Sonrise Stable Page 9

  “My dad’s a beginner, though,” Rosie added. “He could be really good, but he doesn’t have time to ride much.”

  Carrie looked nervous. “You’ll stay close to me. Won’t you?”

  Rosie nodded. “Scamper likes to be with Scout.” She was so excited; if her arms weren’t full, she would have done a cartwheel. “I can’t wait till tomorrow! This will be the biggest trail ride I’ve ever been on.”

  Chapter 16

  Trail Ride

  Rosie’s eyes popped open. She looked at the clock on the dresser across the room. Six o’clock. Today was the trail ride! She jumped off her cot and fired her pillow at Carrie’s head.

  Carrie jumped.

  “Come on! Wake up!” Rosie shouted, bouncing around the room. “Wake up all you poofy-heads! Do you want to sleep right through the trail ride?”

  Carrie grabbed Rosie’s pillow and hurled it back at her. The other girls joined in, bombarding Rosie with pillows. Laughing, she dodged them all and ran out the door and down the stairs.

  “Have a seat.” Grandma motioned toward the table. She bustled about, cleaning the kitchen. “Did anyone get the ice chests? We won’t eat for the next two days if we forget those.”

  “Eric’s putting them in the camper right now,” Kristy assured her.

  Soon the rest of the kids made it into the kitchen. They gulped down their breakfast and cleared the dishes from the table.

  “All that’s left is to get the horses in the trailers.” Grandma led the way to the barn and supervised while the kids loaded the six horses into two trailers.

  They divided up passengers between two trucks and Lisa’s car. Rosie, Carrie, and Lauren piled into Grandma’s truck, and the caravan pulled out of the drive.

  Two minutes down the road Rosie piped up, “Are we there yet?”

  The girls burst into laughter.

  “I don’t know where you got that sense of humor,” Grandma remarked wryly.

  “From you!” Rosie laughed.

  “We have about an hour and a half left of our hour-and-a- half trip. Why don’t you girls play a game, and we’ll be there before you know it.”

  “We should have brought Horse-opoly,” Carrie said. “Why, so you could beat us again?” Rosie groaned. “Let’s play I Spy.”

  When the girls tired of that, they invented a new game. They were having so much fun that the time passed quickly.

  Carrie was the first to spot the sign for the Diamond C Ranch. “There it is!”

  Grandma turned in to the camp entrance and maneuvered the truck and trailer up the steep gravel drive. She pulled alongside Julie’s rig in a grove of tall oaks. Soon everyone was busy unloading horses and pitching tents.

  The campground was on the edge of a state forest. The large trees provided shade for their campsite. The horses, tied to the trailers, munched hay from their hay bags and watched curiously as the colorful tents were erected.

  “You won’t catch me in one of those. Sleeping on the ground doesn’t agree with my old bones,” Grandma announced. “I’ll spend the night in my comfortable camper. Anyone who wants to join me is welcome.”

  Rosie wasn’t interested in taking Grandma up on her offer. Her bones weren’t old, and she was excited about tent camping. After the campground was set up, they began saddling the horses for their first ride. Jared went with the adults to the camp stable to pick out their rental horses. It was quite a group when everyone was saddled and ready to go.

  Carrie looked around at the horses and riders and leaned toward Rosie. “This must be what it felt like to go on a cattle drive in the Old West.”

  “We have everything but the cows.” Rosie grinned. “I know what you mean. I’ve never ridden with this many people either.”

  “Since Julie knows these trails,” Grandma said, “she’ll be our leader. Jonathan will be next, then you kids. The rest of us will fall in behind you.”

  The trail meandered through hundreds of acres of forest. Going away from camp it was marked by splashes of white paint on trees to the right of the trail. The group was so long from beginning to end that it was impossible to hear anyone more than a few horses away. Messages had to be passed up and down the line.

  Carrie and Rosie found themselves in the middle of the pack. Carrie’s mount, Scout, and Scamper had become buddies during Cousins Camp and were happy to be together on the trail.

