Big Book Of Lesbian Horse Stories (22 page)

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Authors: Alisa Surkis

BOOK: Big Book Of Lesbian Horse Stories
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Brittany laughed. “Oh, Lizzie, you're just as boring out of bed as you were in it. Don't be too sure you know what Julie wants and doesn't want. I can tell you firsthand—Julie likes to have fun.”
Julie gasped. Had Brittany slept with Liz? Was Liz in love with Brittany? And was Liz really boring in bed?
“Julie doesn't need your kind of fun,” Liz snapped.
“Julie's all grown up now,” Brittany said sharply. “She can decide for herself. Come on Julie. Let's get going.”
Julie looked back and forth between Liz and Brittany, comparing Brittany's perfectly groomed blond hair to Liz's tousled black curls, Brittany's pampered slenderness to Liz's sturdy muscularity, Brittany's blue eyes with their feverish glitter to Liz's clear, calm sea-foam green eyes. Julie wanted to stay with Liz, but did she have the strength to say goodbye to that little black bag?
As Julie stood there, frozen, a high-pitched whinny split the air. Everyone turned toward Lady Snow's trailer. Now there was the sound of hooves, thudding against the door. And when Liz opened the trailer, there was Lady Snow, frothing at the mouth and rolling her eyes, begging Julie for help—for relief.
“She trusted me and this is what I did to her,” Julie realized. Her numbed brain struggled to grasp the enormity of what she'd done—and what she had to do now.
“Don't worry, Julie. Blaine's got something in his bag for Lady Snow. Now what's it going to be?” Brittany said with a confident smile as she motioned Blaine toward the horse trailer.
Julie stared at the ground. “I—I want you both to leave now. I'm staying here.” Her voice was barely audible, but she'd said it.
For a moment, Brittany was speechless. Then her face turned an ugly shade of red, and as she climbed into the BMW, she screeched, “Fine! But I hope you don't think that you and that mangy Trakehner of yours are going to win the Grand Prix. Brittany is going to win the Grand Prix! Brittany
always
wins the Grand Prix!” Julie could still hear Brittany ranting as Blaine peeled out of the parking lot.
As Julie watched the BMW drive away, she dissolved into sobs. “I can't do it, Liz! I'm not strong enough!”
Liz's arms were around her. “You
can
do it, Julie.”
“You don't understand,” Julie wailed. “You don't know what this is like!”
Liz looked intently into Julie's tearstained face. “But I do understand, because when I was nineteen, I went through exactly the same thing—Brittany, Blaine, the drugs, all of it. ”
Julie could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“Halfway through the season, Brittany and I were neck and neck in the standings. We were in Florida. I was young, naive, and lonely—the perfect target for someone like her. By the time we left Florida, I would have sold my horse for a fix, and my horse would have done the same with me. And we're not the only ones—Brittany's gone through more promising riders than you or I have gone through saddle pads.”
“Is that why you never rode in the Grand Prix?” Julie asked as she finally began to realize the answers to questions long unasked.
“I left the circuit to go to Betty Ford. I managed to put together a new life for myself, but I . . . I never got up the courage to return to the old one. Most don't. Brittany's chosen a game where the odds are all stacked in her favor, and so far, she's won every time. But you and Lady Snow, I think you two have something special. What do you say, kid? Are you going to be the one to beat her?”
Julie took a deep, shaky breath. “I'm ready to try.”
 
For two solid days, Liz stayed in the locked stall with Julie and Lady Snow, as the two sweated the poisons out of their system. When it was over, Lady Snow gobbled sugar cube after sugar cube, and so did Julie.
“Liz, I don't know how to thank you,” Julie said, eyes shining.
“You don't have to thank me. Don't you know I'd do anything for you?” Liz said gruffly.
“Anything?” Julie ventured, putting her hand on Liz's shoulder. Liz drew back from Julie's touch.
“What is it, Liz? Why do you always pull away from me? Don't you care for me?”
