Curses and Blessings

Chapter Might Could: I'm not going to do it.

Grove Station Farms breaks lessons into two parts: flat and jumping. The flat for intermediate riders includes trotting around the ring, dropping stirrups, practicing two-point, and cantering in each direction. Jumping involves a specific obstacle course.

I open the outdoor ring's gate and let Maise in.

She's still showing off. She sits like a queen, with her reins in each hand.

Monkey throws his head a bit, so my first line of instruction is, "Tighten your reins a bit, Maise. Monkey doesn't like long ones."

She scoffs. "I was just getting ready to do that."

Sure.

Maise slides her hands closer to the reins' buckles.

Monkey stops throwing his head to thank her.

I head into the ring and close the gate behind me. As I'm locking it, I take a deep breath. Sweat pours down my temples, but it's not from the heat. I again ask myself why I decided to start teaching again. No, I can't let fear consume me in an inferno. I need to find the hose and put out the fire. My eyes move over to Mrs. Susie.

She cups her hands around her mouth and calls to me. "You've got this in the bag, Stella!" I think she is secretly planning my funeral.

The feeling in my gut accelerates to my heart. I breathe in and out and then tell Maise, "Trot!"

Maise gives Monkey a little, "Hyah!" and a tiny kick.

At her touch, he picks up his trot. Wow, he actually moves quite fast. He's one of the more energetic horses at Grove Station unless he's trying to impress me.

While she's trotting, Maise sits up and down in the saddle. This scenario is called "posting." It's not as easy as it looks. It took me six months to learn not just posting but also my diagonals. Speaking of which, it does not look like Maise's diagonal is correct, so I ask her, "Is your diagonal right or wrong?"

She glimpses at Monkey's outside shoulder—the one closest to the rail—and shakes her head. "No."

"Correct. Sit a beat."

With diagonals, riders study the horse's outside shoulder. If it's moving forward while they're sitting up and back when they plop into the saddle again, then it's right. However, if the horse's shoulder bounces forward when the rider sits down and backward when standing up, then the diagonal is wrong.

Monkey trots lap after lap around the ring. His hooves pick up dirt and leave prints.

I'm conflicted. I want to have fun—I do—but it's complicated. Maybe being a riding instructor was never my cup of tea.

Every time Monkey nears me, I jump to the side. I can see Mrs. Susie nervously chewing her nails. I can't let her down. I have to try.

Therefore, I take a deep breath and say, "Maise, two-point!"

She moves her hands up Monkey's neck and takes her butt out of the saddle. Now, she's hovering over his withers. Two-point is known as the "jumping position" for riders.

"Stretch your heels down," I say. "It will help with balance." So many of my students have fallen while two-pointing and jumping.

Okay, so far, everything is all right. Although, I'm still screaming on the inside. I beg that Monkey won't start acting out, leaving me to get on him myself to calm him. It's happened before, back when I was a confident individual. Except, I think this horse hears my inner thoughts.

Maise is just getting ready to canter when Monkey comes to a complete halt.

She kicks his sides, but he does not budge. Instead, he sticks his head through the fence and chomps down on a chunk of grass.

Seriously? I was doing just fine hanging out in the ring's heart. No, I'm not going to get on this horse.

"Monkey!" I yell. "Maise, keep kicking him!"

"You don't need to tell me what to do," she says.

Her statement angers me. No little kid talks back to me! Yet, I remain calm. "We need him to canter."

Maise continues kicking. She manages to get Monkey trotting again, but when she asks for the canter, he stops for a second time.

I see Mrs. Susie get up from the bench. She edges close to the fence, a look of curiosity on her face.

The next time Maise strikes Monkey, he bucks. His rump sails up behind him, and she falls onto his neck. She holds on for dear life. She's nervous. I can tell. This little, sarcastic child is suddenly in my shoes.

I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to do it.

I clap my hands together, urging Monkey to a canter.

He's having none of this. He keeps on bucking.

"Ms. Stella?" Maise frightfully asks. She's now hanging down Monkey's side.

I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to do it. I'm not... Aw, heck!

I stand tall in the late afternoon sun and announce, "Maise, I'm coming!"