Horse Feathers (9 page)

“Well, that was the most aware I’ve ever seen you,” Lisa teased.

“What about the rest of the eggs?” Carole asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve got to get home and see if more have hatched.” She explained to Carole that she’d been numbering the goslings in the order they were born. “It’ll have to do until I can come up with proper names for them,” she added.

“How are you ever going to keep them straight once they’ve all hatched?” Carole asked curiously.

“No problem—or not so far, anyway,” said Stevie. “Number One is very bossy and loud. And Number Four’s quack has a different pitch. Two has this flutter thing that he does with his wings, and Three has more colors in his feathers than any of the others.”

“See, she already sounds like a mom,” said Lisa.

“Well, seeing as I missed the big event,” said Carole, “you’ll have to tell me all about it. I think it’s so exciting that you’re a mom!”

“It is, and I have to get back. But I didn’t come to tell you about the goslings. Well, I did, but there’s something else. You’re absolutely not going to believe this,” said Stevie, pausing for effect. “Veronica got out of class early today because she had an appointment with her
vaulting
coach.”

“Vaulting coach?” echoed Lisa and Carole, incredulous.

“We’ve gotta do something!” said Stevie. “And I’ll figure out what as soon as I get home and take care of the eggs. Goslings. Goslings and eggs. Gotta go!”

Stevie dashed off before the news had even finished sinking in.

“Stevie, wait!” shouted Carole.

But Stevie had disappeared through the door and Carole realized she was probably halfway down the driveway already, headed home to her waiting goslings.

Carole turned to Lisa, her expression serious. “Well, that’s it then. You’ve just got to win for us.”

Lisa sighed and watched as one of the students struggled with the Stand. The two riders after that didn’t fare much better. Finally it was Lisa’s turn.

Lisa slipped gracefully onto Clara’s back, grasping the handles for support until she’d adjusted her seat and was moving easily with Clara’s even stride. She extended her arms out to either side and stretched her legs toward the ground.

“Raise your arms a little higher, Lisa,” Max reminded her. “That’s it.”

Lisa raised her arms slightly and remembered to keep her eyes forward, looking between Clara’s ears.

“When you’re ready,” said Red, “move into the Flag.”

Lisa nodded. It was one of the moves that she’d been practicing at home and she thought she had a pretty good idea of how to do it. Grabbing the handles on the surcingle, she adjusted her position so that she was kneeling on Clara’s back. Then she raised her right leg until it was straight back and her left arm until it was straight in front.

“Very good,” praised Red. “Now let’s go into the Stand.”

Grasping the surcingle handles, Lisa pulled her knees beneath her, then moved into a squatting position on Clara’s back. She shifted her weight in time to Clara’s movements.

Then she released the handles, feeling the stride for a moment before slowly rising to a standing position. She did two full circles at the Stand before Red nodded.

Max approached. “That was very good, Lisa. Go back into the Basic Seat and we’ll try it at the canter.”

Lisa gently lowered herself into the Basic Seat, experiencing a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. It wasn’t as if she’d never cantered before. She’d just never tried it while standing up.

Max glanced over at Carole. “Carole, why don’t you give us a hand?”

Carole came forward. Lisa was confused. How was Carole going to help? Her question was answered when Max boosted her onto Clara’s back in front of the surcingle, facing Lisa. The girls smiled nervously.

“All right Lisa, when you go into the Stand, I want you to hold on to Carole’s shoulders for support. Carole, I want you to hold on to Lisa’s legs.” The girls
nodded. “Once you’re comfortable, Lisa, extend your arms to the side and Carole will help you balance.”

Lisa nodded.

Red clucked softly to Clara, and before the girls even realized that they’d changed stride, Clara was moving with the rocking three-beat motion of the canter. Lisa couldn’t believe how smooth it was!

Max smiled at the surprise he saw on Lisa’s face. “A vaulting horse’s stride is second only to its temperament.”

