Prancer. Judy and I just want to have a chance to observe her at her faster gaits. Take her two-thirds of the way around the track at a trot. Pick up a canter at the far turn and bring her back in front of us at whatever speed she’s comfortable with. Don’t push her. She likes to go fast. Your main job will be to hold on.”
It was a main job Carole was more than willing to take on. She looked at Judy for reassurance. Judy nodded proudly, grinning. Carole began the circuit of the racetrack that Mr. McLeod had practically in his backyard.
It was easy. Prancer had obviously done this many times before, and she knew just what to do. Carole barely had to give her any instructions at all. They walked a few steps and then began an easy trot. Carole gave the horse a little leg as they proceeded, picking up the pace of the trot. She wanted to be at a fast, working trot by the time she was ready to change gaits.
Carole had spent many happy hours on horseback, but she’d never had the feeling she had now. There, stretched out in front of her, was a racetrack—almost a mile long, marked off at eighth-mile lengths. She and Prancer were the only ones on it. She felt as if they were the only ones in the world and certainly the only ones who mattered. There was nothing to distract the relationship between her and the horse. Everything rested between them.
Prancer’s pace quickened without any signal from Carole. It was what Mr. McLeod had meant when he’d promised her that the horse had speed. Just at the moment they made the far turn, Carole moved her outside leg back behind the horse’s girth and she instantly changed to a canter. Carole put a little more pressure on Prancer with her legs, and the mare’s canter quickly lengthened and changed to a gallop. Automatically Carole rose in the saddle, leaning forward to maintain her balance over the horse’s new center of balance at the new gait. She could feel Prancer’s mouth on the bit, ready torespond in an instant to a new command from Carole. She could also feel an incredible surge of power pounding beneath her. Prancer was doing everything Carole could want her to do. She let the horse have all the rein she needed. Prancer took it and flew with it.
It was an exhilarating feeling beyond anything Carole had ever known on a horse. It wasn’t just a matter of speed, either. This was the very thing this horse had been designed and trained to do for every minute from the moment of her birth. She performed perfectly, joyously, the dirt track flying beneath her feet, and Carole enjoyed each second. The white fence bordering the track seemed to stream into a single line, and the eighth-mile poles seemed to come together, brought closer by the horse’s speed. Nothing mattered at that moment except what felt like the near perfect union of horse and rider—and speed.
Then she realized that she had passed Mr. McLeod and Judy, flying by with Prancer’s glorious gallop. She tugged gently on the reins and sat down in the saddle. As fast as the horse had started, she slowed, first to a canter, then to a trot. Finally she walked. She wasn’t even breathing hard, though Carole was.
She could still feel the glorious motion of the ride on Prancer, long after it had stopped.
She walked the horse back to Judy and Mr. McLeod. “Nothing wrong with this horse,” Judy pronounced.
“Nothing wrong with the rider, either,” Mr. McLeod said. “Nice job, Carole. Did you have fun? Uh, don’t bother to answer that. I can tell by the grin on your face. She’s quite a horse, isn’t she?”
Carole sighed with pleasure. “Yes, she is,” she said, when she could talk.
“Well, you rode her well, and she seems to like you a lot. I was about to invite you to come to the track this weekend, but Judy tells me you’re already planning to be there.”
“You
want
me there?” Carole asked. Once again, Mr. McLeod was surprising her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I sure do, and
It was a main job Carole was more than willing to take on. She looked at Judy for reassurance. Judy nodded proudly, grinning. Carole began the circuit of the racetrack that Mr. McLeod had practically in his backyard.
It was easy. Prancer had obviously done this many times before, and she knew just what to do. Carole barely had to give her any instructions at all. They walked a few steps and then began an easy trot. Carole gave the horse a little leg as they proceeded, picking up the pace of the trot. She wanted to be at a fast, working trot by the time she was ready to change gaits.
Carole had spent many happy hours on horseback, but she’d never had the feeling she had now. There, stretched out in front of her, was a racetrack—almost a mile long, marked off at eighth-mile lengths. She and Prancer were the only ones on it. She felt as if they were the only ones in the world and certainly the only ones who mattered. There was nothing to distract the relationship between her and the horse. Everything rested between them.
Prancer’s pace quickened without any signal from Carole. It was what Mr. McLeod had meant when he’d promised her that the horse had speed. Just at the moment they made the far turn, Carole moved her outside leg back behind the horse’s girth and she instantly changed to a canter. Carole put a little more pressure on Prancer with her legs, and the mare’s canter quickly lengthened and changed to a gallop. Automatically Carole rose in the saddle, leaning forward to maintain her balance over the horse’s new center of balance at the new gait. She could feel Prancer’s mouth on the bit, ready torespond in an instant to a new command from Carole. She could also feel an incredible surge of power pounding beneath her. Prancer was doing everything Carole could want her to do. She let the horse have all the rein she needed. Prancer took it and flew with it.
It was an exhilarating feeling beyond anything Carole had ever known on a horse. It wasn’t just a matter of speed, either. This was the very thing this horse had been designed and trained to do for every minute from the moment of her birth. She performed perfectly, joyously, the dirt track flying beneath her feet, and Carole enjoyed each second. The white fence bordering the track seemed to stream into a single line, and the eighth-mile poles seemed to come together, brought closer by the horse’s speed. Nothing mattered at that moment except what felt like the near perfect union of horse and rider—and speed.
Then she realized that she had passed Mr. McLeod and Judy, flying by with Prancer’s glorious gallop. She tugged gently on the reins and sat down in the saddle. As fast as the horse had started, she slowed, first to a canter, then to a trot. Finally she walked. She wasn’t even breathing hard, though Carole was.
She could still feel the glorious motion of the ride on Prancer, long after it had stopped.
She walked the horse back to Judy and Mr. McLeod. “Nothing wrong with this horse,” Judy pronounced.
“Nothing wrong with the rider, either,” Mr. McLeod said. “Nice job, Carole. Did you have fun? Uh, don’t bother to answer that. I can tell by the grin on your face. She’s quite a horse, isn’t she?”
Carole sighed with pleasure. “Yes, she is,” she said, when she could talk.
“Well, you rode her well, and she seems to like you a lot. I was about to invite you to come to the track this weekend, but Judy tells me you’re already planning to be there.”
“You
want
me there?” Carole asked. Once again, Mr. McLeod was surprising her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I sure do, and
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