Paternity Lessons. Maris Soule
As Shaunna drove toward the section of Bakersfield where she knew Tyler lived, Lanie talked, describing how she and her mother had first picked Magic out from all the other Mustangs being offered up for adoption, how they’d trailered him to the barn behind their house and how her mother had had someone come over and break him. Shaunna shook her head, cringing when Lanie went on to tell her how the man had tethered Magic to a post and sacked him out, then tied up one of the horse’s hind legs so he couldn’t buck when the saddle was put on.
“I don’t break horses that way,” she said when Lanie was finished. “And I don’t train horses that way. I want a horse’s cooperation, not his submission.”
“My mother said—” Lanie started.
Shaunna interrupted. “We’re not talking about your mother, we’re talking about me...me, you and Magic.” She pulled up in front of the address Tyler had given as his residence when he signed the papers to board Magic at the stable. “This where you live?”
Lanie stared at the house and for a moment said nothing, then she looked back at Shauna, her expression cold. “My mother broke Magic the right way.”
“Your mother probably broke Magic the way she knew. A lot of horses have been broken that way. But there are a lot of horse people who now don’t think that’s the best way, don’t believe in forcing a horse into submission. I’m one of those people. We don’t think of horses as being stupid and we don’t think of them as being the enemy. We believe a horse will be your partner if you let him...and if you understand what he’s trying to tell you.”
“My mother broke Magic the right way,” Lanie repeated defiantly.
Shauna shook her head, unsure of how to get her point across without upsetting Lanie even more. “I don’t know what your mother did, or taught you. I only know that I don’t believe in punishing a horse if he makes a mistake. If you train a horse that way, he may comply, but he won’t really be working with you, and you’ll never know when he might rebel. You will always have to be on guard. My way, they do what you want because it’s their choice.”
“My mother knew more about horses than you’ll ever know.”
The girl’s anger tore at Shaunna, and she wished she knew how to take it away. She remembered herself as a teenager, after she’d run away from home. She’d been that angry, even angrier. She’d been ready to take on the world. The chip on Lanie’s shoulder was sawdust compared to the one Shaunna had carried. It was Betsy Helman who had found the patience to blow it away.
“Your mother’s gone,” Shaunna said softly, knowing the words would hurt. “And Magic needs help. It’s your choice. You’re the one who has to decide what to do. Think about it tonight. If you don’t want to do it my way, have your dad find someone else to work with Magic.”
“Yeah, right.” Lanie snorted in disgust. “Like he cares what happens to me.”
“He cares,” Shaunna said, knowing Tyler did. She’d seen him just before they got into the truck, standing near the entrance to his office building, watching them. He cared enough to let Lanie work this out. Shaunna liked that.
Lanie swore, and Shaunna lifted her brows. “That’s another thing. I don’t allow any swearing around my barn. I don’t want to hear any more.” Again, Lanie swore, and Shaunna nodded toward the truck door. “It’s time for you to go inside. Think about what I’ve said. You’re a smart girl. Very smart. I think you’ll make the right decision.”
Lanie let loose with another string of swearwords, then pushed open the door and got out. She slammed it shut and headed up the driveway toward the house.
Shaunna saw a woman come out of the house next door and also make for Tyler’s place. Lanie looked her way and swore at her. Shaunna shook her head and started her truck again, a backfire reminding her that she needed to get the poor thing into the shop. But to do that, she had to figure out if she had any money in the bank account, and that was the problem.
The sun was setting when Tyler drove into the stable yard. It had taken longer for him to get away from Lanie than he’d expected. Three vehicles were in the parking area, a green van, a red compact, and the blue truck he’d seen Shaunna get into earlier that day. He pulled in next to the van.
His neighbor had agreed to come back and sit with Lanie while he came to the stable to talk to Shaunna. He’d listened to Lanie’s side of the story, sprinkled amply with swearwords. Now he wanted to hear Shaunna’s version.
He went to the house first. After knocking twice, Maria came to the door and directed him out to the barns. It seemed stable owners didn’t work eight hour days. More like daybreak to dark.
Two dogs joined him en route, begging for his attention but never barking. Before he reached the first barn, he noticed a horse and rider in one of the arenas and decided to check it out first. He knew Shaunna gave riding lessons in the evening.
There were three riding rings behind the barns: a small, round pen, a larger, rectangular-shaped arena, and a sizable, show-type arena. The horse and rider he’d seen were in the largest arena, and the moment the rider faced him, he realized it was Shaunna. Stopping where he was, he stood back where he could watch but not be noticed.
From the first time he met her, he’d been aware of a gracefulness in Shaunna’s movements. Seeing her on a horse, he was stunned. She wasn’t just a rider but a part of the horse. She sat straight in the saddle and moved in unison with every turn and stop the horse made.
The horse spun to the right, then to the left, his hind legs barely moving from one spot, and Tyler shook his head in disbelief as he realized the horse had no bridle or reins. The only sign of any control mechanism was a circle of rope hanging loosely around the horse’s neck, but Shaunna’s hands weren’t on the rope.
The horse dashed forward, then came to a sliding stop, the dust kicking up behind him. Again, there was a turn to the left. Then to the right.
Tyler wasn’t sure how, but Shaunna was communicating with the horse. Watching her, he remembered the stories he’d heard when asking around for someone to take on Magic. Each of the stable owners he’d contacted, once they heard of his situation, had told him the one he needed to see was Shaunna Lightfeather. They’d spoken of her with awe, said she could talk to horses and that horses understood her.
Tyler was beginning to believe they were right.
As far as he could tell, however, she wasn’t using words. Though she was concentrating on the horse’s head, her lips weren’t moving. No part of her body seemed to be moving.
“Stick ’em up,” a small voice piped up behind him.
Tyler looked away from Shaunna and her horse, then around and down. Behind him stood a little boy about six years old. In his hand was a plastic water gun.
“Jeffery Arnold Prescott!” a woman’s voice called sternly from the barn door.
The boy turned away from Tyler and looked toward the barn. So did Tyler. Coming toward them was a woman in her mid-thirties dressed in Western apparel. She held out her hand as she neared.
“What did I say about that gun, Jeffery? Give it to me.”
The boy immediately hid the gun behind his back. “I wasn’t going to shoot him.”
“Give it to me,” his mother repeated firmly. For a moment, Tyler didn’t think the boy was going to obey, then the hand behind the child’s back moved and he held the gun out to his mother. She shook her head at him, then looked at Tyler. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” After everything else that had happened that day, being held up by a six-year-old seemed appropriate. “I’m discovering kids don’t always do as you tell them.”
“Tell me about it.” Again, she shook her head, then extended her hand to him. “I’m sorry. I’m Chris Prescott. I think I’ve seen