Sonrise Stable Page 5

  I’ll run over and talk to—oh dear, I’ve forgotten your foster mother’s name.”

  “Judy.” Carrie jumped down from the picnic table. “Judy and Ross are my new foster mom and dad.”

  “I’ll go over and talk to them about riding lessons.”

  Carrie watched as Rosie dismounted. “Are you mad at me?” “I was.” Rosie faced her with her arms crossed. “But it was my fault too. I shouldn’t have let you get to me.”

  “So you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “Nah.” Rosie held out Kezzie’s lead rope. “Do you want to lead her?”

  Carrie smiled and nodded. “That was a neat story about Kezzie and Satin. Your grandma is nice.”

  Rosie held up her arm and pointed to her horsehair bracelet. “If you think that was interesting, wait until you hear about Jet.”

  Psalm 27:10

  Deuteronomy 31:6

  Jeremiah 29:11

  Chapter 9

  Carrie’s First Ride

  Maybe God really was looking out for her. Mrs.Robinson had agreed to the riding lessons, and the late-spring sky the following day was a brilliant blue and cloudless. The temperature had inched into the seventies for the first time that year. Carrie couldn’t have asked for better weather for her first ride. She stood at Kezzie’s left side next to Grandma and looked up at the saddle. The horse seemed so tall. Fear suddenly gripped her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to ride after all.

  Grandma apparently hadn’t noticed her second thoughts. “Put your foot into the stirrup.”

  Carrie had to go through with it now or they would know she was afraid. She didn’t want Rosie to make fun of her, so she slowly raised her right foot.

  “Wrong one,” Rosie laughed. “If you start with that foot, you’ll end up riding backwards.”

  “Oh, yeah. I knew that.” Carrie was a few months younger and an inch shorter than Rosie. Carrie was blond and fair-skinned with blue eyes, while Rosie was dark-haired with brown eyes. Both girls were thin and wiry, but strong for their size.

  “Here let me give you a boost.” Grandma laced her fingers together and held her arms out to Carrie. “Put your knee in here, and I’ll help you up. Give a little hop, then grab the saddle and pull.”

  Carrie jumped and grabbed for the saddle. She felt herself rising rapidly as Grandma lifted her.

  “Swing your leg over,” Rosie yelled.

  Carrie swung her right leg around and kicked Kezzie in the hindquarters. The horse flinched but otherwise didn’t move. “Oops, sorry, girl.”

  Grandma smiled as Carrie settled into the saddle. “I’m glad you’re still on. I had a girl several years ago who didn’t hold on to the saddle. The first time I helped her up, she went right on over and ended up flat on the ground on the other side of the horse.”

  Carrie frowned and looked down at Grandma. “Wow! Kezzie is so tall.”

  “Not really.” Rosie shook her head. “She’s barely a horse.” “What do you mean?” Carrie frowned. “She looks like a horse to me.”

  “Kezzie is 14.3 hands. (1) If she were two inches shorter, she’d be a pony,” Rosie explained. “Grandma says Scamper will be around fourteen hands when he’s full grown, so he’ll always be a pony.”

  Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean by hands.”

  “Don’t worry,” Rosie said. “I’ll explain it later. I bet you want to get started.”

  Grandma took the reins and led Kezzie toward the arena. “She’s fast!” Carrie wobbled in the saddle and almost grabbed for the horn, but she was determined not to let Rosie know she was afraid.

  Rosie pulled her camera from her pocket and ran backwards in front of them, snapping photos of Carrie’s first ride.

  Once inside the arena, Grandma pulled the reins up and hooked them over the saddle horn. “We’ll begin with the basics: starting, walking, turning, and stopping. Kezzie is wearing a bridle on her head. The metal thing inside her mouth is called a bit. Attached to the bit on each side are reins. You use the reins to give Kezzie signals to stop and turn.”

  Carrie concentrated on Grandma’s instructions. She wanted to do everything correctly.

  “With a well-trained horse like Kezzie, you can give the signals lightly. Horses can feel when a tiny fly lands on them. They’re very sensitive animals.”

