Sundancer. Shelley Peterson
BIRD
I am not vicious, but I have a mean streak from my grandfather on my mother’s side.
Bird waited until Cliff and John finished their Saturday morning chores and took off for breakfast at the Coffee Bean Cafe. Then she slipped out the kitchen door and climbed over the fence into the front field. In one back pocket of her jeans was a vial of WonderDust; in the other some apple slices. She deposited a plastic bag containing a brush, comb, and hoof-pick on the ground beside the fence.
Her plan was simple: gain his trust, disinfect his wounds, groom him, then get on his back. She had about an hour before the men returned. Plenty
of time. Horses generally took to her right away, but this one was different. Some time alone would surely help.
She watched for a few minutes, then approached the new horse with confidence. Sundancer. That’s your name, better get used to it. And you’d better get used to me, too. I’m not going away.
The gelding lifted his head gracefully and looked at Bird. Then he casually turned his back. Bird walked around him in a wide arc and faced him again.
Let me fix your cuts, Sundancer. They’ll hurt if they get infected.
The horse turned his back again and took ten steps in the opposite direction. Bird followed, positioning herself so that he could see her peripherally. Not wanting to seem threatening, she avoided making eye contact by keeping her head tilted down.
Every time the horse moved, Bird moved, too. If he turned right, Bird would counter, turning him left. If he turned around, Bird would circle him to make him face the other direction. A slow dance, thought Bird, but at least I’m leading. She had seen Hannah perform this exercise with countless horses. It required patience, but eventually the animal would give up and allow himself to be caught. Out of boredom, if nothing else.
Time for the apple, Bird thought. She stretched her hand toward Sundancer, palm upward, with an apple slice on it. The horse looked insulted. He snorted and trotted away. Bird couldn’t help but laugh. He’d just let her know that he couldn’t be bought. This was going to be interesting.
Bird placed all the apple slices on the ground in a little pile and stepped back. She waited as Sundancer grazed his way over, then greedily munched up the apple bits, never taking his eye off her. He ate every one and looked for more. This was more like it.
I gave you the apple pieces, now can I put this powder on your cuts? It won’t hurt.
Suddenly Sundancer reared up, forcing Bird to jump back. The horse spun and dropped back to earth, then trotted away. As he moved across the field, Bird admired his fluidity. His shoulder action was tremendous, with his front hooves flicking out firmly before hitting the ground. His hind end powered his forward movement, and with no discernable effort he was across the large paddock and circling back at a canter.
He carried his head level with his shoulders, and his elegant neck was arched and muscular. Bird watched, transfixed, until she realized that he was coming towards her with his ears flat and his eyes cruel. He was rapidly gathering speed. It looked for all the world like he was going to mow her over.
In an instant, Sundancer had turned the tables. He was going to make her dance. Bird was stunned, her mind frantically searching for options. She couldn’t outrun him, and besides, that would send the wrong message. Scared as she was, she wasn’t about to let him win. There was only one choice: She would have to trust that he didn’t want to kill her. And she wasn’t at all sure.
Bird waited until he was three strides away. Then she jumped as high as she could, flapped her arms like a bird, and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Startled, the horse veered sharply to his right, avoiding her by mere inches. Then he stopped and turned. He snorted and shook his head up and down. Agitated, he lowered his head and began to paw the ground. This was not good news.
Struggling to catch her breath, Bird looked him right in the eye. She growled like a lion and loudly clapped her hands. She strutted like an angry male gorilla, swinging her arms toward him while jumping backward to the fence. She hoped it didn’t look like she was making a retreat.
Confused by her antics, the horse stretched out his neck and curled his upper lip to get her scent. Bird took advantage of this moment to scramble backwards up the rails of the fence and out of danger.
Sundancer was jubilant. The horse knew he had won. Relaxed now, he cantered around the field tossing his head and kicking up his heels. He never once looked at Bird.
LATER, BIRD SAT ON a pile of old saddle pads in the window of the tack room, cuddling kittens. Hector lay on the laundry in the corner, and nearby, the old mother cat groomed herself, happy to have a babysitter. Three of her litter had survived; all fluffy and soft, multicoloured and purring loudly.
More cuddles, please. The calico rolled on her back and looked at Bird expectantly. More.
Scratch my back, girl. The tabby nudged her hand, trying to capture her attention.
I’ll catch you! You’re a mouse! The white-and-ginger pounced on Bird’s wrist with her tiny sharp claws.
Calm down kitties, or your mother will fire me.
The week before, one kitten had died. He’d been tiny and his back legs had defects that didn’t allow him to walk. It had been very sad.
After the incident that morning with Sundancer, Bird had busied herself with cleaning tack, picking small rocks out of the pastures, grooming horses, and pulling manes. Now, it was nearly seven o’clock and still muggy and hot. Idly, Bird stared out the window at the driveway.
Hannah would be back from the show any minute with lots of stories to tell. Bird smiled and snorted. She wondered if Dr. Paul had dropped by to see Hannah after all. If he had, he’d wish he hadn’t. Horse shows were always stressful and Hannah usually had more than she could cope with as it was. She did too much of the work herself, making it easy for her students to take advantage.
Bird had been to enough shows with Hannah to imagine how the day had gone. They’d be coming home with ribbons, no doubt, as Hannah was a good coach and the horses were well trained. But by now, Kimberly was probably threatening to sell Pastor for some silly reason. It happened every time. Chances were that Jo had thrown up at least twice, and Hannah would be lucky if Peter showed any interest at all in looking after Zachary, his long-suffering mount. Sweet Melanie was the least likely to cause trouble, but she was easily distracted and needed Hannah’s constant guidance.
Bird sighed. Perhaps she should’ve gone to the horse show with Hannah after all. She could’ve given Hannah a hand and avoided the whole episode with Sundancer.
Suddenly, Hector started thumping his tail and whining happily. Singing, really.
She’s home! She’s home! She’s home at last!
Good ears, Hector.
Bird looked through the window and watched Hannah steer the big rig through the stone gates with care. Bird noticed a red-haired passenger beside Hannah. It was Kimberly. Odd. The students usually went home with their parents after the show.
She patted each kitten one more time and jumped down to help. By the time the rig pulled up to the barn, Bird was there to open the side doors and pat noses while Hannah dropped the loading ramp to the ground.
Kimberly got out of the truck to help. She raised her hand in a little half-wave. Bird waved back. She liked Kimberly. She could be mean and selfish, but Bird sensed a kind heart.
“Kimberly’s staying for dinner,” said Hannah as she backed Pastor down the ramp. “Lavinia ... her mom ... is tied up with something and can’t get away. She’ll pick her up later.”
Bird looked at Hannah as she spoke and then at Kimberly. Kimberly was staring hard at the ground, kicking up dust with her riding boot. She’s embarrassed, thought Bird. She feels like she’s in