about the horse I’m riding?”
“He’s a great chestnut gelding named Brandy,” Sheila began. And she had a lot more to say about him than that. Carole sighed with relief as she listened to a description of Brandy’s wonderful qualities. She’d managed to shift the topic of conversation. The only other time the issue arose before they left for their picnic was when Aunt Joanna and Carole were alone.
“You’ve just got to talk her into letting us sell that old pony!” Aunt Joanna said. “He’s not doing her any good at all, and she simply refuses to consider it. She’s so stubborn! It comes from her father’s side of the family, you know—”
At that Carole stifled a laugh. Sheila’s stubbornness absolutely did not come from Uncle Willie! Luckily Sheila joined them before Carole could respond.
“Ready?” Sheila asked.
“You bet!” Carole said, and she meant it.
An hour later Carole was mounted on Brandy and fully informed about him. She had been told that he had a sweet disposition and tended to be a little lazy, but he was extremely gentle and would try to please her, as long as she didn’t use the crop on him in frontof the girth. He would spook if she did that. Since it wasn’t considered proper form to use the crop anyplace but on a horse’s rear, Carole was sure she and Brandy wouldn’t have any trouble.
Sheila was mounted on Maverick. He was a pretty pony with a sleek coat and bright eyes. His ears flicked alertly, and he seemed ready to do whatever Sheila asked of him. There was a closeness between them that Carole had seen only rarely between horse and rider. Sheila gave Maverick near invisible instructions with the slightest pressure of her legs, and he responded instantly. Clearly this pair had done so much together for so long that they understood each other perfectly.
It was true that Sheila looked a little odd on the pony. Maverick wasn’t in any danger with a full-sized person in his saddle, but the proportion of rider to horse was definitely wrong.
Carole rode Brandy around the stable’s ring a few times to get the feel of him and to let him do the same of her. It didn’t take long for each to know that the other was a natural. Carole walked, trotted, and cantered and then slowed the gaits until they were walking again.
“We’re ready,” she announced, and the stable owner agreed.
Sheila opened the gates of the ring, and the two of them rode out.
The path led from the ring down to the seaside. Carole was accustomed to seeing fields and woods beyond the riding ring, not palm trees and sand. It was beautiful! And then there was the ocean, the Atlantic. Down here in Florida it wasn’t the musty gray that it was on the northern coasts. It was a startling aqua blue.
The horses stepped on the sand tentatively at first, and then, as they neared the water and the sand became firmer, the horses were more sure-footed.
They walked for a while, allowing both the horses and riders to become accustomed to the seashore. For Carole, it was somewhat a matter of getting used to the feel of a horse who was walking on sand, but it was more a matter of taking in the sights.
“This is great!” she declared.
“Sure is,” Sheila agreed.
To their right was what seemed like an endless line of palm trees, shading the upper reaches of the beach. Some had coconuts and some just long, broad leaves that moved gently in the sea breeze, shifting the shadows along the edge of the beach.
To their left was an endless expanse of aqua water, dotted here and there by boats, small sailboats, largesailboats, powerboats and ocean liners. There were also a few tankers and barges, but those were farther away. They reminded Carole that the ocean wasn’t just for pleasure. It served as a major conduit of transportation and commerce for the entire coastal area.
A speedboat zipped along nearby, skipping across the waves, from crest to crest. It made a horrendous noise, and Brandy flinched ever so slightly.
“He’s a great chestnut gelding named Brandy,” Sheila began. And she had a lot more to say about him than that. Carole sighed with relief as she listened to a description of Brandy’s wonderful qualities. She’d managed to shift the topic of conversation. The only other time the issue arose before they left for their picnic was when Aunt Joanna and Carole were alone.
“You’ve just got to talk her into letting us sell that old pony!” Aunt Joanna said. “He’s not doing her any good at all, and she simply refuses to consider it. She’s so stubborn! It comes from her father’s side of the family, you know—”
At that Carole stifled a laugh. Sheila’s stubbornness absolutely did not come from Uncle Willie! Luckily Sheila joined them before Carole could respond.
“Ready?” Sheila asked.
“You bet!” Carole said, and she meant it.
An hour later Carole was mounted on Brandy and fully informed about him. She had been told that he had a sweet disposition and tended to be a little lazy, but he was extremely gentle and would try to please her, as long as she didn’t use the crop on him in frontof the girth. He would spook if she did that. Since it wasn’t considered proper form to use the crop anyplace but on a horse’s rear, Carole was sure she and Brandy wouldn’t have any trouble.
Sheila was mounted on Maverick. He was a pretty pony with a sleek coat and bright eyes. His ears flicked alertly, and he seemed ready to do whatever Sheila asked of him. There was a closeness between them that Carole had seen only rarely between horse and rider. Sheila gave Maverick near invisible instructions with the slightest pressure of her legs, and he responded instantly. Clearly this pair had done so much together for so long that they understood each other perfectly.
It was true that Sheila looked a little odd on the pony. Maverick wasn’t in any danger with a full-sized person in his saddle, but the proportion of rider to horse was definitely wrong.
Carole rode Brandy around the stable’s ring a few times to get the feel of him and to let him do the same of her. It didn’t take long for each to know that the other was a natural. Carole walked, trotted, and cantered and then slowed the gaits until they were walking again.
“We’re ready,” she announced, and the stable owner agreed.
Sheila opened the gates of the ring, and the two of them rode out.
The path led from the ring down to the seaside. Carole was accustomed to seeing fields and woods beyond the riding ring, not palm trees and sand. It was beautiful! And then there was the ocean, the Atlantic. Down here in Florida it wasn’t the musty gray that it was on the northern coasts. It was a startling aqua blue.
The horses stepped on the sand tentatively at first, and then, as they neared the water and the sand became firmer, the horses were more sure-footed.
They walked for a while, allowing both the horses and riders to become accustomed to the seashore. For Carole, it was somewhat a matter of getting used to the feel of a horse who was walking on sand, but it was more a matter of taking in the sights.
“This is great!” she declared.
“Sure is,” Sheila agreed.
To their right was what seemed like an endless line of palm trees, shading the upper reaches of the beach. Some had coconuts and some just long, broad leaves that moved gently in the sea breeze, shifting the shadows along the edge of the beach.
To their left was an endless expanse of aqua water, dotted here and there by boats, small sailboats, largesailboats, powerboats and ocean liners. There were also a few tankers and barges, but those were farther away. They reminded Carole that the ocean wasn’t just for pleasure. It served as a major conduit of transportation and commerce for the entire coastal area.
A speedboat zipped along nearby, skipping across the waves, from crest to crest. It made a horrendous noise, and Brandy flinched ever so slightly.
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