  Carrie nodded. She had seen Kezzie twitch her skin to get flies off.

  “Have you ever watched an old western on TV—where the riders jerk and pull on the reins?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” Grandma said. “That’s exactly how I don’t want you to ride!” She pointed to Carrie’s face. “Imagine having a metal bit inside your own mouth. How do you think it would feel to have someone jerk on your reins?”

  Carrie’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Ow! That would hurt.”

  “Right. So remember to take it easy on Kezzie’s mouth.” Carrie nodded.

  “We’ll start with direct reining; it’s the simplest. Hold one rein in each hand like this.” Grandma drew a rein up through her fist to show Carrie how it should be held.

  Carrie carefully adjusted the reins in each of her hands.

  “Gently pull on the right rein to go right and the left rein to turn left. To stop, say ‘whoa’ and pull on both reins evenly. To go, squeeze your legs against Kezzie’s sides and say ‘walk.’”

  Carrie took a deep breath. She had a tingly feeling in her stomach. The fear was gradually turning into excitement. “I think I’m ready.”

  “Kezzie is a patient teacher. You’ll make some mistakes at first, but she’ll forgive you as long as you’re not mean to her.” Grandma pointed to her left. “Let’s see you walk in a circle.”

  “Walk.” Carrie squeezed her legs, and Kezzie started off with the long, rolling walk of a gaited horse.

  When Carrie pulled the left rein, Kezzie turned in a small, tight circle, walked straight back to Grandma, and stopped. “Hey, Kezzie.” Carrie frowned. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” She looked to Grandma for help. “Why did she go back to you?”

  “You’re oversteering. Pull easier next time, and as soon as you feel her start to turn, stop pulling.” Grandma demonstrated with a set of invisible reins. “She’ll come back to me every time if you give her half a chance. She’s a bit spoiled.”

  Carrie tried again, and this time Kezzie made a bigger circle.

  “Much better.” Grandma nodded. “You have naturally soft hands. With more practice, you’ll figure it out. It’s mostly a matter of feel.”

  Carrie was smiling so broadly that her mouth was beginning to hurt, but she couldn’t stop. She was riding! Grandma had said she had soft hands. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded like a good thing. She reached down to pat Kezzie’s shoulder. “Good girl, Kezzie! Good girl.”

  Rosie climbed the fence and leaned toward her grandmother. “I’m going to ask Mom if Carrie can spend the night.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Grandma said. “Are you sad that you have to share Kezzie now?”

  “No. I think it will be even more fun. Besides, Scamper is my horse. How much longer will it be before I can start riding him?”

  Grandma kept her eyes on Carrie and Kezzie. When she didn’t answer, Rosie thought she hadn’t heard the question. She was about to repeat it when Grandma finally replied.

  “Considering your size and how stocky Scamper is, I’d say you’ll be able to start riding him lightly when he’s two.” (2)

  “That’s almost two whole years from now,” Rosie moaned. “That will take forever.”

  “Yes, you’ll be eleven then, practically an old lady,” Grandma teased. “When you get to be my age, two years goes by much faster. We’ll continue your lessons on Kezzie, and you can help with Scamper’s groundwork. Then when the time comes, you’ll both be ready.”

  Rosie couldn’t wait. Two years sounded like an eternity to her, but it would be fun to help Grandma train Scamper. She turned back to watch Carrie on Kezzie. Could sh
e and this girl become friends?

  One hand equals 4” so Kezzie is 59” tall at the withers. Horses are 14.2 hands or taller. Ponies are shorter than 14.2.

  See the Horse Safety notes at the end of the book.

  Chapter 10

  The Missing Helmet

  Scamper and Kezzie stood tied to the wash rack beside the barn. The girls had bathed them, and they were drying under the warm spring sun. Scamper, now a strong, stocky two-year-old, stood about fourteen hands tall just as Grandma had predicted.

  Carrie sprayed detangler on Kezzie’s tail and pulled a comb through it.

  Grandma coiled the hose and set it to the side of the wash rack. “You girls are like two peas in a pod. I rarely see one of you without the other anymore.”