  “Deer!” Rosie heard someone ahead of her say. She turned and yelled, “Deer!” to the riders behind her. “Over there, Carrie.” She pointed to a doe with twin fawns off to her right.

  “Where?”

  “On the ridge up there. Don’t you see them?” Rosie pointed again.

  “Oh, I see them now. They’re so cute!”

  The deer stood motionless at a safe distance, their big eyes following the long procession. The horses paid no attention to their audience; each was focused on the horse immediately in front of him. As the heat of the day increased, so did the pesky flies, tormenting the horses despite all the fly spray that had been applied to their coats before leaving camp.

  The sound of swishing tails, jangly reins, squeaky leather saddles, and buzzing flies merged with hoof beats and the riders’ voices to form a sort of trail song in Rosie’s ears. She loved horses so much; she sometimes wished she lived before cars were invented, so she could ride Scamper everywhere.

  After climbing a steep hill, Rosie glanced to her right and realized she was looking out over the edge of a cliff. Not far from the trail was a rocky outcropping, and beyond that, a drop of about thirty feet into the gorge below. She instinctively steered to the left, as far from the edge as possible.

  Carrie followed her. “Scout won’t fall over the cliff, will he?”

  “No,” Rosie spoke loudly so Carrie could hear. “Horses are careful. They won’t get too close to the edge, but—I still like to stay as far away as I can.”

  They started down a steep slope. The horses angled themselves into the hill, bouncing the riders with their short, choppy steps.

  Rosie turned to look at Carrie and thought she seemed worried. “Let Scout pick his own way. Lean back a little when you go downhill and forward when you go up.”

  Carrie loosened her reins and leaned back as Scout continued down the hill.

  “Creek crossing!” The message reached the girls from the riders ahead of them. Before she could see it, Rosie heard the gurgling creek.

  Everyone along the line stopped and watched Julie urge Elektra toward the clear, sparkling water. The tall Thoroughbred pranced to the left and then to the right to see whether there was any way around; then she stopped and appeared to be trying to decide whether she could jump over to the bank on the other side. Running out of options, she pawed at the water a few times and gingerly placed one leg into the creek. Apparently convinced that it wasn’t deep enough to drown in, Elektra stepped into the water and walked calmly across.

  By the time the girls reached the creek, the water was so muddy Rosie couldn’t see the bottom. Scout and Scamper plunged in and splashed water everywhere. Rosie wiped her face with her sleeve. “Thanks for the shower, Scamp.”

  About a mile further on, the trail opened up into a grassy clearing with a picnic table. They stopped to eat and give the horses a chance to rest. After lunch, they mounted, and the group started again. Everyone rode in clusters of two or three, talking and laughing together, as they followed the trail that looped back to the campground. When they arrived, Carrie started toward the trailer with Scout.

  “No, Carrie, we’ll put them on the picket line overnight,” Rosie said.

  “Oh. I thought we’d tie them to the trailer like we did before.” Carrie followed Rosie to a line that stretched above the horses’ heads, between two wood posts.

  While Rosie cared for Scamper, Julie showed Carrie how to tie Scout to the overhead line. “This gives them more freedom to move,” she explained. “They can lie down if they want when they’re on a picket line, and there’s no chance of them ge
tting a leg stuck under the trailer.”

  After the horses were settled in for the night, the family gathered around a campfire, and Grandma served up her special camp stew.

  Eric held out his bowl. “Any possum in this stew?”

  “Oh no,” Kristy moaned. “Don’t start that again.”

  Rosie grinned at her dad’s joke. It was kind of funny that she had been afraid of a possum.

  As Eric finished his first bowl of stew and stood up to get a second helping, he flattened one hand against his back and seemed to have trouble moving his legs.

  Carrie leaned toward Rosie. “What’s wrong with your dad?”

  “I’d say four-hour trail rides aren’t part of his normal daily routine,” Grandma laughed.

  They weren’t part of Rosie’s routine either, but she wished they were. “This stew is great. I’m stuffed!” She swallowed her last bite and patted her stomach. “You know what, Grandma? You haven’t told us any stories this week.”

  “You’re right. We’ve been so busy I haven’t had time.”

