker, Pine Hollow’s veterinarian, examine any new horse before he brought it to the stable. Judy would have found any long-standing problems.

Lisa sighed. She’d been so hopeful that she would discover a logical explanation for Milky’s fits. She carefully put his saddle back on. As she tightened the girth, Milky turned his head toward her and laid his ears back. “Stop it,” Lisa said. She flicked the end of the reins at him. “Behave.”

But when she went to put her foot into the stirrup, she found that she couldn’t do it. She absolutely could not bring herself to get back on the horse.

You have to
, she told herself. It was one of Max’s rules: Always get back on. Every ride was supposed to end on a positive note. If Milky got to go back to his stall now, he might see it as a reward for rearing. At the very least, he wouldn’t have any chance to learn that rearing was wrong. Lisa knew she had to get back on him and make him behave. Walk and trot calmly around the field, that was all.

She reached for the stirrup but again let her foot fall back to the ground. She looked around the field as though the answer to her problems could be found in some grassy corner.
How hard can this be?
she asked herself. She knew the answer: Too hard. She just couldn’t make herself ride this horse.

Well, The Saddle Club could help her figure things out. She’d talk the situation over with Stevie and Carole and come up with a new plan for tomorrow. Meanwhile, she’d had enough of Milky for the day. She ran the stirrups up on the saddle and led Milky out of the field.

She was almost to the stable when Max ran out to meet
her, a worried look on his face. “What happened?” he asked. “Why are you walking him? Did you fall off?”

Lisa didn’t know how to explain. “No,” she said at last. “I didn’t fall off.” Which was not a lie, she told herself firmly. She had thrown herself off Milky on purpose.

“You’re not hurt?” Max asked.

“No,” Lisa said, relieved that she could answer that question entirely honestly. “I’m fine.” She started walking again. Max walked beside her. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation. Lisa didn’t want to give him one.

“Is the horse hurt?”

“No, Max. He’s fine, too.”

“Did he lose a shoe?”

“Max!” Lisa stopped. “I’m just not feeling very well today. I must be getting a cold. I started coughing when I was riding, and I just couldn’t stop, so I got off. I think I’m going to go home.”

Max smiled. “Well, that’s good. I hope you’re feeling better soon, but I’m glad you didn’t have any kind of problem with the horse.” He patted Milky. “I was worried there when I saw you coming back on foot.”

Lisa forced herself to smile. How could she tell Max she was afraid of Milky? It was so embarrassing! She just couldn’t do it. Not yet, anyway.

“Do you feel well enough to untack him before you go home?” Max asked her kindly.

“Sure,” Lisa said. She coughed a little into her hand.

“You can use the office phone, if you need to call your mom to pick you up.”

“Thanks.” Lisa nodded to Max and turned Milky to lead him through the side door. She put him into his stall, took off his saddle and bridle, and shut the door on him with a feeling of total relief.

How could she be so afraid of a horse? After all, what had he really done? She thought back to the terrifying moment when he had leaped into the air, when she had clung to his mane hoping desperately that he would land on his feet. But he
hadn’t
flipped. She really wasn’t hurt. She hadn’t been lying to Max about
that.

Only about all the rest. She felt miserable and ashamed. Why couldn’t her dream horse be like Belle or Starlight? Or Prancer or Topside or Derby or Barq? Or even little shaggy Nickel? All the Pine Hollow horses and ponies were friendly and reliable. Why did she have to get a horse like Milky?

And why couldn’t she make things work out with him? If only she were a better rider, she’d probably be fine.

Lisa hung Milky’s saddle and bridle in the tack room. She felt in her pockets for the carrots she had intended to give him. She’d give them to Prancer instead—to a horse she actually liked.

Prancer whinnied when she saw Lisa, and Lisa felt another wave of misery engulf her. That was what she always wanted—a horse of her own that was eager to see her. She went into Prancer’s stall and gave her the carrots,
then put her arms around the horse’s neck and buried her face in her mane. “Oh, Prancer,” she whispered, “why can’t I have you?”

The truth hit Lisa full force. She did not want Milky. Not now, not ever. Not even if it meant that she wouldn’t get a horse of her own.

