Read Online Riding Barranca by Laura Chester - Free Book Online Page A

space and really beat up on the poor little guy. The next morning the calf was all scarred up, shaking, and sorry-looking.
    Before I get in the saddle, she shows me some of the stretching exercises she has been doing with Peanut, using bites of carrot to make him turn his head back to touch his side,
treat,
then the other side,
treat,
bending way down,
treat.
I lower her stirrups to the last notch. They still seem shortcompared to what I’m used to, but she feels that I should have some bend in my knee, rather than riding with my legs hanging straight down.
    She is using a halter/bridle combination, which she’s willing to lend me until I can get an appropriate bit. Melinda doesn’t like Peanut’s usual bit that hangs too low in his mouth. He responds much better with a curb chain. She thinks I should buy an Imus Comfort Bit that has a lot of give.
    Out on the road, Melinda suggests that I sit back in the saddle more, letting my hips move with the horse, keeping my body relaxed and my shoulders still. This feels right. I get him into a flat walk. He does seem to have made great progress, though it is a bit difficult keeping him going straight ahead.
    Then she hops on and works him a while, making him stop and back up whenever he breaks into a pace. This is his reprimand, but when he moves nicely, she releases and praises him profusely. I can tell that he will need a lot of consistency and follow up before this gait locks into his young brain. But Melinda thinks he’s a fabulous horse. “He has so much potential, and he hasn’t gotten into any rotten habits like a lot of four-year-olds. His fast walk is just like a glide. I really fell in love with him. He only needs to pay attention. Whack him on the rear end if he needs to wake up. There you go.”
    She admits that she might be getting out of the training business. “It’s not the horses, but the people.” Was I one of those people? “I’m just not a people person,” she confesses. I understand, but we seem to get along pretty well. “It only takes one person to ruin your reputation,” she continues, talking about some horse owners that want her to do all the work, but who think they know how the work should be done.
    Melinda warns me about letting just anyone ride him. “That could ruin him,” she says. “And it’s important to warm him up and cool him down with at least fifteen minutes on eitherend. You can’t just cowboy out of the corral.” I wouldn’t do that anyway.
    Back in the yard, we transfer the leftover grain and hay into my truck. Peanut is easy to load. I approach her wild Indian mare, and Melinda says, “She won’t let you touch her,” but I go ahead and pat her anyway. The mare stands nicely while I stroke her shoulder. Melinda is surprised. Maybe I’m more of an animal person, too.

    Young Daphne
Daphne’s Visit
    Nice to have complete trust in one’s riding companion, and that is the case with my beautiful, blond niece, Daphne. She has ridden all of her life. One time, when I asked her how high she could jump, she responded, “I can jump just about anything.” She began riding with the Fairfax Hunt when she was ten, going at a full gallop for hours, jumping hedges and walls. But when Daphne turned twelve, a friend of her parents fell off during a hunt and was severely injured. Only then didher parents make her stop. She switched gears and went into show jumping, taking fences that were sometimes as high as six feet. I wonder if her parents were aware of this, as they dropped her off at the barn in the morning and picked her up at night.
    Getting out of the trailer, Tonka barges by me, knocking me down on the ground. Luckily it is unusually soft earth from all the rains and I’m not hurt, but I realize how I have to practice a more graceful and mannerly exit. I have to assert myself with him so that he knows who’s boss.
    This