A Leap For The Sky Page 6

  Now, I was obsessing over a horse that no longer breathed, and I didn't have Lucy. I wondered for the first time in my life if finding a boyfriend would help me to live my life without horses.

  It was a five weeks after Gypsy's death. I still thought about her constantly, and although I still cried for her some nights, the pain was no longer so fresh, and my sadness was lined with memories that made me smile instead of cry.

  Lucy and I were still barely speaking, and my parents hadn't even mentioned Coby to me. I assumed Lucy was still caring for him. I could only assume my parents had made the decision to sell him by now, although I didn't care to browse online to see if he was listed. Part of me just couldn't bear to know. I still had a guilty conscience as I knew deep down my parents were trying to help me, not hurt me. Beyond that, there was something else I couldn't explain.

  The night prior when Coby visited me in my dreams, I'd ridden him. In my dream I had no resentment, nor fear. I mounted him as though he'd been my horse forever, and we took off cantering around the arena, his gait like a rocking horse. In my dream I'd felt happy. I was enjoying myself immensely.

  I faced him towards a huge jump, bigger than I'd ever jumped Gypsy. We were approaching it, me waiting in anticipation. Just before his hooves left the ground, I'd woken up, annoyed at myself for dreaming of riding.

  Tonight, I was having another night where I couldn't fall asleep. Luckily nights like these were the minority of my nights.

  I'd looked through my photo album numerous times, bringing each image of Gypsy to life in my head. I decided that next week, I'd get printed copies and make a collage of her for my wall. Gosh, I missed her so much!

  Being a Saturday, I wasn't too worried that I couldn't sleep, but I was bored and had no reason to stay awake. I wished Gypsy was alive so that I could visit her. I imagined touching her warm body; running my hands over her fine Summer coat, tainted black in the darkness. I could almost smell her, the scent of horse; the scent of life. The thought of standing next to Gypsy nearly exceeded my imagination now. It was hard to believe I'd ever been that close to her at all.

  I pulled off my shorts, stripping down to my underwear and a singlet, and slid under the covers. I rolled onto my side, reaching for light switch, planning to simply wait for sleep to come. My arm brushed the book on my bedside table. The Horse Whisperer. I was halfway through it and hadn't read any further since Gypsy had passed away. My hand hovered over it. I didn't want to read about horses; I was trying to leave that part of my life behind me. But I was curious to the know the ending, and the night would be so long if I simply just waited for sleep to find me.

  With a sigh of defeat, I picked up the book and began to read.

  I began to finally feel drowsy only a few chapters away from the end of the book, but I had become engrossed in the story, so I fought to stay awake. I was too close now.

  When finally, I read the last page, I didn't go to sleep. I sat up in bed and ran over the storyline in my head.

  In the book, Grace, a thirteen-year-old girl, and her friend, end up in an accident on their horses when faced with a large truck. Grace's horse, Pilgrim, rears up in front of the truck, tossing Grace to safety.

  Unfortunately, Grace's friend and her horse do not make it. Grace survives with the amputation of one leg, and her horse, Pilgrim, is still alive, but physically in a bad state and mentally disturbed from the accident. The vets encourage Grace's mother to put Pilgrim to sleep; but her mother refuses to because she feels he's required to help Grace to be happy once again.

  Grace is depressed, angry, and shut-down from the accident. She encourages her mum to put Pilgrim to sleep, but again, her mother refuses to. Grace rebels against her mother; she has no intention to ride again and feels like Pilgrim would be better off euthanized.

  Despite this, when Pilgrim is back to a physically healthy state, Grace's mother drives Grace and Pilgrim across the country to a horse whisperer. In a nutshell, over time the horse whisperer mentally heals Pilgrim. Pilgrim and Grace learn to trust one another again, and Grace rides him, happy for the first time since the accident.

  The character, Grace, reminded me of myself in a way. My friend didn't die, nor did her horse. I still had both legs. But I was angry and I guess you could say a little shut down. I didn't want to ride, but my parents were convinced it'd help me to move on and be happy again.

  What if they were right?

  Chapter Twelve

  I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. I felt lighter somehow. The sun lit up the curtains; it was another nice day. Summer had been living up to its expectations this year.

  I pulled on my shorts from yesterday, and a black t-shirt, and headed downstairs.

  Natasha sat at the kitchen table with crayons and a colouring-in book. She hummed a tune as she coloured. Mum lay on the couch watching some talk show on T.V, and I assumed Dad was still in bed.

  Mum glanced over her shoulder at me. "Did you wet the bed?" she joked. "It's 9am, what are you doing already up?"

  I just shrugged and poured myself a bowl of Rice bubbles.

  "I'm going over to play with Jenny today," Natasha boasted, as if I'd care.

  "We have to check with Jenny's mum first, honey," Mum called.

  "Cool," I mumbled. I hurriedly gulped down my cereal. "I'm going for a drive," I told Mum.

