Читать книгу Sundancer - Shelley Peterson - Страница 8

4

SUNDANCER

I am apprehensive. I wait to see what the new humans want.

Hannah invited Abby to stay for breakfast and the younger woman accepted. With Bird tagging along, the three went inside the house and sat at the kitchen table. The buttercup-yellow walls were bathed in morning sunshine and a slight breeze fluttered the gauzy white curtains. They helped themselves to toast and jam, scrambled eggs, a bowl of fruit salad, and steaming coffee.

It wasn’t long before the talk turned to the new horse.

“Bird’s named him, haven’t you, hon?” Hannah looked proudly at her niece.

“What did you decide to call him?” Abby leaned forward as she spoke, genuinely interested in what Bird might say. For a moment, Bird considered answering. She quickly changed her mind and focused on her hands, now folded neatly in her lap. Abby didn’t give up. “Oh, you don’t need to be shy with me, Bird. I won’t bite, promise.”

Bird looked up and saw an open, encouraging smile. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but she just couldn’t help it. She looked to Hannah for assistance.

“It’s not you, Abby.” Bird heard the note of resignation in

Hannah’s voice. “She doesn’t speak.”

“At all?”

Hannah shook her head. “Not at all. To anyone.”

“Why not?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it, Bird?” answered Hannah. “The doctors call it “elective mutism,” which basically means that she can speak, she just chooses not to. I’ve heard it called “selective mutism,” too.”

“Really.” Abby’s brow furrowed. Bird saw the look that passed between the two women. Abby felt sorry for Bird and sorry for Hannah. She didn’t understand. No one did. Bird thought about leaving, walking out of the kitchen so Abby and Hannah could talk about her to their hearts’ content. But before she could push her chair back from the table, Abby spoke again.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel like talking, Bird, because I bet you have some interesting things to say. But sometimes, I think I know how you feel. Sometimes quiet is better, right? It gives you a chance to listen.”

Once again, Abby smiled at her. This time, Bird decided to smile back.

“Actually,” said Hannah, “today was a big leap forward. Today, Bird spoke for the first time since she was six. Only one word, but she spoke.”

“And what word was that?”

“She said ‘Sundancer’ when she got on the gelding in the round pen.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “Good name. Why did you name him that?”

Hannah looked at Bird, waiting to see if she might offer an explanation. When none came, Hannah just shrugged, “I haven’t given it much thought. I guess because his coat is brightly coloured, like sunshine, and he skitters and dances in his movement. Good reasons.”

Abby nodded. “True. But when you told me she’d named him Sundancer, I thought of something different.”

“What?”

Abby paused, then said, “He totally reminds me of Dancer.” Hannah nodded. “Absolutely, he does. Same manner, same colour. Nobody knows Dancer better than you, Abby. Well, besides Hilary.”

Abby Malone smiled. Abby and the great equine athlete Dancer had won the Grand Invitational a few years back. They’d made local history. Owned and ridden in his prime by Hilary James, the stallion was regarded by many as one of the finest horses in Canada. He still lived at Hogscroft, the nearby farm owned by Hilary James’ family.

“Earlier, you said that you heard Sundancer was here,” said

Hannah. “What do you know about him?”

“Well, he was bred at Owens Enterprises. His sire is California Dreamin’,” said Abby, “And the mare is Princess Narnia, one of Owens’ finest. From a thoroughbred jumping line of the U.S. Equestrian Team.”

Bird wasn’t surprised. She’d ridden Sundancer. She knew how special he was.

Hannah, however, seemed more than a little surprised. “How do you know this?”

“A good friend of mine used to be a groom at the Owens stables.”

Hannah whistled. “That breeding makes this gelding extremely valuable. Why’d they let him out of their sight?”

Bird stared at Hannah. After this morning’s episode, the answer to that question should have been obvious.

“He was a problem right from the start. He reacted extremely badly to training; even putting a halter on him was a big deal. I

was told that they worked for two months to get a saddle on his back.”

Bird nodded. She believed it. Sundancer had a naturally suspicious nature. Even under perfect conditions, he would’ve been a difficult horse to train.

Abby continued. “He went through trainer after trainer. They all gave up. Finally, after trainer number nine was smashed into the kickboards and almost killed, your vet was called in to destroy him.”

