Читать книгу The Horse of the River - Sari Cooper - Страница 10

Gillian squirmed herself as far down into her sleeping bag as she could, but she still couldn’t block out the clanging sound. There must have been about four hundred bongs of the bell. Finally it stopped. What a relief. She took her hands off her ears and snuggled back onto her pillow for a little more sleep. Then she groaned as Naomi cranked a happy pop song on her phone.

“Up, up, up! Clothes on. Wash up quick. Breakfast in fifteen minutes. Be there or be hungry.” Naomi yelled cheerfully over the music, way too excited for this early in the morning. But suddenly Gillian remembered. Horses. Today she would meet the new four-legged friend who would be her partner for the next four weeks. She couldn’t be late. She sat up and her sleeping bag sat up with her. She was glad for this because the air in the cabin was freezing. She grabbed the nearest jeans and sweater off the shelf above her head and pulled them on while still zipped in the sleeping bag. Her clothes felt tight. Then she realized she had put them on over her pyjamas. She stripped them off and tried again, getting it right the second time. It hadn’t been the best night’s sleep. She wasn’t used to hearing crickets all night, and the wind whistled as it passed through cracks in the cabin’s roof. The bunk beds also creaked whenever someone rolled over. And every time she drifted to sleep, images of a ghost horse galloped through her mind. Twice in the night she heard Jaida sniffling and whimpering. Eventually Naomi climbed into Jaida’s bunk and comforted her to sleep. Gillian had been close to tears herself a few times, missing her bed and her room, but she managed to push the thoughts away by imagining the upcoming day with the horses. She’d hugged Elfkin tighter than she ever had and then finally she remembered nothing more until the ear-shattering bell a few moments ago.

Breakfast was hot chocolate and French toast with sausages. There was also cold cereal but Gillian’s mouth watered with the smell of the cooked food.

She finished eating as quickly as possible and hurried back to the Homestead with the rest of the girls. They all went through the chores of making up their bunks, putting away clothes, sweeping and cleaning up the garbage. They gathered what they would need for the day, crossed the Range and hiked the short, rocky trail through the woods.

They arrived at the stables to find twenty-four horses tied to various posts and fences in the large paddock. Gillian stopped, shocked at what she was seeing. Every horse was covered in streaks of mud. Along the side of their necks the streaks took the shape of letters. Libby was standing at the gate to the paddock, holding it open and waving the girls inside. At her feet was a large bucket and in her right hand was a paintbrush caked with drying mud. “Welcome, ladies. Today we’re going to get to know our horses, and at the same time, learn to brush them properly. Find the horse with your name on it. That’s your partner for the next four weeks.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” It was Katrina who broke the girls’ stunned silence.

Libby turned to her. “Hello, Katrina. Lovely to see you. How’s your mom doing?”

Katrina wrinkled her nose. “Better than me right now.”

Libby grinned, pulled a curry comb seemingly out of nowhere and placed it in Katrina’s hand. “There’s nothing more satisfying than brushing a dirty horse clean until her coat shines. And if you’re worried about the horses, they love being covered in mud—it helps keep the flies away. And they love being brushed even more. All that attention and rubbing. Let’s go, hop to it.”

Gillian wandered past several horses with other girls’ names on their necks. She smiled as Jaida approached her horse confidently, looking happy for the first time since arriving. She passed Jordan looking miserable beside a brown and white splotchy animal. Then she saw her own name. She blinked a few times to make sure what she was seeing was actually real. Her name was painted in mud across the neck of a grey mare with a long, flowing mane. Through the gaps in the mud, her almost silver coat seemed to sparkle. The nameplate on the harness confirmed it. Gillian had been partnered with Beauty. Her fears about not being able to handle a challenging horse floated away. She wanted nothing more than to rush forward and throw her arms around the horse’s neck, but she forced herself to approach slowly from the side, so Beauty could see her coming.

“Hi there,” said Gillian. The horse looked at her curiously. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks, and I’m the luckiest camper here.” She picked up a comb and got to work.

After what seemed like ages with the comb, brush and hoof pick, Gillian’s arms were aching. She had horse hair and mud flakes all over her clothes, and her fingers were cramped. But she couldn’t stop smiling as Beauty’s silver coat gleamed in the sun. The horse’s name fit her perfectly. She truly was beautiful. The mare nudged Gillian appreciatively as she scratched her above the ears.

“I can’t believe we get to be partners,” Gillian whispered as she wove a small braid into Beauty’s thick forelock. “We’re going to have the best summer.” For once Stella was silent. There was nothing negative for her to say.

After the horses had been brushed clean, Libby gathered the girls around her. “For those of you less familiar with the natural horsemanship style of riding, we teach it here because we believe it allows for a better understanding between horse and rider.”

As Libby went on about the style Gillian was so familiar with, Gillian’s mind wandered back to the first time she’d ever ridden a horse. She and her family had driven out to Hideaway Farms for a come-and-try style lesson when she was seven. She watched the instructor tack up a beautiful brown horse. The horse clamped his teeth shut, not wanting to take the bit. It took a lot of coaxing to get him to accept it. Then the instructor helped Gillian into the saddle and handed her a crop. When she asked what it was for she was told it was to tap the horse on the bum if he wasn’t doing what he was asked to do. Instantly tears pooled in her eyes. “I don’t want to hit him.”

“We don’t hit them, we just tap lightly to let the horses know what we want them to do,” the instructor had said. “If I saw any of my riders hitting their horse with a crop, they’d spend the rest of the day mucking out stalls.” Gillian was reassured that the horses at Hideaway Farms were loved and cared for. But the thought of holding a stick that could be used to cause pain made her uncomfortable.

After a lot of research, she and her parents found Sunny Acres Riding School, which practised a natural horsemanship style of training and riding. To direct the horse, the rider would pull gently on the reins of a soft rope bitless bridle called a hackamore, which would apply pressure to points on the horse’s nose. On top of this, the stable taught their riders how to train the horses. They would play games from the ground in addition to riding. Gillian and her horse would be learning together. She didn’t care that this style of riding wouldn’t take her to show jumping circuits or to the Olympics. Unlike her sister with swimming, that wasn’t her goal. She just loved being around these big, sensitive animals. And riding made her feel like she could fly. She didn’t need it to be anything more.