Storm Page 2

  “It’s boring,” I said. “Riding around in little circles like that.”

  “Mmm,” Lux agreed. “Shall we go?”

  A voice interrupted from behind us. “Wait a few minutes if you want to see something more exciting.”

  A woman with short grey curly hair and brilliant red lipstick came up beside us and leaned on the railing. She also looked horsey – she wore those fitted riding pants and a white shirt – but she wasn’t immaculate like everyone else I’d seen. Over the smart clothing she wore a faded vest that sported a few holes.

  “And what’s so exciting?” Lux asked her with a friendly smile.

  She smiled back, her blue-green eyes sparkling. “You’ll see.”

  There was something about her that I liked straight away. “Are you a rider?” I asked.

  She nodded. “And a trainer. Frankie, one of my students, is about to give a demonstration. I’m Shannon.”

  “I’m Lux. This is my father Jack and my daughter Storm, who seems to have suddenly fallen in love with a horse,” Lux said, before I could even open my mouth. I think he liked Shannon too – he wasn’t usually so friendly.

  Inside the ring the judges made their decision. After an announcement on the crackly loudspeaker, three riders went forward and received their ribbons. The horses and riders filed out of the ring, and most of them joined black-coat-man and the parents just near us. The girls got off their horses and a babble of chatter rose.

  Shannon said, “So, tell me about this horse you’ve fallen in love with.”

  Before I could answer, the loudspeaker crackled into life, louder this time. “There’s a new place for young horse lovers to learn about natural horsemanship, and it’s called Pocket of Dreams . . .” The rest of the announcement was impossible to hear.

  “Morning Mist is magnificent,” I said. “But I can’t ride, and her owner won’t sell her to me.”

  The loudspeaker crackled again, and I heard: “It’s Zen, and his human companion, Frankie Jameson, for the Dream Riders.”

  There was a stir from the pony club girls, and I saw some of them looking into the ring as deep drum beats and dramatic music blared. A kid and a shaggy grey pony walked in together. She was wearing scruffy old jeans and a red-and-white striped T-shirt. The pony was wearing – nothing. No saddle, no bridle. His tail flowed free and his mane lay on his neck in a loose, soft plait. He looked alert and happy, his head up. And even though he had no bridle, he walked beside the girl as if she was leading him!

  “Wow,” Lux said to Shannon. “Your student?”

  Shannon nodded. “Frankie and Zen. And they’re just beginners.”

  Zen trotted ahead of Frankie and when they got to the centre of the ring, he widened out so he was trotting in a big circle around her. But unlike the other horses, which had been ridden around in circles, Zen did it freely. There was nothing making him stay in the ring, or close to Frankie. He could have just galloped off.

  Their routine was like a dance. As they moved to the music, they were obviously communicating, but I didn’t know how.

  A beginner could do this?

  The music built to a crescendo. Zen was standing way off at the edge of the arena and Frankie was in the middle. She lifted her arms.

  He didn’t move.

  I could tell by the expression on her face that this wasn’t the plan. The whole audience leaned forward to see what would happen. Frankie lifted her arms again. The music got louder, building to a crescendo. And then, suddenly, Zen charged towards her, full pelt.

  At the last second he came to a halt right in front of Frankie. It almost looked like he was grinning. The music finished and Frankie reached out and ran her hand down his neck. Then she hugged him, and the crowd broke into applause.

  I clapped too, and swallowed as Frankie and Zen walked out of the arena, marching in unison. I felt like I was going to cry. Today I’d seen and felt something new. A girl and a horse could fall in love. Mist and I could have been like Frankie and Zen – if only . . .

  Over the loudspeaker, a man’s voice crackled. “That was Frankie Jameson and Zen. If you want to know more about Dream Riders, see Frankie and her teacher Shannon Falkiner outside the ring.”

  Shannon looked at me, taking in my medieval dress, my bow and arrows, my dirty boots and, I was pretty sure, the tears I was fighting back.