“Paul Daniels.”

“Yes. He filled me in yesterday when he was treating Moonie’s ulcerated eye. My regular vet is on a training course, and Dr. Daniels was on call,” Abby explained. “He convinced the manager to give the horse one last chance. That last chance was you. When you took him in, Hannah, you saved him.”

Hannah considered this new information. “Most times the decision to euthanize a horse is a good one. It’s not taken lightly, especially with an animal as well bred as Sundancer. There must have been solid reasons for each of these trainers to give up on him. No one likes to admit defeat.”

No kidding, thought Bird, remembering her humiliating first encounter with the horse.

“You’re right. Especially pros. His reputation is pretty bad.” “He’s stubborn and proud. I know that from our session this morning. He doesn’t like to be dominated.”

“And he’s ultra-sensitive. Apparently he’s been like that right from the start. He would’ve done well in the wild.”

“That’s an idea. I’ll let him go free.” Hannah chuckled, then said, “Paul doesn’t usually rescue horses. I wonder what possessed him this time.”

Abby shrugged. “The horse is gorgeous, young, and healthy.”

Hannah wondered, “Who owns him now? Paul? Me? I don’t have any kind of deal. I need to speak with Paul and get this straight. Now that I know his origins, I want things to be crystal clear.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Hannah pushed back her chair. She grabbed a paper bag and began loading it with leftovers from the table. “How are Pete and Laura Pierson these days?” she asked, changing the subject. The Piersons were almost surrogate parents to Abby. They lived close by, and were a fixture in the community.

“Fabulous,” answered Abby with a wide smile. “As interesting and welcoming and wonderful as ever. I see them all the time.”

“They must be getting on in years.”

“I suppose, but I want to be just like them when I’m old.” Hannah glanced at Bird, making sure she was finished with her

breakfast. “Kimberly hasn’t had anything to eat. Bird, do you mind running out with this egg sandwich and banana? She’ll be at the barn.”

Bird rose to leave, sorry that the visit with Abby was drawing to a close.

“Well, time for me to get going,” said Abby, rising from her chair. “Chores, job, you know. Thanks so much for breakfast.”

“Thanks for all the information. Come by any time.” “I’d love to see how Sundancer’s doing.”

Hannah smiled at the young woman. “Wonderful. Maybe you could help? I mean, if we decide we can do anything with him.”

Abby wrote her phone number on a piece of paper. “I’d love to. Call me whenever you want. I don’t leave for school for a few weeks.”

“By the way, where’s Cody?” asked Hannah.

“Somewhere close and hidden. You never know where he is, but you’ll see him follow me when I leave.” Abby smiled at Bird. “Goodbye, Bird. See you soon, I hope.”

Bird looked out the window as a shadowy four-legged figure slid from tree to tree, following Abby Malone on her bike. She watched until they were out of sight and then ran for the barn, Kimberly’s breakfast clutched in her hands.

“BIRD PUSHED ME FIRST!” exclaimed Melanie.

“And she ran into me like a bulldozer!” stated Peter.

“She just went crazy,” explained Jo. “It’s amazing that she didn’t hurt anyone.”

“I told them not to bug her about Phoenix,” said Kimberly smugly. “I told them about her tantrum last night at dinner.”

Hannah sighed and rubbed her temples. Ten minutes ago she’d been in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast. Now this. “Let’s start at the beginning. Bird brought Kimberly’s breakfast to her.”

“That’s right. She did, and I thanked her. It was delicious, Hannah, thanks. I sure was hungry. Then …”

“I’ll tell it!” snapped Mel. “She came over as we were talking about Sundancer, or Phoenix, or whatever his name is …”

“Only I can call him Phoenix,” corrected Kimberly.

And only I can ride him, thought Bird.

“And I said that my mother said he was crazy,” said Jo. “Well, my mother did and she said that he should be put down before he kills somebody.”

“And Kimberly said that we should be careful what we said in front of Bird,” added Peter. “That she might go crazy, too, like Sundancer …”

“And Melanie said that she’s already crazy,” said Jo. “That’s when Bird attacked Melanie.”

Peter jumped in. “When I got her off Melanie, she ran away, then turned and tried to bowl me over. I tripped her and she fell on her nose.” He started to laugh then stopped himself, eyeing Bird warily.

