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| >> Static Item >> Prose >> Animal >> ID #844934 |   |
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The coolest thing I’ve ever done is to show a horse that hadn’t been ridden in a year. Yes, that’s as crazy as jumping off a roof or diving into the ocean where there are floating icebergs, but it was an act done from necessity. It was Saturday. I’d decked myself out with the correct costume for the horseshow's Western morning, which meant I was wearing my good, black jeans, a fancy long-sleeved, black shirt with white piping, and my slightly dusty, black cowboy hat. I didn’t have the money for fancy chaps or fringed leather vests, but I did have on some brand new black, cowboy boots, which I was mighty proud of. But I arrived that day to discover that Fancy, the horse I’d leased for the month, the one I’d planned to ride in the show, was lame. My smile fell into the dust. The owner looked at me, gave a brief chuckle and said, “Well, I do have another horse you could ride.” She was hesitating slightly. I wondered why. Besides, what horse? Fancy lived alone in the corral behind the woman's house. I shifted my stance slightly, wondering why my friend looked so reluctant. She probably thought I wasn’t good enough to ride this mystery horse. She caught my expression and laughed. “April is an Arabian and flighty as the wind. She stays in the Simon’s pasture because no one’s able to handle her. She hasn't been ridden for a year, but if you'd be interested in giving her a try . . . I mean, if you really want to show today. . . " “Whoa, a year?” I said. I gulped, then took in a deep breath. “Would you help me catch her?” The first class, Western Equitation, started in two hours. There was probably not any way I’d be ready in time, but I figured I’d give it a shot. After all, what did I have to lose? . . . except a broken leg or arm. My hands started shaking as I reached for my halter. We walked out to the pasture that bordered the show arena. My friend continued. “You know, I’d really like to sell the Arab. If you show her well, someone might be interested.” I didn’t make any promises. Already I had little butterflies fluttering about my stomach so fast they were giving me motion sickness. Amazingly, April came right up to us, nibbled her carrots, and allowed me to slip on my halter. Then she walked docilely beside me. Even when we got her over to the arena, she was as calm as an old nag. I eyed the owner. She laughed, picking up on my look. “Riding April is a lot different than walking beside her. You’ll see what I mean when you mount up.” I took her word for it and lunged April first. She wasn’t really lunge-trained, but she more or less got the idea. My arms ached after twenty minutes, and a crowd gathered. April was like a brand new copper penny with an arched tail that bannered into the morning's light breeze. Already she was gathering admirers. I stopped her, quieted her down, and brushed her out. Then I tacked up and adjusted the owner’s saddle. Sending up a silent pray, I mounted to not one single buck. April’s neck arched, and she moved into the bit like an experienced horse. I walked, trotted, and cantered about the practice arena. The mare settled easily, showing me lovely paces. Still trying to get a feel for her, I walked April over to the gate and urged her into position so I could open and close the gate. April was green in her responses to my leg pressures, but she wasn’t unwilling. Her head bowed. She listened to my soft spoken words. The announcer called my first class. I double-checked April’s girth, patted her, and prepared to enter the arena, still wishing hard that I’d had more time with her. There were at least a hundred people watching, and I had no idea what to expect from April once I got into that show ring. Would she dump me? Would she embarrass me? I didn’t even get inside before something set her off. I don’t know whether it was a misplaced laugh, a child screaming, or a paper rustling, but April snorted, shied, and then kicked up her heels into a wild, fireworks display. People backed and quieted. I wasn’t paying attention to them, though. I was circling April, tighter and tighter. The explosion was short-lived and not that violent. A minute later, just before the gate officially closed, I entered the ring. To understand just how beautiful April was, you have to remember that the other horses had all been bathed and groomed. Their owners had painted shiny polish on their horses’ hooves. All the other horses' muzzle whiskers had been trimmed off, and the animals were primed and ready. But that didn’t matter, even without show prep, April drew all eyes. She was a perfect lady throughout that class. She hardly felt green at all. We won Equitation, just like we took first place off and on for the rest of the morning. In the afternoon, I changed clothes, put an English saddle on April’s back, and we took even more ribbons. Unbelievably, we came out with High Point Trophy, and by the close of the show April had been sold. It’s still hard for me to believe all that really happened. If someone had told me this story, I would have snickered behind the person's back, figuring the tale was a load of milarky, because you just don’t ride a pastured horse into a show ring. Nor would I have believed that a person could win ribbons on a horse she’d never ridden before. But you see, somehow I earned April’s respect, and she settled down and worked for me. Miracles do sometimes happen. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I wish I could have been the one to buy April, but I didn't have that kind of money. Yet I’ll never forget the day she gave me. Riding April in the horse show that day, was as crazy as hand-feeding sharks, but it was the honest-to-goodness coolest thing I've ever done. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
© Copyright 2004 Shaara (UN: shaara at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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