Age:
High School
Reading Level: 2.1
Chapter One: The Therapeutic Riding Program
Meredith sat on Molly. Her flushed cheeks hid her freckles. It was her first time on a horse, and she was excited.
Sara stood beside Meredith. She braced an arm across Meredith's thigh to help her stay in the saddle.
Nick held the shank lead attached to Molly's halter. His job was to make sure the horse was under complete control at all times.
He looked back from his position at the horse's head. He was amused by the riding helmet sitting just over Meredith's eyebrows. For a second, she reminded him of a football player right after the coach calls his number to go in the game.
Was she going to smile for the whole forty-five-minute session?
Six children were mounted. Their horses faced each other across the indoor arena. It was a huge, dirt-floor pole barn as big as two gymnasiums.
"Hi, everybody," the head instructor called out. "My name is Marcy. My job is to make sure you get good, safe exercise while you learn to ride. Okay?"
Six heads nodded. Nick and the other volunteers knew what to expect after their training sessions earlier in the week.
"First thing we'll learn is how to get your horse to walk," Marcy said. "Here's what you do. Hold both reins in your left hand. Push them forward and say, 'walk on,' nice and loud. And when you want the horse to stop, you pull back on the reins and say, 'whoa.'"
One by one, the children walked their horses forward.
When it was Meredith's turn, she called out, "Walk on." It sounded more like "wog-on."
Molly didn't move.
Meredith tried again, almost shouting, "Walk on!"
No reaction.
Nick pulled gently on the shank lead. Molly walked forward a few steps.
Meredith's smile was gone. In fact, she looked like she was close to tears.
"What did I do wrong?" she asked. "How come you had to pull her, Nick?"
Wow, she doesn't miss much, Nick thought. I better say the right thing, or she might be turned off to the whole idea of riding.
"Um," Nick began. He paused, waiting for a good idea. "Probably it's because Molly is new here. She isn't used to hearing 'walk on' as a signal to get moving. She's smart. We just have to be patient 'til she learns a new signal to move. Okay?"
Meredith nodded.
"Here's what we'll do. When you say 'walk on,' give her a little nudge in the ribs with your heels. Can you do that?" Nick asked.
"Yep," Meredith said.
"And I'll give her a little tug. Pretty soon, she'll catch on," Nick said.
"Now, I want you all to get in line behind each other," Marcy said. "Don't get too close to the horse ahead of you. Keep enough room so an elephant could fit between you. Okay, let's go."
"Walk on!" six children commanded.
The line moved forward.
Josephine, the horse in front of Molly, raised her tail and let out a noisy, smelly blast.
"I said 'walk on,' not 'talk on,'" Meredith joked.
Nick looked back at the girl, grinning.
This could be more fun than I thought, he told himself.
When Josephine walked by the open doors that led to the paddocks outside, she nickered loudly to her baby. Tika looked up from the far side, where she was busy teasing Trace.
Trace was patient with Tika. He put up with her headbutting and playful bites. If she got on his nerves, he only had to lay his ears back and snort to make her stop.
Tika answered Josephine and trotted toward her mother. She was hoping for a quick snack of milk.
She's getting big, Nick thought. Between Corky and Zan, she's getting used to working from a lead rope.
Zan. It sure is nice to not have him around for a weekend. He wouldn't be interested in volunteering for this program. He wouldn't like walking in circles while someone else rode. Besides, he's too young.
The line of riders passed by the classroom at the far end of the arena. Behind the large window, six students looked up at a diagram of a horse's body. A teacher pointed to the different parts of the horse.
In a while, it would be their turn to ride. Then the kids who were riding now would take a turn with book learning.
"Stop," Marcy called.
The riders reined in.
"It's time to practice turning," Marcy said.
Back home, Nick checked his emails. There was one from Tanya.
Hi, Nick. How's your fractured skull? You got to be careful, cowboy.
Besides, you're becoming a bad role model for my little brother. He thinks his broken arm is no big thing compared to you. I hope he doesn't think he has to compete with you.
Speaking of Zan, we had a great time up north. While my mother and uncle and I talked to a real estate agent, Zan ran all over Camp Wa-Tonka.
It sure looks different at this time of year. Not like in the summer, when you were up here and I could watch the kids riding down the trail by Grandpa's cabin. Now, it's like a ghost town. All those cabins and no one in them.
No kids swarming all over the place. No loudspeakers waking folks up and telling them to go swimming and riding.
Zan didn't know any different. He just took off exploring. Later, when we went to town, we dropped him off at Jaremba's. We told him not to ride any horses.