  “Lux, Jack and Storm, it was great to meet you,” she said. “I’ve gotta go.” She gave me one last look. “Maybe you should come and join the club, Storm?”

  Without waiting for an answer she headed off to join Frankie, who was being mobbed by a bunch of supporters. Someone swept Frankie into a huge hug and the grin on her face was pure happiness. I realised she wasn’t as young as she’d looked in the ring – up close, she seemed nearer to my age.

  A rush of excitement flared up in me. Maybe I could join the Dream Riders, or whatever they were called. I turned and looked at Lux.

  He read my mind, before I could get a word out. “It probably costs money.”

  “I’ve got money. My prize. Four hundred dollars.”

  Gramps smiled. “Good for you. That should pay for a few lessons.”

  Lux frowned at him, then turned to me. “Is this what you really want?”

  Was it? I’d never been interested in horses before. But now I’d seen Morning Mist. If I learnt to ride, maybe Margery would change her mind and sell her to me. I had no idea how I’d get the money, but the Code of Chivalry said: Persevere to the end in any enterprise begun. Surely my enterprise had begun? And I could learn to connect with a horse just like Frankie had – wild and free and full of love.

  “Yea verily!” I said. “Yes!”

  Lux gave my shoulders a squeeze. “It’s your money. Come and find us when you’ve signed up.” He gestured to Gramps and the two of them strode off.

  Frankie had just sat down at a table. A groovy-looking boy with spiked black hair joined her and other kids crowded around. It looked like Dream Riders was going to be popular.

  I suddenly felt shy. I’d never been in a club. I’d never been to school. I’d never done anything with a big group of kids my age. I didn’t have the right clothes. What would I even talk about? How would I fit in?

  I had the feeling I’d like Frankie. She obviously didn’t worry too much about clothes, and it was clear from the way she was talking to kids and writing down their details that she was open and friendly. Would she want me in her club?

  Most of the kids had left and I’d nearly made up my mind to go over when black-coat-man strode up to her. I could tell even without hearing his words that he was angry at Frankie.

  He looked pretty intimidating, and Frankie was on her own. I shouldered my bow and quiver, lifted my head up high, walked over to the table and stood nearby. I heard him say “Frankie, does your mother know what you’re getting up to?”

  What a stupid question. I saw Frankie’s relief as Shannon came back, took him by the arm, and walked him out of earshot.

  “Are you here to sign up for the club?” Frankie asked me, eyeing my bow and quiver.

  I hesitated and she looked me in the eye again. I saw the beginning of a smile at the corner of her mouth. A smile that told me I was welcome.

  “Forsooth, yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” I said, and held out my hand to shake hers.

  Steam rose from the concrete tub, warming my face as I leaned over, stirring the wet fabric with a heavy paddle. I’d taken over most of the household washing when Talia was born. Lux did the sheets, but the clothes and nappies were up to me. It was my least favourite job.

  “Are you nearly done?” Breeze called from the garden.

  “Aye!” I called back. I pulled on the chain that lifted the plug, let the water gurgle out, and started to run the clothes through the wringer, turning the big handle to press the water out.

  “Sorrel, help Storm hang the washing,” Breeze called.

  There was no answer from Sorrel and I rolled my eyes. She was the next one down from me, plenty old enough to help, but she often disappeared when work needed to be done, and I had to do her chores as well as my own. Normally I didn’t care, but today was the first meeting of Dream Riders, and I had to get going.

  Breeze poked her head around the door. “She’s off again? Never mind, I’ll help.”

  Together we lumped the wet clothes into the basket, carried it outside to the rope line strung across a small patch of grass, and started to peg them out.

  This was my normal life. Living in the timber and mud-brick cottage that my parents built in our overgrown, rambling garden on the edge of The Pocket forest, near the top of Middle Pocket valley. Calling my mother and father Lux and Breeze instead of Mum and Dad. Gathering eggs, milking our cow, making bread, eating fruit and vegetables from the garden, and doing homeschool. I was born right here, along with my four brothers and sisters. This was my whole world – I didn’t know anything else. Was I going to fit in with the kids who’d be joining Dream Riders?