Bird lunged at Peter, ready for another go, but Hannah’s firm grasp stopped her in her tracks. “Did you listen to what each of you said?” she asked.

They all nodded. “It’s the truth,” said Jo. “That’s what happened.”

“Then can any one of you figure out what might have upset Bird?”

It was Kimberly who finally spoke. “We called her crazy. We hurt her feelings.”

Bird looked at Kimberly. You’re catching on.

Hannah nodded. “Good girl, Kimberly. You remembered from last night. Bird has feelings, just like each of you. She doesn’t talk, so she registers her hurt and displeasure in other ways.” Hannah turned to face Bird. “Not that I condone violence in any form, Bird. You know better.”

“Everyone owes everyone else an apology. Now let’s shake hands all around so we can head out for a ride. It’s a beautiful day.”

Here we go again, thought Bird, as she reluctantly shook hands with Hannah’s students. Most muttered an apology, but only Kimberly looked at her when she spoke. Bird acknowledged her effort with a small smile. To her delight, Kimby smiled back.

Half an hour later, they emerged from the stable one at a time, leading their clean and unbraided horses. Bird listened as they chatted about the latest coloured leg wraps and special flexible stirrups. Everyone wanted the newest thing in saddle pads, and no one could stand the old hard riding caps. Just as they were mounting their horses, Kimberly’s mother arrived in her black Suburban.

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Kimberly.

“Hide me!” This is going to get interesting, thought Bird.

“Too late. She saw you,” whispered Melanie.

“Kimberly!” called Lavinia Davies. “Get in the car.”

“We’re just leaving for a hack, Mom. Please can I go? Please?”

“I don’t think so, Kimberly.” She glanced impatiently at her diamond watch. “I’m running late.”

Bird looked at Hannah and saw her own feelings mirrored in her aunt’s face. Who did this woman think she was? First, she abandons her daughter for an entire night. Then, she shows up and demands that Kimberly leave. Bird glanced at her sort-of friend. Kimby looked as if she were about to cry. In a rush, Bird remembered Eva’s late-night call. She knew just how Kimberly felt.

“Good morning, Lavinia,” Hannah said from the shiny black back of Charlie, her Percheron thoroughbred hunt horse. Bird smiled. Hannah wasn’t even trying to hide the anger in her voice.

“Oh, Hannah, so sorry about last night. I couldn’t quite manage to drop around. But I know you understand.”

Hannah responded, “Actually, you’re quite right. I understand perfectly.”

“You’re a sport, Hannah. Kimberly, let’s go.”

Before Kimberly could open her mouth, Hannah spoke again. “Lavinia, you said you’d pick Kimberly up yesterday at the horse show. You’re a day late. We’ll be no more than an hour.”

Without acknowledging the astonished look on Lavinia’s face, Hannah turned her horse toward the open field. Bird grinned broadly. Good for you, Hannah, she thought. It’s about time you grew a backbone.

Peter on Zachary followed close behind Hannah, then Melanie on Radar, Jo on Gem, Bird on Jeremy, with Kimberly at the rear on Pastor.

They trotted across the field and slowed to a walk down the rocky path at the edge of the woods. Ducking branches, the horses waded across the shallow, muddy Saddle Creek. They picked up a controlled canter once they were on firmer ground. One by one, following Hannah, they jumped the old fallen log, then a wooden coop, and found themselves skirting a growth of fir trees beside a meadow. Down a grassy slope at a brisk trot they went, then cantered along the path into another woods. Bird loved this area. It was full of jumps where trees and limbs had fallen across the path. Singles, in-and-outs, triples, all under two feet high, but difficult because there were so many.

You’re a good horse, Jeremy. Bird gave her mount a firm pat on the neck. I like riding you.

Thanks. I try my best.

What do you think of the new horse?

He’s nothing but trouble. He thinks he’s too good for us. Put me in a field with him and I’ll kick the tar out of him.

He’s had some bad experiences.

So have we all. Be careful, Bird.

Interesting, thought Bird. Straight from the horse’s mouth. There was truth in what Jeremy said. Lots of horses were ill treated, but not all posed a danger to humans. Lots of horses had bad experiences, but most learned to trust when treated well. So what was different about this horse? Bird vowed to find out. After their ride, as soon as she put Jeremy away, she’d get on Sundancer’s back again.