  Mum smiled, probably happy that I wasn't spending the day in bed for once. "Are you going to see Lucy?" she asked.

  "Uh? Yeah," I lied. I slipped out the front door before she could ask any further questions.

 

  I was relieved to find Ridgewood stables empty. Even Andrew's car wasn't in the houses driveway. Crickets chirped in the distance. I spotted Coby grazing where I'd met him in the front paddock, his golden coat shinning. I felt a pang of sadness, for in the distance he still could have been Gypsy.

  I headed over to the tack shed and opened the door, where I was greeted with the sweet scent of horses and leather. I inhaled deeply, a sense of security overwhelming the sadness deep inside. I felt at home among the saddles and bridles. Like a wild bird set free from captivity, I felt where I belonged; and I wondered how I ever believed I could stay away.

  I reached for the halter and lead rope, hesitating as I realized it was last on Gypsy's face. That's when I noticed a new-looking blue halter and lead rope hanging right beside it with a new grooming kit below. I realized my parents must have bought them for Coby, and I felt grateful for that. I grabbed both the halter and lead, and the grooming kit, and stepped back outside into the warm summer air. It was going to be a hot day.

  Coby nickered and wandered over to the gate when he saw me coming. He appeared happy when I slipped on his halter, almost relieved for some attention. Coby had been kept paddocked alone, and I wondered why Lucy hadn't put him in with Bugs. I stroked the blaze on Coby's nose, narrow compared to Gypsy's thick one, which was the width of nearly her face. I tied him loosely to a piece of twine on the gate and stood back to look at him properly for the first time.

  Coby looked at me with interest. He had a more defined head than Gypsy, daintier to match his finer frame. He had a well-muscled, arched neck on sloping shoulders. He had the higher wither and long legs of a Thoroughbred, and a short back, finishing off with the large and strong hindquarters of a Quarter horse. Overall, he had taken more to the Thoroughbred side of his breeding, the opposite to Gypsy. He was a nice type, standing approximately 15.3-hands-high. He was certainly a picture to look at.

  I walked back over to Coby, who sniffed at my leg. I noticed that two of his white hooves were lightly cracked, and noted to arrange for him to get shod.

  I unzipped the grooming bag and pulled out a soft body brush. The ground was dry and Coby was already clean. Coby, the definition of 'friendly', kept turning his head around to look at me as I gently brushed his summer coat. He then stretched, pulling against the lead rope, and took the brush in his teeth. I gasped in surprise as he pulled the b
rush from my hands. The strange animal nodded his head up and down, the brush bouncing from the bristles as he went. "Hey, give that back!" I laughed, grabbing for the brush. But Coby tossed it over the gate, causing me to laugh harder.

  I decided to forget the brush for now. I untied Coby and opened the gate, leading him down towards the arena. Coby walked excitedly beside me, a spring in his steps. Luckily, unlike Bugs, he had the training and respect to stay at my shoulder despite his eagerness. I stopped at the tack shed, and holding the rope by its end I stepped in, reaching for my lunge line. To my surprise, Coby decided to walk in after me, his head nearly hitting the top of the doorway. I smiled and backed him out. "Well at least you're brave!" It was proving impossible not to like Coby's full-on personality.

  Once in the arena, I hooked the lunge line to Coby, and using my arm, I sent him off around me. He strode out, gazing with interest around the arena. I gave a gentle tug on the lunge lead, encouraging him to bend to the inside. Without a bit in his mouth, Coby ignored the cue and continued to walk quickly around me, distracted by his surroundings. I took a different approach and asked him to trot. He rushed in his gait at first, circling around me in an uncontrolled manner. I calmly asked him to slow down, and after a few attempts, he obliged. It was then I could see that he had an impressive, elastic trot; balanced for his five years of age. His canter was large with round and bouncy, ground-covering strides. He'd obviously inherited his movement from his father.

  After I'd lunged him on both reins, I was quite impressed. I kept glancing over at the jumps, my curiosity begging me to see how he jumps. The previous owners had claimed he had a big jump, but after the secrets they held about Gypsy, who could know if their words were true. Beyond the curiosity I was a little worried that Coby might not be a jumper at all. I'd finally decided that I couldn't live a life without horses; I couldn't live a life out of the saddle, and with that, my heart was in showjumping.

  I wasn't ready to be disappointed.

  I pulled Coby in. He lowered his head and I scratched him beneath his forelock. "Can you jump?" I whispered. I slowly lead him towards the jumps. I decided I'd simply see how he reacted. The first step was to see if he'd even seen a pole before, let alone been jumped for real. As we neared, he quickened his pace, ears forward with interest. Beneath his pricked ears, his eyes bulged in excitement, or perhaps uncertainty. He snorted softly, blowing warm air against my arm.