Even though Clara’s stride was smoother than any canter she’d ever sat to, Lisa still found herself bouncing slightly with the movement.

“Relax your lower back, Lisa,” Max reminded her.

It was an instruction that Max gave often when they were riding. Lisa knew that a stiff back prevented her from properly feeling the motion of the horse. She took a deep breath, relaxing the muscles in her back as she exhaled. The moment she did so, she noticed a difference in her seat.

“Are you ready to try the Stand at the canter?” asked Max.

Lisa made a face. She was definitely ready to try it. Whether or not she could actually do it was another matter.

As if reading her thoughts, Carole smiled and whispered, “You can do it, Lisa.”

Gripping Carole’s shoulders, Lisa slowly moved into the Stand. When she felt balanced, she released her hold on Carole and extended her arms to the sides. She made it an entire circle at the center before she lost her balance. She quickly returned to the Basic Seat, holding on to Carole’s shoulders for support as she lowered herself gently onto Clara’s back.

“That was great!” Carole said.

Lisa smiled, knowing that she’d done much better than she had at her last lesson, but she highly doubted it would be enough to beat Veronica now that she had her own private vaulting coach.

“Okay, Carole, you’re up,” said Max.

Lisa hopped off to allow Carole to go through the same vaulting moves she had done. Lisa watched attentively, silently cheering her friend on as she went through the same routine at a walk.

“That was great,” she said when Carole dismounted and joined her at the edge of the ring.

“I think that’s good for today,” Max said. “Who brought the treats?” The riders immediately moved forward to give Clara thank-you pats and a few pieces
of carrot. Clara lapped up the attention, enjoying her queenly status.

In exchange for being able to ride Clara, all the students were required to help take care of the large mare, before and after class. That included a rubdown, mucking out her stall, providing fresh hay and water, and cleaning her tack so that it would be ready for the next lesson.

The riders split the duties equally among them, rotating with each lesson to make sure that everyone got a chance to do the more favorable chores, such as bathing Clara, as well as the not-so-favorable chores, such as mucking out her stall.

Today it was Lisa and Carole’s turn to make sure that Clara was properly cooled out. After pulling off the equipment, they led her to the wash stall and hooked her up to the cross-ties. They readied their sponges and buckets, then simply stared at Clara’s huge head, which was several feet above theirs.

“I think we’re going to need a ladder,” Lisa joked.

But the moment Lisa lifted her arm, Clara gently lowered her head, allowing Lisa to reach the top of her neck. The mare sighed contentedly as Lisa swept the cool sponge down the length of her sweaty neck.

Lisa laughed. “I think she likes this.”

When they’d finished bathing her, the girls relaxed by leaning against the mare’s stall, contemplating Clara’s shiny coat. Clara returned their gazes and nickered her thanks.

Carole smiled and said, “I wish we had more time to practice. It’s going to be pretty tough to beat Veronica now.”

“You’re probably right,” Lisa said. Once Veronica set her mind to something, nothing would stand in her way. And certainly not anything as meager as the expense of hiring a private coach.

“Well,” said Lisa, trying to look on the positive side, “we have something that she doesn’t.”

“What’s that?” asked Carole, confused. She couldn’t think of anything that Veronica didn’t have.

“We have Clara,” said Lisa, smiling.

“You’re absolutely right,” Carole agreed. “Wherever Veronica is taking her lessons, she can’t possibly have as great a horse as Clara.”

As if understanding Carole’s words, Clara nickered and nuzzled the top of her head. The girls laughed, reaching up on tiptoe to hug the mare’s thick neck.

M
EANWHILE
,
BACK AT
Stevie’s house, two more goslings had hatched and were impatiently waiting to be fed.

“Five and Six,” said Stevie. “Okay, you guys—or girls …” She paused, realizing she had no idea what sex the goslings were. That would have to wait until she knew a little more about the anatomy of a goose. To be safe, she settled for
little goslings
so as not to offend any of her new charges. “Into your new house, little goslings.”