  Breeze and I finished hanging the washing and stood for a minute in the early spring sunshine. Everything had already started growing and flowering, and bees hummed and buzzed around us.

  Breeze reached out to stroke my cheek. “Isn’t it time for you to go, Storm?”

  In spite of the warm air, I shivered suddenly. Last week, at the show, I’d glimpsed another world, and fallen in love with another creature – Morning Mist. For pretty much the first time in my life, I wanted something I didn’t have.

  “I don’t know why I’m even going. That mean woman said she’d never sell Mist. She’s the only horse I’m interested in.”

  Breeze took my hand, led me over to the old wooden bench by the spinach bed, and sat me down. “I have a feeling this is a turning point in your life, Storm
.”

  “What? Really?” I looked at her in wonder.

  “You’ve been given clear signs that this is your path. You have to take notice of them. It’s scary doing something new. But you’re old enough to start choosing your own way.”

  I straightened up. “Does that mean I can do things you and Lux don’t like?”

  Breeze laughed. “You’ll have to negotiate. Possibly! Just remember, with freedom comes responsibility. Now, get going.”

  I jumped up, gave Breeze a quick hug, and ran inside to get my things. Shannon’s place was in The Pocket valley, over the hill from where we lived in Middle Pocket. It was quite a way to drive around, but not far if you went straight, hiking through the bush, up over the ridge and down the other side. That was fine by me. I hardly ever travelled in a car. If I had to get somewhere I walked, through the bush trails and old paths of The Pocket, carrying my bow and quiver over my shoulder. I was a medievalist and I went where my feet could carry me.

  Although soon, I thought, I’d be going where the legs of a horse could carry me.

  I could have cut through Shannon’s back paddocks, but I thought I should arrive like everyone else, so I pushed through the bush onto The Pocket Road and walked up the gravel driveway, past the Pocket of Dreams sign, towards an old wooden house that looked ready to lean right over and collapse. Beyond the house I saw paddocks, sheds, yards and horses. But there was only one car parked in the driveway. I wondered if I’d got the day wrong, and for a moment I wanted to turn and flee. Then I heard a shout.

  “Storm!” It was Frankie, charging down the driveway towards me. She skidded to a halt. “I’m so glad you came, I was worried you’d change your mind. You didn’t leave a number for me to confirm.”

  “We don’t have a phone. Where is everyone?”

  “Coming a bit later. Shannon wanted to start total beginners with an introduction to groundwork. You’re the only one.”

  “Groundwork?”

  “Natural horsemanship starts with lots of groundwork, just like I was doing with Zen at the show. You might not even ride today.”

  This wasn’t the plan. “But I need to ride! As soon as I can!”

  “You will!” She grabbed my arm. “Don’t worry. Come on.”

  Frankie just about dragged me up the driveway, and Shannon came out on the verandah to meet us. She looked me up and down and smiled. I wondered if my outfit was okay. I was wearing breeches, a leather jerkin that laced at the front over a soft shirt, and my leather boots, which were copies of real medieval shoes.

  “I’ll be starting the group class with some theory, but first I’d like to introduce you to the horses and the ideas behind this kind of riding,” Shannon said. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded.

  Shannon led me to a small round yard, made with two lengths of rope strung on a circle of metal fence posts. Three horses stood inside, their tails swishing, heads low, eyes closed, as if snoozing. Shannon stepped through the ropes and invited me to do the same. Frankie sat on a stump to watch.

  As we entered the ring, the horses opened their eyes and Shannon motioned for me to stop. “Which horse do you feel drawn to today?”

  I felt a pang. If only I was doing this with Mist! For a moment I imagined she was standing down there, grazing on the soft grass, raising her head when she heard me coming, cantering up to meet me. I’d climb onto her back and we’d gallop away together, up and over the hill and out of sight, towards the distant castle among the trees.

  Shannon coughed. “Earth to Storm?”