Just then, Pastor reached forward and took a bite out of Jeremy’s rump. Jeremy kicked out in retaliation, and Kimberly let out a scream.

“Your horse kicked at me!” Kimberly yelled. “Keep him under control.”

Bird looked back at Pastor. Why did you bite Jeremy?

Because I felt like it.

Is it out of your system, Pastor? Feel better now?

Actually, I do.

Good. Don’t do it again.

Jeremy piped in; No big deal. He bit, I kicked; we’re even.

“You should hit him!” continued Kimberly. “He’s got to learn not to kick!”

Too late, now, thought Bird. No wonder horses get messed up. By the time people get around to hitting them, the horses have forgotten the whole thing.

Once out of the woods the six horses walked single file down the gravel road until they reached another path. This one led into the riding club where a good cross-country course was kept in safe condition.

“Can we do some jumps?” called Melanie.

“I want to practise the drop,” chimed Jo.

“And I want to get Zachary over the barrels,” added Peter.

“Not today,” answered Hannah. The kids all groaned. “The horses were at a show yesterday, and we’ve done enough jumping today already. Let’s head back now.”

“Hannah?” Kimberly had to yell to be heard. “My mom could wait, right? She said she would.”

Bird could hear the anxiety in Kimberly’s tone, and wondered if Lavinia had left. Moms did that sometimes; that much Bird knew for sure. Fortunately, she needn’t have been concerned. Lavinia’s Suburban was parked at the barn in full sight when they came around the corner.

The kids dismounted and amused each other with horse horror stories. The time a loose horse had jumped into a field of cows and led the herd back to his barn, surprising the horse owner no end. Another time a horse spooked on the road and landed on the front bumper of a car. The stories kept coming as they untacked their horses and sponged them off amid gales of laughter.

Bird thought of the stories she could tell about Sundancer. How he thought he was better than all the other horses, and smarter than all the humans. How sometimes he got so scared he couldn’t think. How … She stopped herself. They’d think she was crazy if she said those things out loud. Maybe she was.

Dr. Paul Daniels arrived and walked up to Hannah as she untacked Charlie. Finished with her own grooming, Bird quietly walked over and sat on a bale of hay near where her aunt and Dr. Daniels stood. She chewed silently on a piece of hay and listened.

“Have a good ride?” asked the vet. “Wonderful. It’s a beautiful day.”

“Less humid, for sure. I came to check up on the new gelding.” Hannah turned to face her vet, saddle over one arm, bridle in the other. She looked him in the eye. “He’s an outlaw. I tried to gentle him this morning. He didn’t respond normally. At all.”

Paul took the saddle from her and they walked to the tack room. Bird thought about following but decided against it. She was in the perfect position. She could hear them talking but they couldn’t see her. She’d wait until she had all the information she needed, and then she’d slip away. She had some business with Sundancer.

“I need to know who owns Sundancer, Paul. Liability, and all that.”

“I hear you. It’s not clear. Owens’ stable manager called to have me put him down, but when I saw how good he looked, I asked if I could take him. They were happy to get rid of him, no questions asked.”

“And you never asked for proof of ownership? You didn’t buy him for a dollar?”

“That would’ve been too clever. No. I didn’t think of it. We can’t all be perfect, Hannah.”

“If you’re trying to make me mad, it’s working,” said Hannah. “I need to know who’s paying his bills, who he belongs to, what I can and cannot do with him. If he’s yours, you have the right to instruct me on how you want him fed and maintained, and you’ll pay me the first of each month. Same as any owner.” Hannah took a breath and continued. “If he’s mine, then I’ll buy him for a dollar, and I’ll need a receipt, signed by his former owner.”

“He’s dead. Samuel Owens passed away.”

“Who inherited his horses?”

“That’s not clear. It’s probably a company.”

“So who had the right to give him to you?”

Paul paused. “I assumed the manager, but I didn’t ask any questions. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Hannah sighed. “You know how the saying goes? When you assume you make an ass of u and me.”

Paul was thinking about how to respond when both of them saw the same thing. In the paddock, visible through the tack room window, Bird was sitting on Sundancer’s back; no halter, no bridle, no saddle, no nothing. Just a girl and a horse.