  Jamie walked over and sat next to her grandmother. “Can you tell us one now?”

  Rosie threw her paper bowl into the fire and pulled Carrie along with her to sit beside her mom and dad. She loved her grandmother’s stories, even though she’d heard many of them over and over again.

  Chapter 17

  Family Stories

  Grandma made herself comfortable in a lawn chair. “Let me see. Have I ever told you about the time I met an angel on the trail?”

  The kids looked at each other wide-eyed and shook their heads.

  Carrie loved hearing Grandma’s stories. She stared at the campfire and listened.

  “Kristy and I were on a trail ride with a horse club I belonged to. Kristy was about nine, and riding Ebony— Scamper’s grandmother. I was on Ginger, a Missouri Fox Trotter mare I had at the time. Everything was fine at first. Ebony was a scrappy little pony who didn’t just keep up with the bigger horses, she usually tried to get ahead of them.”

  Carrie smiled. She hadn’t known Ebony, but she’d been around Scamper enough to know that he had inherited some of his grandmother’s personality.

  “The trails turned out to be very rocky,” Grandma continued. “Ebony and Ginger didn’t have shoes on. After several miles, their feet began to get a little sore, and they had a hard time keeping up with the other horses. I felt bad for Ginger and Ebony—and for the rest of the group. We had to go so slow that we were holding everyone back. I told them to go on without us. That way we could take our time getting back to camp. There was one problem with my plan though—I had never ridden those trails before, and they were poorly marked.

  “We continued in the direction the group had gone, but they were soon out of sight, and we were on our own. As we rode on and on, I began to worry. It was getting late, and I didn’t know how much farther it was to camp—or even if we were headed in the right direction.”

  Carrie glanced at Rosie’s mother. It was hard to imagine her as a kid and Grandma as her mom. Cousins Camp was fun, but at the same time, being around Rosie’s family caused a strange pain deep inside her. It made her wonder what her mom and grandmother were like. Would she ever know?

  “We came to a fork in the trail and stopped. We’d been riding for so long; I thought we had to be getting close to camp. I pulled out my map but couldn’t tell where we were. No matter which way I turned, it looked the same. All I saw were trees, trees, and more trees. I was tired and trying hard not to let Kristy see the panic I was beginning to feel.”

  “You did a good job, because I never noticed anything was wrong,” Kristy said. “It just seemed like any other trail ride we’d been on.”

  “I’m glad. I didn’t want to frighten you,” Grandma said, then continued with her story. “We sat there for quite some time while I tried to figure out which way to turn. I had just decided to take the right fork of the trail when I heard a rider coming up behind us.

  “It was a man on a large sandy-colored mule. He must have noticed that I had my map out. ‘Need any help?’ he asked kindly. I explained that we were trying to get back to the campground. ‘That’s where I’m heading. Follow me.’ He rode past, and we started after him. When I saw him turn to the left, my heart gave a thud, and I whispered a prayer of thanks.” Grandma grew quiet and stared at the fire.

  Carrie wondered what Grandma’s story meant. Was she saying the man on the mule was an angel? Didn’t angels glow and have large wings? It seemed that you’d know right away if you had seen an angel.

  “Aw, Grandma. That’s it? That’s the end of the story? You think that guy was an angel?” Jessie poked at the fire with a long stick, sending sparks flying up into the dark sky.

  “Jessie, put the stick down,” Eric said.

  Jessie reluctantly tossed the stick into the fire. “An angel wouldn’t ride a mule. They’d ride a dazzling white stallion!”

  “Maybe he was—maybe he wasn’t,” Grandma said. “All I know is that he came along at exactly the moment we needed him. The Bible says we can ‘entertain angels unawares,’ (1) meaning that sometimes angels are around us, and we don’t even know it. If we had turned to the right as I had decided, who knows where Kristy and I would have ended up? With darkness approaching and two footsore horses, we probably would have had to spend the night alone in the forest.”

  Eric threw another log on the fire. “That reminds me of the verse that says, ‘There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.’” (2)

  Rosie jerked her head toward her father. “Are you saying Mom and Grandma might have died out there?”

