The Fault In Reality

Chapter Eleven

"Yes!"

For a minute, my elation blinds me. Then Jack's words sink in. From the look on Chase's face, I can tell he's heard it, too.

As Jack and my disgruntled father drift off to discuss whatever it is adults talk about, Chase sidles closer to the rail. Annie fidgets with the reins of the two horses, looking uncomfortable in the face of present situation.

"Fit to ride, Era. How are you going to manage that?"

Chase's words steal the smile that's wound up on my face. I feel a wave of dread wash over me. I will not ride. Not after Eclipse.

"Era," my father, who has said goodbye to Jack and is now standing coldly at the rail, pulls a patronizing tone. "I can't let you hang around this wild horse, let alone train him."

"He's not wild. He's hurt, and scared. You've never taken the time to train him properly, and I'm certain he has a whole handful of medical issues. When's the last time you've floated his teeth? Trimmed his hooves? Dewormed him? Or have you just left him in the same condition he came? Besides," I suck in a deep breath, preparing my final attack. "Technically this horse now belongs to Jack, and he's hired me to train him. Now, as for the problem of riding him-" -I'm not proud of my next words- "I have an idea. But I'll need your help."

I turn to Chase, and send him a pleading look.

To my surprise, he seems to genuinely consider it.

"Chase, you aren't seriously thinking of helping her train that... that..." For a moment my father struggles to find the right word. Finally, with an outraged cry, he spits out,

"That animal!"

Chase spares an annoyed glance at his step father, before returning his gaze to meet my own.

"Yes," he says, flatly, and more to me than my father. "That's exactly what I'm thinking."

Hope bubbles up inside my chest.

"Really?" I ask.

Chase shrugs, in a would I have said it if I didn't mean it? way. I'm not too happy about relying on him, but it's time to introduce Devany to other people, anyway.

Encouraged, I unclip Devany from his lead but leave the halter on. I'll let him spend some time getting used to it. Before I leave, I tighten the throat strap a few holes. Satisfied he won't get into trouble all by himself, I give Devany one last pat goodbye and duck under the rail.

I'm in such a good mood, I find myself helping Annie untack the silvery Arabian. Clearly she's a beginner when it comes to horses, but she learns fast. By the time we lead the mare out to her pasture, I've found any resentment towards Annie has all but melted away. She's willing to learn, even if there is this pointedly nice attitude about her that bothers me. She twists her voice into a delicate tone, something that sounds fake, as though more often used to appease adults.

In the end I decide she's tolerable. I can put up with her, if only to keep Chase from withdrawing his offer to help.

The setting sun finds Chase and I in one of the fields. Devany is excited to be out of his corral; he prances in place as I lead him around the pasture. The silvery Arabian in the next paddock watches the proceedings with interest.

First I walk Devany in circles around Chase, who stands slouched in the middle of the grass. Devany pays little attention to him, and instead sets to work swiveling his ears to catch the sound of every bird and cricket that announces its presence.

After a few laps, I halt Devany and motion Chase forward. Devany, busy staring at a rabbit halfway across the pasture, twists his head over at the last minute. My arm sears with the task of keeping him in check as he shies sideways, snorting in a severely offended way. Chase halts his approach and waits until Devany calms some, that takes a few more steps forward.

I advise Chase and soothe Devany. Finally the two stand close enough that Chase can reach out and stroke Devany's neck. Devany seems strangely docile, until at the last moment he decides the situation isn't alright, after all, and snakes his head out. I meet his nip with a hard shoulder, and a firm tug at the lead.

"You may not like this," I tell him, "but it's only going to help you in the long run."

The great black horse doesn't seem to care. He accepts Chase's stroking, but with pinned ears and a sultry look. I heave a sigh and nod.

"OK, that's better than nothing, I guess. We've got the whole rest of the summer, anyway."

"That's it?" Chase says. "At this rate, I'll never get up on this horse's back."

"That's it," I reply, firmly as I can manage. "I think Devany has probably had worse experiences with boys than girls, if you get my drift. He needs to learn that neither will harm him, not here. At the same time, we don't want to overload him. Keep petting him until you see him relax a little. Then leave him wanting more."

Chase does as I say. Slowly his strokes become less robotic. In return, Devany eases up under his touch, and even relaxes his ears into a comfortable position. Not pricked, but swiveled backwards and attentive.

"OK, good," I say.

Chase steps away from Devany. I unclip the black horse's halter completely.

"I think a proper turn out will do him some good," I say. Chase shrugs.

A sigh escapes my lips. Great. Now I sound ungrateful.

"Look, why did you agree to help if you're just going to be sour about it, anyway?" I demand.

Chase narrows his eyes at me, drawing himself up to a height a few inches higher than my own.

"I'm not sour. You're the snob, coming here to my farm, stealing my father's attention. It's always Era this and Era that, and what will we do with poor Era. You don't have any idea how lucky you are, growing up with sleek Thoroughbreds and sinewy Arabians. My mother and I had to scrape together every measly penny before we met your father. You don't know what it's like. And if you think I'm helping you, you're wrong. I'm helping Devany, because despite what you seem to think, I understand."

His words shock me into silence. The truth of them settles over me like a prickly shawl. I turn away, trying to fight the sudden feeling of self hatred that wafts over me, hanging on and around like a putrid scent.

Devany, free in the grass, takes off galloping and bucking. If horses could smile, he'd be laughing.

"I'm sorry," I say, but Chase is already gone.