The Mare

Velvet

When I rode her to the practice arena she moved like on springs, rocking me on her back. It was strange to ride her with her mane braided — her body looked too wide and just not the same. We had to stop by the stable to let some other horses pass and Pat saw the Mexican groom from the day before. “Beautiful horse,” he said. A girl nearby turned to look and her lips curved sarcastically to see Fiery Girl’s scarred face and crumpled ear.

Pat smiled and thanked him. “Put together by committee, this one,” she said. “But she’s got good heart.”

“And good blood,” said the groom. “You can see in how she moves.”

“Say ‘thank you’!” Pat snapped and I did say it. But he already saw the thanks in my smile. Because he said it like it was me who had good blood too, and I wished my mom was there.

But something changed when we walked her past that little house thing where they were going to announce us. I could feel her tense and she kicked up a back leg like to canter. I tightened the reins and she went into a hard trot that bounced me. I felt something behind it, and it bothered me so when I tried to give her confidence she felt bother, and that’s when I started to feel the buck coming. I took the reins to the side, pulled her head into my leg. I heard Pat say, “Good, other side!” and I scrunched with the reins to keep her head up. I used my legs, but it didn’t work, she half bucked, so I turned her head again and she went into a spin so fast my foot came out of the stirrup. When I grabbed for the mane I couldn’t get hold of the flat braid, and then I was on the ground. Pat was right there to take hold of her and she was telling me it was okay, and when I got enough breath back to get up I believed it — until Ginger came running like it was the worst thing ever, which annoyed me and Pat too, and probably the mare.