Chancey of the Maury River (20 page)

“Relax, Trevor,” Claire encouraged him. “Close your eyes and grab mane. Let Chancey carry you all the way down to the river. Don’t be scared, okay?”

“Chancey,” whispered Trevor. He held my mane in his hands and leaned forward to my neck. “I’ve got you, Chancey. I’m not going to let go, either.”

We walked through a field of brand-new saplings of every hardwood of the mountains, all fighting for their share of sunlight. I looked up and could tell by the bend in the canopy which direction the river flowed. Even if I could not have seen it, I would have known by the cool, damp change in the air how to get to the Maury River. I found that if I listened beyond the wind and the songbirds, I could hear the Maury River long before I could see it. Claire heard it, too. We halted.

“Listen,” she told Trevor. “What do you hear?”

Trevor stretched out on my back; he took his time answering her. “I hear a woodpecker drilling that dead tree right there.”

“What else?” Claire wanted him to name the river.

“I hear those annoying geese honking at each other,” he answered.

“Hmmm. I hear them, too. What else?” she asked again.

This time Trevor heard the river. “Water. It sounds like cars driving by, but softer. That’s the river.”

Trevor sat up and again grabbed a handful of my mane, this time with only one hand. He shifted around excitedly.

“Look,” Trevor shouted, “a belted kingfisher! My favorite bird! I like that spiky hairdo.”

I turned my head far to the left to give my face full exposure to the right bank of the river. The kingfisher sat perched on a sycamore limb, searching for trout, a sure sign that the river was running clear.

Claire tied the loose end of the lead rope to my halter. “Scoot back,” she bossed Trevor. “I’m hopping up there with you. I like being up high when I come up to the river.”

Trevor slid back all the way to my tail to give Claire enough room. She grabbed my mane and hoisted herself up. Trevor moved forward and held Claire’s waist.

“Will you sing that song for us the rest of the way?” Claire pleaded with Trevor.

“Claire, stop making me sing. I just want to sit here on Chancey.”

“But your song is the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard and besides, Chancey likes it.”

Trevor laughed at Claire, and began his song anyway. Just as the undergrowth of saplings gave way to tall, thick grass, the Maury River appeared. Claire let me stop and graze while Trevor finished his song. The wind from the river kept most of the flies away from me. The shade from the birch, leaning out far beyond the bank, protected my eyes from the sun.

“Have you ever been swimming with a horse?” Claire asked Trevor.

“You’re such a show-off, Claire. You know I’ve never been swimming with a horse. You’ve been with me every time I’ve ever been on a horse,” Trevor teased.

“Okay, I was just asking,” Claire said, pretending to be hurt. She thought for a moment, then rephrased her question to him. “Trev, what I meant was, do you want to go swimming with Chancey and me, right now?”

“Sure,” Trevor answered. “If you think it’s safe.”

“Geez, Trevor. Stop being such a fraidycat. Hold on.”

Both children slipped off their socks and shoes. Claire squeezed her legs and gave me a little kick. Claire clucked to encourage me, but it was an entirely unnecessary aid. I, too, wanted to swim. I walked slowly into the water, allowing plenty of time for my legs, and the children’s, to adjust. Claire and Trevor both sucked in their breath the moment the river slapped their legs. I waded slowly out to my neck; Claire stood on my back and dove into the river. Trevor did not need coaxing from Claire to do the same.

The river was slow and seemed ready to fall asleep as we three splashed the afternoon away. We stayed in the water together until the breeze blowing off it became too cold for Claire. She started to shiver, and not liking to be cold, tied my lead rope back into reins. I carried the two of them back to the barn. For what was left of the summer, this became our habit. Trevor would arrive for his lesson with Claire, and we would end our time together with a trail ride to the Maury River.

