Gee Whiz (23 page)

“For yourselves, in case of dehydration.”

I’d never thought of this. I didn’t know what to say, but Sophia said, “We’ll be fine,” in a tight voice.

We waved and headed out. The trail had dried enough to be perfect—resilient but not slippery. Onyx looked happy. He walked along with his head swinging and his ears pricked, but at one point, he sort of stumbled on an uneven spot, nothing serious, and Sophia started and grabbed mane. Then she drove her heels down and straightened her back. This was the right response—if a horse goes down, you want to be sitting up, and in good balance, but Onyx was nowhere near going down. I said, “He’s been on this trail scads of times.”

Sophia said, “I haven’t.”

In the meantime, Blue was walking along just fine. His gait felt smooth and pleasant. I patted him on the neck and tickled him at the roots of his mane. I wondered what Sophia and I were going to talk about for two hours. But I should have known. Sophia didn’t need to talk—she never did. When you were with Sophia, all of the things you might have remarked on—look at the crows; the rain greened things up a bit, but the trail isn’t bad at all; Onyx looks good—remained
unsaid because they seemed too dopey or too obvious or, maybe, too personal (I did wonder if she was nervous, but I didn’t ask). Had she done her homework? Well, of course she had. She always did her homework. How did she do on the math test? An A, of course, and if not, well, it was none of my business. So, if we couldn’t talk about anything, why did I like her a little more each time I saw her?

We got to the gate into the Jordan Ranch. I sided Blue over to it and undid it, and we both went through. I locked it again. We picked up our pace as we climbed the hill, until both horses were trotting nicely, using their shoulders and lowering their heads. The hills spread to the east, and you could just see the cows and calves sprinkled black against a distant slope. They were far away, but the landscape amplified their mooing, so that it sounded resonant and deep. We let the horses pick their own pace, and Sophia did the right thing, which was to sit back a little and lower her shoulders, just because the ground could always fool you. Blue and Onyx seemed perfectly sure-footed and happy, though, and when we came to a wide, flat area, they both lifted into a canter. Blue was in the lead, but where the trail spread out, Onyx moved around him and took off.

I admit I felt a single blast of alarm, but Sophia was only two lengths ahead of me, and her body was swaying easily with Onyx’s gallop. Her braids were flopping rhythmically, and her heels were deep. Blue exerted himself to keep up, and I decided to quit worrying and enjoy myself, which was easy, given how fresh and sweet the air was, and how hypnotic the sound of the horses’ hooves on the trail. As soon as Sophia
settled into her saddle, Onyx slowed to a trot, and Blue was right with him. We trotted for a few strides, then we walked. Everyone was breathless, Sophia, Onyx, Blue, and me, but it was the breathlessness of pleasure. The horses tossed their heads and blew out some air, and then walked along, glancing here and there. I came up beside Sophia. She did not say, “That was fun”—she would never say such a silly thing. But I did say it. “That was fun.” Then, “So tell me why you finally came for a trail ride?”

She looked at me. She seemed looser and more comfortable. “Because Colonel Hawkins said it would be a waste of time.”

“What does that mean?”

“What are we learning, Abby? What is to be gained? The horse is plenty fit without it. Something could happen. I would be very cautious.” She spoke in a deep, measured voice, and then coughed a Colonel Hawkins sort of cough.

A few minutes later, she said, “Is this where you broke your arm last year?”

I waved toward the distant cows. “Over across there, behind those hills.”

“See?” she said. “That’s what he’s talking about.”

“I guess so.”

We walked along. I didn’t tell Sophia about the time I got lost and Rusty and Blue found the way home, but I looked around and paid attention to where we were. It all looked normal today. I said, “You never seem like you’re afraid of anything.”

She glanced at me, and said, “I guess the thing I’m afraid
of right now is what my life is going to be like if I do every single thing I’m told to do forever and ever.”

