Sundancer (2 page)

BIRD WAS HANNAH'S NIECE, the daughter of Hannah's younger sister, Eva. Eva had dropped Bird off at Saddle Creek — farm of last resort — two years earlier, on her way to another new life, with another new man. As far as Bird could tell, this was Eva's way. Bird's father was a cowboy from Calgary who left when Eva told him she was pregnant. He rode off into the sunset never to return, Eva was fond of saying, and had never even phoned to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl.

From the time Bird could remember, Eva seemed to change jobs often, which meant picking up and moving to a new place. She was always hoping for something better, more interesting, less boring. Eva had changed boyfriends often, too, always hoping for someone better, more interesting, less boring. The one constant in Bird's life, until the day she moved in with her Aunt Hannah, was change.

Now, sitting at the edge of this field with this beautiful horse, Bird could feel Hannah watching her from the kitchen window.

What was she worrying about now? The traces of a fond smile formed at the corner of Bird's mouth. She's worrying that I don't talk. She's worrying that I don't fit in. She's worrying that I'll never be normal. Most of all, she's worrying about school. And with good reason.

On the last day of classes, Stuart Gilmore, the principal of the Forks of the Credit school, had told Hannah that Bird could not come back. The school was simply not equipped to handle her. He'd given Hannah a list of alternative schools, and for the last few weeks Bird had watched as Hannah tried to find her a place. She'd had no luck with any of the public schools, and she couldn't afford the fees at the private ones. Now it was August, and at the top of Hannah's to-do list — posted conveniently on the refrigerator door — was to call Stuart Gilmore. Bird figured that Hannah planned to ask one more time.

Bird hated school. The kids were mean. But if she had to go back, the Forks of the Credit would be better than unknown alternatives.

Hannah called from the kitchen window. “Bird! Supper's ready!” Bird was hungry, but she disliked the confinement of sitting properly at the table, and she detested being constantly coached on her manners. Reluctantly, she scrambled back under the fence.

Come for dinner, Hector
. Bird stroked the dog on her way past.

He raised his head and thumped his tail.

Yummy. I've been hungry all day
.

So what else is new?
Bird smiled.
What do you think of the new horse, Hector?

I don't trust him. You shouldn't either
.

Bird nodded slowly and patted Hector's head.
He won't talk to me yet, so I don't know what to make of him
. Bird hadn't faced this before. Most animals responded to her immediately, delighted that a human could not only talk to them, but also understand what they had to say.

She slowly raised her hand and stretched it out toward the horse. The haughty chestnut lifted his head. Bird tried again to reach into his mind.
Talk to me. Tell me about yourself
.

The horse gave Bird a bored look, then turned his back, providing a perfect view of his welts and cuts. They would heal nicely with proper care, but so far the horse had not allowed anyone to get close to him, let alone treat his wounds. Earlier, when she'd first spotted him, Bird had taken the water hose out to the field. She'd stood on the fence and created a fountain that he had eventually walked into to cool off, so at least the wounds were washed out. She'd tried to squirt Wonder Dust, an antiseptic powder, into the nastier gashes but had only been somewhat successful. Tomorrow she'd try again.

Not for the first time, Bird wondered what had happened to this horse. How did he get those cuts, and why had he ended up at Saddle Creek?
What did they do to you, beautiful fellow?
Bird waited a moment for an answer then ran to the farmhouse without a backward glance.

LATE THAT NIGHT, THE quiet of the farmhouse was disturbed by the telephone ringing.

In her darkened room beside Hannah's, Bird was instantly awake. The walls of the old farmhouse were thin, and Hannah's voice, drowsy with sleep, travelled easily into Bird's room.

“It's late here, Eva. I was asleep.”

Eva. Her mother. Bird wiggled out of bed, placing two bare feet on the wooden floor. She crept quietly down the stairs, avoiding the creaky floorboards, and made her way into the kitchen where the extension hung on the wall beside the fridge. Softly, she raised the receiver to her ear. Her mother was laughing about the time difference. Hannah was not amused.

“It's one a.m., Eva. This better be good.”

