A Summer Without Horses by Bonnie Bryant

wading through the grass, it would take me twenty. Then, once I reached the woods, I’d be even worse off because there are so many choices, though I’d go to the quarry first and that was about two miles into the woods—another forty-five minutes on foot.
    The choices were not exactly great. I could take hours and hours on foot to accomplish exactly nothing, or I could ride. On horseback, it’d be a cinch to find them within about a half hour, no matter where they were, especially if I rode Topside, who could run like the wind.
    If
I could sit down.
    But that was the point, wasn’t it? I couldn’t sit down? On the other hand, I didn’t have a choice about riding; I had to do it. There are some things that can be done on horseback better than any other way and looking for riders in the woods was one of them. I
had
to ride.
    That decided, I worked on how I was going to do it. The answer was staring me in the face because I’d been working on it very hard with the young riders just a short time before. I would ride in the three-point position. It would tire my legs, but tiring my legs was a lot better than bruising my seating area any further. I didn’t waste any more time.
    I grabbed Topside’s tack, took him out of his stall, led him to the entrance to the stable, and mounted—very carefully. Once I had both feet in the stirrups, I did the most sensible thing I’d done in days: I touched the good-luck horseshoe. Now was the time when I needed good luck more than I’d ever needed it before, and not just for myself.
    I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, nudged Topside with my calves, and we were off.

I’ VE ALWAYS THOUGHT Topside was the smartest horse in the world. I only have to tell him things once and he gets the idea and does it even better than I would have told him to do it if I’d had to tell him a second time. We soared across the fields, stopping only very briefly to open gates and then close them behind us. No matter how bad an emergency is, it can only be made worse by leaving gates open.
    In spite of what you may think of me based on what you’ve already learned, I’m a pretty practical person—though not as practical as Lisa—and my practical side told me to assume the worst and head for the quarry, where the biggest trouble could lie.
    Although I was very worried about the kids and I was worried about my ability to ride for an extended period oftime in the standing-up position and even more worried about how much it would hurt if I made a mistake and sat down, I was not so worried about any of those things that I couldn’t appreciate what a wonderful time I was having riding Topside.
    Luckily for me, Topside has marvelous gaits. He took up a trot that lifted his silky black mane from his neck in the wind and that sped us across the field. When the way seemed clear, I signaled for a canter and we took off. The scents of warm sunshine and fresh grass mingled with the rich, pungent smell of Topside and his leather tack. Breezes brushed against my cheek. The landscape rushed by. After so many days without riding it felt wonderful.
    It also made me think of Lisa and Carole and how much I wished they could have been there with me, both to appreciate how wonderful it was to ride and to help me with the little kids just in case they were in trouble.
    Something nagged at my conscience right then, but I was enjoying myself too much to wonder what it was. It would come back to me later, I knew.
    When we entered the woods, we slowed to a trot and then a walk as the path became narrower and more rocky. I’d spent hours in the woods with Lisa and Carole and I knew every nook and cranny of every trail. I headed for the piney woods near the quarry, where I’d made the witch cast her spell and where I’d told the kids they might find Merlin. I knew they wouldn’t find Merlin. I
hoped
they wouldn’t find a coyote.
    Topside climbed the last hill approaching the quarry and then slowed and