Now the trail went down a hill and through the patchy shade of a grove of oaks. This was one of my favorite places to ride, though we didn’t ride here very often. The limbs of the trees were rough and crooked, and we had to pay attention in order to bend our heads beneath a few that stretched over the trail. We could see a trickle of water in the stream at the bottom of the hill, and that seemed to make the atmosphere especially peaceful. There was no wind. The horses were flicking their ears, though, so I sat up and took a slightly stronger hold. Sophia said, “Look over there.” The horses turned their heads. We could just see the face of a doe under one of the smaller trees, not far off the trail, maybe twenty feet from us. She was lying down, but her head was up, her triangular face turned right toward us, her dark eyes staring. I closed my legs on Blue’s sides, not to kick him but to make sure that he knew that he had to keep going. I saw Sophia do the same. We passed the deer and she didn’t move. A bit later, the trail angled upward, and when we looked back, we could still see her, watching us.

Sophia said, “Who is that big white horse in your pasture? He’s a beauty.”

“He’s a Thoroughbred off the track.”

“I thought so. He’s got the look. I love Santa Anita.”

“You’ve been there?”

“My dad took me one year for the Santa Anita Derby. He let me place a bet—two bucks on Lucky Debonair. I picked him because he reminded me of a horse I had then. We also
went to Del Mar once. That’s like going to a resort that has racing down the street. Dad gets a little excited every time they run, and Mom and I just look at our shoes, but I have to admit, that time I had the bet on Lucky Debonair, who I’d never even heard of half an hour before, I was jumping up and down and shouting his name, and he felt like he was my very own horse. Then, when they were coming back to the winners’ circle after they all galloped out, it seemed like the jockey was waving to
me
. It was such fun. What are you going to do with him?”

“Train him to jump.” It seemed very bold to say this, but then I said, “I know he can do it, because he jumped out of the chute I built him when a bird flew in his face.”

“Are you really?”

It took me a second to say yes.

The look Sophia—Sophia!—gave me said, “Lucky you.”

When we got back, it had been an hour and a half, so I had to wonder what Dad and Mr. Rosebury had talked about for all that time. Whatever it was, Mr. Rosebury was smiling and laughing the way he always did. Probably it wasn’t religion.

And as the Roseburys pulled out of the gate, Danny turned in from the road. He waved to me and waited for them to go through, then he passed me, drove to the house, and parked. I closed the gate and secured the latch. Mom was already out on the front porch, and when Danny went up the stairs, she said some little thing, and he nodded, and they hugged as tight as they possibly could.

I went around to the kitchen and took my boots off, then
I waited just inside the door while Danny, Mom, and Dad talked about it. It turned out that he had taken a bus with a lot of other guys from our town to the military base up the coast. On the way back, they all compared notes about how they’d done, what results they’d received. Some of them had not passed, even some of those who were sure that they would pass. But Danny had passed. Now all he had to do was wait for his draft notice. He’d heard that would take about two months. Dad said, “You’ll do fine.”

Danny nodded.

We all stood there for a long, uncomfortable moment, and then Danny said, “Well, Abby, how’s that big guy today?”

I said, “Sophia thinks he’s quite beautiful.”

Danny said, “He is.” As we went out the back door, he continued, “And we are going to take it pretty slow. But we ought to be able to accomplish a little in the next two months.”

All we did that morning was truly a little—the same things that we’d done on Friday, which took maybe half an hour. But I could see in Gee Whiz’s face that he understood what we were getting at—he was ready to step under, ready to change his pace, his direction, his gait. Ready to be played with and attended to. Maybe he thought that his prayers had been answered, that finally he wasn’t having to stand around in the pasture all day waiting for something interesting to happen. And maybe I felt the same way.

On Monday afternoon, Barbie was there for a lesson when I got off the bus—on Tuesday she and Alexis were heading
back to the Jackson School. I rode Oh My while she rode Blue, and I hardly had to tell her anything at all. If it hadn’t been so late, I would have taken her for that trail ride. When she got into her mom’s car to go, she said, “Please come and visit!” and kissed me on the cheek. She also gave me a box of brown sugar cubes from France that her mom had bought specially for Blue. I promised to write.