Lisa began to cry. How could she tell her parents? And what would she say to Max?

L
ISA FELT HER
hot tears trickle down her nose into Prancer’s coat. Prancer, empathetic as always, leaned her weight against Lisa’s shoulder. Lisa’s tears fell faster.

“Hey!” To her surprise, Lisa heard Stevie’s voice. “Lisa! We thought you’d be riding by now!”

Lisa looked up. There was Stevie—and Carole! “I’m so glad to see you,” she said.

“So are we!” Stevie swung Prancer’s door open and stepped inside. Carole followed. “Carole’s meeting and my appointment both ended early. We were hoping we’d still have a chance to ride with you, but we thought you’d already be gone. Why aren’t you with Milky?”

“I’ve been out and back again,” Lisa said shortly. “And I’m not riding Milky anymore. Not ever again.”

Stevie was more startled by Lisa’s tone than by her words. “You’ve been crying!” she said, realizing it for the first time. “Oh no! Lisa, what’s wrong?”

Lisa burst into fresh tears. “I just can’t do it,” she sobbed. “I can’t ride that horse anymore.”

“No, of course not,” soothed Stevie, even though she had no idea what Lisa meant. “Here, sit down.” She kicked some of the loose hay on the floor of Prancer’s stall into a pile and pushed Lisa onto it. Carole closed Prancer’s door and sat down facing them. Prancer watched them curiously.

“What’s wrong?” Carole asked. She too was surprised to see Lisa this upset. She’d known Lisa was having trouble with Milky, but this looked like disaster.

“The worst thing happened today.” In a halting voice, Lisa described how Milky had reared. “He’s always like that,” she said. “He does things out of nowhere, and then he acts like there’s nothing wrong. He’s like a bully who’s out to get people. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe he really hates to be ridden, but I don’t care what it is. I’m just not riding him anymore. If Max gave him to me for free, I’d say no.”

“Whoa,” Stevie said. “We never realized you felt this bad. Right, Carole?”

“Right,” Carole confirmed. “What else has he been doing?”

For the first time, Lisa told her friends how Milky had tried to bite her. She told them how he bucked whenever she rode him. “I’m afraid of him,” she said. “I realized
that today. I went to get back on him, and I just couldn’t do it.” She started crying harder. “I feel like such a failure. I really tried to make him work out.”

“You’re not a failure,” Carole said instantly. “You’re a good rider.”

“If I were a better rider, I could have fixed him. If I were a better rider, I could have my own horse.”

“Hogwash,” Stevie said. She fished around in her pocket and found an old tissue. It had a partially eaten lollipop stuck to one end. She tore that part off and handed the rest of the tissue to Lisa, who wiped her eyes. Stevie offered the lollipop to Prancer. The mare sniffed it and turned her head away.

“Don’t give her that,” Lisa protested. “It’s nasty.”

Stevie put it back in her pocket. “She’s too smart to take it, anyway. But you know, Lisa, what you just said is wrong. In the first place, we still don’t know for sure that Max and your parents mean for Milky to be your horse.”

“I know,” Lisa said, “but it really looks as if they do.”

“Right, but anyway, whether or not you get a horse probably doesn’t have anything to do with how good a rider you are. And in the second place, I think you’re wrong to say if you were a better rider you could fix him.”

“Why?” asked Lisa. “It’s true.”

“Probably it isn’t,” Stevie said. “I didn’t realize Milky was so bad before, but he sounds like a horse that’s out of control, even dangerous. It’s not your job to fix dangerous horses.”

“Does he seem to react to anything specific that you
do?” Carole asked. “Like, does he always buck when you ask for a left-lead canter, or something like that?”

“No,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “I can never connect his behavior to anything else. That’s part of the reason it’s so scary.” She blew her nose. “Got any more tissues, Stevie?”

Carole fished through her own pockets, which were cleaner than Stevie’s. “Here’s one. So, if you can’t connect Milky’s misbehavior to anything you’re doing, what makes you think you’re causing it?”

“I didn’t say I was causing it,” Lisa argued. “I just said that if I were a better rider, I would be able to fix it.” She sniffed. “If I were you, or Stevie. If I really deserved a horse of my own.”