“Randy asked me to marry him.”

“Congratulations.”

“You don't mean that. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Eva, it's the middle of the night. Tomorrow I have to get up early to take four horses to a show. I don't know Randy. I've lost count of how many times you've been engaged, and last night your daughter threw her dinner at the wall because she wanted dessert first. Excuse me for my lack of enthusiasm.”

Bird cringed at Hannah's words and waited out the long silence on the line.

“Actually, Hannah, that's why I'm calling.”

“Speak to me, Eva. I'm not good at riddles at one in the morning.” “Randy wants to meet my family, so we're coming to visit in a couple of weeks. I've told him all about you and Daddy and Mom, but he doesn't know about Bird.”

Silence again. Then Hannah's voice, more awake now. “You said he doesn't know about Bird?”

“Yes.”

“What doesn't he know? Her existence or her unusualness?”

“Both.”

Bird listened closely. She could hear the intake of air as Hannah took a deep breath. “So, when are you going to tell him?”

“It's not that easy, Hannah. He adores Julia. But I know he'd have a hard time with Bird. It might change things.”

“Reality sucks.”

“I don't know why I called, you make me so mad!”

“So why
did
you call, Eva?”

Again, there was a pause, but this time Bird could feel a crackle of energy on the line. Something big was about to happen.

“Can you tell Randy that Bird is your daughter? There. I've said it.”

In the darkened kitchen, Bird felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She fought the urge to smash the phone against the wall and knock everything off the counter.

Hannah spoke calmly, quietly. “Let me get this straight. You want me to tell Randy that Bird is my daughter. Is Julia still yours?”

“Yes, Randy loves her.”

Bird thought of her little sister. A pretty, cheerful nine-year-old. Chatty, charming, and well adjusted. Blonde and beautiful like their mother.

“Look, Hannah.” Eva was still talking, faster now. “Don't go all holier than thou on me. You know I couldn't take Bird with me to California. She was in school and she had her friends ...”

“Friends? Since when has Bird had a friend? And Bird had to change schools anyway when she moved in with me. We both know why you left her here, so at least be honest with yourself if not with me. Or with Randy, for that matter. What kind of marriage are you —”

Eva cut her off. “This is going nowhere. I've already told Randy that you have an autistic child, so it's done.”

“Eva!” The line went dead.

Bird stood listening to the dial tone until it stopped. The recorded message played, “Hang up. Please hang up now.”

Finally, Hannah tumbled the receiver back into its cradle. Bird hung up, too, then sank down to the kitchen floor with her back was against the wall and her knees drawn tightly to her chest.

Autistic. The magic word. It was spoken. Bird had sat through enough “sessions” to know that it was a popular amateur diagnosis for a grab bag of disorders. She had to admit that she exhibited some of the clinical symptoms. She was frenetic at times. Distracted. She'd always been extremely sensitive to noise and light and sudden movement, and was prone to outrageous tantrums when thwarted. She detested change in routine. She didn't speak, she rocked, she could rarely look a person in the eye. But there was so much more to her than that! More than anyone could see. Sometimes Bird thought that Hannah came close. It was Hannah who'd found the one doctor who'd disagreed with the others.

Hannah explained to him that Bird had begun to talk at a normal age. By kindergarten she was already reading and had a vivid imagination. She interacted with people. She was somewhat shy but made friends easily. Kids and animals were drawn to her. In fact, she had an uncanny ability to understand what people and animals were thinking. Then, everything had changed when she was six. Only Bird knew why.

The doctor had looked her in the eye and pronounced her an “elective mute.”

“It's not that she can't talk, Ms Bradley,” the doctor had said in a kind, gentle voice. “She chooses not to.” Bingo, thought Bird at the time.

Now, a small tear of self-pity dripped onto Bird's sleeve. Her stomach was in knots. Her own mother was ashamed of her — too ashamed to call her her daughter. Suddenly the farmhouse seemed too small. Bird needed to be outside in the fresh night air, with nothing around her but the night and its noises.

SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED TOO soon for Hannah. Sleep had eluded her after her sister's call. A little after three she'd gotten up for a glass of water and had spotted something in the field. It was the white fabric of Bird's cotton pajamas shining in the moonlight. There she was, sleeping in the field with Hector curled up beside her and the new horse standing close by. Hannah had approached quietly, not wanting to panic the horse, but he'd been watching her from the moment she'd neared the fence. Hector sat up and thumped his tail on the ground, happy to see her. Bird jerked, settled, then stared at Hannah defiantly. Hannah couldn't think of one good reason to bring her back to bed by force, so she retrieved a couple of heavy horse blankets from the barn and gently tucked her in. The horse never moved.

Now, in the light of day, Hannah looked out her bedroom window to see Bird dragging the blankets across the field. She looked happy.

To Bird, the morning smelled delightful. Dewy grass, clean air, horse smells, new wood from fence repairs, and mouldy horse blankets, damp with dew. I bet camp smells like this, she thought. Or home on the range, when the cowboys go out for weeks at a time to bring home the cattle. Cattle drives, they're called. Bird breathed deeply and smiled.

Hector walked stiffly beside her, wagging his tail. After a moment, the new horse followed. Bird awkwardly managed to push the blankets over the fence, then reached to pat the horse's face. He turned away and stuck his nose high in the air.

Bird tried once more to reach him.

Big horse, will you talk to me?

The chestnut swung his head around and looked at her passively.

Who made those cuts across your back? Who hurt you?

The horse looked startled for a brief second, then closed down again. He turned away from her and moved into the paddock to begin his day of grazing. He ignored her, but Bird could see that he was keeping her in his field of vision. She watched for a minute, pleased that she'd gotten through, however briefly. There is damage piled up in that horse, Bird thought, as she began her morning chores. And no one will get through that damage until he decides to let them.

At Saddle Creek Farm, the heavy work was done by two trusted employees, John Fraye and Cliff Jones. Daily, they mucked the stalls, scrubbed the buckets, and kept the farm looking neat and smelling fresh. They put out the horses for their turnout time wearing blankets or boots, depending on the owners' requests. Seasonally, Cliff and John kept the lawns cut and the fields free of burrs, and plowed the driveway clear of snow. At all times, they dealt with the surprises and emergencies that were part of life on a horse farm.

Bird's work was lighter, and she took pleasure in it. With Hector following, Bird began cleaning and filling the outdoor water troughs. Another of her responsibilities was to check gates, fences, and loafing sheds for any needed repairs. It was an important job, and one that Bird took more seriously after three horses had run down the road and almost caused an accident after she had failed to call attention to a faulty latch. “If a horse can get into trouble,” Hannah repeated time and again, “he will.” It was Bird's daily duty to minimize the possibilities.

While she worked, John and Cliff led the horses out to the fields. Hannah's horses were out all night in the warm summer months, but the boarders' horses were kept inside. If the animals were to decide, Bird knew, they'd all be out in the cooler night air and inside during the heat of midday.

Duties done, Bird stretched up her arms and admired the blueness of the sky. She filled her lungs with the fresh morning air and sighed contentedly. Hector plopped down by the barn door in the sun. She knelt, ruffled his fur, then cast another glance at the new horse. The enigma.

Her eye was caught by the unmistakable figure of her aunt as she marched toward her from the house. Even from a distance, Bird could feel her stressful mood. Hannah strode up to Bird carrying a small brown paper bag. She was dressed to ride.

“I made you a bacon sandwich. You must be starving.” She held out the bag. Bird felt immobilized, uncomfortably alert to Hannah's clipped speech and quick movements. She didn't take it. “I've got to get going. Do you want to come to the show with me? I'm taking Kimberly and Jo and Peter and Melanie.”

Bird could only stare. Hannah was upset, and suddenly Bird knew why. All the joy of the day drained away as Bird recalled last night's phone call from her mother.

Hannah spoke firmly. “Bird, answer me. Look, how am I supposed to deal with you? Do you want to come with me or not?” With a heavy heart, Bird looked down.

No, I don't, she thought.

