In other words, I should butt out.
I wasn't so sure.
Chapter Twelve
My new theory niggled away at the back of my mind while I led Blackie in from the pasture. But, once I got him inside and pulled off his turnout sheet, my thoughts of Valerie receded. Two days without grooming had left my horse with a coat full of loose winter hair begging to be curried out. I stepped back and scrutinized the situation. Blackie turned his head as far as the cross ties would allow and swiveled his ears at me. Then he gave himself a good shake. A cloud of tiny hairs launched into the still air. He turned toward me again, this time lifting a big fore leg and pawing daintily. I laughed. Who says horses can't talk?
'Okay, buddy, I get it. A ride it is.'
I flicked a brush over his coat, picked out his feet and tacked him up. Then I led him to the arena and used the tall step-stool to mount. Once we'd walked for a few minutes, I asked him for what dressage riders call a 'long and low' frame. He complied, reaching down for the bit with a swinging back.
'Just a little stretching today, Blackie. Don't want you getting sore and crabby.'
I reached forward and gave his muscular neck a solid pat then asked for a trot. He moved obediently forward with big, softly springing strides. His ears, bouncing gently like little airplane wings, told me he was relaxed and concentrating. Occasionally, one ear would flick back, acknowledging an aid from me. The gymnastic exercises I guided him through were less intense versions of our usual routine; large circles, loopy serpentines, leg-yields, shoulder-in. And they did their time-honored job, as Blackie became progressively better balanced and more responsive. There was no doubt he was happy to be back at work.
Transitions between the gaits came next, and I murmured, 'Good boy,' to my friend as he correctly answered my seat aids. I relaxed into the power of each stride and focused on the timing of my requests. Despite my being in 'the zone' my uncle's quiet voice did not startle me when he interjected a comment into my concentration. That finesse is part of his genius as a trainer.
'Very nice, yes, very nice.'
I glanced at him. He was in his coach's stance; feet slightly apart, arms folded, head cocked ever so slightly. Relief washed through me at seeing him here, in the arena. I hadn't realized how anxious I was to get back on a normal footing with him.
I straightened up a touch and made the mental adjustment into my familiar 'student' mode. From years of working with him, I knew Uncle Henry would expect me to continue, independent of his direction, until he called me over. Several minutes passed before I heard the familiar, 'Come to me and let's discuss one thing.'
He noticed something I needed to fix, and I knew he would make me figure it out. I rode Blackie to him at an easy trot and halted.
'This is looking very, very good,' he said, and stroked Blackie's neck. 'But there is maybe one thing, just something small, you could do that would create a better harmony.'
I waited, knowing he wouldn't expect an answer from me yet. He wasn't finished setting up the scene.
'When we ride the horse, and have in mind the perfect trot, or shoulders-in, or whatever it is we decide to do, when we are pleased with the result and think, 'yes, this is it, this is what I want,' it is exactly as if we have become one with the horse, as if what we have thought in our own minds has been created at the exact same time by the horse. We go forward from that point, keeping focused on what is coming up, and plan. Part of our mind has to keep in touch with what is happening right now to be certain our aids are being answered, but the plan has to be dominant.' He paused and tapped his lip with his index finger, watching me.
'Oh,' I said, after a moment's thought. 'I'm waiting to see if Blackie keeps doing what I ask before I plan.'
'Yes.' Uncle Henry nodded with satisfaction. 'Exactly. Even on days when there is less intensity in the workout, this is important. Otherwise, the next day's ride won't be as good as it could be. Remember, you are one creature with complementary functions when you sit on him. Always. He wants this as much as you do, but you are the one who must make the effort to look ahead. He is there waiting for you, ready to follow your plan. You must always have a plan. That is your role in the partnership.' My uncle smiled as he watched me try and wrap my mind around the image. 'This is what you must practice, being one, functioning as one,' he continued. 'You make the plan and communicate to him with your aids what it is you want. Perhaps it will help to think of it as starting first, but then you must trust him enough to let him perform what you have asked and keep your thoughts on what should happen next. With the flying changes at close intervals this is necessary. You must ride your plan and trust him enough to do his job of executing it. It's all up here.' He tapped his temple. 'The movements are almost beside the point. It will happen, but it takes practice and trust.' He gave Blackie another pat. 'Do you understand?'
'I think so.' I felt like I had it by the tail. Barely.
The lesson was over. I knew he would leave me alone now to practice. I gathered my reins and my focus. This was going to be more difficult than it sounded. I would have to catch my habit of waiting and watching, correct it each time it happened, and replace it with the elusive oneness that comes from complete trust in one's partner. It would require me to show more confidence. It was an evolution of our relationship and I knew I would try and fail at it many times before I succeeded. I began. I wanted this, and I would work until I achieved it.
When our ride was over and I'd given Blackie the thorough grooming he needed, I put him out in the pasture with Duke. They still had some quality grazing time left before Uncle Henry called them in for dinner. After unloading the remaining supplies from my car, I tidied the barn and dropped a bale of hay from the loft through the hatch in the feed room ceiling so Uncle Henry wouldn't have to do it later. On my drive home I contemplated my ride. I believed I had moments where I started to achieve the greater harmony Uncle Henry talked about, but it was a constant struggle to remind myself to be aware of the present while planning ahead, and not fall back into old habits.
I parked my car at the curb and strolled up the walk to my house. The place looked outrageously cheerful. Banks of tulips from pale peach to salmon were punctuated with white and peach narcissus. It seemed as if the plants all conspired to be rid of the winter blahs in the few short hours I'd been gone. As I climbed the steps to my porch the perfume of the purple hyacinths arrested my progress through the door, and I inhaled a lungful of the strong, sweet scent.
Inside, sun streamed through the windows of my living room, lending a warmth electric lights could never match. I walked from room to room gazing out the windows on the gardens. Thanks to the combined efforts of my sister, Aunt Vi and me last fall, I had more spring flowers in bloom than anyone else on my street.
Juliet was responsible for the thick wash of pinks and purples in the back. Last October she stood in front of the flower beds and threw handfuls of bulbs at the dirt. At the time I was horrified. Aunt Vi hustled me to the front yard and helped me plant my straight organized tows while Juliet buried her random casts. Now I was glad I left Juliet alone. The back yard was stunning. However, I prefer my organized method in the front yard.
It was dinner time, and I was ravenous. Taking a container of leftover lasagna from the freezer, I put a sizable square in the microwave to reheat, tossed a salad, then set my kitchen table. The moment I sat down to eat, the dead bolt on my front door clicked and the door creaked on its hinges. I jumped to my feet, pulse pounding.
'Yoo hoo, it's me!' Juliet called.
'You scared the living daylights out of me,' I bellowed. 'Is it beyond your intelligence to knock first? You know perfectly well what kind of bad news has been walking through that door lately. I was on the verge of hyperventilating myself into a coma. Have you no brains?'
'Oh, sorry, but I did holler when I came in.' She breezed into the kitchen and looked out the window. 'Hey, the flowers look great. I'll have to cut some for my apartment. I love fresh flowers. Hurry up and finish eating. Eric's got a soccer game tonight down at Pilchuck Park and we're going to go and cheer them on.'
'No.'
'Come on, what else have you got to do?'
'Well, I have yet to hear about your talk with Detective Thurman.'
For half a second Juliet was speechless. 'Oh yeah. I forgot about that.'
'I'll bet.' I crossed my arms and glared at her. She chewed her lip. 'So?'