Once summer turned to fall, Trevor was ready for a greater challenge — taking me on the trail without Claire at the head. Claire would accompany us on Mac; her goal was to simulate the conditions of the hunter pace that would occur at the Ridgemore Hunt in Rockbridge County at the end of November. Though I had hoped I would be paired with Claire for the Ridgemore Hunt, I considered it an honor and a privilege to carry Trevor.

At the start of the Ridgemore Hunter Pace, Mrs. Maiden tied our team pinny, number sixteen, around Claire’s waist. Trevor and Claire looked very much the team, both turned out in what appeared to me to be matching jodhpurs, and both sporting brand-new Maury River Stables team jerseys, given to them by Mrs. Maiden. I swelled with pride; I could imagine no better teammates than Claire, Trevor, and Mac.

Practically the entire barn family, it seemed, had turned out to cheer us on. Mother, Stu, and Mrs. Strickler were all there to help out. Even my canine friend Tommy had joined us. As I had come to expect, Mother reached to my neck and gave me a pat; she did the same with Mac and Claire. “Be safe; have fun!” she said. Mrs. Strickler seemed nervous. She smoothed Trevor’s shirt, brushed his bangs out of his eyes, and fidgeted with my bridle until Trevor made her stop it.

Our team was barely out of the start box when we came upon trouble with some young horses. Some of them refused to cross the brook at the start of the course. Horses and riders were backed up twenty deep; the situation was tense not only because of the green horses but also the green riders. Trevor wisely asked me to move around the trouble. I thought it quite brave of him, really, and was proud of the way he tried to overcome his own fear, which of course I felt because he stopped breathing.

Trevor held his breath, tightened his legs, and instructed, “Walk on, Chancey,” with such resolve, that even if I had not already been intending to move away from the catastrophic backup at the start, I would have walked on anyway at the urgency and intent of his request. He glanced back at Claire and Mac and urged them to come with us. We both felt Claire move out, and so proceeded up the hill, leaving the green horses and their people to fret over a bit of cold mountain water running across the course.

The moment we reached the top, Trevor and I both realized that in our haste to break away from the others, we had allowed Claire and Mac to get cut off by a loud, domineering woman trying to organize the field of novices. I called down to Mac, “Come on! Don’t waste any more time. You’ve placed Claire in harm’s way. Walk on!”

Mac called quickly back to me, “The girl on the bay’s the problem. She’s having trouble.”

I could see for myself that the situation at the brook had deteriorated. I was glad to be at the top of the hill, looking down, though I desperately wanted Claire and Mac beside us. The girl and her young bay causing the trouble were so worked up that panic was spreading like a wildfire through all of the horses. Green horses, especially green fancy horses, are rather unpredictable. Green girls, especially fancy girls, are rarely prepared to lead such horses, as was the case at the brook.

Mac and Claire, I could see, remained calm. I could hear Claire pleading with the hunt mistress to let them cross. Mac called to me regularly, letting me know the status of their progress up the hill. All of the horses below were dancing wildly, except for Mac, who stood, observing and, I could see, thinking of how to get around the situation, which was becoming more dangerous by the minute.

When the bay not only refused to walk on, but reared up on her hind legs, the girl dismounted — a wiser decision than I had credited the young lady with the capacity of making. I hoped the young rider might lead her green mare across the stream and get back in the saddle once the mare understood that the water would not harm her. I was sure the incident would now be resolved.

My judgment was premature. Once on the ground, the girl took hold of her stirrup iron with a grip of such force that I had only seen prior in our John the Farrier at home when removing old shoes. She struck her horse, no doubt thinking that this beating might persuade the mare to eagerly cross the brook and win the race. The mare cowered, and from the top of the hill I could see her fear growing, for her ears were now pinned flat back, and from way atop the hill, the white of the mare’s eyes was unmistakably visible even to me.