I want to be alone.

She glanced up and saw her aunt's worried eyes. She felt sincerely sorry for Hannah. It's not her fault, Bird thought, that her weird sister burdened her with a weird kid whom she now wanted to disown. I shouldn't be so difficult. I should get my act together and go to the horse show. I could be a help. Bird looked back down at the ground and studied a line of ants as they paraded past in the dirt. But no. She felt too upset. Best to avoid the company of people today. Today, when no one was around, she would get up on the new horse's back.

“Look, make you a deal. You'll stay here with Cliff and John unless you're in the truck by the time the horses are loaded. And if you decide to stay here, whatever you do, you are
not
to get on the new horse's back.”

Bird looked up at her aunt quickly. Was she that transparent?

Hannah thrust out her arm and dropped the paper bag with the sandwich. Bird caught it. Hannah smiled briefly. “Good reflexes.”

A short while later, Bird watched as Hannah pulled away with the rig, four horses safely aboard. “Saddle Creek” was emblazened in green, grey, and red on the sides of the white truck and trailer. Saddles, bridles, boots, wraps, and grooming kits were stowed in the tack room at the front of the horse trailer, as well as a safety box fitted out for every possible emergency.

Two cars followed. One with Jo's mother driving Jo and her best friend Melanie, and one with Peter and his mother. Kimberly always met them at the shows, a subject of discussion at the barn as this left the preparations up to Hannah.

Bird climbed on the fence to eat her bacon sandwich and watch the new horse. Hector had moved from his usual position at the barn door to lay on the ground at her feet. He kept one big brown eye on Bird's sandwich, hoping for a spill.

I'm happy you stayed
.

I'm happy to spend time with you, Hector
. Bird leaned down to rub his soft yellow head.

Can I have a bite?

You had your breakfast. This is mine
.

It's going to be an unhurried day, she thought. Good. Lots of time to sit and understand this horse. Bird felt her sadness fade away as she ate and watched. She loved how the sun danced on the horse's coat. She admired his motion. He moves gracefully, like a dancer, she thought. And he's the orangey colour of the sunset. That's it. I'll name him Sundancer — Sunny for short. Even though there's a darker side to him, too. He's a veiled horse, like the wild mustangs of the ancient Indians. A mystery horse with hooded eyes and many secrets — secrets that even Paul Daniels doesn't know.

Unfortunately, what Paul Daniels did know was shocking.

He'd told them that, one time, Sundancer had been in a trailer accident. Because of a faulty hitch and rusted undercarriage, the horse trailer came loose from the truck on the highway. Unguided, it smashed into a hillock on the side of the road, knocking the horse from his feet and sending him sliding under the chest bar. He was lucky. Had the trailer gone into the two lanes of fast-moving traffic, things could have been much worse. As it was, Sundancer survived with nasty scrapes and a lifelong distrust for trailers.

Another time, as he was being led down the road behind another horse, he pulled free and began to gallop away, dragging a long rope. He ducked in behind a farmhouse, jumped a hedge into the back garden, and leaped out over another hedge. Unfortunately, that second hedge sat at the edge of the Niagara Escarpment, the rocky ridge that runs through the Niagara peninsula. The landing was thirty feet down into big rocks. Again, he was lucky, because if he hadn't stopped rolling there, he would have gone a hundred feet more. That time his injuries almost killed him.

Sundancer had many idiosyncrasies, too, that Dr. Daniels mentioned. Some were obvious, like his dislike of trailers and his fear of heights. Others were harder to understand.

He always assumed that a person was going to hit him with whatever they were carrying, be it broom, water bucket, pitchfork, or hairbrush. He was suspicious of everyone. The first of his nine trainers tried to desensitize his nervous nature with noises, pokes, and slaps, all of which led to a fear of surprises. Sundancer took to hiding in his stall, shaking, anticipating the next scare. He scooted alarmingly fast when touched on his sides. He had a penchant for running away, as well. No fence had been high enough or strong enough to keep him in. Bird wondered if Sundancer would run away from them. More likely it was a matter of when.

