(6)The Fall

Jill planned their first ride together for Wednesday, despite the discord between Sarah and Albert. They only spoke to one another when forced to, but Jill rose nobly above this snag in her plans. Sarah realized that she probably didn’t notice anything wrong. Jill was used to other people not talking much when she was around.

Monday a letter came from Missy, full of what Barney liked and didn’t like, full of concern for his well-being, and with almost no useful advice for handling him. After reading it, Sarah didn’t even feel like riding; but if they were going out Wednesday, she’d better gain some semblance of control over him.

She rode inside the pasture that afternoon. Barney was on his best behavior, except when Sarah tried to slow him down or turn him somewhere he didn’t want to go. All the books stressed light hands, and at riding school her own had been highly praised. But how could you have light hands on a hard-mouthed horse, she wondered, as the reins bit into her palms.

Tuesday she took him out on the logging trail that went over the hill behind their barn, to find out what embarrassing tricks he was likely to pull in front of Albert and Jill. Barney liked trails, and actually going somewhere, much better than endlessly circling a pasture. As he bounced along, full of interest, he responded lightly to her signals. Relieved, Sarah was able to enjoy the vision of a flaming autumn woodland, framed between two scimitar ears. This was the way she’d always imagined it, she thought dreamily, leaning forward to stroke the gleaming shoulder of her mount.

At that moment Barney decided to cut cross-country. He dodged into the brush, and a branch suddenly clawed Sarah’s face. She threw up both hands to push it away, but it was too thick. Barney plowed on, and she was swept inexorably out of the saddle.

On the ground, shocked but not much damaged, she touched her scratched face tenderly. Ouch! She glared uphill at Barney, who had stopped to look back. He made a lovely sight poised there, all surprise and doe-eyed innocence, with his black mane and tail windblown and a big loop of rein draped over one shoulder.

“You brat!” Sarah scrambled to her feet and started toward him. He tossed his head, the sign that he was about to run. She stopped uncertainly. Oh dear, how could she keep from losing him in the woods, or getting Mom upset if he came home riderless? She had no food to entice him with, no way … oh, but wait a minute! There was a trick that had worked on Star once or twice.

Deliberately, she turned her back on him and started down the trail. “Bye, Barney. Have a nice night in the woods, with all the bears and porcupines. Serve you right if they eat you up.” She listened—curiosity should be at work—ah, a rustle of leaves. She kept walking, and Barney’s steps sounded behind her. In a few minutes he came close enough for her to turn casually and grab the reins, before he could realize he’d been tricked.

“There, gotcha!” Her face stung fiercely, and she had to fight down an unhorsemanly urge to give him a good hard swat. Instead, she made him stand downhill from her, where it was easier to mount. “Whoa, you! We’re going a little farther, Mr. Barney Brat, and this time we’re staying on the trail.”

That night, soaking in the tub and reading—a book about a boy who tamed a wild stallion in one week—Sarah overheard her parents talking.

“Can’t figure out where she got those scratches,” Dad was saying. “She didn’t want to say.”

“I think Barney put her under a tree branch.”

“What? Helen—”

Mom interrupted firmly. “I know what you’re thinking, George, and he’s not a monster. He’s just a canny old fellow who knows how to get his own way.”

“He picks some fairly dangerous methods.”

“Any horse can be dangerous if your mind’s not on him. Barney just bears a lot of watching. Besides, George, isn’t this a novel role for you? Being overprotective?”

A silence. Then Dad’s voice came, reflectively. “A difficult animal, eh? Well, as long as he’s not terribly dangerous, I guess I’m glad. A bit of a tussle will do her good.”

“It’s from the difficult horses that you learn the most,” said Mom.

Sarah rose resentfully from the tub, making sure they heard the splash. She knew exactly what they were talking about. Lately, Dad had become very worried over the possibility that they were being overindulgent with her; Mom agreed, but found it hard to break old habits, and Sarah found the whole affair very exasperating. The suspicion that they might be right only fed her anger. She painted her scratches with iodine—the sting suited her mood—and stomped up to bed.

Wednesday dawned clear, cold, and windy. Just the kind of day to put the ginger in a horse, Sarah thought apprehensively. Secretly, she’d been hoping for rain. All day she kept looking out the windows, but the weather stayed absolutely perfect.

After school, she hurried home to catch Barney. Jill and Albert were riding over to meet her—if only Barney would let himself be caught! The thought of them arriving to find her still chasing him around the field made her shudder, and shamelessly, she got a fat red apple from the cellar to tempt him with. Thus, he was caught, groomed, and saddled when Albert and Jill arrived.

Jill, despite her wiry build, looked huge on Ginger, she noticed. Herky’s size balanced Albert’s quite nicely. That must be why he bought him, Sarah thought maliciously. She swung onto Barney’s back, aware that they looked just right together. With barely a nod, Albert headed around the barn toward the logging trail. Sarah fell in behind Jill and Ginger.

“Where are you kids headed?” Sarah turned to see Mom in the doorway, blocking Star with her legs.

“Just over the trail to Albert’s.” Star squirmed past Mom’s legs and raced out, barking fiercely at the intruders. Barney shied, and Sarah, off balance, barely saved her seat. She felt herself flush as she caught Albert’s sharp glance. “Let’s go,” she muttered, settling deeper into the saddle. Mom collared Star and led her back to the house, and they were off.

