Changing Ways

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

I suppose Kaya's feeling somewhat better, because at around three o'clock, I see her working Karma in the round pen. The black mare moves easily at the end of the lunge line, legs flowing smoothly in the extended trot Kaya's working her at. Yet again, it leaves me wondering why Kaya never wanted to be in the rodeo business, instead turning to dressage and hunter jumping. Yes, I suppose there are a few elements to the English riding world that appeal to me. Two years ago, I took a cross country clinic.  

Still, I remember how much, un breakable fun I had. Tearing up and down the hills, through the forest, and across meadows, popping over small, colourful and creative jumps. The pony I rode was a small Appaloosa/Welsh pony, with a black blanket coat. The thing was a devil though. That mare tried everything possible to dispose of me in the water jumps, and more than once, I ended up going home sopping wet. The clinic lasted for a week, and I do know that over the course of the seven days, I had fun.  

I do however, remember hearing the stuck up pony club girls giggle at my poor posture in the slippery English saddle. However, it was at a time that I had friends, and thought, "Who cares what they think?" because, I knew that even if they didn't accept me, I always had everyone else.  

It was embarrassing though. I grimace at the memory of slipping around in the English saddles, and how untidy I looked. I couldn't help but long for the support and comfort of my fitted western saddle. However, I shrugged away the deceitful glares...let them try and ride western after they've grown up with dressage horses!  

Looking back at Kaya and her mare, I see that she has Karma moving in a tight, collected canter around her in large circles. The mare is quite fit, with her lean legs, powerful haunches and sloping neck. Not as much muscle as the quarter horses, but there defiantly is power in that mare, that's for sure.  

"She looks good!" I yell to Kaya, as she brings the sweating mare in towards her.  

She purses her lips, and glares at me. "Thanks."  

I slip through the wooden panels of the fence, and lean back against them, arms crossed. "What's up with you? Most people wouldn't say "thanks" so grumpily."  

"Well, I'm in a bit of a grumpy mood," she grumbles. Yeah. As if she needed to inform me.  

"Hey...it wasn't my idea," I raise my eyebrow, "it's nobodies fast but your own that you've got a nasty hangover."  

She stares at me, looking exasperated. "Will you shut up?!"  

"Why?" I scrunch up my nose, shrugging, "Mom already knows you went to the party...it's fairly obvious you don't have the flu. Not to mention, you smell like a brewery."  

"Do not," she says softly, clearly annoyed, "look, Robin. I'm begging you. Every tie you talk, it feels like your yelling as loud as you possibly can into my ear. So, for the last time...shut. Up."  

"Yeah, fine. Whatever," I back off, slipping back out of the ring, "hey! At least you aren't pregnant."  

Kaya is a true Taylor though. Even though she has a rockin hangover, she still finds the energy to get out into the pen, and work with her horse. That's something most people can (or want to) do. I'm pretty sure I could, but you never know. I'm only twelve, and the closest I've ever gotten to Kaya's condition was two years ago, when Riley and I stole all the sugary items from the fridge and cupboards, and ate them. Mom was pretty mad in the morning, but couldn't help but laugh. She claims we had a sugar hangover the next morning.  

For the next half an hour, I kinda wander around, until I see Kita. The fact that I actually have my own horse still makes me smile. I mean, I do have lots of horses, but Kita is MY horse. Like Karma is Kaya's. And when Kita' broke, it isn't like I'll just abandon Wren...that would be wrong. Just leave behind the sweet mare, when there' a newer, younger one to take her place? That's probably what it felt like for Kaya, when I was born, and Mom and Dad couldn't really pay her much attention. I have a feeling Wren wouldn't even notice if I did stop riding her. That makes me a little sad, but I shrug it off. She isn't even mine.