  Carrie looked at Rosie and giggled. “Remember when we first met and I got you in trouble—when I dared you to get on Kezzie?”

  “I was so mad at you,” Rosie said. “You weren’t very nice then.”

  “I know.” Carrie nodded. “I’m glad you decided to be my friend anyway. I never had a best friend before.”

  Grandma smiled. “Now I have two wonderful assistants to help me with all the work around here. By the way, have you cleaned the stalls yet?”

  “We finished those a long time ago,” Rosie replied.

  “Okay then, I guess it’s time.”

  “Time for what?” Rosie asked.

  “Your first ride on Scamper!” Grandma beamed. “The day you’ve been waiting on for two years is finally here! I can’t wait to see you ride him.”

  Rosie stood as if frozen and smiled briefly. “Are you sure he’s strong enough to hold me?”

  “Strong enough?” Grandma patted Scamper’s shoulder. “This boy is built like a tank. As light as you are, he’ll be fine. Carrie can help me saddle him while you grab your helmet.”

  Rosie started slowly toward the tack room while Grandma led Scamper into the barn. She was excited about riding her pony for the first time, but fears nagged at her. What if he bucked—or ran away with her? Scamper had carried a saddle many times but never a rider.

  She opened the tack room door, halfheartedly looked around, then closed it again and stood in the aisle for a few minutes.

  “Rosie?”

  She could hear her grandmother calling her. Rosie walked down the barn aisle—empty-handed.

  Grandma held the bridle up and straightened the straps. “Where’s your helmet?”

  “I … I … uh,” Rosie stammered. “I … couldn’t find it.”

  Grandma studied her. “What do you mean you couldn’t find it? It’s always hanging right there in the tack room when you’re not using it.”

  Carrie looked back and forth from Grandma to Rosie.

  Rosie stared at the ground. “I didn’t see it in there,” she said softly.

  Grandma was quiet for a moment. “Hmm. The Case of the Missing Helmet reminds me of The Case of the Missing Swimming Suit.”

  Rosie and Carrie both seemed perplexed by that statement and waited for Grandma’s explanation.

  Grandma hooked the bridle over the horn of Scamper’s saddle. “It was about thirty years ago. My oldest daughter, Lisa, was nine. She was taking swimming lessons and had finished the first course. We were getting ready for the lessons the morning she was to advance to the second level.”

  Rosie took a deep breath and leaned back against the barn wall. She didn’t know how Grandma did it, but she had a feeling her grandmother knew exactly what was going on with the helmet.

  “It was almost time to leave, and I hadn’t seen Lisa for a while. I called upstairs to see whether she was ready to go. After a long silence, I heard her say, ‘I can’t find my swimming suit, Mom,’ in a tone nearly identical to the one you just used.”

  Rosie fiddled with the end of her braid and avoided eye contact.

  “I was puzzled, because I remembered washing the swimming suit after the last lesson and putting it in her dresser. When I went upstairs, that’s exactly where it was. Do you have any idea why Lisa said she couldn’t find her swimming suit?”

  Grandma looked at Carrie who shrugged and shook her head. Then she turned to Rosie.

  How did her grandmother always seem to know what she was feeling? Rosie hesitated. “Was she afraid, Grandma?”

  “Yes. She was afraid. I didn’t realize it at first, but later Lisa told me that in the next swim class, the kids had to dive in off the side of the pool, and she was afraid to try that. Could something like that be the problem with the missing helmet?”

  Rosie leaned against Scamper. “Grandma, I’m so used to riding Kezzie now. I sort of panicked at the thought of riding Scamper for the first time. What if he bucks me off?”

  Grandma wrapped her arm around Rosie. “Did you think I was going to turn you loose on him? Like all his other training, we’ll do things gradually. First, all I want you to do is get on him, sit for a few minutes, and then get off. I’ll hold him the whole time. Can you do that?”

  Rosie smiled and nodded. She faced Scamper and raised her foot toward the stirrup.

  Grandma tapped her on the shoulder. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Oh!” Rosie patted her head. “My helmet!” She trotted off toward the tack room.

