Owen was absorbing this family history. I could tell by his alert expression he was interested.
“Cool,” he simply stated while Paul seemed lost in youthful memories. “You’re still living off the land, Paul.”
Paul
broke out in a brief laugh, wrinkles creasing his face and lifting it. “You got that right, bro!”
“Are
you ready to ride, Leena?” The warlock moved toward the bridles.
“Yeah! But I’m not very experienced, really. I can’t sit a trot without a lot of air
between me and the saddle. I’m putting
in a request for your gentlest horse, please Paul.”
“Okay,
that would be Chief. He is sweet as
sugar, aren’t you babe? Sweet as sugar,”
he repeated in a babyish voice as he gently touched the white blaze on his
chestnut horse’s forehead.
I
was glad these animals were obviously so well loved and cared for by this eccentric
and unusual hippie horse whisperer. The
animals’ coats shone with good health.
“Chief
is tall,” I noted. “That’s a long ways down.
Are you sure? What about the
smaller one?” I pointed at the coffee colored bay mare.
“Koko? She may be small but she can be skittish, and
it’s Springtime. All the horses are feeling
fresh. If you’re partial to KoKo I’ll
saddle her for you. But the black isn’t
an option. I woudn’t let you on him –
he’s very touchy. That’s Mandrake and
he’s mine, not easy for anyone except me.
And the grey is Sir Galahad – Owen always rides him.”
“Let’s
draw a straw for Koko and Chief,” I suggested.
“No favoritism. Let the fates
decide.”
“Alright,
I’ll be the straw bearer. Ha! straw bearer, not strawberry!” My boyfriend
joked as he turned his back to us and plucked blades of long grass from beside
the fence post. He came back and faced
me. “Longer straw is Chief. Pick one”
I
studied two equal lengths of tufted grass in his closed fist and chose one on
the left side. He turned his palm upward
and revealed my choice. Long straw.
“Chief!”
The leggy chestnut horse acknowledged my voice.
His ears went forward. Out of the
corner of my eye I saw Owen give thumbs up to Paul.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“What?” The warlock’s expression was innocent.
“What?” The warlock’s expression was innocent.
“Nothing. Let’s get the saddles. This is going to be awesome!” I was excited
to ride. I followed the guys into the
dim old barn. Zeke ran ahead of us, his
heavy shining sable coat shimmering with every step. A pleasant mixed scent of hay, horses and leather
filled my nostrils. My gents each
hoisted ornate stitched saddles over their shoulders and we went back outside
to the pasture gate. I helped by holding
the bridles and handed them over to the guys.
They easily placed bridles on Chief and the muscular thick necked, white maned dapple
grey that seemed happy to be with Owen.
The horse nudged him and whinnied softly.
“Sir
Galahad, are you ready?” the sweet sorcerer murmured.
“Hey
Owen – sorry for not having one of those pancakes you English guys put on a
horse’s back,” Paul stated as he winked at me.
“If
you’re referring to our English saddles, Paul, I’ll have you know it’s pretty
darn hard to jump with these Western things.
If the horse clears the obstacle you have the saddlehorn knock the air
out of your stomach.”
“Well,
we ain’t doing any jumping today, pardner,” I said in my best cowgirl accent.
Owen turned to me and pursed his lips as he tightened a cinch
belt under the grey’s belly. “Hey
pardner, we ain’t doin’ any little thang you don’t want.”
He
sounded hilarious trying to mimic a cowboy voice. I burst out laughing. Paul just grinned and shook his head.
There
were butterflies fluttering inside of me as we got ready to ride.
“Wait
– something for the saddlebags.” Owen quickly jogged to his Jeep and came back
with a canvas package. “A picnic.” He
smiled and packed the satchel behind his horse’s saddle.
“Sweet!”
I was rather nervous about getting on the horse but there was no way I wanted
to show it…something about animals sensing fear. With my left foot lifted up high to meet a
stirrup, I waved off help from my boyfriend.
In a somewhat awkward maneuver I was sitting in my saddle, looking down
at what seemed to be a great distance to grassy ground.
