Free Horse Tale by Bonnie Bryant Page A
Authors: Bonnie Bryant
her tight rein the whole way, shaking his head and skittering sideways nervously every few steps. Kate gave up after only a few minutes.
Carole went next. Berry didn’t fight her, but he seemed confused about what he was being asked to do. Every few minutes he drifted to a stop and looked around, as if pondering what purpose there could be in trotting back and forth from one point to another.
Stevie was becoming more and more worried that Stewball wouldn’t catch on to dressage either. In fact, that tiny worry had been nagging at her since soon after she had decided to buy Stewball. She knew he was a Western horse born and bred, and she had been so excited at the thought of owning him that she hadn’t really thought about whether it was practical to try to convert him to a whole new way of doing things. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, was it fair to ask that of him?
After watching her friends’ disastrous attempts, Lisa didn’t even want to give it a try. Stevie wasn’t sure she wanted to, either, but she knew she had to. She had to know whether Stewball could do it. Her heart was in her throat as she mounted Stewball and aimed him toward the far corner of the “dressage arena” they’d marked off in the field. Taking a deep breath, she signaled for a slow trot and began to put him through an exercise she had been working on at home with Topside.
At first Stewball seemed a little perplexed by all the orders his rider was giving him. Stevie knew he had a mind of his own—and she knew that if he got it into that mind that he didn’t want to do dressage, there would be no changing it. But after a few minutes he settled down and began to respond to her commands as best he could.
Stevie felt a hundred percent better when they had finished the exercise. As she brought Stewball to a four-footed stop in the middle of the arena, she was grinning from ear to ear. “I knew he’d be a natural!” she crowed. Though Stevie would be the first to admit that Stewball was no Topside, the Western horse had caught on fast and done a creditable job in the end. Remembering how she had wanted to prove to Kate that Stewball could make it as an English horse, Stevie was sure she had just met that goal. And more important, she had convinced herself.
She dismounted and led Stewball over to where the others were sitting at the edge of the field. “Could you tell what was going on?” she asked Christine.
“Oh, yes,” Christine said. “Carole and Kate explained everything to me.”
“Good.” Stevie grinned at her friends and was a little surprised when they didn’t grin back. In fact, they looked rather distracted. She shrugged and decided they were probably just overcome with admiration for Stewball’s talents. “Obviously Stewball isn’t an expert, and it’s better if it’s done exactly right. But he did well enough to give you an idea. And before long he’ll be an old pro! After all, dressageisn’t really that different from cutting when you think about it.”
Kate raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Oh, really? How do you figure?”
“When he’s cutting a horse or a calf out of a herd, Stewball has to be constantly on his toes, ready to change directions at the drop of a hat,” Stevie said. “In dressage a horse has to be ready to follow his rider’s instructions instantly, whether it’s to change leads or lengthen his gait or whatever.”
“I guess that makes sense, as far as it goes,” Kate agreed cautiously. “But, remember, a cutting horse does all that stuff on his own. A rider shouldn’t have to give his cutting horse any instructions at all aside from which calf or horse he wants him to cut out of the herd. In fact, in a cutting competition you can have points knocked off if the judges see you giving your horse obvious instructions.”
“That’s very different from dressage, then,” Carole commented. “In dressage a horse has to always be prepared to do exactly what the rider
Carole went next. Berry didn’t fight her, but he seemed confused about what he was being asked to do. Every few minutes he drifted to a stop and looked around, as if pondering what purpose there could be in trotting back and forth from one point to another.
Stevie was becoming more and more worried that Stewball wouldn’t catch on to dressage either. In fact, that tiny worry had been nagging at her since soon after she had decided to buy Stewball. She knew he was a Western horse born and bred, and she had been so excited at the thought of owning him that she hadn’t really thought about whether it was practical to try to convert him to a whole new way of doing things. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, was it fair to ask that of him?
After watching her friends’ disastrous attempts, Lisa didn’t even want to give it a try. Stevie wasn’t sure she wanted to, either, but she knew she had to. She had to know whether Stewball could do it. Her heart was in her throat as she mounted Stewball and aimed him toward the far corner of the “dressage arena” they’d marked off in the field. Taking a deep breath, she signaled for a slow trot and began to put him through an exercise she had been working on at home with Topside.
At first Stewball seemed a little perplexed by all the orders his rider was giving him. Stevie knew he had a mind of his own—and she knew that if he got it into that mind that he didn’t want to do dressage, there would be no changing it. But after a few minutes he settled down and began to respond to her commands as best he could.
Stevie felt a hundred percent better when they had finished the exercise. As she brought Stewball to a four-footed stop in the middle of the arena, she was grinning from ear to ear. “I knew he’d be a natural!” she crowed. Though Stevie would be the first to admit that Stewball was no Topside, the Western horse had caught on fast and done a creditable job in the end. Remembering how she had wanted to prove to Kate that Stewball could make it as an English horse, Stevie was sure she had just met that goal. And more important, she had convinced herself.
She dismounted and led Stewball over to where the others were sitting at the edge of the field. “Could you tell what was going on?” she asked Christine.
“Oh, yes,” Christine said. “Carole and Kate explained everything to me.”
“Good.” Stevie grinned at her friends and was a little surprised when they didn’t grin back. In fact, they looked rather distracted. She shrugged and decided they were probably just overcome with admiration for Stewball’s talents. “Obviously Stewball isn’t an expert, and it’s better if it’s done exactly right. But he did well enough to give you an idea. And before long he’ll be an old pro! After all, dressageisn’t really that different from cutting when you think about it.”
Kate raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Oh, really? How do you figure?”
“When he’s cutting a horse or a calf out of a herd, Stewball has to be constantly on his toes, ready to change directions at the drop of a hat,” Stevie said. “In dressage a horse has to be ready to follow his rider’s instructions instantly, whether it’s to change leads or lengthen his gait or whatever.”
“I guess that makes sense, as far as it goes,” Kate agreed cautiously. “But, remember, a cutting horse does all that stuff on his own. A rider shouldn’t have to give his cutting horse any instructions at all aside from which calf or horse he wants him to cut out of the herd. In fact, in a cutting competition you can have points knocked off if the judges see you giving your horse obvious instructions.”
“That’s very different from dressage, then,” Carole commented. “In dressage a horse has to always be prepared to do exactly what the rider