The First Ride

PICTURE #3

by Christiana T.

 November 2, 1884

             There is nothing so frustrating as a blank page. They’re big and intimidating and empty.

This is ridiculous. Nothing to do but write, and nothing to write about. It’s been drizzling steady, soaking rain for a week, I’ve read all the dime novels in the house, all the work is finished, the roads are too bad to go to town and Taffy has a lame foot. Exactly why did God create November? Well, I’ve got to write something. It’s that or read Little Women for the fourth time. Yep, definitely write.*

Perhaps a blank page could be exciting. Anything could be written on one. Exciting things like essays and written reports and theological debates and articles about the Old English Language. Thrilling.

Or stories.

Yes, stories are good, I could write a story. But what about? I come up with the best stories when I’m supposed to be doing my grammar. Mr. Foster always catches me right in the most exciting part. When I’m not doing grammar I can’t think of a thing.

Perhaps I write a true story, one that really happened. I know! A story about Taffy and Chad and me. Let’s see. I shall call it “The First Ride.”

 

********

 

Many years ago, seven to be exact, is when this story took place. I got Taffy for my 6^th birthday, the best present I ever received! Goodness, how I was excited! I felt like I could have flown for weeks afterward. She was so silky and shiny and sweet. Yes, Taffy was a darling, but there was one thing about her that didn’t quite suite me. She didn’t grow fast enough.

I loved her, and talked to her, and spent as much time with her as I could, but what I wanted most was to train her; and I mean really train.

Of course, before she was two weeks old Chad and I had taught Taffy what a halter was, and how to lead and stop and even lift her foot. But after that, everything seemed to slow down. Chad soon let me practice with Taffy by myself, but I quickly realized we just repeated the same things over and over again.

Months went by, and for all my begging Chad wouldn’t let me do much else with Taffy. I remember one especially explosive day. Chad caught me tiptoeing Taffy into the barn and into an empty stall, hoping to quietly climb on her back, just to sit. I wanted to feel her golden body beneath me and wrap my arms around her neck. I knew I wouldn’t hurt her. Taffy was weaned, and much stronger and taller than I was.

Well, Chad saw me entering the barn with Taffy and got suspicious. He followed us in there and I was caught red handed. We had a shout down before Chad called a ranch hand to put Taffy back in the corral. I tried to stomp off mad and ignore my bossy old big brother, but he snagged my overalls and swung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I was hauled clear across the bustling front yard to Mother.

After a long talk, where I thought I quite reasonably explained the logic behind my actions, I ended up with a list of chores for the rest of the afternoon. Mother told me I was more in trouble for doing what I did on the sly, than for trying to mount Taffy. Somehow that got stuck in my brain and I figured Taffy and I’d be fine if ever I did manage to get on her back.

The next day was Sunday, and at dinner after church I boldly announced I was going out to see Taffy. Of course, no one gave me more than a glance, but went right on talking about their boring grown-up subject. I didn’t care. This time no one could say I was doing something on the sly.

After I was excused, I changed into my overalls, raced out of the house and jumped the porch steps. The yard was absolutely still. It was the hands’ day off, and those who were not in town were enjoying afternoon siestas. I detoured to visit the newest foal who’d been born only two days before. He was sweet, but I only had time to scratch his forelock. I was more interested in my (kinda-new) foal.

Climbing onto the pasture rail I sat down and put my fingers in my mouth. Then I blew as hard as I could. Instead of the piercing whistle that came out of everyone else’s mouths, all I did was get spit on my hands. I wiped them off and yelled instead.

“Taffy!”

In a few moments I saw the shining, golden body of my beautiful little filly trotting over a small hill. When she saw me on the fence, Taffy broke into a gallop, kicking up her heels and lifting her short, creamy tail as she ran. I sighed in delight watching her. I knew Taffy was going to be a fast horse, and each time I saw her run, the slower old Coco seemed to get.

Right behind Taffy came the six other horses that were grazing in the pasture. I hopped off the fence as they got closer. There were big paints, bays, grays and appaloosas, all towering above little Taffy and me. But I wasn’t the least bit afraid of them. They were gentle horses, some of Circle C’s geldings and breed mares.

