In my first lesson after the show, Carol asked me what I had learned.
“Well, if Moony and I are going to be competitive with the warmbloods, we have to be perfect in the test,” I said.
“OK, what else?” Carol pressed.
“Don’t take him out on any racetracks!” I answered, remembering how Moonshine had taken off with me.
Carol laughed.
“OK, but I want you to know that those equitation seat judges recognized your talent and that you have a good seat, so we should work on developing your riding skills as much as we can.”
I found it curious that Carol emphasized “your” as though I could improve my riding without Moonshine. It’s probably just all in my head, I thought dismissively.
That summer, I continued in my training with Moony and Carol; I also worked as Carol’s assistant in exchange for free lessons once a week. I was content spending every day at the barn and working for Carol. I watched her ride during my lunch breaks, and envisioned the movements as she schooled them.
In one lesson, she told me that she would teach me a more advanced movement called a half-pass, where a horse moves sideways, with his front and hind legs crossing. This was one of the movements I regularly saw her train, so I knew what the cues were. It was different from a leg yield because in this move, the horse had to look in the direction he was going, whereas in the leg yield, the horse’s head was kept looking straight ahead.
“So today, we’re going to learn how to half-pass,” she said.
“I already know how to half-pass,” I joked confidently.
“Oh, really? And how do you know how to half-pass all of a sudden?” she questioned.
“From watching you,” I replied.
“OK, hotshot, show me what you got. Do a half-pass to the left,” she challenged.
I was on one of Carol’s client’s horses, which was a more advanced horse that knew how to perform the movement. I picked up the trot, found an open spot in the arena, and applied my right leg to his side so that he moved away from it, to the left.
“Not bad!” Carol said when I stopped to obtain her feedback. “But I’m going to explain how to do it, just to be official,” she said in a teasing, matter-of-fact way only she could pull off.
I translated the new things I had learned to Moonshine, or I should say tried to translate them, as I was often met with resistance. Moonshine was still not an easy horse, as he challenged everything and seemed to say, “make me,” with every new movement I introduced.
Despite the fact that Moonshine was still a difficult horse, he had become an integral part of my life, and of me. I spent as much time around him as I could. Our bond was growing, and apparently was becoming evident to others.
Kim, the barn manager, who rarely spoke to me because I was “just one of the barn kids,” even paid me a compliment once that summer. As she passed me in the barn, she said, “You and Moony are coming along pretty fast, kid. Keep up the good work.” I was astonished because Kim only spoke to me to reprimand me for something I had done or to reiterate the long list of barn rules.
__________
Then, one evening, the phone rang and my mother picked up.
“It’s a man, he says it’s for you.”
“OK . . .” we both looked quizzically at each other, not knowing who the caller was.
I picked up the line.
“Victoria?” The voice inquired.
“Yes?” I answered.
“This is George Beck, Moonshine’s owner.”
Moonshine’s owner had become a phantom memory to everyone, since he no longer paid the bills for the horse.
“Hi . . .” I said warily, curious as to his sudden emergence from the past.
“Listen, I have to get rid of the horse. You need to buy him by the end of the week or I’m shipping him to slaughter.”
The room started to spin.
“Wait, what? Why?” I stammered.
“I just have to get rid of it,” he concluded curtly.
I hated him for calling Moonshine an “it.” Moonshine was a “him.” Moony deserved the proper pronoun. Moony had as much personality as any person I knew. But this was not the time to correct George Beck.
“But . . .” I began, but he interrupted.
“Just call me at the end of the week to set up a meeting so you can give me the money. Bring $3,500 in cash.”
“But, I can’t, I don’t have . . .”
“(845) 932-5555. Bye.”
The line went dead. I was still holding the phone to my ear when my mother walked into my room.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” she asked. I felt my face turn white, and I could feel all the blood fall from my head to my heart. Tears pooled my eyes. My ears were ringing. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear. An invisible boulder crushed my chest, and I had just been punched in the stomach.
“Victoria!” my mother demanded to know what had just happened.
“Moonshine’s owner . . . He said we need to buy him by the end of the week or else.” I blurted out.
As soon as I got the words out, hot tears poured down my face.
“WHAT?” she yelled. “He said that to you?!” she roared.
And then she went back to the phone in the living room, dialed his phone number, and began yelling.
“WHAT did you just say to my daughter?”
She paused and listened.
“I don’t care what you want, it’s her horse now! I have been paying for the horse for the past year! And where were you? You have no right to do this!” she replied.
She paused again, listening.
“There is NO WAY you will get away with this, you fucking pig!” she exploded. She hardly ever cursed, so when she did, it was bad.