  “Grab Carrie’s while you’re in there,” Grandma called.

  Rosie reappeared moments later—helmets in hand. She tossed one to Carrie and buckled her own on her head. Within seconds, she was on Scamper’s back. He turned, sniffed her pant leg, and looked up at Rosie as if to ask what she was doing on his back, but he stood calmly.

  “Yay, you did it!” Carrie cheered.

  Rosie leaned forward, put her arms around Scamper’s neck, and hugged him tightly.

  “I was sure he would be fine,” Grandma said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to get on him. I should have explained everything so you would have been more prepared.”

  “It’s all right. I can’t believe I’m finally riding Scamper.” “Hop down,” Grandma instructed. “We need to repeat that over and over until he gets used to it.”

  Rosie glanced at Carrie. “Let’s take turns.”

  Scamper stood patiently as the girls mounted and dismounted. After they practiced that a dozen times, Scamper seemed completely comfortable with the process.

  “Let’s move out to the arena now,” Grandma suggested.

  Rosie smiled broadly as Grandma led her to the arena. “I still can’t believe I’m riding my own horse. It feels so different from riding Kezzie. He’s wider with a shorter but faster stride.”

  Grandma lengthened the lead line. “I’ll lunge him in small circles so you can begin teaching him to respond to the bit.”

  Rosie and Carrie took turns working with Scamper on turning, stopping, and starting. Grandma was impressed with both the girls’ and Scamper’s performance. “That’s a good day’s work,” she announced after about thirty minutes.

  All three of them praised the pony enthusiastically as they unsaddled and brushed him. Scamper seemed to understand what an important day it was. He held his head high, looking as proud as if he had just won the Kentucky Derby.

  “Aren’t you glad you gave it a try?” Grandma asked. “Yeah. I’m kind of embarrassed,” Rosie said. “It was ridiculous to be afraid.”

  “You should have let me go first,” Carrie teased. “I wouldn’t have been scared.”

  “Right.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “Because you’ve trained so many horses.”

  Carrie smiled and resumed brushing Scamper. Grandma leaned against the stall and watched the girls.

  “When I was a teen, I had a scary experience with my horse.”

  Rosie paused and looked over at her grandmother.

  “After a recent rain, the ground was wet. I was cantering in an arena when the horse suddenly slipped in a muddy spot and fell. She went down on her side, right on top of my leg.”

  “Ouch!” Carrie bent her leg at the knee and held it for a moment.

&nbs
p; “Fortunately I was only bruised and sore, not seriously injured.”

  “Were you scared then, Grandma?” Rosie asked. “Yes. And to be honest, it still makes me a bit afraid sometimes. I never liked to ride too fast after that. I guess the idea that the horse might fall on me again is always lurking in the back of my mind. But imagine how much I would have missed out on if I had let that fear keep me from ever riding again.”

  “If you hadn’t kept riding, Mom probably wouldn’t have ridden, and I might not have learned how to ride either,” Rosie said.

  “And then, I never would have been able to ride,” Carrie added.

  Grandma continued. “The Bible says that God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. (1) That would be a good verse for both of you to memorize. Of course, sometimes it makes sense to have some fear—you wouldn’t want to jump on Scamper today and ride him down the road. He’s not ready for that yet.”

  Rosie nodded.

  “Fear is wrong when it keeps us from doing something God wants us to do. We need to trust God and obey, and He will help us overcome our fears.”

  Rosie tossed her brush into the tack bucket. “I love to ride fast.”

  Grandma laughed. “You’re like your Aunt Julie. She was two years old the first time she rode. I had her on the saddle in front of me. We walked around for a while, then I trotted a bit. I was worried she might be afraid, on a big horse for the first time, so I stopped, leaned forward, and asked her how she was doing. I still remember the grin on her face when she said, ‘Go faster, Mommy!’”

  Grandma smiled and watched the girls finish grooming Scamper. After they turned him out with Kezzie in the pasture, the three walked down the path toward the house, one girl on each side of Grandma.

  “Scamper needs to be ridden as often as possible now, so whenever either of you can help me, we’ll continue his training.”