When the iron struck the mare the second time, I vehemently objected to the brutality. I neighed shrilly as if my doing so would sway the girl to stop. When the girl struck the mare a third and then a fourth time, I lost my composure and reared up, both in anger and in alarm, issuing a call to end the cruelty and also, again, urging Mac to get Claire safely up the hill. The green girl had just injected the mare with a lifetime fear of water. The mare would now associate crossing water with pain and a beating.

Yet again, the girl hit her horse with the stirrup iron, only more forcefully did she strike. I reared once more. It was at the top of my second rear that Trevor, so patient until then, made his own fear known to me. He leaned his weight full into my withers, forcing all four of my hooves to the ground. It was the right thing for him to do, for it pushed me back to earth. Trevor was scared, and without Claire, forced to make all decisions by himself.

Trevor pleaded quietly in my ear, “Please, Chancey. Remember, I’m not Claire. I’m afraid now, so I’m getting off of you until you stop it. You’re behaving too recklessly!” With that assertion, Trevor jumped out of the saddle and began leading me around, turning me away from the harsh scene below.

I felt ashamed, if truth be told, that I had frightened Trevor. And I felt relieved that he had turned me away from the beating so that I did not have to watch any longer. Trevor talked to me as he led me around the hill, telling me that Claire and Mac would join us shortly. He commented on the clear day and warm late-autumn air. It did feel almost like summer. My coat was already thick in preparation for winter to come. The air felt good while we were standing still at the top of the hill, though I knew that by the end of the race, Trevor and I both would be lathered and breathing fast. Trevor was already breathing too fast, but at least he was breathing. He started singing to slow down his breathing and gather back his courage. Claire had taught him well.

Trevor and I were relieved when Claire and Mac reached us. Trevor wasted no time — again I thought him quite brave — in jumping onto my back by using his own strength and determination. I rumbled at Mac and looked Claire over; both seemed well and ready to go.

Claire’s strategy, as explained to us prior to the event, was first and foremost to get out of the start quickly and stay well away from the other teams. She aimed to keep our riding conditions as much like a trail ride as possible to minimize distractions for Trevor. Originally, she had planned to keep us trotting for much of the course, except at the hills, which we would canter up. Because of the early mishap, Claire now said we would need a much faster ride than any of us had planned.

She changed our strategy and relayed to Trevor and me, “If we’re going to have a shot at this, Trevor, you’ve got to canter a lot more than you ever have done. Don’t be scared; just trust Chancey and let him go. Chancey will stay with Mac and me. You stay with Chancey. Can you do that?”

I could feel Trevor’s hands, already wet with perspiration, shaking on the reins. “I think so.” I nickered at him to tell him I would not let him down, or off.

“Okay.” Claire looked at Trevor directly. “Are you ready then?”

Trevor stalled. “No. I don’t think I can do it, Claire. Forget it. This was a stupid idea.”

Claire and Mac looked as though we had all the time in the world and this was just another day of trail riding in the mountains. Claire tried to convey her surety to Trevor. She backed Mac up until they stood right next to us.

“Shhh. Don’t say that, Trev. We’re a team, all four of us. Who cares if we win or not? We’re going to finish together, and you can do it.”

Trevor nodded.

Claire smiled at him and asked, “If you feel off at the canter, what are you going to do?”

“Uh, grab mane?” He sounded so unsure.

“Yes! Grab mane. Chancey won’t let you down. Now, let’s go — we have a hunter pace to win!” Claire and Mac cantered away. Trevor moved his right leg behind my girth; he did not have to ask for the canter, for I was determined to stay with Claire and Mac. Halfway across the field, Claire turned back and shouted, “Are you okay?”

Trevor could not speak, for he was not breathing. He did manage to nod. I did not break our canter until Claire and Mac slowed to a trot. Claire waited for us to pull alongside her. She was such a good leader, letting us know of every twist and turn and challenge in the course and how we could best take it as a team.

“We’re going over the Maury next, but it’s shallow and narrow. Breathe, Trevor, and chill. Chancey loves water; just stay with us. I want to get us out of this big group and by ourselves again.”