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[Merry]

Spring Lesson

Spring had come early to Riverside, though the mornings still carried enough cold to remind everyone that winter had not quite given up. By midmorning, the sun was warm on the back of Stefi's neck.

The big outdoor arena had dried enough to be usable after the recent rain, its footing soft but firm beneath the horses' hooves. Along the far rail, the last patches of snow had shrunk into dirty white islands beneath the fence line, surrounded by flattened grass and the first green shoots of spring. Beyond the arena, the fields were beginning to change color, the brown winter grass giving way to green in uneven patches.

A breeze moved through the bare branches of the trees beyond the far end of the ring. Not quite warm. Not quite cold. Spring.

Stefi loved this time of year.

She sat tall on Wendy, her mottled chestnut-and-white mare standing out against the dark footing of the arena. Wendy's white face caught the sunlight whenever she turned her head, and her four white legs made her look almost too neatly marked for a horse who possessed such a thoroughly independent mind.

Wendy had been watching the outdoor arena with considerable interest since Stefi had brought her through the gate. Her ears were pricked toward the jumps at the far end. Then toward the barn. Then toward something beyond the fence that Stefi couldn't see.

"Don't start," Stefi murmured.

One ear flicked back toward her. Stefi knew that look. Wendy had opinions.

She wasn't a difficult horse, exactly. She was simply the sort of horse who believed every situation deserved careful consideration before she agreed to participate in it. She was clever enough to understand what Stefi wanted and opinionated enough to occasionally suggest that there might be another way of accomplishing it. Today, apparently, she thought there might be several.

Jim stood near the center of the arena, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

"Walk the rail."

Stefi nudged Wendy forward. Wendy walked three steps. Then she slowed. Stefi squeezed again. Wendy sighed dramatically and continued. Jim raised an eyebrow.

"She's not going to win this one."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"She's just looking."

"She's been looking for twenty seconds."

"She's thorough."

Jim's mouth twitched.

"Again."

Stefi sighed.

"I just did it."

"You did it badly."

She looked down at him.

"You could say that more nicely."

"I could."

"Will you?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes. Jim grinned.

"Again."

Stefi gathered her reins. Wendy finally marched forward with considerably more purpose, the white blaze of her face bright in the spring sunlight. Her chestnut-and-white coat shifted beneath Stefi's leg as she moved toward the corner.

Jim watched them approach.

"Too much inside rein."

Stefi corrected.

"Not that much."

She softened.

"Now you've lost the outside."

Stefi muttered something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Keep it that way."

Wendy's ears flicked backward. Stefi sat deeper.

"Don't fight her," Jim called.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"She's ignoring me."

"She's not ignoring you. You're giving her three different instructions."

Stefi frowned.

"How?"

"You're pulling with the inside rein, pushing with the inside leg, and then leaning away from her because you don't trust the corner."

"I don't lean."

"You do."

"I don't."

Jim pointed toward her shoulder.

"That shoulder."

Stefi straightened. Wendy immediately bent her neck slightly the opposite direction. Stefi sighed.

"See?" Jim laughed.

Wendy flicked one ear toward Stefi. "You hear me?"

"She likes hearing herself talk." Jim shook his head.

"She doesn't talk."

"She does. You just don't speak horse."

Stefi gave him a look. "I think I speak Wendy."

"That remains to be seen."

The breeze lifted a strand of hair from beneath Stefi's helmet. She tucked it back and continued around the arena. Wendy was settling now. She liked having a job once she understood what it was. Her stride lengthened. Her ears moved between Stefi and the world beyond the fence, curious but no longer distracted.

Jim walked toward the first jump. It was a small vertical near the long side, no more than a couple of feet high. A second fence stood several strides farther down the arena, and beyond it was an oxer set low enough to be inviting rather than intimidating.

Stefi glanced at them. "You put those up?"

"Obviously."

"I didn't see them."

"That's because you were busy arguing with your horse."

Wendy's ears pricked toward the vertical. Stefi smiled.

"She's interested now."

"Good. Keep her interested."

Jim pointed toward the corner.

"Now trot."

Stefi squeezed.

Wendy hesitated for half a stride.

"Go."

Wendy stepped into the trot with an offended little toss of her head, as if she found the sudden increase in expectations unnecessary. Stefi rose with the movement.

"Hands."

She steadied them.

"Elbows."

She relaxed them.

"Heels."

She dropped them.

"Look where you're going."

"I'm looking."

"You're looking at the ground."

She lifted her eyes.

"Better."

Wendy's rhythm settled. The sound changed immediately—the heavier four-beat walk replaced by the quicker, more energetic two-beat cadence. Her white legs flashed rhythmically beneath her mottled coat as she moved around the arena.

Stefi smiled. She loved Wendy's trot. There was something satisfying about it when Wendy was properly forward: not flashy, not extravagant, but powerful enough that Stefi could feel the horse working underneath her.

Jim watched them come around the corner.

"Don't let her fall in."

Stefi corrected, and Wendy's shoulder moved back into place.

"Good."

Stefi grinned, but Wendy immediately tried to drift outward.

"She did that on purpose," Stefi said.

Jim laughed.

"Of course she did."

"I swear she did."

"Then ride her like she did."

Stefi put her leg on. Wendy straightened.

"Good."

Jim watched them for another circuit.

"Now we're going to make that useful."

Stefi looked toward him.

