Elise began by just walking the horse around the arena for about ten minutes. She used this time as would any athlete to warm up the horse, but also to get his mind in work mode. Each stride, although it was just a walk, was deliberate and had purpose.
Karl called to her as she passed him, “Maintain a long rein, but have the horse march using his hind end more. Engage! Allow the rest of his body to become lighter and balanced. Yes, better!”
The pair then progressed to a posting trot, trying to get the horse to loosen up his body and reach more through his movements. Karl had them execute a series of serpentines back and forth across the ring, Elise using her legs, reins, and eyes to direct and engage the horse. As the pair progressed to the sitting trot, Karl called out, “Make the horse trot more forward. Go!” he shouted, lifting his arms. “You must create the required energy and power.”
Charles was impressed with Elise’s skills. She had a relaxed seat, nice and loose, and made the transitions appear effortless. He appreciated the years of training and competition it took to make it look like she was just sitting on the horse for a ride. As for the horse, though still young at nine years of age, he had developed the powerful hindquarters and that something indefinable that smacked of a winner. He couldn’t take his eyes from him.
Watching them work, Charles felt that he too was learning lessons from listening to this brilliant young trainer and watching how Elise executed his orders with finesse. The competitive spirit sparked inside of him as he saw how one could perfect each transition, like a golfer perfecting his swing. The slightest change could make a world of difference.
Elise crossed the arena at a canter, turning at the corner and riding around through the middle to begin executing a spiral that would gradually become smaller and smaller until the horse would perform a pirouette.
Charles moved to stand beside Grace. She turned her head, and her dark eyes were full of questions. “You okay this morning?”
It was a loaded question. They both knew it. Charles let a smile ease across his face and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I’m good.”
She looked back at him dubiously, then turned again to watch Elise.
Gerta came to stand beside them. After perfunctory good mornings, they all watched Elise ride Whirlwind.
“It’s sloppy,” Gerta said in judgment.
“I think she looks great,” Charles said.
Gerta ignored his opinion. She exhaled sharply. “I think he’s too much horse for her.”
“Maybe,” Charles said. “That’s a lot of horse for most anyone.”
“No,” Gerta said sharply. “It’s not the horse.”
Charles cast an assessing glance at Gerta. Her lips were pinched with displeasure.
As if hearing her judgment, Whirlwind suddenly grew impatient with the exercise. He was raising his head, pinning his ears, and swishing his tail. All indications to Charles that he was in some pain. When the horse lost his step and kicked out behind, Charles sucked in his breath.
Flustered, Elise became rougher with her hands, locking her reins against his mouth rather than allowing, and jabbing her long spurs into his sides.
Karl was beginning to shout at Elise now. “Stop fighting with him! You need to allow. Stop and organize. Then start the exercise again.”
Elise’s cheeks were pink from the battle of wills. When she rode past, Charles could see beads of sweat. The horse’s nostrils were flared, his mouth was open, and he appeared to be breathing fire. Charles was new to dressage, but even he could see that the tension was mounting. Perhaps it was that Elise was already on edge from her testy interchange with her mother. Or that both horse and rider were dealing with the long journey and new surroundings. And, of course, there was the pressure on Elise of trying to impress her hosts and childhood friend. He knew well that horses easily sensed their riders’ stress and anxiety. Some horses were able to ignore it and work through it. But others—more sensitive horses like Whirlwind—became unsettled and agitated themselves.
Karl asked Elise to move again from the trot to the canter. Whirlwind had cooperated relatively well, but when Elise asked more of him, he’d had enough. The great animal suddenly reared up on his hind legs. Elise held tight to the reins as his front hooves pawed the air.
Everyone took a step back, breaths held. Elise held on, but Whirlwind seemed determined to get her off his back. He landed back on his front feet, dipped his shoulder, and kicked out both of his rear legs, sending her flying over his head.
Everyone gasped. Charles felt Gerta’s hand grip his arm. Elise landed hard on her back, rolling in the dirt to a stop.
Karl hurried to Whirlwind, who was standing by Elise admiring his work, and reached up to grab the reins. Whirlwind seemed almost relieved to have Karl take hold. He pranced but didn’t rear up. Gerta and Moira ran to Elise, who had risen to a sitting position and was spitting dirt from her mouth.
“Are you all right?” Moira called.
“Ist alles okay?” Gerta asked, bending toward her daughter, her voice high with worry.
Elise took Moira’s arm and rose, then swiped the dirt from her pants. She also brushed away Gerta’s outstretched hand. Her cheeks flaming in embarrassment, she reared on her mother. “I’m done with that horse!” she shouted.
Gerta stood back, eyes wide.
Elise cast a sharp, angry look at Whirlwind. It looked like the horse gave an angry look right back. Elise turned on her heel and stomped from the ring. “That’s it!” she fired as a parting shot.
Everyone stood in silence for a moment, not sure of what to do next. Only Whirlwind paced with Karl, cooling down. Moira watched the horse with her hands on her hips, eyes squinted.
“I told you he was off today,” Karl told Gerta with a flare of anger. “This storm has made everyone anxious. He feels that.”
“I think it’s more than that. He’s got a problem,” Moira said, walking closer to them. She indicated Whirlwind’s hindquarters. “Look how he favors that hind leg. And how he shifts his weight rapidly from one foot to the other.”
“Walk him,” Gerta ordered.
As Karl walked Whirlwind away, Gerta studied the animal in silence, her hand at her chin. After a moment she called out to Karl, “She’s right.” She turned to Moira and said politely, “Thank you, Moira. You are very observant. Very good.” Then to Karl, “You should have noticed that. Call the vet immediately. I want him checked out today. Verstehen Sie?”
Karl lifted his hand in a quick acknowledgment, then led Whirlwind to the gate, gently and without hurry. Whirlwind followed quietly, not balking or hesitating, eager to return to the barn.
* * *
Hannah couldn’t find Angel anywhere. She had a phone conference call in half an hour and she needed to get back to the lake house where all her papers and files were. Running out of time, she asked Grace to tell him she’d be back for him and dashed to the Audi to head for the lake house.
She made her way down the winding tar and gravel drive through Freehold Farm, her mind filled with the incredible actions of the morning. She’d been stunned to see the power of Whirlwind. Hannah loved to ride, but she was certain she wasn’t up to the task of riding such a spirited horse. Elise did a remarkable job handling him, but even she was no match for the horse’s determination to get her off his back. It was like watching someone flick a fly from their shoulder. In her experience, a horse only behaved like that when something was wrong. Maybe the saddle was askew. Or perhaps he’d sustained an injury on the trip. She was glad Gerta had called a vet.