Bird gave Hector the last bite of her sandwich and wiped away the crumbs. She waited for the man who'd come up behind her to speak.

“Hello there, Bird.”

Bird didn't look around. She knew it was Paul Daniels by the feel in the air. His aura, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was good — safe and intelligent.

She also sensed that his son, Alec, might be sitting in the car. She glanced over quickly to sneak a peek. Yes. There he was. So far, he hadn't moved to come out. That was good. Bird always got agitated when he was around. It wasn't Alec's fault. It was just that Bird had always had a bit of an interest in him. He was his own person and had his own thoughts, unlike the other boys in her class who ganged up to make fun of her. Bird thought he was cute, although that wasn't the common view. He wasn't the most popular guy at school, and he got into trouble for asking too many questions, but Bird liked him just the same.

“Good looking horse, isn't he? Have you named him yet?”

Paul knew that Bird never spoke, but he always tried. Bird appreciated his efforts to treat her like a normal human being. It was more than most people could manage.

“I was glad when your aunt said she'd take him in. Didn't know where else to try. Didn't even have a second choice. I thought of Abby Malone because she's so good with problem horses, but she's going off to school in New York next month, and good for her. She's worked hard for it.” Bird could hear the smile on the vet's face.

“Is he settling in?” Paul sat on the fence beside Bird. Not too close. Just the right distance. “Sure looks it. Horses like it here. They settle in faster here than anywhere else I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, both engrossed in the new horse.

“I don't know why I saved him, Bird. I've never done this before.”

Bird found herself looking at the man beside her. Dr. Paul Daniels had a quiet, leathered, handsome face and a relaxed, lanky body. He was old. Probably as old as Hannah. Over forty at least. Most of all, though, he was a person she could trust, if she ever needed to trust someone.

Paul turned to meet her eye, and Bird could see acceptance in the vet's face. She didn't look away. She met the man's gaze and held it until they both turned back toward the field at the same time.

Sundancer suddenly lifted his head in a fluid motion and stared at the driveway. Hector began to bark. A silver sedan stopped at the kitchen door and a nice-looking man in a golf shirt and khakis got out. He slammed the car door shut and walked to the house, combing his fingers through his short greying hair, oblivious to the man and the girl on the fence.

As he was about to knock, Paul called out, “Hi there, Stu. Come to see Hannah?”

Stuart Gilmore, the elementary school principal, spun around. “Paul! Didn't see you there.” He walked toward the fence with a warm smile on his face. “Hello, Bird. I came to speak to your aunt about school this fall. She called yesterday and left a message.”

His demeanor was more energetic than the vet's. He moved with a slight self-consciousness and some other tension that she couldn't quite define. Ah, yes, she thought, suppressing a grin. He was here with bad news about school. Good.

“Is Hannah here?” Stuart spoke to the vet, not to Bird.

“Don't know,” answered Paul. “Her truck's gone. She's likely off to a horse show with some of her students. Right, Bird?”

Bird nodded.

Stuart looked at his watch. “I was hoping to catch her. I guess I'll have to call in later tonight.”

The rush of confused emotions emanating from Paul Daniels was so strong that Bird almost fell off the fence. Jealousy. Hmm.

“I was thinking of stopping by the fairgrounds.” The vet climbed off the fence and stood to his full height. “I'll tell Hannah that you were by.”

Well, well. The vet liked Hannah and saw the principal as competition. Interesting. Bird couldn't quite figure out why Dr. Paul would bother. As far as she knew, Hannah wasn't interested in romance. He was wasting his time.

She chanced another quick look at Alec. He was listening to music through his earphones, gyrating in the front seat and singing along to a wild tune that only he could hear. He caught Bird looking and stopped dead. He gave her a sweet, crooked smile and an apologetic shrug.

Bird grinned. Then, because she felt happy, she mimicked the way he'd been moving around and throwing his head. She was stopped cold by the surprised look on his face.

He thought she was making fun of him! Bird was mortified. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings or make him feel stupid. She wanted to hide in a dark hole and never come out. Head down, she ran for the house.