concern for my comfort never waned; Claire remained as attentive to me as she had been from our first meeting. She checked with Mrs. Maiden to be sure that my medicine was administered properly. She took her role as my friend and caretaker very seriously, and as much as anything, I believe this is what eased my suffering. My eyes healed quickly, and soon enough Claire and I were ready to take our first lesson together, and indeed, our first ride, too.
First Claire took extra time to stretch me, just as Mrs. Maiden had shown her. She leaned her small frame into me, lifted a foreleg at the cannon bone, and then ever so slowly stretched it out fully until I took the leg back from her. After completing each of my legs this way, Claire wrapped both her hands firmly around my tail, braced her legs, and pulled with all her strength. I, in turn, pulled my weight forward, until Claire released her hands.
During our first lesson, we did not jump or practice dressage tests. Instead, Claire asked to practice our flatwork bareback. “I’ll feel Chancey’s rhythm better if I’m riding free, Mrs. Maiden.”
Mrs. Maiden obliged, “Excellent, Claire! Riding bareback will strengthen your legs and core, too.”
I, too, preferred carrying Claire without a saddle, as it was easier on my back and joints.
In our first lesson, there was no guessing as to what would come next, or what was expected of the other. Claire asked for a working trot and a working trot I gave her, right away. Claire naturally rose to the trot precisely in time with my outside shoulder. She touched down lightly on my back and without the slightest bounce. Together we two moved in delightful tandem. Claire needed no stirrups, no saddle, no whip, or no spurs. Claire needed only to be Claire. I will say that for the entirety of our first ride I thought only of Claire and what she might ask of me next. I found a new energy, a new appreciation, and a new joy in riding with Claire.
I kept my focus on Claire and tried to forget about the cancer in my eyes. Thanks to the skills of my Albemarle surgeons, my cancer had been halted for the time being. I maintained sight in my right eye, giving me a fair line of vision of nearly 180 degrees, as I had learned from Doctor Russ’s follow-up examination. I am faithful to the belief that, had my tumors been allowed to grow unchecked, I would have quickly succumbed to complete blindness. Though I could feel that the cancer remained hidden within me, I could also feel that it had been driven away for the present. In any event, our training had to take into consideration the near total darkness in my left eye.
While neither Claire nor I were beginners, we knew we would have to work hard if we were ever to compete together. Most of my career as a school horse had been spent teaching novice riders only the very basic skills. By the time Claire and I joined, she was already an accomplished horsewoman, as she had learned to ride on Daisy. From the time she was five years old, as Mac relayed directly to me, Claire had spent as much time as possible with horses.
For the first time in my twenty-two years, I felt a sense of purpose in training with one student devoted solely and only to me. Mrs. Maiden set for us a goal of showing in the late-summer series of local hunter shows. Though Claire and I were both experienced, Mrs. Maiden insisted that we start out together in the most elementary of classes — Short Stirrup Walk-Trot. With her undeniable talent for persuasive argument, Claire secured an accord with Mrs. Maiden that if we worked on our equitation without complaint, we could also compete in a jumper class over two small fences. With several months available to train, Claire and I were confident that we would be ready by the end of August.
The focus to our training surpassed any lesson that I had given as a school horse. Claire had chosen me as her companion, and together we worked every day. With the new supplement arriving in my