As Stevie opened the incubator to remove Five and Six, she noticed that two more eggs were beginning to wiggle. She placed Five and Six in the brooder, doing a
quick check on the goslings that had been born the night before. To her surprise, two were missing. As far as Stevie could tell, it was Numbers One and Three—the same two that had escaped the night before to cuddle up to her feet.

“All right, where have they gone now?” Stevie asked the other goslings. They all stared at her blankly as if to say,
How would we know?

“A lot of help you guys are,” Stevie grumbled good-naturedly. She glanced around her room, wondering where to start. With the pile of clothes in the corner maybe? It looked like a terrific hiding place for young goslings. Stevie crossed the room and lifted up her sweatshirt, only to find a pile of dirty socks beneath it. “Yeeesh.” She grimaced. “I guess I should wash those.” She quickly replaced the sweatshirt. “
After
I find the two escapees.”

Stevie got down on her hands and knees and began looking in the most obvious gosling hiding places—underneath things. Because the goslings were still so small, she doubted that they’d hopped up onto anything. Therefore her search was limited to the floor, which, she thought after taking in the mess on the carpet, was bad enough. It occurred to her that now that she had six (soon to be eight) new little charges, it might make her
life easier if she cleaned up her room, especially since they seemed to enjoy playing hide-and-seek.

Stevie crawled along the side of her bed and was just about to peek underneath it when her hand landed in something warm and slippery. She froze, her face crunching up into a disgusted frown.

“Eeeww …” Stevie slowly pulled her hand away from the carpet, knowing what she’d find even before she looked. Sure enough, the palm of her hand was stained with the very white, very distinct evidence left behind by either Number One or Number Three. “I see we need to discuss litter training,” she announced loudly.

Stevie quickly wiped her hand off on a tissue, cleaned up the remaining mess on the floor, then got back on her knees to continue her search, this time being much more careful about where she put her hands. The droppings did, however, give her a better indication of which direction the little goslings had gone.

Stevie poked her head under the bed. “Ah-hah!” she squealed triumphantly, disturbing Number One, who was comfortably snoozing next to a dust bunny. He was obviously in need of a nap following the afternoon’s exciting game of Escape-and-Poop. Stevie gently disengaged the gosling from the dust bunny
before returning Number One to the brooder with its siblings.

“Okay, Number Three, where are you hiding?” asked Stevie. She noticed that her closet door was open. “Uh-oh. I hope you’re not in there.”

Stevie got down on her hands and knees in front of the closet, cringing at the sight that met her eyes. Lisa liked to refer to it as “Stevie’s natural disaster area.” The inside of the closet resembled more of a going-out-of-business warehouse sale than any kind of repository for clean clothing. The first pile, and the most obvious one for a nap from an escaped gosling’s point of view, was littered with the telltale white droppings—obviously calling cards left behind by Number Three. Unfortunately, the droppings didn’t indicate where he’d gone after encountering the disaster in the closet.

“He probably ran for his life,” chuckled Stevie.

She glanced around and spied the upholstered chair in the corner of her room. The tip of a blue sneaker poked out from behind it. Curious, Stevie crawled across the carpet to the chair, checking underneath her desk as she passed, ensuring that she didn’t miss any possible hiding places. She reached the chair and looked behind it. Sure enough, there was Number Three, nestled in the blue sneaker, taking a power snooze.

“Okay, mister, the gig’s up,” said Stevie, adopting the stern, parental voice that her mom and dad often used when she misbehaved. “Back in the box for you.”

Number Three grumbled a bit when she lifted him out of the sneaker, but he didn’t bother to open his eyes. In fact, the moment he was in Stevie’s hand, he started making himself more comfortable, shifting his feathers around him.

Stevie placed the little gosling in the brooder and checked the others. She seemed to have their undivided attention. All six of them were quietly staring up at her, their eyes filled with adoration.