Uncle Clarence thinks horses are a good thing for him. My mother and I aren't so sure. Don't get me wrong, we appreciate your paying attention to him. He needs you. Whether he realizes it or not, you're good for him.
Thanks, Nick, the email ended.
What do I email back? Nick wondered. Where do I begin? The guy's running all over my camp, probably poking around like he owns it or something.
And his sister and mother think I'm somehow responsible for him getting hurt. But then they want me to keep hanging out with him.
Wow. I'll just keep it simple.
All he wrote was: I'm glad you had a good time up north. Got to go. So long.
Anne Marie poked her head in the door.
"Hey, Nick," she said. She was picking at a torn fingernail. "Who are you emailing?"
"Tanya, Zan's sister," Nick said.
"Hmm," she said, biting her fingernail. "You sure spend a lot of time with that boy."
"It's not like I plan to do it," Nick said. "I took him to the stables once, and now he's just there."
"Sara could stand a little attention, too," Anne Marie said.
"Say what?" Nick asked.
"Well, she doesn't have any friends at school," Anne Marie said. "And Aunt Josie says she calls her brother every couple of days and chats forever. All she's got are those kids in the riding program."
"And you," Nick reminded her. "Besides, I just spent all morning with her. And we were in the car together, there and back."
Nick paused. He stared at his sister.
"You have something on your mind. What is it, Anne Marie?" he asked.
Anne Marie pulled her fingernail from her mouth.
"There's the Fall Formal next month," she said.
"And?" Nick asked.
"Maybe you could ask her," Anne Marie said.
"Take Sara?" Nick asked. His face twisted in a combination of surprise and disgust.
"Well, it's not like I asked you to take a horse to the school dance. Geez, Nick. You never go to parties," Anne Marie said.
"I'm too busy," Nick said. He turned back to the computer.
"You're just chicken," Anne Marie called on her way out the door.
Chapter Two: Talk On
"Hey, Nick, when can I ride Trace?" Zan called.
His head was silhouetted against the sky. It looked like a bowling ball rolling along the top of the half-doors.
"When can I, huh?" he asked. He kept pace as Molly, Nick, and Meredith walked by.
Zan couldn't follow them past the doors. He was forced to wait until they circled back around.
"I can ride real good," he shouted after the riders.
"Talk on!" Meredith called over her shoulder.
As they passed a second time, Zan pleaded his case.
"I've paid my dues, man. I rode Josephine five times. I'm ready for Trace," he said.
"Talk on!" Meredith said again.
When they rode by again, Zan added, "Besides, when I was up north I rode some of those camp horses, too. I'm getting good."
Nick looked sharply at Zan, ready to speak.
Sara was walking at Meredith's side. She shook her head.
"Neek, no," she warned.
"Talk on!" Meredith said.
This time, Nick turned his head toward her. Had he heard right?
Meredith rolled her eyes.
Nick laughed out loud. "Are you saying this sounds like so much hot air to you, too?" he asked.
Meredith grinned.
The next time around, they could see Zan working Tika on a lead. Corky was beside him, teaching him.
After class, Meredith made her slow and painstaking way out to the paddock. She was sweating by the time she could take the crutches off her arms and lean against the fence. She watched Zan offer Tika a carrot.
"She likes you," Meredith said.
"Huh?" Zan asked. He had noticed Meredith for the first time. "What did you say?"
"I said," Meredith repeated, "she seems to like you."
"Well, she should. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be here," Zan said. "I helped her get born. And now I'm training her."
Tika trotted up behind Zan. She bumped him in the back. He turned and snapped his finger on her muzzle.
"Don't do that," he said.
The young horse jerked her head back, startled.
"Corky says I shouldn't let her do that, because when she gets bigger she could really hurt me. Especially with biting," Zan said. He patted Tika on the neck. "But sometimes I let her get away with it. She's still a baby."
"That's not good," Meredith said.
"What isn't good?" Zan asked.
"Telling her 'no' one time and letting her get away with it the next time," Meredith said.
"What do you know about it?" Zan asked.
"We studied it in class," Meredith said. She pointed her thumb toward the classroom next to the arena. "With horses, you should always do the same things in the same way. That way, they learn what's expected of them."
"Ha! Shows what you know," Zan said. "I like animals and animals like me. That's all that counts. You don't get that from a book."
"Talk on!" Meredith said.
"Why do you keep saying that? You said it in the barn during your lesson and you're saying it out here. What does it mean?" Zan asked.
Just then, Tika raised her tail and loudly passed gas.
Meredith pointed and said, "Talk on!"
On the way home, Zan sat in the back seat with Nick.
