As Trinity slid smoothly to the ground, Jolie snorted and tossed her head, but she had done this for years. She didn’t even take so much as a step. Horse school clearly works!
But then a bolt of lightning blazed like fire, seemingly right at us, and the sky lit up. I’d never actually watched lightning this close. It crackled bright white against the almost-black sky. It was actually really pretty.
But what followed—two more jags of lightning—wasn’t. The thunder, no longer a low rumble, but a huge ka-boom, sent Jolie’s ears twitching. Karyn’s horse pawed the ground.
Trinity unfastened my legs, then ran to grab one of the stepladders leaning against a stable door so she could climb up and unhook me. Just as I was thinking how Trinity pretty much knew how to do anything, my tingly calves got even more tingly. And my legs did what they always seemed to do—they kicked!
Yep. My legs kicked, then kicked again, right into Jolie’s sides. Exactly the way Trinity had gotten Jolie into a trot. So Jolie listened to my legs, and she did what she’d been taught—she trotted!
And my legs—they did it again! Because that’s kind of what my legs do!
SO. SHE. RAN!!
I heard Jeremiah yell, “Hey! Runaway horse! It’s Melody!”
Too late.
Jolie was pounding toward the path we’d just come back from, at full canter. With me firmly strapped into my saddle. And Trinity running after us, screaming my name with shock and alarm and I guess helplessness.
But I was gone.
CHAPTER 39
I had to stay calm. I had to stay calm. Nothing will happen to me if Jolie stays on the path, I told myself. And Jolie would get tired, right? The rain beat down. I was soaked—those cute jeans and new green shirt were a sopping mess. Jolie didn’t care. I guess horses like being in the rain—it probably cools them off. But I’ve got some awful memories of rainy days and almost tragedies.
No! No! No! I wasn’t going to go there….
I bounced with Jolie’s every stride, knowing I couldn’t fall off, but wondering where this horse might decide to go. If she stays on the path, we’ll be okay, I told myself again. I said it—we’ll be okay—like a mantra.
Still, terror crept up my throat. I stuffed it back down. Jolie’s ears went flat against her head at the next rumble of thunder, closer still. Trees above me swayed—just like I was swaying in my seat. I knew I was securely fastened into this special saddle—they had me buckled into place like I was a passenger in a spaceship. But we had to stop!
Then I tried to think what Trinity would do.
The reins, I told myself. The reins. Why my hands and thumbs decided to cooperate at that moment I do not know, but they did. Well, one hand did, but one was all I needed. So I did what I’d seen Trinity do. I pulled the reins. Just a little. Was it enough? I couldn’t get a strong enough grip to pull harder. I tried again. I pulled.
Then I felt it—Jolie, almost imperceptibly, slowing down.
I pulled again. Incredibly, Jolie slowed to a trot. Rain was streaming off her neck, her mane slick.
The rain pelted, the sky growled. I pulled once more. And slowly, slowly, Jolie slowed her pace to a walk. Oh, how I wanted to tell her she was a good horse. I settled for humming. I hummed so stinkin’ loud, Jolie’s ears flickered this way and that. So I thought, Now, how do I make this horse turn around?
I tugged gently to the right, willing my hands to hang on to those reins.
And.
She.
Turned.
Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Okay. Ohhhkay! What next? What next? I wanted to wipe the wet from my face, but no way was I letting go of the reins—what if I couldn’t grab them again?
I had no idea where we were, or where to go, or how to get back. But then it dawned on me that Jolie must have done this ride a thousand times. She was born here! She’d know the way back to camp! Of course she would. So I let her do just that.
And Jolie clip-splash-clopped down the well-worn path, which I hoped, I prayed, led back to camp. She moseyed along as if we were on a Sunday drive.
As we rode, between yelling at myself not to cry, I argued with myself over whether I should ever tell my parents about this. They’d never let me ride again.
That was when I heard Trinity and Lulu screaming my name. I tried to answer, but my voice doesn’t have a lot of volume. Jolie sure heard them, though. Her ears flicked and she picked up her pace.
CHAPTER 40
When Trinity finally saw me, she sobbed, “Oh, Melody!” from the horse she was on. And that was what nearly made me cry!
“Are you okay?” Lulu asked breathlessly. “Are you hurt?” It seemed like they were moving toward me in slow motion. I couldn’t figure out why until it occurred to me that they probably didn’t want to spook Jolie and send her racing off again.
Trinity, her voice hoarse with anguish, cried out, “Are you cut anywhere? Bleeding? Anything broken?” I wish I could have told them I was perfectly fine—just wet. I shook my head no, smiled, even tried to wave. I’m fine! I’m fine! I said in my head.
Jolie neighed to the other horses, ridiculously calm, as if she’d just decided to go on a rainy-day stroll—no big deal.
But as soon as they reached us, Trinity and Lulu couldn’t dismount quickly enough. As they did, it occurred to me that neither of them had a way to get onto the back of Jolie. They’d been so anxious to rescue me that they hadn’t thought of what to do when they found me!
Trinity untangled Jolie’s reins from my hands, which, by the way, deserved a medal themselves. She brushed tears—or was it rain?—from her face. Truth!
“You sure you’re okay, girlfriend?” She checked my legs, the saddle, the reins. I just kept smiling my I am okay smile and hoped it translated.
I could tell she was calming down because she finally said, “Girl, you are a hot mess! But no worries! You just got a free daytime shower! No extra charge!”