  I forced myself to focus. One creature immediately stood out – a beautiful golden horse with an ivory mane and tail. I indicated him with a tilt of my head.

  Shannon smiled. “That’s Spirit. Approach him slowly and stop when you feel he’s acknowledging you. This is how you enter his personal space – you wait until you sense his acceptance.”

  It sounded weird, but I did what she said. I walked slowly towards Spirit until he lifted his head, and then I came to a halt. We observed each other for what felt like ages, then he took a step in my direction.

  “Good,” Shannon said. “That’s a positive response from him. Now, approach him from the side and lift your hand towards his nose so he can smell you. When it feels right, you can reach out and stroke his neck.”

  Up close, Spirit smelt beautiful – like a rich, warm mixture of horse and sunshine and grass. He flared his nostrils at my outstretched hand, and then nuzzled me. I ran my palm down his shoulder. It was the first time I’d ever touched a horse. I felt his skin and muscle and the soft hair of his coat. He turned his head and pushed his nose against my belly.

  “He’s shown that he’s ready to work with you,” Shannon said. “I’m going to come close and show you how to put the halter on.”

  I followed her instructions and fitted Spirit with the soft halter. Then I brushed him all over, sending little clouds of dust flying up from his coat. I was a complete stranger to Spirit, Shannon explained, and this was a way to give him something before asking for anything in return.

  Shannon talked about how to use my energy with the horse, as well as the body language and signals I’d be giving him. I had to ask him to walk next to me by standing beside his shoulder looking forward, extending my arm forward with the lead rope, extending my energy in the same direction, and waiting until he took a step. That was important, she said. Spirit had to take the first step.

  I did what she said, and to my surprise, Spirit responded. We walked shoulder to shoulder around the circle. Shannon showed me how to ask Spirit to turn and how to stop. When that was working, she brought me a long stick with a piece of rope trailing on the end. It looked like a whip.

  “You don’t hit the horse, do you?” I asked in surprise.

  “No,” Shannon said. “The stick is an extension of your arm. It’s a way of making your signals and your energy bigger, to help him understand them. So the first thing you do is rub him all over with the stick, and flick the rope around a bit. That shows him not to fear it.”

  Shannon taught me how to send Spirit out in a circle so he was trotting around me with the lead rope. I learned how to stop him, how to invite him to turn and come in to me, and how to move him backwards. After a while Shannon asked me to stop Spirit and give him a rest. That was part of his reward.

  “You’ve got a lovely natural feel with horses,” she said. “Let’s get you on.”

  Frankie came running over with a helmet, which I buckled on. Shannon took hold of my ankle and boosted me up. I slid my right leg over Spirit’s back, and the next thing I knew I was sitting on him.

  It was a whole new world up there and I fitted right into it. I was so comfortable on Spirit’s back, like I’d spent a lifetime riding horses – or more than one lifetime, even. Following Shannon’s instructions, I lifted the halter rope and sent my energy where I wanted him to go.

  I forgot about everything except the incredible feeling of Spirit and me moving as one creature.

  Why had no one ever told me riding was like this?

  By the time we finished the lesson, a mass of people and cars and horse floats and horses had crowded the driveway.

  Shannon strode into the middle and stood up on a garden chair. “Hello!” When silence fell, she continued. “Everyone who’s brought a horse please put them in a halter and lead rope and take your animal into the large arena. Wear your helmets please.”

  A boy on the sidelines, who looked about nine or ten, piped up, “Can’t I go with Paris?”

  “Mum, I told you Arlo was too young for the club,” one of the girls said. She tried to calm her massive black horse, which was moving around restlessly. I remembered them from the show – they’d won first prize.

  “Sorry, Pumpkin,” she said to the boy.

  “But Paris likes me,” the boy protested. “He’s always good for me.”

  His mother took his hand. “Arlo, we talked about this, remember? We’ll watch Violet and Paris another time. I need to make some calls from the car.”

  Arlo looked mutinous, his sweet face drawn into a heavy frown. Then an older boy – the groovy boy from the show, I realised – came over to him.