Taffy reached me first and snuffled up the lump of sugar I brought quicker than I could say “cattle roundup.” The other horses were crowding around us an instant later, knowing full well that my pockets were usually stuffed with sugar and carrots. I put my arm around Taffy’s neck, and after shoving the others away, we squeezed through the gate, but not before I gave a special pat to Snowflake, Taffy’s extra-good mother.

I grinned as we marched back to the barn. I didn’t even need a halter, ‘cause Taffy’s nose stayed over my shoulder the entire time. I knew I had the sweetest filly on the Circle C, and was confident she would do anything I asked. However, I had decided to put her halter on anyway, just to make sure she would hold still.

I had left Taffy’s halter and lead rope behind the barn for convenience, and we snagged them before heading out to the mostly empty range land on the other side of the bunkhouse. I generally worked with Taffy in the corrals, but if I was going to sit on her back and tell her secrets, I wanted to be in the shade. Besides, any person could see the corrals from the house.

Not that that mattered, of course. I wasn’t being sly, I was being smart; who would want to sit out in the sun on a hot day anyhow?

We reached the gate and I swung it open on squeaky hinges. After pushing Taffy through, I carefully closed and locked the great gate.

When I had made it fast I rubbed Taffy’s curly forelock and slipped the halter over her head. Then I led her over to a strand of scrubby trees. There was plenty of shade and it was a nice quiet place.

            But I quickly realized I had a problem. Taffy had grown so much in the last months that it was impossible for me to climb onto her back. I tried jumping once or twice, but I slipped off both times. Taffy just looked at me curiously. There were plenty of low hanging, scraggly limbs on the trees that I could climb and then jump off of down onto Taffy’s back; but I’d had some sort of experience of that kind before, and had no desire to repeat the bruising I’d received the last time.

I looked around in dismay. The fence was not one that I could climb, and I didn’t want to go back through the gate and around the bunkhouse and through the yard. We went further into the range instead.

I had seen a large grouping of boulders behind this fence some months before, and I was certain they weren’t far away. So we walked, and walked, and walked for what seemed like forever before I spotted the rock outcropping in the distance. The sun beat down on my unprotected head until my hair was as hot as if Louisa had just pulled it out of the oven.  

I tugged Taffy along by her lead rope to get to the rocks faster. She was hot too, and her steps were moving slower and slower.

“Come on, girl, almost there,” I encouraged.

In a few minutes we stopped in the shade of one of the biggest boulders. After we’d cooled a bit I led Taffy around to a rock that was just taller than my waist. I stopped her there, sideways to the boulder. Then I scrambled onto the rock and balanced with my arms out wide. Looking down, I saw Taffy’s golden back far below.

Taffy had just put her head down to snatch a mouthful of dried grass as I took my foot off the rock. With a little hop, I landed on her back. A simple little hop; who would’ve thought that such a thing would cause any trouble?

Well, my little hop startled Taffy into a little hop, and after that I’m not quite sure what she did next. The one thing she didn’t do was stand still. With a squeal, Taffy began to run. I clapped my legs around her belly and squeezed to keep my balance. Which of course made her run faster.

Thankfully I had looped the lead rope around her neck, and there was no chance of her stepping on it and pulling her head down and underneath her own body. My heart had jumped clear up to my throat, and by the time it had got somewhat farther down into my chest, I realized that already we were a good ways from the rocks. I was scared, but it was quickly replaced with exhilaration. I had been right. My little filly was fast!

I let her run for a while, so happy I could scarcely keep from yelling. But I knew I had to slow her down and take her back to the ranch.

“Easy, Taffy,” I said as calmly as I could manage. The wind had pulled my braid loose, and my hair whipped around my face. While we slowed somewhat as Taffy climbed a small hill, I gingerly stretched toward her halter.

I never reached it. Taffy passed over the crest of the rise and something caught my eye from where it was half buried in Taffy’s sweaty neck. The Sierra Nevada mountain range in the distance was no longer the only large things to look at. Fifteen big bulls looked up in surprise as Taffy and I came barreling over the hill.