"For the jump?"

"For the jump."

He pointed to the corner.

"Same thing. Outside rein. Inside leg. Don't throw her at the corner."

Stefi nodded.

"Get her balanced before you turn."

She rode the corner again. Wendy stayed straight.

"Good."

"Then what?"

"Nothing."

Stefi looked puzzled. Jim pointed ahead.

"Let her go."

Wendy lengthened her stride.

"That's your jumping rhythm," Jim said. "Not faster. Just forward."

Stefi nodded. She brought Wendy back slightly before the next corner, keeping the rhythm instead of shortening her into a cramped trot.

Jim watched carefully.

"Again."

They repeated it.

"Better."

Stefi smiled.

Wendy flicked an ear back.

"Don't get pleased with yourself yet," Jim said.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I was pleased with her."

"That's allowed."

They came around again. This time Wendy's rhythm was even. Jim nodded toward the first jump.

"Now approach it."

Stefi's stomach tightened pleasantly. Finally. She looked at the fence.

"Don't stare at it," Jim called.

"I'm not."

"You are."

She lifted her eyes.

"Look past it."

Stefi did.

Wendy's ears came forward. Her stride stayed steady.

"Leg."

Stefi applied it.

"Outside rein."

She steadied Wendy.

"Good."

They approached.

The little vertical grew steadily larger. Stefi felt the familiar urge to help. She wanted to do something.

Pull.

Push.

Adjust.

Anything.

Jim's voice came from the side of the arena.

"Don't."

Stefi kept her hands quiet. Wendy jumped. It was easy. Clean. The mottled mare landed in rhythm and continued forward as though the fence had barely been worth noticing.

Stefi laughed. "Good girl."

Jim nodded.

"That was fine."

"Fine?"

"Don't get greedy."

Stefi grinned. Wendy's ears flicked back toward Jim.

"She thinks you could be more enthusiastic."

"She'll survive."

Jim walked toward the second fence.

"Now the next one."

Stefi brought Wendy around the corner.

"Same rhythm."

She nodded.

"Don't change anything just because there's another jump."

Wendy stayed forward. Stefi looked ahead. The second fence approached.

"Straight."

She kept her leg on. Wendy jumped. This time Stefi felt the difference. She had stayed with the horse instead of getting ahead of her. The landing was smooth.

Jim nodded.

"Better."

Stefi's face lit up.

"That one felt better."

"It was."

Wendy gave a little toss of her head. Stefi laughed.

"She knows."

"She always knows."

They brought Wendy back to walk. The mare stretched her neck, blowing softly through her nostrils. Jim looked at Stefi.

"Again."

Stefi stared at him.

"We just did it."

"And now you're going to do it without getting excited about it."

"I'm not excited."

"You are."

"I'm calm."

"Your face says otherwise."

Stefi laughed. She gathered the reins.

"All right."

This time the flatwork before the fence felt different. Wendy was forward without rushing. Stefi kept her outside rein. She didn't collapse through the corner. She didn't throw away the contact. And when she turned toward the first jump, she didn't have to manufacture a distance
It was simply there.

Wendy jumped. Stefi stayed centered. They landed and continued toward the second fence. She kept the same rhythm. Wendy jumped again. Then the oxer. Stefi felt Wendy lift underneath her, more power in the jump now, but the mare landed balanced and immediately found her rhythm again.

"Good," Jim called.

Stefi brought her back to a trot.

"Very good."

She grinned.

Wendy's white face was bright with sweat now, her nostrils slightly flared, her ears still alert. Stefi reached down and rubbed her neck.

"Good girl."

Jim walked over.

"That was a much better round."

Stefi looked down at him.

"Really?"

"Really."

"What changed?"

"You stopped trying to ride every stride."

Stefi thought about that.

Jim pointed toward Wendy. "She's got a brain. Let her use it."

Stefi looked at Wendy. The mare was gazing toward the jumps again.

"She certainly thinks she does."

Jim smiled.

"She does."

Stefi brought Wendy back to walk. The breeze moved through the arena again, carrying the smell of damp earth and newly thawed grass. She stroked Wendy's neck, her hand moving over the familiar pattern of chestnut and white.

"That was better."

Jim nodded. "Much."

Stefi looked toward the open fields beyond the fence.

"It's really spring."

"Almost."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"It will."

She smiled.

"I can't wait."

Wendy stopped to look toward the jumps. Stefi glanced down.

"What?"

Wendy's ears were pointed toward the oxer. Jim followed her gaze.

"Apparently she's not done."

Stefi laughed.

"She's always done before I am."

"That doesn't look like a horse who's done."

Wendy took one purposeful step toward the fence. Stefi caught the reins.

"No."

Wendy stopped. Stefi looked down at her.

"You've had enough."

Wendy's white face remained perfectly innocent.

Jim laughed. "She doesn't agree."

"She doesn't get a vote."

"That's not what she thinks."

Stefi smiled and patted her neck.

"Come on, Wendy." She turned the mare toward the gate. Wendy walked out willingly, sunlight bright on Stefi's shoulders and catching along the horse's mottled chestnut-and-white neck. Her white legs moved cleanly beneath her as they crossed the arena, and her white face was turned toward the barn, already thinking about whatever came next.

Behind them, Jim watched for a moment before following.

The first real warmth of spring had finally reached Riverside.

(1837 words)