  "Have you seen poles before, boy?" I asked softly. Coby cautiously lowered his head, sniffing at the first pole. Then he lifted his feet and followed me over it. I petted his neck, then stood back, allowing him to lunge at walk over the pole. He did this happily without another glance. When he broke into a trot, I let him. He trotted over the pole, lifting his feet carefully, then veered sideways, rudely tugging against me. "Hey!" I cried. I gave the lunge-line a quick jab, and he gave in to the pressure, coming around to the pole once again. This time he started to canter after the pole, and again, he pulled hard against my arm. Annoyed, I tugged back, glancing over to the direction he was persistent to go to. There were no horses in that direction, nor was the gate we'd came in; there was no reason for him to be acting like this. All that stood in the direction he wanted to go was a couple of jumps.

  When he did it a third time, I considered grabbing a bridle from the tack shed. With a bit in, I'd have more control of him. I knew if I let him away with this behavior, he'd continue to do it.

  I decided first to change what we were doing to give him a chance to think, rather than predict exactly what was expected of him. With a bit of extra force than preferred, I managed to bring him to a halt. Leading him, I carried another pole and set it in front of the first one so that Coby would have two in a row to trot over. I then lunged him in the opposite direction to before.

  Coby willingly trotted over the poles. Ears forward, eyes bright, he appeared to be enjoying himself, which was a positive sign. He was very careful with his feet and was yet to touch a pole. However, as before, he proceeded to tug sideways towards the other jumps.

  I thought for a moment. Pushing him on, I was prepared for the next round. As he cleared the poles, I loosened the lunge line and stepped towards him, this time encouraging him towards the other jumps. It was my choice now, and he more than willingly obliged. He eyed up the little cross bar, and appearing keen with not an ounce of uncertainty, I allowed him to line up to the jump. Coby broke into a slow, but impulsive canter. He was ready.

  Taking off at exactly the right moment, Coby tucked his knees tightly to his chest and sailed into the air, much, much higher than was necessary to clear the small cross-bar. Stretching out his neck, he showed a relaxed, easy technique in behind, and landed smoothly on the other side. He cantered around me and over the jump once again.

  I stood, gob-smacked for this horse could fly, and over that little fence he could have easily been mistaken for Gypsy. Again, he showed the jump of a true athlete, continuing on to jump the fence again. He needed no encouragement from me. Coby was jumping from free will, and appeared to be having the time of his life while doing so.

  "Wow!" a familiar voice said from behind me. I jumped slightly in surprise and spun around to see Lucy, her eyes wide in amazement. "Is he impressive or what?!" she added.

  I spoke softly to Coby, and reluctantly he came back to a walk. I gradually shortened the lunge-line, allowing him to walk in a small circle around me to cool off.

  I was so happy with Coby that I temporarily forgot Lucy and I hadn't been talking. "He's amazing!" I exclaimed. "He has what it takes."

  "He has what it takes for what?" Lucy wondered.

  "I think he may have what it takes to take me to the top! He can help me achieve my dream." I was mesmerized in the moment.

  Lucy raised an eyebrow, then a big grin broke out on her face. "You're back!" she cried.

  I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly lost for words. Lucy too, shoved her hands in her pockets and stared at the ground. She peeked up at me. "I'm sorry Adele. I've been really unfair to you. I guess I just wasn't sure how to handle Gypsy's death or your grief." Lucy's eyes filled with tears and she wiped them away with a sleeve, fixating her gaze on the ground once again. "I should have tried to be more understanding; I should have been there for you? I've been selfish, and a really horrible friend. I'm so sorry."

  Lucy's words were true. She had been a little selfish, and she hadn't been a very good friend; but I knew it must have been hard for her too, and the apology was sincere, so I forgave her immediately. "I've really missed you," I admitted.

  "I've missed you too. So much." Lucy replied.

  "Thank you for looking after Coby," I told her. And I meant it. I was glad now that my parents had gotten him for me. In a way, I felt like a part of Gypsy lived on in him.

  "It's fine! Your parents knew you'd come around. And so did I," Lucy smiled at me. "Also, I didn't have to do much. I basically just had to put his cover on when the weather was bad."

  I realized in my distraction that Coby had stopped. He stood, staring at us as though waiting for his next command. I giggled. "Sorry boy." I asked him to come in and rubbed his blaze, mixing stray white hairs into his chestnut coat.

  "I'm so happy that we're friends again," Lucy murmured.

  "Who said we're friends again?" I joked. Then I added seriously, "I'm glad too. We have lots of adventures to live. You, Bugs, me, and Coby."

  Lucy nodded vigorously. "We sure do! In fact, we should ride together tomorrow. You can have your first ride on Coby!"

  I stared into Coby's big, brown eyes. "How does that sound Coby? We'd better do some dressage," I said slowly. "It's important for you to learn? But after that, maybe we could try a jump because I know you'll love that! Your mother loved to jump too. She was very good at it just like you. The last time I rode her, she jumped so high. She took a leap for the sky." My eyes filled with tears, but this time it didn't hurt so much. I'd found my silver lining. I stroked Coby's neck softly, and gazed above
at the blue and cloudless sky. "And she made it."