The nervousness that had dissipated during the excitement of the ride came flooding back as full blown fear. These cattle seemed to be all muscle and horn. Too late, I remembered the conversation I had impatiently ignored at the dinner table.

“We brought those bulls home yesterday, Mother,” Mitch had said.

“Got ‘em cheap,” Chad swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. “Al dropped his price for the trouble they gave him and his hands. ‘It’s the devil himself in those steers and make no mistake,’” Chad quoted with a grin. “Al even named the biggest one. Samson, he calls him, and rightly so. He’ll make mighty fine eating someday.”

“How many are there?” Mother sounded worried.

“A dozen or so is all. We put them in the north range. Nothing’ll bother them out there.”

The recollection flashed through my mind like lightening. Less than a second later, Taffy saw the bulls too. Without warning she squealed and wheeled on her haunches, running even faster back the way we had come.

The sudden stop and spinning maneuver catapulted me from Taffy’s back and I flew through the air. Time seemed to slow down as I twisted high above the ground. I saw the sun, closer to the edge of the horizon than I thought it should be; I saw a bird in flight bank away from me in surprise; I saw the bulls, big and mean, and I saw the biggest one take a heavy step forward. Then time returned to normal as the dry brown grass sped upwards toward my face. Something hard and unmovable hit my head, and everything went dark.

***

I must have been unconscious for only a few minutes. When I woke up, I didn’t open my eyes. I was too afraid to. I couldn’t hear anything, but my ankle hurt fierce.

Something warm and smelly blew in my face. Now I was too afraid not to open my eyes!

First I squinted open my left eye, but all I saw was blackness. I squinted open the other eye, and saw the same thing. Then I opened them both, all the way, and saw the owner of the blackness. The black was a slimy black, a drippy black, with grass stuck on it. The “black,” was a great nose, inches away from my terrified little face.

Farther up the huge face an eye looked down at me appraisingly. It was Samson, the terrible bull. He seemed to be trying to decide just what I was. A new species of bird? Or a new kind of rock?

Well, there I lay, face to nose with a gigantic bull, armed with humongous sharp horns and enormous sharp hooves. The pain in my ankle hurt worse and worse, but I was too scared to move a muscle or make a noise, not even a moan. Instead, silent tears streamed out of my eyes.

I believe that is what saved me. Staying frozen to the ground convinced Samson that I was nothing more than an oddly shaped rock, something to taste perhaps, but not anything to gore with horns as big around as my waist.

To my disgust, a slobbery tongue emerged from slimy nose and licked me from my shoulder, up my neck and over my face. Gross! But far from deadly, so I wrinkled my nose and endured it.

I must not have tasted that swell, because Samson threw up his head, bellowed a command to his small herd and slowly but steadily ambled away.

The rest of the bulls followed at their own leisure, tossing their horns, but it was only until after they had been gone for several minutes that I dared move. I lifted my head slightly to look around, and instantly regretted it. Someone was hitting my temples with a sledge hammer, I just knew it!

My head dropped back down, and I carefully moved the rest of my body, just to make sure it all still worked. Both arms and my left leg passed inspection, but the pain in my right ankle only increased when I lifted my foot.

Slowly, very slowly and with a lot of “owww….”’s, I managed to sit up. The sun was getting close to the edge of the horizon, and it was shining full in my face and hurting my eyes. But that’s not why I started crying again.

Here I was, out in the middle of the north range with a herd of dangerous bulls, a raging headache and a foot I was positive I couldn’t walk on. Taffy was gone, maybe lost forever, and it was all my fault! I knew now that I had been disobedient; and boy was I ever sorry. I didn’t know what to do. Except pray.

“Dear God,” I cried, “I’m sorry for being naughty! Please help me!”

And something brushed the back of my neck.

I yelped in surprise and terror. Had Samson returned? Turning, I saw a golden head and a curly white forelock. I threw my arms around Taffy’s neck and squeezed her tight.

“Oh Taffy,” I sighed in relief as she nibbled my tangled hair. “Thank you, God!”