They stopped talking and watched.

Bird stroked his neck gently, from his ears to his withers. Again and yet again. It seemed as if the horse was hypnotized. He stood quietly with his ears drooped and his lower lip hanging. His eyes were half-closed.

That feels good. Keep doing that.

Talk to me, Sundancer. Tell me why you went crazy in the barn this morning. What scared you so much that I couldn’t get through to you?

Don’t stop patting me. I feel better now.

Bird felt light and relaxed on his back. Her legs hung loosely, her back slightly hunched. Her eyes were closed.

I will never hurt you, you know. And I will never let anyone else hurt you. Tell me what happened at the barn.

I don’t want to think about it.

Okay. Maybe one day you’ll let me understand why you’re the way you are.

Suddenly the gelding shuddered violently. Bird, eyes still closed, saw what was in his mind. Was it his imagination or a memory of a real event? She saw a man coming at him with a pitchfork, yelling harshly and waving his arms. A dark stall. No way out. Sundancer reared, striking the man with a front hoof. The man fell and Sundancer ran out of the stall. Out of the barn. Down the road. He ran and ran. He couldn’t stop.

From the tack room window, this is what Hannah and Paul saw: Sundancer, for no discernable reason, suddenly reared up, struck out, then raced off.

In an instant, everyone was in motion. Hector started barking in panic, and Hannah ran through the barn. “Paul, get help!” she yelled over her shoulder. “I’ll try to stop him!” Once outside, she climbed the fence and ran for the middle of the field where she’d be closest to Bird if she fell.

On the horse ran, head down, legs stretched to the limit. Bird’s fingers clutched handfuls of mane and her legs clenched tight.

It was the yelling that set him off in the barn, she thought. It was a memory; a flashback. When Peter ran in waving his arms and yelling about the coyote, Sundancer just stopped thinking. He’s living in a dream and no one can reach him. She clung to him like a burr.

Sundancer raced faster. We’re flying, Bird thought. We’re not even touching the earth. I’ve never felt power like this before.

Hannah caught sight of Bird’s face. She looked calm and determined. But the horse was another story. A chill went down Hannah’s spine as she looked at his face. The gelding’s eyes were closed.

“Please, Lord above, save this child,” prayed Hannah. She could not begin to imagine how many things could go wrong.

Drawn by the confusion, Hannah’s students plus Lavinia, John, and Cliff all came running. Hannah put up the palm of her hand, signalling them to stop and stay where they were. They stood at the fence, shocked by what they were watching. Paul had his cellphone to his ear.

Still running flat out, Sundancer rounded the far end of the paddock and made straight for Hannah. As he approached the fence, Hannah saw his eyes open. Seeing both Hannah and the group that had gathered behind her, the horse skidded to a halt. Bird kept going, over his head and through the air. She landed flat on her back.

Sundancer was scared. He reared up and twisted, then raced off for the other side of the paddock, as far away as he could get.

“Bird!” Hannah called. “Bird!” The girl lay still. Hannah ran fast, Hector following hard on her heels. Hannah knelt beside her in the warm grass. Bird’s colour was greying; not a good sign. Hannah tilted her niece’s chin up and probed her mouth to find her tongue. Bird had swallowed it. Hannah scooped it out of the back of the girl’s throat with her forefinger, and listened with extreme relief to the gurgle and gasp of Bird’s lungs filling with air. Hector whined in sympathy at Bird’s side.

Paul caught up. “Don’t try to move her, Hannah. She may have damaged her neck or spine. The ambulance is on its way.”

“Bird, honey. Are you awake? Can you say something?” Hannah crooned. “Open your eyes, Bird darling. Show me you’re conscious.”

The girl lay silent, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.

Hannah didn’t notice the horse until Hector growled. Sundancer had made his way back across the field. Now, he stood beside Bird and slowly lowered his head. He breathed into her nose. Hector growled again, but then backed off. Sundancer moved his lips over Bird’s face, trying to stimulate her into consciousness.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. Bird girl. I don’t know what happened.

Bird didn’t know where she was. Sweet horse breath warmed her face as her world turned around and around. She struggled to open her eyes and found that her stomach was queasy.

“Sun … danc … er,” she said aloud. Her voice was raspy, unused. “Sun … dancer.” Then everything faded to black.