On Tuesday, Danny came again and we worked with Gee Whiz again. He did a little better. He was a little more graceful. At the end, when Gee Whiz was walking around the arena looking for tufts of grass, Danny told me he wanted me to do the work for the next couple of days, just to see how I liked it. I did do it. I did like it. I liked having those dark eyes watching me, wondering what I might want. I liked having those mobile ears pricked in my direction. I liked that large presence near me. I liked the warmth of his silky coat when I brushed him. And I liked thinking about a race at Santa Anita, everyone screaming and jumping as Gee Whiz, by Hyperion, out of Tilla, by Birkhahn, crossed the finish line first.

Thursday, Danny came out to the arena as we were finishing up. I was holding the flag and encouraging Gee Whiz to trot, encouraging him to lengthen his stride. Danny leaned on the railing and watched. All of a sudden, Gee Whiz came toward me and curved around me, trotting but attentive, making a circle without there being a rope between us. After one circuit, he flattened the circle, as if he was going to trot away again, but I stepped back half a step, and he curved toward me. He went around three times, then I stepped back two steps and dropped the arm that was holding the flag. He
turned toward me and trotted right up to me. I stood absolutely still and he came to a halt.

Danny said, “When did he start doing that?”

“One minute ago.”

“He is really hooked on.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means he accepts you. He’s looking to you for instructions.” He smiled. “He likes you.”

“Mom said that.”

“Well, haven’t you noticed?”

“I did notice. But Dad says that it’s only carrots and sticks.”

“He
says
that. But I think he knows better. Walk toward the other end of the arena.”

I did so. Gee Whiz was two steps behind me all the way. When I stopped, he stopped. When I walked on, he walked on. I made a little loop, and he followed me back to Danny. Danny said, “I’m leaving him in good hands.”

“We still haven’t ridden him.”

“We will.”

But at dinner, Dad said, “That horse going back to Vista del Canada Monday?” Monday was the sixteenth.

I put down my fork.

Danny said, “I don’t think so.”

“Didn’t you say the other day that the racing season was beginning down south? That should open up a few stalls over there.”

“I think he’s better here.”

“Why is that?”

Mom put down her fork.

They were sitting across from one another. Their chairs shifted simultaneously, making a loud scraping noise that caused Rusty, on the back porch, to stand up and look in the window. Danny straightened his shoulders, then said, “He’s my horse, and I think he’s better off here.”

“You bought that animal?”

“He was given to me.”

“Well, give him back. He’s useless as far as I can see. Much too big.”

I said, “He can jump.”

Dad looked at me, then at Danny, then back at me. He said, “How do you know that?”

“I built a little chute. He did it easily.”

Dad pushed his chair and set his plate off to one side. He said, “Do I have any say in what goes on around here anymore?” He got up from the table and walked out the door. Rusty gave a bark. Maybe Rusty was saying no.

A few moments later, I heard the truck start up and drive away.

We all picked up our forks again and pretended to eat, but when Mom asked Danny if he wanted more chicken, he shook his head. He looked angry, and I didn’t want any more supper, either, not even the mashed potatoes, which were especially good. I had that feeling in my stomach that you get when you are getting closer and closer to the very thing that you were afraid of, except I didn’t know what it was that I was afraid of. I looked at Mom. She was poking at the last string bean on her plate, so probably she was imagining that, too.

Of course, the bad thing would be saying good-bye to Gee Whiz, a horse that a month ago I had no knowledge of and no sense of, either—because that was what I would miss. Even though I’d never yet ridden him, I could, almost in spite of myself, feel that presence he had, large and thoughtful and promising, right outside the window behind me.

Danny’s chair scraped. He stood and began clearing the table. If I’d ever seen him do this before, I couldn’t remember it. He picked up the plates and the silverware and carried everything to the sink, where he stacked it neatly to one side. He came back for the glasses, then the serving dishes. Pretty soon Mom and I were sitting at an empty table. We didn’t say anything, then Mom said, “Thanks, honey.”

He kissed her on the cheek, poked me on the shoulder, and said, “See you Monday. Make sure that guy learns something tomorrow.” He went out through the living room and the front door. Mom shook her head a little, then said to me, “When your dad and I got married, he told me that he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes with his sons as his father had made with him and your uncles.”

“Do you think he’s made mistakes?”