            The next few minutes were ones of pain and frustration as I tried to do on one foot what I hadn’t been able to do on two. Taffy seemed to understand my need to mount her this time and stood as still as a stone. However, after many failed efforts, I leaned against her warm body in discouragement. Taffy dropped her head to graze and I realized there was one thing I hadn’t attempted.

            Picking up my bad foot, I balanced on my good one while sliding my right leg over Taffy’s neck. Then I jumped as hard as I could while shouting, “Up, Taffy!”

            Up came her neck, and with a jerky sliding, I was sitting on her back. With a smile as big as anything despite my hurting ankle and head, I pulled Taffy’s halter around until we were facing home.

            The ride back to the ranch was long and slow. Taffy stayed at a walk, and the sun had completely disappeared by the time we reached the gate. Just as I was about to slide off of Taffy’s back, lights and shouts and men on horseback were coming at us from all directions. Mitch unlocked the gate, and Chad and Justin ran through. I prepared to be yelled at by Chad, and in front of all the hands too, but he surprised me. Instead of blowing up, he reached me before Justin and pulled me off Taffy.

            “Where on earth have you been?” he exclaimed with concern.

            He set me on the ground and I crumpled at his feet as my ankle gave way. Justin scooped me up.

            “Are you hurt, honey?”

            I nodded and bit my lip to keep from crying.

            “Gee, sis,” Mitch blurted. “Why were you in the north range? Didn’t you hear anything we said about those bulls? We’ve been looking for you for over an hour!”

            I started to answer, but Justin stopped me. “We’ll talk inside, with Mother.” He started walking toward the house. “Thank you, men,” he said to the hands. “I appreciate your help.”

            They touched their hats and started to disperse. Mitch followed Justin and me, and looking over Justin’s shoulder, I saw Chad leading Taffy away. I gulped. What would he say about me sneaking off to ride Taffy?

           

            To my surprise, Chad, along with the rest of my family, listened to my story in silence. I lay on the couch with ice on my ankle and head, and my hand in Mothers. I could tell from her face that she was surprised and grieved at my disobedience. Chad’s face was expressionless.

When I had finished with saying that I was sorry, Mother let out a breath. “Well, Andrea, the Lord certainly had his hand over you today. You could be in much worse condition than you are now.”

            I winced at the thought.

            Mother shook her head. “I really don’t know what to do with you. Your disobedience put both you and Taffy in danger!”

            “I’m sorry, Mother, I really am,” I sobbed. “Please forgive me!”

            “I forgive you dear, and I hope you have learned your lesson. Dr. Weaver will be here soon, and I think your ankle and headache punishment enough for the moment. We’ll see about extra chores once you’re able to walk again.”

            I nodded glumly and chanced a glance at Chad.

            “Well,” he said in response to my questioning look, “I reckon it’s nice to know that Taffy is rideable.”

            “What?” I asked in astonishment.

            “What can I say?” Chad shrugged his shoulders. “You were wrong to disobey, but Taffy saved you from spending tonight and possibly tomorrow on that range. And I agree with Mother. Your ankle and some extra chores are punishment enough.” He smiled crookedly. “And anyway, I won’t have to keep a watch on you and Taffy after this.” He paused significantly. “Right?”

            I smiled sheepishly. “Right.”

***

            A few weeks later I limped out to the corral. Chad was lunging Taffy in a wide circle. Her dainty hooves kept perfect time with each other. I watched with a smile. I couldn’t wait until the time that she and I could go flying across the open land again. But I knew that however many times I got on her back, I would never forget our first ride.

                                                                                                                                                           

          Goodness! My fingers are stuck to my pen and I’m squinting in the evening light to finish this. Well, I’ve covered a lot of blank pages. Success! Who knew I would actually enjoy writing stories? There are so many, many more, but I’ll have to write them on other rainy days. But not tomorrow. Mitch predicts the sky will clear up tomorrow, and perhaps Taffy’s foot will be better. If so, we’ll be off on another adventure!

 – Andi Carter

 *Author’s Note: Personally, the author very much enjoys Little Women; this is Andi’s opinion only.

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