I COULDN’T believe it. Mr. Gorky let me ride his horse Penny. Cookie and I walked by the barn after school to look at his nice bay quarterhorse and he said I could ride her on Saturday. First I had to ask Father Sloane. Sister Theo couldn’t very well say no after Father Sloane said yes, but she told me to make sure I got my ironing and laundry done first. As if I could, with a hundred girls and only two irons. I sneaked off right after lunch, hoping to get back in time to do my ironing.
Mr. Gorky saddled up Penny and adjusted the stirrups for me, just like my dad does at home. He told me to ride on the road along the river, and not to gallop Penny too fast.
It was beautiful. Penny is a dainty walker, and she has a sensitive mouth. I walked her for about a mile and back. Then I felt like a good gallop, so I turned her into the orchard where there is a soft dirt road. I nudged her into a trot, then a gallop. Then I kicked her into a race. We thundered past the orchard along the road, which led down a steep bank and up into the field where the river curves right. I pulled on the reins and said, “Whoa!”
I had a hard time getting her back under control. By then she was mad, so I turned her home and brought her past the barn and up towards the mountains. I rode around in the hills all afternoon.
When I got back to the school I was hot and tired, and sure enough I was late for the ironing room. Sister got mad, but I didn’t care. The ride was worth it.
Horses are important at home. My dad’s a hay contractor, or he was until everybody started getting tractors. He uses team horses for haying. He also needs a saddle horse for hunting and chasing the cattle up to the rangeland.
We used to travel everywhere with horse and buggy, but now Dad has his truck. Lots of people drive cars now, but some people don’t, like my Uncle Willy. He comes rolling in to our ranch with his wagon and team horses, and all the family. Sometimes they camp for a week, and other visitors come, Uncle Tommy, Aunt Ella, Yay-yah, Aunt Mamie and Uncle Les. They all have big families. We visit and eat big meals and play with the kids and tell stories. At night the boys sleep outside in the wagons. Everybody else sleeps on the floor. My dad plays his fiddle and Uncle Les plays the guitar and they sing half the night, passing around a mickey. The songs I like best are She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain and Forever My Darling. Uncle Tommy cries when he sings it.
We’re always sad when the visitors leave. We follow the wagons, waving and waving until they pass the gate and disappear into the trees. Then we go for a walk up into the hills to this place where there is a big stone cliff and fir trees, and a tall jack pine. It’s quiet there. When we come back we feel better.