She then slammed down the phone and then called her best friend, my godmother, Ava, for advice. I knew she would be a while, so I went to the farthest room of the house—the bathroom in the master bedroom—closed the door, sat on the floor, and sobbed. It was over.
There was nothing I could do. I would lose Moonshine. The fear of losing him, the idea of life without Moonshine, began to plague me. I still had to go to school, and attend my classes. But as soon as the lesson started, my eyes drifted to the window and I wondered what Moony was doing at that moment. When I sat with my friends at lunch, I envisioned Moony in a crammed auction house, waiting with hundreds of other innocent horses for their doom. I had recurring nightmares. In one dream, I was at a huge show, and there was a big crowd outside of the arena, waiting for me to enter the ring. And then I entered, on foot. No horse, just me.
In another nightmare, I had a vision of Moony being stabbed to death in a slaughterhouse, ropes around his ankles, leaving him defenseless against his assailants. And then I saw his bloodied legs on a steel table.
“NO! MOONY!” I screamed.
“Vicky, Vicky, wake up!” My sister was shaking me awake.
“They’re going to kill him.”
“No they won’t, they won’t,” she said.
“Yes they will. I know Mom can’t afford to buy him, you know Victor cleaned her out with the stupid divorce. There’s no way.”
“It’ll be OK, Vicky,” she insisted. Then she called for our mother, realizing there would be nothing she could say to diminish my despair.
__________
The following Saturday morning, my mother drove me to the farm, as usual. However, instead of dropping me off like she usually did, she parked the car, and strode off to the office. I plodded to Moony’s barn. I don’t know how long she was there, but Carol, instead of coming into the barn at 8:00 a.m. to tell me which horses she wanted me to get ready for her that morning, like she always did, didn’t come into the barn until 9:30 a.m. I knew she was at the farm because her car was parked in her spot.
Then, at 9:30 a.m., Carol appeared. Her face was red and agitated. For the first time, I saw her frown lines, most notably two vertical lines between her eyebrows. There were no smiles, no jokes.
“Hey, there. Can you get Solstice now, Sunny after him, and then Prinz?”
“Sure,” I said, avoiding eye contact, as I headed for the tack room.
The day was work as usual.
At the end of the day my mother picked me up. Once I was in the passenger seat, she ordered, “You have to call your father.”
“What, why?” I asked. I had not spoken to or seen my father since that ill-fated vacation at Lake George. I didn’t even know if he was in the country or if he had gone back to Romania.
“It’s our only hope,” she said. “If you want Moonshine, you have to fight for him. I can’t afford it on my own.”
“It’s not going to work,” I said.
“It’s our only chance,” she insisted.
“Fine.” I gave in. I would do anything for Moony, even beg my absentee father for money.
__________
I dialed his number when I got home. My mother listened silently on the other phone.
“Da,” he answered in Romanian, almost sounding offended.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Faaaaafi?” he replied, addressing me by my nickname. I knew he was drunk when he lingered on vowels like that.
“Yeah, hi Dad.” It was strange to call him Dad. Whenever my family and I talked about him, we called him by his first name. But I knew he liked to be called Dad, and I needed him to be on my side this one time.
“Dad, I need help,” I started.
“Yeaaah . . . what kind of help?” he spoke slowly.
“Well, I’ve been riding this horse Moonshine. His owner abandoned him a long time ago, so Mom’s been paying the bills so I can ride him and have my own horse.”
“Sooo . . .?”
“So, now, out of the blue, the owner calls me and wants me to pay thirty-five hundred dollars to keep Moonshine. And the reason I’m calling is because Mom can’t pay it all by herself.”
He interrupted.
“That’s a lot of money . . .”
“Yes, I know. I wouldn’t call if I wasn’t desperate, Dad. I mean, you don’t even have to pay the whole thing, can you just pay as much as you can? Can you maybe split it with Mom?”
“You want me to pay half?” he exclaimed, like I was absurd for even asking.
“Can you?”
“No,” he said shortly.
I was ready. I knew he was incredibly stingy, so I was prepared for a “no” early on in the negotiations.
“Dad, please, this horse means everything to me. Can you pay at least a thousand?”
He laughed.
Interrupting his amusement, I added, “Five hundred?”
He continued his cackling.
“Dad, come on.”
“Darling,” he began condescendingly, as he never addressed me with pet names, “it’s just a horse—dog food! Forget about it. Just focus on school.”
My mother and sister watched me anxiously.
“Dad, this horse is my life now,” I turned away from them, lowering my voice.
He broke out into roaring laughter now.
As infuriating as his dismissiveness was, I continued to plead. “Dad, please, whatever you can help out with, please! Even if it’s just a hundred dollars, please help me.”
