This morning everybody got up and went to Mass, but Sister told me to stay in bed because I still have my spots. It’s quiet in the dorm with everybody gone.
Usually, the only time in my life when it’s quiet is when I am home. Not inside the house, but in the hills above our ranch. My dad saddles up Baldy and lets me ride him into the hills any time I ask. Sometimes I sing a song. Sometimes I just listen to the quiet as we ride along. Baldy’s bridle jingles a little and the saddle squeaks. Spud comes along too. He’s a police dog, a German shepherd.
He kind of dances as he steps along, Baldy. He’s a sorrel gelding, my dad’s saddle horse. He’s a good hunting horse because he doesn’t get jumpy when my dad takes a shot on his back. When he sees a deer he keeps really still, just watching until my dad sees. Same with Spud.
My dad’s a hunter. He rides into the hills above our ranch early in the morning before the sun is up. He shoots a deer and brings it home on Baldy. Then my mum cuts up the meat and cooks it or cans it in Mason jars. My parents take meat to old people when we visit.
Baldy has some bad habits. He likes to run away with you if he thinks he can get away with it. He jumps fences when he does, and sometimes he gallops under low-hanging branches to knock you off. He ran away with me once and I whipped him. He pulls the bridle in his teeth and runs for the barn. I just pull on one rein until his head is twisted around and he can’t see. Then he behaves. He hasn’t tried to buck me off since I whipped him.
Once Cookie and I decided to pick saskatoon berries on his back because the bushes were tall. I was in the saddle facing Baldy’s head. Cookie was behind me facing his tail so she could reach the berries better.
Suddenly a coyote jumped out of the bushes and ran for the fence. Baldy flung up his head and I lost the reins. Then he turned and raced for home.
As he galloped full speed across the field, Cookie screamed, “Tootie, stop the horse, I’m riding backwards.”
“I can’t,” I yelled. “I dropped the reins.”
“I’m falling off,” she shrieked.
“Grab onto the thongs on the saddle!”
Cookie kept yelling, “Halp, halp, halp,” but she stayed on all the way to the barn. When Baldy put the brakes on she flipped off backwards and rolled over and bumped her head on the barn door. She screwed up her eyes and bawled, holding her head. That was the last time she ever rode with me.