  “No.” Eric shook his head. “Just that when we follow our own way, it doesn’t turn out well. It’s much better to follow God’s way.”

  Grandma nodded in agreement. “Does anyone else have a story?”

  Rosie walked over and whispered something to her Uncle Robert.

  He looked puzzled. “Lisa, I don’t have any idea what she’s talking about, but Rosie wants me to ask you whether you ever found your swimming suit.”

  Rosie grinned and ran back to sit beside her mother.

  “Oh, not that story again,” Lisa groaned. “Yes, I did find my swimming suit, Rosie. But I have to confess I never learned to dive into the pool.”

  Robert seemed more confused. “Pool? What are you talking about?”

  Lisa waved away his question. “I’ll explain it some other time. I have a better story. This was on our first ride at Alum Creek State Park. Julie was five, and she was riding with Mom on Ginger. Kristy and I were behind them on my horse, Maggie. We were surprised by how steep some of the ravines were on the trail. Mom and Julie made it down the first hill, but when Maggie started down, her saddle slid way forward, and I ended up on her neck. Kristy and I yelled, but Mom didn’t stop.”

  “It sounded like you two were laughing,” Grandma replied. “I thought you were just having fun.”

  “When Mom noticed we weren’t following her any more, she turned around. She and Julie both laughed at the sight of me perched on Maggie’s neck with Kristy hanging on for dear life to my waist.”

  Carrie watched Rosie laugh at her aunt’s story. She was happy for her but envious at the same time. Normally she didn’t allow herself to think about her parents, but now she couldn’t push back the painful feelings. It made her feel sad even though everyone surrounding her was happy. How was it possible to miss someone so much, that she had never really known?

  “Mom thought the saddle was loose,” Kristy went on, “so we got off while she tightened it. Then we all got back on.”

  “The next time we went down a hill, the same thing happened,” Lisa said, “but this time Mom was watching.”

  “What did you do, Aunt Lisa?” Jamie asked.

  “For the rest of that trail ride, we stopped when we reached the top of each hill. Kristy and I would jump off and lead Maggie down, then we’d stop at the bottom to get back on. Mom’s horse, Gin
ger, learned to stop when she reached the bottom of a hill. She would look back toward us to see whether we were on Maggie before she started walking again.”

  “We got nearly as much exercise as Maggie did that day,” Kristy added. “After that trip, Mom bought a breeching to keep the saddle from sliding forward on hilly rides. Maggie hated that thing. I think she was embarrassed to wear it. Someone must have told her that breechings are usually used on mules.”

  Carrie leaned toward Rosie and whispered, “What’s a breeching?”

  Rosie whispered back, “A leather strap that goes around their hindquarters and attaches to the saddle.”

  They all sat quietly for a few minutes, then Grandma thought of another story. “Lisa, remember when you and I were riding the Maple Glen trail? It was an out-and-back trail, and we’d never ridden all the way to the end before. We were within a half-mile of our goal one day when Maggie began to limp.”

  “Yeah,” Lisa said. “We both got off, and you checked her hoof. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong, but Maggie refused to put any weight on that leg.”

  “I was disappointed that, once again, we weren’t going to reach the end of the trail,” Grandma said, “but even worse, I had no idea how to get a lame horse five miles back to the trailer.”

  “We turned around, and Maggie almost immediately began to perk up,” Lisa said. “Five minutes later, I had a hard time keeping her from trotting. She showed no signs of being lame at all.”

  Grandma nodded. “I’m still convinced that sneaky horse faked the whole thing, so we would go back to the trailer.”

  Lisa laughed. “Since it got her out of work that time, Maggie tried the limping routine again on the next ride, but we were onto her trick after that.”

  Rosie looked around. “What about you, Aunt Julie? Do you have a horse story?”

  “All I know is that I was the only one to fall off any of our horses. I must have fallen off Ebony a dozen times, but fortunately, it wasn’t far to the ground. I guess I shouldn’t have tried riding her bareback—with no bridle or halter.”