Sundancer. Shelley Peterson

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      Sundancer did his best to remain uninterested, but as Bird continued to enjoy the delicious treat, Sundancer got more aggravated. He was missing out, and he didn’t like it one bit.

      Sundancer grabbed the furthest carrot from the ground, eyeing Bird. He ate it, then took a sugar cube. As Bird had hoped, he moved closer and closer as he ate his way along the row. Bird sat still, moving only her jaws as she slowly devoured the apple. Visions of yesterday’s mad charge danced in her head. She was ready to leap out of the way should Sundancer decide to knock her over. But so far, so good.

      Fifteen minutes passed before Sundancer’s nose was at the apple. Bird shifted her weight and turned her back to him. She took another nibble.

      Sundancer’s neck stretched out to follow the apple. He nudged Bird’s arm. She pushed back. Bird shifted again, forcing Sundancer to follow her.

      She let him have a taste. He tried to take the whole thing, but Bird stopped him at a bite. Then another. She put her hand on his jaw and stroked him while he enjoyed his hard-won prize. He didn’t move away.

      Very slowly, Bird stood and offered him the rest. As he gobbled the apple, she seized her moment. In one fluid motion, she grabbed his mane in both hands and jumped lightly onto his back, using the fence rail as a springboard.

      Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?

      HANNAH AWOKE FEELING REFRESHED and calm. It was Sunday, the least hectic day of the week. She stretched and opened the curtains to look out at the day.

      She froze. In the paddock directly opposite Hannah’s window, Bird was sitting astride the new horse. Bareback.

      As she watched, the big chestnut exploded. He reared up and twisted. Hannah gasped as Bird crumpled into a heap in the dirt. The horse casually kicked up his heels, put his nose to the ground, arched his back, and bucked. His rear legs shot straight up in the air and kicked at the sky. Then he turned and looked at Bird. Bird stood up, brushed off her clothes, and walked toward him.

      In her blue cotton nightgown and fuzzy leopard-spotted slippers, Hannah tore downstairs and out the door. “Bird!” she yelled. “Bird!” Both Bird and the horse turned to look. Hector wagged his tail and barked a hearty welcome. Hannah kept running until she got to the fence.

      “Bird,” she panted, awkwardly climbing over the rails, “what did I tell you about this horse? He cannot be ridden. We have to do this one step at a time. We must retrain him, like he’s a two-year-old.

      He is unsafe! Do you understand?” Hannah spoke far louder than she probably intended in her effort to get through to Bird. “Do you? Nod if you understand.”

      Bird nodded. Actually, she had just begun to understand. “Then why the heck did you get on him?”

      For the same reason people climb mountains, I guess, Bird reasoned.

      The horse was gloating. Bird saw it. There was an arrogant, superior look of satisfaction in his eyes, as if he’d won a contest. Which, in fact, Bird acknowledged he had. Sundancer two, Bird, zip.

      Hannah saw it, too, and stared at him. She had her work cut out for her, and it was work that needed to be done now. If Sundancer believed he could push people around, he would try to get his way in everything, until finally he would no longer be useful. She just hoped it wasn’t already too late.

      She reached out quickly and grabbed his halter before he could move away. “Bird. Get me the lunge whip, my gloves, and a lead line. Fast. I need my riding boots and the socks that are in them, too. Please. They’re right by the kitchen door. And my jeans. They’re in the basket on the washing machine.”

      Bird ran off to do as she was bid. This was going to be good.

      TEN MINUTES LATER, HANNAH stood rooted to the ground in front of the proud chestnut gelding. They were in the round pen — a circular enclosure measuring sixty feet in diameter, surrounded by six-foot-high, solid oak walls. It was a valuable training area, and Hannah used it often to teach young horses.

      They had interrupted Cliff ’s morning chores, and he joined them now, a curious look on his face. “Hannah, it’s six thirty in the morning.”

      Hannah turned away from the horse’s haughty gaze for a brief second to look at Cliff. Three years earlier, he’d come to the farm from the racetrack. He was tall and gaunt and full of horse knowledge.

      “Don’t worry, Cliff. I haven’t gone insane, or at least not more than usual. Bird was just dumped by pretty boy here, who thinks it’s funny. I don’t think he should get away with it, and now is always the best time to sort out a problem.”

      Cliff nodded. “Give you credit, Hannah. If anyone can fix this rascal, it’s you. Need a hand?”

      “Can you get the gate?” Cliff nodded.

      Bird watched from the stands as Hannah untied the rope from the horse’s halter. She flicked the lunge whip and yelled, “Get up!” The horse turned to look at her, eyes hard and challenging. “Get up!” Hannah called again, flicking at his hind end. The horse sat back on his haunches, sprang up in the air then dove down with a mighty buck. He turned his back to Hannah and kicked out at her, missing her by inches.

      “Get out of there, Hannah!” cried Cliff. He, too, was watching from the stands, and Bird could see the fear in his eyes and hear it in his voice. “He’s going to kill you!”

      Hannah flicked the whip harder. “Don’t worry, Cliff, this has got to be done. Get up!” The horse bucked again, sending a rear hoof at Hannah’s head.

      “Let me do it, Hannah. Or send him back. He’s not worth dying for.”

      “Get up!” Hannah called, chasing the horse around the pen. “Cliff, I’m not going to die. Please. You’re distracting me.”

      Now the horse was galloping in a circle around Hannah. “Good boy!” she cooed, keeping her whip pointed at his rear. When he slowed, she flicked the whip and called, “Get up!” Around and around he went. No more bucks, but his eye still challenged.

      Bird watched, chastened. She’d failed. Again. No other horse had ever blocked her out this way. She hoped Hannah would be more successful. If she wasn’t, Sundancer would be useless.

      Out in the pen, Hannah changed the rules. She put the whip in her right hand and stopped Sundancer’s action. The big horse skidded to a halt and spun his rear toward her, preparing to kick. She snapped the whip loudly, sending him around the other way.

      With ears pinned back and tail swishing, he was the picture of a malevolent spirit. Even so, there was no disguising his majestic carriage and his natural grace. His action was smooth and liquid, and he moved around the pen with effortless athleticism.

      Hannah was relentless. Around and around he ran, Hannah on his tail, snapping the whip and yelling, “Get up!” She never once touched him, but it was plain that she meant business.

      Bird admired the way her aunt worked. Tough lady, Bird thought. Her instincts are right, and she knows what she’s doing. Sundancer needs this lesson. He is the most pigheaded horse I’ve ever met, and he feels superior. Maybe this will make him worse, but it’s worth a try. He’s not good for much as he is.

      Twenty minutes later, the horse was flagging СКАЧАТЬ