"Corky says I can ride Trace next week," Zan said. "But you have to watch me."
Nick nodded. "If she says so," he said.
"Yep. Here's me on Trace," Zan said. He held out his arms like he was flying an airplane, with all the swooshing and diving noises.
Nick broke into Zan's daydream. "What were you saying earlier about riding camp horses?" he asked.
"There's this guy, my grandpa's friend. He keeps a bunch of horses for this camp," Zan said.
"I know. Jaremba," Nick said. "And I know the camp. I worked there."
"Wa-Tonka," Zan said. "Camp Wa-Tonka. And the horses were really cool. The old man let me play with them. He even let me ride one of them. I forget his name. He was fast, with brown and white spots."
"Prince? You rode Prince?" Nick asked.
"Yeah, that's his name," Zan said. "I rode Prince. He's all right."
Nick sighed. He looked out the window for a moment.
"Yeah, Prince is all right," he said. Turning back to Zan, he asked, "But didn't your mother tell you not to ride the horses?"
"She said not to do anything foolish," Zan said.
"I see," Nick said. "So, what other kinds of foolishness didn't you do?"
"Rode into town. To the drugstore. Jaremba needed some medicine and I needed my blood sugar test strips," Zan said. "It was fun. You know how in front of the camp there's this nice grass strip like a racetrack? Well, I got... What's his name again?"
"Prince," Nick said.
"Yeah, Prince. I got Prince running," Zan said.
Nick closed his eyes. He was remembering the ditch that made Cutter run in front of a truck.
"And it was like he knew something was there. Before I knew it, he jumped and we were flying," Zan said.
"The ditch," Nick said.
"How did you know?" Zan asked. Awareness spread across his face. "You did it too, huh? When you were at that camp? Fun, wasn't it?"
Nick didn't answer. He was remembering the awful accident that ended Cutter's life the last time he ran across that ditch.
"So, anyway, on the way back from town there was this old lady parked on the side of the road with her hood up. She was out of gas," Zan said. "So I rode Prince to a station and brought back a can of gas for her."
He went on. "Later, when I was almost to Jaremba's, she pulled next to me. She asked how she could thank me. 'Well,' I said, 'I could sure use some lunch.' So, after I put the horse in the pasture, she took me for a burger. Then she got talking about this neat place called Jordan Valley. There's a special cliff where you can see it all in front of you."
"Deadman's Bluff," Nick said.
"Hey, whose story is this, anyhow?" Zan asked. He frowned for a moment. "If you know so much, why don't you tell me what happened next?"
"You stood at the top of Deadman's Bluff and looked at the river below. You thought it would be fun to ride a horse all the way down there and then run along the river," Nick said.
Zan's mouth hung open in surprise. "Yeah. How did you guess?" he asked.
"Been there. Done that," Nick said. "So has Prince."
Zan pounded the seat with his good hand.
"Everybody thinks they know more than me today," he said. "Well, 'talk on' to you, too!"
Chapter Three: Zan Meets Trace
"Use your right hand to hold the reins. Later, when your cast is off, you should use your left," Nick said.
He was coaching Zan while they walked Trace out to the pasture.
"And be sure to go real slow at the beginning," Nick said. "You have to let him know who's in charge."
Zan nodded. "Anything you say, as long as I get a chance to ride this sports car of a horse. Can do, Zan. Can do," he said to himself.
Up in the saddle, Zan leaned toward Trace's head. He waggled his finger like a mother scolding a child. He made his voice lower.
"Now, look here, mister. I'm the boss man. I expect total and complete respect from you, or else," he said.
Nick wasn't in the mood to be teased. He let go of the bridle. It was like releasing an arrow from a full-drawn bow.
Zan slid back into the saddle. He was fighting to get his right foot in the stirrup while Trace ran across the pasture.
With his head down, Zan didn't realize that the horse was heading toward an electric wire fence.
He better be ready, Nick thought, or he's going to break his other arm when that horse cuts.
Trace checked, planted all four hooves, and cut hard to the right.
Zan grabbed for the saddle horn. He leaned so far to his left that his right foot almost cleared the saddle. He looked like he was about to dismount.
Trace cut to the left. Zan slammed back to sitting upright.
He was determined to stay on the horse. Alert. Balanced.
Zan was ready for any move.
Nick watched Zan stick with his mount. He was weaving, reacting, even thinking ahead.
He's good, Nick had to admit.
"Whoa!" Zan shouted as they came close to the barn. He jerked the reins, again and again.
"Stop!" he shouted. He was struggling for control.