But then the line went dead.
The drone of the dial tone was deafening. My stomach sank all the way through my body. I lost the feeling in my hands, and then I saw the phone receiver drop to the ground. I started to see spots, then I saw the ceiling, and then nothing.
I opened my eyes and saw my mother’s agitated face above my own. Her mouth was moving but I couldn’t hear her over the ringing in my ears. Then she started to shake me.
“Victoria!” I heard now, she was screaming.
“Oh shit!” my sister let out, standing behind my mother, in the doorway of the bathroom. “She fainted!”
“Get cold water in a glass, and bring a cold, wet towel!” my mother barked at my sister.
As soon as my sister ran off, my mother grabbed me under my arms and pulled me to my bed. She was cursing my father and George in Romanian. I had never heard her curse like that, like my father, before. It was like venom.
She ordered my sister to stay in my room with me, while she went back to the phone. I knew it no longer mattered who she called or what she said. I now felt nothing, I was empty. Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
__________
I woke up the next morning, and put on my riding clothes.
When we got to the farm, my mother marched off to the office and I straggled to the stables. This time, Carol was already tacking up Prinz, her first horse of the day.
“Hey there! Get your helmet. You’re starting Prinz for me.”
“OK.” I welcomed the immediate distraction.
“Hey, Moony,” I called to Moony as I approached his stall, since it was on my way to the tack room, sort of. I dropped a couple of carrots in his bucket and headed for the tack room, to get my helmet.
As soon as I was done riding Prinz, I made my way back to my favorite spot on the farm, Moony’s stall.
Just as I started to open the stall door, Kim flew into the barn in an obvious rage.
“VICTORIA!” she bellowed.
Now what did I do? I wondered.
“Moony’s not going nowhere, you hear me?” she started.
Just then, I saw my mother come into the barn. I knew she had just told Kim what was going on.
“Sure, OK,” I replied.
“Listen, this is your horse and no one is taking him away from you. I’ll lock him in his stall if I have to,” she assured me.
I was touched. Kim had never been particularly warm. In fact, it seemed like the only time she talked to me was to reprimand me. I was moved by her sudden interest.
“See, Fafi, you won’t lose Moonshine. Everyone is on your side,” my mother started.
“OK, thanks, Mom. I have to get back to work.”
I didn’t have anything pressing to do, but I was drained and just didn’t feel like being around people anymore.
“OK, I will pick you up at six.”
“OK.”
Throughout the day, I came to visit Moonshine every chance I got. I didn’t ride him until the end of the day, though. I didn’t want to be rushed. I wanted to savor every last minute I had with him. When all my work for Carol was done, I got on him without a saddle. I just wanted to enjoy a light and easy bareback ride.
Carol was in the indoor teaching when I came in bareback on Moonshine. When I was within earshot, she called, “Saved the best for last today, huh?”
I smiled as I petted Moony’s neck, “Yeah.”
__________
I didn’t work for Carol on Saturdays because those were the days reserved for her teaching those students whose horses she trained during the week. I woke up late that morning, lamenting that I had awoken and would soon have to part with Moonshine.
My mother drove me to the barn in silence; no radio, no conversation, just tense silence. When we arrived, everyone was there, most of the boarders, all of the trainers, Kim, and even Richard, were all in Moonshine’s barn. The buzz in the barn was unusual, even for a Saturday. Everyone seemed to be engaged in conversation around Moonshine’s stall. I noticed Kim leaning casually against Moonshine’s door. Only Carol and a few other busy trainers were outside giving lessons.
“Hey, Victoria!” I heard from the crowd.
“Hey guys,” I replied.
“I’m going to the office,” my mother declared.
“OK.”
I made my way through the crowd. The conversation stopped.
“Hey Moony,” I said through the bars of Moony’s stall, as he was staring out of his window. I dropped a carrot in his feed bucket, and he came to devour it. I petted him on his cheek. I then headed to the tack room to retrieve my riding equipment.
I tacked him up in his stall. He stood still, knowing the routine. First, pick the feet, then curry, then brush, then wrap the legs, then saddle pad, saddle, girth (he still didn’t like it when I tightened the girth, pinning his ears and thrashing his head around, but now he just threatened, and stopped his antics if I scolded him), and finally, the bridle. Kim stood by the door the whole time. She had never done that before.
I led him outside, got on, and we proceeded to the arena in which Carol was giving a lesson. We didn’t have a lesson scheduled, I just wanted to be near her.
When I finished my ride, I walked Moonshine back to the barn.
I noticed my mother sitting on one of the benches in front of the barn with my godmother, Ava. When they saw me approaching the barn, Ava said, “Hi honey!” in her thick, Bulgarian accent.