“Of course I do—I've loved you since you were eleven!”
Liz loved her! Julie couldn't believe she was finally hearing those words after so many years of dreaming about them.
But Liz was still talking, her voice strained and tense. “But I can't—we can't ever do anything. For me, sex is all tied up with Brittany, drugs, and hot tubs. And I just know that if—if I have sex again, I'll slip back into all of that.”
For an instant, Julie's heart plummeted. Would she never be free of Brittany and her trail of destruction? Then she reminded herself that only two days before she'd been a slave to cocaine. Liz had helped Julie break free of her addiction—now Julie knew it was up to her to help Liz break free of the past.
Julie encircled Liz in a firm yet tender embrace. “I'm not going to let Brittany take riding away from me, and I won't let her take you either.”
At first the older woman stiffened, then she struggled, but finally she relaxed into Julie's embrace. Julie slowly tightened her arms until their two bodies were pressed against each other. Liz shuddered all over, but it was no longer with fear, only desire. The two slid down into a pile of hay where they discovered that when two people truly love and respect each other, they don't need poppers to experience a sexual wonderland of pain and pleasure.
Only a few weeks later, Julie found herself astride Lady Snow, waiting to enter the ring at the Grand Prix. She knew that physically they'd both recovered, and were as fit as they'd been before they ever met Brittany, Blaine, and Blizzard. But had she and Lady Snow recovered their harmony and trust? Would they be able to find their old confidence?
Julie almost regretted asking Liz to watch from the stands, but this was something she and Lady Snow needed to do by themselves.
Julie looked up at the scoreboard and saw that Brittany's time was still the one to beat. She hadn't watched her ride the course. She thought she was strong enough now to resist Brittany—but she was afraid.
“Julie!”
It was Brittany's voice, commanding Julie to turn around. Julie turned.
Brittany stood below her, still in riding clothes. Her hair was golden, her eyes were blue, her skin was tanned. She was still Brittany—still beautiful and seductive.
Julie took a deep breath. Seeing Brittany was kicking up a lot of stuff for her. Memories were rushing over her, some of them good, most of them bad.
“Think you're going to win today, Julie?” The question was a taunt.
Julie answered slowly. “I don't know, Brittany. I just do the best I can and try to stay free of chemical substances. That makes me a winner already, in a way.”
Brittany's lip curled. “Can that bullshit! This isn't one of your meetings. I just have something I want to tell you.”
Julie remembered how she used to quail before that curled lip, which always meant Brittany was disappointed in her. But now she wasn't quailing. Instead she was listening to something new in Brittany's voice, something that Julie hadn't heard before. Suddenly Julie realized what it was—it was fear!
“You're a loser,” Brittany was saying. “I played you. I played your precious Liz. I played them all! Nobody beats Brittany!”
Julie wasn't paying attention. She was noticing for the first time that Brittany's blond hair had dark roots. Brittany's blue eyes were riddled with tiny red lines. Brittany's tanned face was etched with faint wrinkles. And how was it she'd never noticed before that Brittany's eyebrows had been singed off from freebasing?
“I can have anybody I want, man or woman! All I have to do is snap my fingers!” Brittany tried to snap her fingers, but her hands were trembling so hard she couldn't.
Julie heard her number being called over the PA. “Goodbye, Brittany,” she said, gently clucking to Lady Snow.
“I'm a winner,” Brittany called after her, her voice high with hysteria. “Do you hear me? Brittany Fairchild is the winner!”
Julie realized Brittany had no more power over her—she felt no fear, only pity. Brittany still didn't understand that when you play with drugs, nobody wins. Julie smiled at Liz up in the stands, put Brittany out of her mind, and took a deep breath. She brought Lady Snow into a balanced, rhythmic canter and headed into the ring, knowing that all they had to do now was take life one fence at a time.