The first part of the trail led uphill, and Barney, with his energetic strides, began crowding Ginger’s heels. Jill let them pass. But Herky was still in front, and that made Barney unhappy. His ears drooped in self-pity, and he worked so hard trying to pass that he had no time for mischief. Sarah had only to correct his tendency to try shortcuts. She relaxed, half-listening to Jill’s chatter. There was a boy she liked who she thought must like her—he kept picking on her in math class, and …

Albert’s back was straighter in the saddle than on the ground, and he seemed more self-assured and less fat. Sarah had to admit he rode better than she’d expected. Hercules, too, outshone her expectations. His long, clean stride ate the ground; Barney had to hustle to keep up, and they were always waiting for Jill and Ginger.

But going downhill wasn’t as easy, Sarah discovered when they topped the ridge. The rocky trail hurt Herky’s flat feet, and Barney, whose cuppy little hooves were like flint, forged ahead. In the lead, he was happy again. He also had time for misbehaving. He dawdled till Herky came up close behind him, and then bumped his rump threateningly. Sarah kicked him into greater speed, feeling hopelessly lacking in finesse.

Next, Barney discovered a rustle in the bushes. He stopped, legs braced, and blasted a snort at it. Sarah gripped him tightly, waiting for an explosion. He snorted again and tried to wheel, but for once she was prepared and held him straight. Frustrated, he backed up, his whole body expressing horror and shock as he stared at the rustling place. Sarah urged him with her legs, to no avail, and then tried slapping his rump. To do this she had to take a hand off the reins, and Barney promptly whirled. Now, though, Herky blocked the trail. Barney forgot his alarm in a nose-sniffing conversation with his friend, allowing Sarah to regain control. She didn’t dare look at Albert.

They got straightened out and continued downhill. Barney shied at every noise, and Sarah had to keep a grim watch to keep him from crashing off into the woods. Her hands ached from clutching the reins, and she started at his every twitch.

At last they reached the end of the trail, undamaged save for Sarah’s pride. A flat dirt road stretched before them. Albert glanced over at Sarah. “We always canter here. Want to?” Before she could answer, he urged Herky into a rumbling hand-gallop, and Barney was swept along by the other horse’s speed.

He was in a racing mood. At Sarah’s startled tug on his mouth he only galloped faster, flattening out to the road with mane streaming. Sarah tried to shorten the reins, but her hands tangled in his mane; she lost a stirrup; her hair whipped in her face and she couldn’t see. She could only cling, and hope to ride out this pounding, jolting gallop. Dimly, she was aware that they had passed Herky.

Suddenly, the angle of Barney’s shoulders beneath her changed. They were going downhill! Terrified, she hauled on the one free rein. Barney swerved, and with sickening clarity, Sarah felt herself leave the saddle. Her left leg brushed across the cantle; there was a terrifying mid-air moment, and then she was on her back in the road.

Her lungs were empty, she couldn’t breathe. Desperately, she gulped at the air; alien-sounding grunts came out of her stomach, born of the struggle to breathe and the desire to cry. In panic, she clutched at the blur of color that was Jill, bending over her. At last, with one hoarse gasp, the air rushed back into her lungs. Slowly, with Jill’s help, she sat up, wiping away her tears.

Albert rode up, leading Barney. His round face was pale and worried. “You OK, Sarah?” Sarah nodded. She didn’t think she could get out even a squeak of a voice. The outlines of the world, even of Jill’s close, anxious face, were blurry. She could only dimly see Barney, looking small and chastened beside Herky.

“… way behind when it happened,” Jill was saying, “but I saw it clear as day. You made a perfect half-circle in the air and you were up so long—it was funny, really, and I almost laughed, except you landed so hard. And then it was so scary to see you gasping and groaning—your face is kind of greenish—are you sure you’re OK? You looked like you might have hit your head. Oh, Albert, suppose she’s hurt her back! She shouldn’t have moved. Sarah, lie down! Do you hurt anywhere?”

Nervously, expecting to discover a broken bone at any moment, Sarah stood up. Despite the wobbliness and blurry eyes, she felt most undramatically all right. But she didn’t feel much like standing, she decided, and she did feel like throwing up. And her head was beginning to throb heavily. Her voice, when she managed to force it out, sounded furry and thick.

“Could … could you give me a leg up?”

Jill was behind her, holding her arm. “Are you sure you feel up to riding?”

Tears were starting again, hot against her stiff, chilled face. She giggled weakly. “No, but I don’t want to walk either.” She lurched closer to Barney, and Albert took her foot and eased her up. She flopped into the saddle; normally, Barney would have jiggled at this treatment, but now he stood quietly. Albert appeared atop Herky on one side of them, and Jill and Ginger flanked them on the other.

“Want me to lead him?” Albert asked.

“No.” Scraps of memory—the horseman’s dogma—always get right back on when you’ve been thrown. That didn’t mean being led, it meant riding. Jill and Albert started slowly, keeping Barney tightly between them. He walked calmly now, subdued. Sarah braced her fists on his withers, still clutching the reins, and watched the brilliant autumn colors wash slowly by.