“Hi,” I replied.
I walked Moonshine to his stall, and, though most of the crowd had now dispersed, Kim was still engaged in conversation with a few others, by Moony’s stall.
As I began to take off the saddle, a short, thin, plain-looking stranger walked into the barn, toward Moonshine. He had curly black hair, an ugly beak of a nose, and glasses. In that instant, Kim went from calm and pleasant to hostile and loud.
“OUTSIDE, BY THE PICNIC BENCHES!” she bellowed as she started toward him, pointing in that direction.
“OK, OK,” he said, smiling, and putting his hands up, as if to show he was unarmed. He turned, but caught my stare as he stepped out of the barn, escorted by the angry barn manager.
My mother and Ava followed. I could see the picnic benches perfectly from Moony’s window. I immediately pulled off the saddle and bridle, unwrapped his leg wraps, and led him into his stall. I glued myself to the window so that I could watch the negotiations. The setting was too far from Moony’s stall to hear anything.
George said something inaudible.
My mother stood up and yelled, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO BRING THE TRAILER!” I heard that perfectly.
I sighed. “It’s over, Moony, I love you,” I whispered to him as he busily chomped his hay in the opposite corner of the stall. The hot tears started to build and fall quietly.
Then I saw Carol come to the table, and when Kim saw her, she got up, to give her that spot. Kim then went into the office.
They spoke for a long time. Everyone had a turn, although there were frequent interruptions. George looked amused, almost like this was fun. Carol arrived calm, but as the discussion went on, her face ripened to a bright tomato red. The conversation continued for over an hour. I clutched the bars of Moony’s window, unable to let go.
Then they all stood up. George offered his hand to my mother for a handshake, but she ignored it and started to march toward the barn. Carol disappeared into the office. Ava simply looked at George and then followed my mother. George then got up and strode toward the parking lot.
I poked my head out of Moonshine’s stall, not knowing what to expect, but hoping for a miracle.
“Moony’s yours!” my mother and Ava said, almost simultaneously.
“What? But how?”
“The pig just wanted more money, and we’ll send it to him,” my mother explained.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, honey, yes!”
They both hugged me tightly, as I sighed.
I had never before felt such joy and relief. I had never before wanted something so badly, and come so close to losing it.
The next day, everyone congratulated me. I swelled with delight as I thanked everyone who offered congratulations. Even Jean came over to Moony’s stall to congratulate me.
Jean Schwimmer was another one of Carol’s students who mostly kept to herself when she was at the farm. I had seen Jean in passing in the barn and riding in the arenas since I first started riding at Oakwood. I never saw her smile, so I figured she just wanted to be left alone. I also kept my distance since she stabled her two horses in one of the smaller, more exclusive stables on the property, and ignored all of the other boarders. The only person I saw her speak to was Carol. It was only after I had been riding Moonshine for a few months that she would greet me in passing. As time went on, she became even friendlier, to the point where she was my biggest fan. She would watch my lessons, she would offer me praise whenever we learned something new, and she always wanted to know how we did at our last horse show. Maybe it was because she felt sorry for us always getting mediocre scores. I didn’t care, it was always nice to hear what she had to say. Having Jean on my side felt like a huge compliment, since she didn’t socialize with anyone else on the farm.
“Victoria! Congratulations! I just heard the great news!”
“Hi Jean, thanks,” I said, grinning widely, unable to contain myself.
“You guys will do great together,” she said as she petted Moonshine and put her hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I replied.
“Well, tack up that horse of yours, and go show your stuff!” she said enthusiastically.
My horse, I thought. Did she really say ‘my horse’? Is Moony really mine? No one can take him away from me? The dream of having my own horse had actually come true; it was surreal.
Everything changed, and yet it all remained the same. I was happier, every day, regardless of what happened. I had a sense of security I had never before known. I didn’t care as much when Moonshine was difficult in training, or if he snapped at dogs on the farm. I didn’t care if Richard chastised me for letting my horse graze on one of the off-limits patches of grass around the barn, or for letting Moonshine flatten a bush when he tried to sit on it to relieve the itch under his belly, or for letting Moonshine roll in the sand in the arena. I didn’t care if I got yelled at, because I wanted to make Moonshine as happy as he made me. And if Moony wanted to eat lush grass and sit in bushes, I would let him.
The training with Carol was the same, but I was different. Before Moonshine was officially mine, I got frustrated with setbacks easily and quickly. I was insecure about others seeing the mistakes I made when I rode. But now, I didn’t care what anyone thought, aside from Carol. Moony was my horse and Carol was my coach, and I loved them both.