When the horse slowed to a trot, Zan hopped off. He stumbled for a few steps.
Nick ducked under the rail and hurried over.
"You okay? How's your arm?" he asked.
Zan didn't answer at first. He just stared at Trace.
Trace was quietly eating from a hay rack, like he hadn't just acted like a rocket with a loose fin.
"I'm okay," Zan finally said. He stared at Trace. Then he shouted at Nick, "Forget you, man!"
"No, we aren't forgetting anyone," Nick said angrily. "You got this horse out here, now you're going to get him back."
Zan lowered his head. He glared past his frowning eyebrows at Nick.
"Go get him!" Nick ordered. "And you better ride him the way I told you, or you'll never get another chance."
Zan stood unmoving for a full minute. Then he stomped toward the horse.
When he was ten feet away, Trace looked up. He slowly walked off.
Zan got closer.
Trace moved away. Again. Then again.
Zan tried another idea. He got within ten feet and charged like a basketball player breaking for the hoop.
Trace waited until Zan was almost to him before sidestepping and trotting off.
Finally, Trace was trapped in a corner of the pasture. Zan was sure he had him now.
As the boy crowded closer, the smart cutting horse took a quick lunge to his left. Zan stepped in that direction to cut him off. Trace zoomed by on his other side.
"Did you see that?" Zan called to Nick, in disbelief. "He laid a move on me."
Nick stepped into the pasture. He held out his hand and clucked softly to Trace.
The horse walked over. Nick patted him on the neck.
"Well, see, he knows you," Zan explained. "You've been around here longer than me."
Nick didn't answer. He just handed the reins to Zan.
Zan took a deep breath and swung up. This time, he tightened the reins as soon as he landed in the saddle.
Trace danced, feet circling.
Zan jerked on the reins.
"Walk!" he said, with authority. "Walk, not trot. I'll tell you when to trot."
All the way back to Nick's house, Zan was quiet.
"Your uncle will come get you in a little while," Aunt Josie said as they pulled into the driveway.
Sara and Nick walked toward the house. Zan grabbed a basketball and started dribbling.
"Hey, Nick. Let's play a little hoops. Some one-on-one. What do you say?" he asked.
"Naw, I'm hungry," Nick said.
"See? That's how you do," Zan said. "You only do what you're good at. But this is my game. This is what I do."
Nick paused. He owed the kid a chance to show that he was good at something. But geez, he was tired of him.
Zan dribbled in dizzy circles. It was almost like the ball was glued to his fingers. He finished by faking to his right, driving to the left, and pulling up for a running jumper.
Once again, he's good, Nick said to himself. Much better than I could ever hope to be. I wish I were that good.
Nick took a deep breath. "I'm not any good at basketball," he said. "You're better. You win. Satisfied?"
"Bueno, Neek," Sara said in a soft voice. "Es chico."
"Yeah, he's little, all right. A little pain in the neck," Nick said.
Zan kept it up.
Holding up his cast, he said, "How bad can you be? I'm only playing with one arm."
A cold wave of anger rose in Nick's throat.
This guy messed up my time with Cassidy. He went up north, rode my special horse, and couldn't even remember his name. And now he wants to show me up in front of Sara, he thought.
"Okay. I'll play," Nick said. "I can't run with you but I can play HORSE."
"You mean where we try to match each other's shots?" Zan asked.
"Yep," Nick said.
"Whatever," Zan said, laughing. "I'd like to see you do my finger roll."
Nick called for the ball.
"I start," he said.
Then he stood for a moment at the crack in the driveway.
"Take your time, now," Zan teased. "You don't want to move too quick or anything."
Nick thought of Lake Michigan and horses running along the surf line.
Swish.
Zan blinked.
"Okay, give me the ball," he said.
He started back a few feet and began dribbling toward the crack.
"Nope," Nick said. "You can't dribble. This is a spot-up, three-point shot. Like in a game, where you wait at your spot for someone to swing the ball out to you. And as soon as you get it, you let it rip before a defender can put a hand in your face."
Zan shook his head. He shot. The ball hit the front of the rim.
"H," Nick said.
Then he shot again. All net.
Zan missed.
"H-O," Nick said.
"Hey, you got to let me move a little," Zan said. "You know, like in that movie where the guy couldn't shoot straight standing still. But as soon as he could duck and weave, he was blasting everything in sight. Like that. That's what I mean."
Nick said nothing. No mercy.
Soon it was H-O-R. Then H-O-R-S. And finally, HORSE.
Zan slumped on the front steps to wait for his uncle.
Nick turned and walked into the house.
He won.
How come he felt so bad?