“Way
to go! You’ll be fine, Leena.” The
warlock sat astride Sir Galahad in one easy movement.
“Enjoy
the ride!” Paul swung the gate open partially.
“Thanks,”
we echoed as we ambled past him, aiming for a path among huge ponderosa pine
trees at the end of his yard.
I
was beginning to feel comfortable at this slow pace. Sir Galahad’s wavy white tail was a few feet
in front of Chief. We almost reached the
end of the yard when a sound like a motor’s distant rumbling came from the sky. The steady thumping drone grew louder and
closer with each step our horses took.
Zeke began to bark menacingly above the steadily increasing hum.
I
peered over my shoulder at Paul and Zeke standing where we had left them near
the gate. Paul was waving at us – a
pushing motion, like he was telling us to get into the forest right away.
Quickly
I turned my head around to see a concerned expression cloud my sorcerer’s handsome
face. Confused, I stared back in the
direction of the gate as my horse continued stepping lightly forward into a
secluded grove.
“Come
on, Leena,” Owen urged.
Unable
to tear my eyes away from the scene, I still looked at Paul as trees became a canopy
above us.
“What
is that noise?” I almost yelled, alarmed and rather scared. Chief didn’t seem to be nervous. He still followed Sir Galahad and soon we
would be out of range of the view behind us.
But just before our path turned I pulled on my reins. There was no way
this disturbance was going to be ignored by me, no matter what the warlock
wanted me to do.
“Stop. I see a helicopter!” I yelled.
In
a far corner of Paul’s fenced meadow a whirlwind was playing havoc with tall
grass below, tossing and flattening the slender stalks in all directions. Staying close their guardian, his two
remaining horses were agitated, trotting back and forth along the fence,
tossing their heads. Zeke stood close
by.
Descending
from above the violently waving grass, a black helicopter was landing like a
giant bumblebee onto a nest. Chief
suddenly moved ahead. I swiveled my head
to see why we were moving and was startled by the resolute expression hardening
my sorcerer’s angular features. His eyes
flashed as he gripped the rein close to my horse’s mouth and he pulled us
forward to follow him and Galahad.
“Leena,
follow me. We have to get out of
view…now!”
Stunned
by his demand and confused by the unfolding scene behind us I didn’t resist.
“I
don’t want them to see us.” He turned in his saddle and stared, his sage
colored eyes shooting several sparks right through me. “Let’s ride, babe! Hurry!”
These
metallic fireworks were a signal of his intensity and there was no
arguing. It was like being struck by needles
and a surge of hot energy rushed through me.
He
let go of my rein and lightly thumped his heels a couple of times against
Galahad’s body. They were off at a fast
trot. Owen was obviously a very
experienced rider, easy and smooth. Chief
followed without my urging and I was trying hard not to bounce off the
saddle. Meanwhile I held onto the reins
and the saddlehorn and kept my heels down.
Thankfully the boot heels kept my feet from sliding through the
stirrups.
Within
a few paces there was a sort of rhythm to my horse’s movement but I couldn’t
quite find a way to time the steps, to lessen the jolt. We reached a straight stretch on the forest
path cushioned with last year’s fallen pine needles. At least if I fell, the ground wouldn’t be
like cement.
Owen’s
horse started to gallop and within a pace or two, I felt Chief change
stride. A memory flashed in front of me…my
sister, Crystal and me ….a flat desert at sunset with a pink red horizon and
pink sand below us….Crystal and I on mustangs from the ranch…galloping back to
their barn before our father had to pay for an extra hour. Those were the early days…when we were brave.
Courage
flooded through my veins and pumped into my heart. Galloping was easier than trotting. I could do it. The feeling of freedom was thrilling as I
closely followed my leader. I crouched down
low, wind whipping my hair back.
Our
horses’ hooves broke up clumps of dirt, leaving tracks and making a heavy
thudding sound with every stride while we crossed a clearing beside a small indigo
pond. Mallard ducks splashed up out of
the water in a flock, honking as they rose in the noon
hour sun directly above us.