R
IDE TO
F
REEDOM
J
ennie glanced at the clock. Jeb and his friends would be arriving soon for their poker night, and dinner had to be ready when they got there. Preparing the meal in the modern yellow kitchen with its avocado appliances should have been fulfilling; at least that was what Jennie had read in that
Good Housekeeping
article on “Decorating Tips for the Self-Actualized Housewife.” So why was it that each time she looked out the window and saw Firebird moving restlessly about the paddock, the yellow walls of the kitchen seemed to close in on her? Jennie wasn't sure why, but she had to get away from the ranch, if only for a little while. “I won't be gone long,” she promised herself, throwing down her oven mitt. She ran outside, quickly saddled up the eager filly, and urged Firebird out the gate.
In the year since she'd married Jeb, she'd tried to get used to her new role as “wife,” to be a gracious hostess to his friends. But she still cringed at their crude talk, still grimaced at the tobacco juice she had to scrub out of the rugs when, after a few six packs, they would inevitably miss the jug. She knew she would never feel at ease with “the boys.” Would she ever feel comfortable with Jeb?
Jennie slowed Firebird to a walk as the path wound its way through a grove of majestic Oregonian pines. Her thoughts drifted back to the time before her marriage—the time when she had first felt like an outsider. After high school graduation, the group of friends she'd made her first summer at Girl Scout camp had begun to drift apart. Some of the girls had gotten married, while others had taken jobs in offices where there were eligible bachelors. Jennie had puzzled them all by taking a job as a riding instructor back at their old Girl Scout camp. Jennie loved initiating young girls into the joys of horses, but grew tired of her girlfriends' constant refrain, “Better watch out, or you'll end up an old maid.”
Then she'd met Jeb in town one day, she buying oats, he buying supplies for his 500-acre spread. When he'd shown an interest in her, Jennie had felt a sense of relief, as if she were finally in step with the rest of the world. Within a month, they were engaged. Her girlfriends were like sisters again, helping her do her hair and pick out new outfits. The weeks leading up to her wedding were a happy whirlwind. People said she was radiant on her wedding day.
Afterward, Jeb had insisted that Jennie trade in her job at the camp for full-time work as his wife. During the long, lonely days on the ranch that followed, Jennie began to wonder if she and Jeb had anything at all in common. Even in bed, she couldn't help shrinking from Jeb's physical demands, from the touch of his heavy, work-hardened hands.
Jennie spurred Firebird up the mountain, as if to escape from her memories. But like hungry bears they chased after her—she remembered all the times she had tried to share her doubts and unhappiness with her girlfriends, only to have them respond as if she were betraying them.
“Jeb Hoskins was the most eligible bachelor in town. How can you complain about a fine catch like that?”
“That ranch of his seems to do awfully well. Is that a new outfit?”
“Maybe if you spent a little less time on that horse of yours and a little more time paying attention to your man, you wouldn't be having these problems.”
Less time on Firebird! Jennie had loved the filly from the moment she'd first laid eyes on her, the summer she turned sixteen. She had arrived at Girl Scout camp eager as ever for two months of hiking, camping, swimming, and riding—especially riding! But her friends were interested only in planning forays into town to meet boys.
Jennie had felt miserable and alone, until the morning Barb Hanson, the strict, athletic camp director, had arrived leading Firebird. When Jennie saw the filly, part appaloosa, part quarter horse, her coat a beautiful deep brown with a sprinkling of white across her hindquarters, she felt she had found a soul mate. Barb's iron jaw had relaxed into a smile as she announced that the older girls would be able to “explore some new terrain” on the fiery filly.
And explore new terrain they had. It was on a camping trip, with Barb and a few of the older girls, that Jennie had glimpsed the fabled mustangs. Jennie could remember hearing about these horses since she was a girl, a herd of wild mustangs that roamed the dense forests of the craggy Oregon hills.
It had been just after dawn that Jennie was awakened by Firebird's whinnying. She went to soothe the horse and was rewarded by the magical sight of a band of mustangs thundering through the valley below. Jennie had watched until the horses disappeared from view. Only then did she notice Barb's presence by her side. “Beautiful, aren't they?” Barb had whispered reverently.
