From The Saddle: The Haunting

The dream is more of a nightmare; it’s one that comes often and wakes me up from a dead sleep. It’s not really a dream; it’s a vivid memory that will always be with me. I can remember and feel everything that happened, even in my sleep.

It usually starts in the barn aisle.

“Just one more hole.” I grunted as I tightened the girth. The blood bay sucked his breath in hard. “Come on Gospel, stop it.”

Kell came around the corner with her almost identical horse. She smiled at me, “He being a pain?” She asked.

“He’s being an asshole.” I mumbled then reached up to adjust his bridle, “Just being you huh.” He flipped his nose and slobbered.

Kell laughed, “Good luck Becks.”

I smiled at her, “Good luck to you.”

She turned her horse around and walked down the aisle. I watched her go.

It was her first semi pro show. It was the first time she’d ever shown Kooper, we didn’t know that in six months time she’d be standing with him in the paddock as he took his last breath.

“Okay jerk. Let’s go.” I said as I swung up into the saddle. Mom had made her way to the grandstands waiting, video camera in hand, for my class to come up. I adjusted my stirrups and rode Gospel over to the warm up ring.

He was tense, anxious, his usual self. On a normal day he’d work himself out of it, it just took a couple of practice jumps for him to get his head on straight. The ring steward opened the gate and I trotted him into the heavy sand. “Let’s work.” I whispered.

He flipped his head but complied when asked for a canter. He fought the bit, it wasn’t unusual. I relaxed into the saddle as I worked him on the outside of the arena. Kell was jumping Kooper and I didn’t want to interfere. Kooper was nervous horse, he was a worrier; he didn’t need me and Gospel to interfere.

She noticed I was fighting Gospel and hollered across the arena, “Go ahead Becks!”

I waved to her and pushed him into the line up of jumps. “If only if only the wood pecker sighs,” I quietly sung to him. His ears flickered but his neck muscles relaxed. I rode him hard into the first jump, when I knew he wasn’t going to deny I relaxed. I was in my stirrups and out of his mouth, but I could feel through the leather reins he was playing with the bit. “The bark on the trees was as soft as the skies.” We were over the first jump. I relaxed into the saddle and pointed him to the next jump. “Hungry and lonely the wolf waits below.”

Some times I can wake myself up here, but if I can’t the dream will continue.

We’d warmed up, Kell and Kooper stood next to us. “Beck you’re up.” Our trainer hollered from the gate. I smiled over to Kell, “here goes nothing.” I mumbled.

“Knock their socks off!” She called after me as I trotted him into the arena.

The jingle of the metal filled the arena. I saluted the judge then circled Gospel. He wasn’t worked up, I wasn’t worried. I’d walked the course, knew how many lyrics it was going to take to get to the jumps. It was in the bag, or so I thought.

Gospel had a beautiful way of moving. It was almost as if he floated. His four white stockings always gleamed against his dark bay coat. He was my trainer’s horse, Kooper was his older brother. When they stood in the paddock together it was often hard to distinguish the difference, you had to get up close to see that Kooper had one black hoof, the front right one, where his sock had a hole in it, or so we joked.

The smell of the heavy dirt filled my nose and instantly congested me. I tightened my reins as we cantered into the first jump. It was the easiest of the course, a straight four bar jump. “If only if only.” I hummed. I was up in my stirrups and out of his mouth. He tucked nicely and we were clear of the jump. I looked over to the next, it required a hard left. So left we went. He was relaxed.

Gospel and I had a volatile relationship. My trainer had put me on him for a reason; I was the only one who would put up with his mood swings. He had a tendency to be explosive, if he wasn’t feeling the course he’d set his feet and away the rider would go. I was the only one who knew how to keep him going. I had figured the secret out by accident. The first time he sunk his heels I had hummed to myself to keep the nerves out of my head. The second I began humming he picked his feet up and jumped. We hadn’t had a problem since.

Six jumps into the course he was fighting me. I was singing quietly, I’d changed songs to Rockstar. “I’m going to trade this life for fortune and fame.” I jiggled the bit in his mouth. “I’m going to date a playboy bunny.” We were almost to the last jump when he exploded. “I’ll take a quesadilla.” He took the bit and sunk his heels, he slid into the jump. I lost my balance and fell to the left of him. My knee hit the top of the standard ramming it hard. My body flipped and caught the jump cup in my hip. I fell in between the bars and blacked out.

I usually wake up right there. I’d spent a few days in the hospital. My knee had been repaired as much as possible, but the doctors wanted to replace it. They practically begged me. I didn’t have it done, and now I’m paying for it.

The accident was the worst I’ve ever been in. I very easily could have lost my life. They say I rolled out from the jump and wanted to get back on. I guess Gospel had returned to me and tried to fight off people who had come to help me. He was an odd horse; he was almost like a dog.

The trainer sold him a couple of weeks after the accident. As much as I despised that horse it hurt to see him go. His current owner has the same problem with him; he sinks his heels on her. She decided he’s going to be a dressage horse; I’m interested to see where that takes them. In the mean time I’m having my knee fixed, I’m looking for a world class jumper, and keeping my eyes on the Olympic gold.