Ever since then, Jennie had awoken to dim memories of the herd thundering through her dreams. Those dreams had persisted right up until the day she'd married Jeb. That was when the herd had abandoned her. Or had she abandoned them? Jennie only knew that she missed them as much as if their presence in her life had been as real as Firebird's.
As if sensing her mistress's thoughts, Firebird whickered, a low, affectionate noise. The horse had all an appaloosa's beauty and spirit, mated with the keen intelligence of a quarter horse. What would married life have been like without Firebird? Jennie shuddered at the thought.
The filly had been an unexpected wedding present from Barb. When Jennie told Barb she was leaving to be married, she had been shocked to see a tear trickle down the tough camp director's leathery cheek. Later, when Jennie was saying her own tearful goodbye to Firebird, Barb had told her the horse was hers.
Barb. Life brought funny changes. Once Jennie had been Barb's employee, but in the year after she'd left the camp, Barb had fallen on hard times. First a timber company had bought up the land Barb had leased for her camp. Then came the hospitalizations, as the years of smoking caught up with Barb. Finally, there was nothing more the doctors could do for her. With only half a lung left, Barb was released from the hospital—little more than her gritty determination keeping her alive. With heartbreaking humility, she had accepted Jennie's offer of a little room off the stable. Maybe she'd guessed how Jennie had to beg before Jeb would consent to let her take in her old camp counselor.
Jennie's thoughts came back to the present with a jolt and she looked around. Firebird had stopped of her own accord, and was peacefully munching wildflowers. They had reached the point where the forest thickened. Jennie longed to penetrate its mysterious vastness, but something had always held her back. With a sigh, she gathered the reins in her hand, and turned back toward the ranch. She hoped she'd have enough time to bring Barb the little bit of food she could choke down these days, before she finished making the men's supper.
When Jennie rode into the paddock, she noted with relief that Jeb's pickup was not yet back. Hurriedly, she heated up a bowl of broth on the stove. She threw the half-scrubbed potatoes into the oven and set the steaks to sizzling, then took the broth out to the little room by the stables. Barb was sleeping fitfully under an old horse blanket, each breath a painful rasp.
As Jennie entered the room, Barb stirred. “Jennie?” she managed to wheeze, before a spasm of coughs shook her.
“I'm here, Barb,” replied Jennie, covering her sorrow with a smile for Barb's sake.
When the coughing had subsided, Barb engaged in their nightly ritual. “I think I'm improving. I won't be a burden to you much longer.”
“You're looking better, Barb, but you can't leave—I'd miss your company too much.” Jennie sat down on the edge of the bed, and started to feed Barb. But Barb took the spoon from her. “You go on, I know it's Jeb's poker night. I don't want to get him all riled up at you.” Feebly, she began to spoon the broth into her mouth.
Jennie watched, biting her lip. It broke her heart to see the proud old woman tremulously dripping soup all over the horse blanket. But her own anxieties drove her back to the kitchen.
Jennie rushed to the stove, but it was too late—the steaks were overdone. Jeb liked them practically raw. A rumble of voices told her the men were arriving. She closed her eyes, trying to will her stomach out of the knot it was tightening into, but her eyes snapped open when someone slapped her on the backside.
“Wake up, honey!” It was one of her husband's friends—she couldn't remember his name—they all looked alike to her. “You've got hungry men to feed!” Thrusting a six-pack at her, he left the kitchen. Jennie looked around in despair, but there was no escape.
That night, the talk was all about the mustangs.
“A fellow from the logging crew was telling me that they saw those mustangs again last week,” one of the men said, speaking as he chewed.
“That's the third time this month,” another man added.
Jennie remembered when years would pass between sightings, but recently loggers had moved into the area, making their mark on formerly pristine forests. Now that the hillsides were being cleared of trees, Jeb and the boys had high hopes of capturing the herd.
“Say, Jeb, I wouldn't mind breaking a couple of those horses,” called a bearded man on Jennie's right.
“Some of those mustangs just won't break. Sometimes there's nothing left to do but shoot 'em,” Jeb returned.
“But if you can't break them, why not just let them go instead of shooting them?” Jennie had found herself wondering aloud.
Jeb had rolled his eyes as the men burst out laughing. The man who had slapped her called out to Jeb, “What's going on here? Your wife one of those women's libbers?” He then turned to Jennie. “Don't you know that you can get fifty cents a pound from the dog food factory?”
Tears sprang to Jennie's eyes at the thought. Why couldn't the men leave the horses free to wander the Oregon hills as they had done for generations?
That night, while she slept, the mustangs returned to Jennie's dreams. She was riding Firebird bareback through the forests. Shots rang out around them but could not touch them. They rode into a clearing and there they were—the band of mustangs. But no, it was a troop of Girl Scouts, gathered around a campfire, hands joined. The girls opened their mouths to begin a song, but instead they all put a pinch of tobacco between their cheek and gum. Jennie then saw that it was not a troop of Girl Scouts sitting there; it was Jeb and the boys. She tried to call out to Jeb as he raised a rifle and aimed it at Firebird, but could only clutch at her throat, realizing she had no voice. A shot rang out and Jennie awoke covered in a cold sweat.
Even though she knew it had been a dream, Jennie couldn't stop herself from springing out of bed and rushing to the barn to check on Firebird. Then, as if she were still dreaming, she mounted the filly. Firebird danced lightly back and forth, enjoying the unaccustomed feeling of bare flesh and the silk of Jennie's peignoir on her back, rather than the unyielding leather of the saddle.
They rode out of the paddock, woman and horse moving as one, sharing the same desire to leave the fences and buildings behind and wander among the trees. When they reached the point where the forest thickened and she had always turned back, Jennie urged Firebird on. The scent of pine was like wine to both woman and horse.
Jennie leaned forward, her auburn hair whipping in the wind, her silk peignoir fluttering behind her. The smooth rhythm of Firebird's withers and crest rising and falling hypnotized her. Firebird's mane whipped her face, making her blood tingle. The horse cantered faster and faster over the narrow path that wound through the dense forest. Jennie wanted to cry out with the ecstasy she felt growing inside her.
Suddenly, they burst into a hidden clearing, and a fountain of bright sunlight poured over them as they raced across a sea of waving green grass and tiny blue wild flowers. For an instant, Jennie's sun-dazzled eyes glimpsed something her mind could not comprehend—there was another horse, coal black, disappearing into the forest at the far end of the clearing, and on its back a woman, riding like an Amazon, naked and barebacked. Jennie stopped to catch her breath, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. Then the horse reappeared, riderless. Had she only imagined the woman?
Another horse appeared, and another. Slowly horse after horse emerged from the forest until Jennie and Firebird were surrounded by a herd of horses. The mustangs! Jennie shivered with excitement. Was she dreaming again? No, the clearing, the horses—this time they were real. Jennie gazed at the herd—sturdy, compact horses of all colors with rough, ungroomed manes and eyes gleaming with intelligence—eyes that seemed to say, “We know you mean us no harm.” The next moment the horses were in motion, running like the wind, and then they were gone.
Jennie and Firebird were alone in the clearing and it was time to return to the ranch. On the ride back, it occurred to Jennie that it was her responsibility as Jeb's wife to tell him what she had seen—a duty she found even more unwelcome than Jeb's nightly invasions of her womanhood.
At breakfast Jeb was gruff, and Jennie was unusually quiet as a battle waged within her. Did she owe no loyalty to the wild and free horses? But what of the vows she had taken before God and man—she had vowed her first loyalty to Jeb, hadn't she? Then Jeb spoke up, interrupting her thoughts.

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