Alanna's Perfect Horse: Chapter One

“Mama, Papa, the new horses are here!” Alanna called to her parents while running towards the horse trailer parking in the driveway to their stable. At ten she was already four-foot nine, with emerald green eyes and bouncy chestnut curls tamed for now into a braid. Her hair escaped any binding, even a French braid, which was supposed to keep her hair under her riding helmet.

She stopped beside the trailer, and her eighteen year old brother, Tim, climbed out of the cab of the trailer and gave her a bear hug. “My, you’ve grown,” he said with a smile, ruffling her hair. “Like a regular little filly!”

“Two and a half inches,” Alanna said proudly. “I’m almost as tall as Michael. He’s really mad!”

Michael, her thirteen year old brother, was quite irritated that his younger sister was almost as tall as he was, and Alanna loved it.

“Tim, you’re back!” her mother said, striding towards them. At five-foot four, Melanie Stuart was a petite but commanding figure, with the green eyes that she had given her daughter, and the same curly hair, though hers was a few shades lighter. She walked over to Tim, who kissed her cheek.

“I declare! You don’t look a day older than eighteen yourself today, Mama,” Tim remarked lightly, as he hugged her slight figure. “Really, Mama, you’ll have the boys at school trying to get you to go out with them if you keep looking like this! You’re just as pretty as ever. I’m going to have a time explaining that you’re my mother.”

Though almost thirty-seven, Melanie Stuart had the voice and body of one much younger, and people often mistook her on first acquaintance for one of her daughters.

Her husband joined her as they stood there and he remarked easily, “You’re right, Tim, she looks not a day older than when I married her, yet I grow older and grayer with every passing day.”

“Tyler,” Melanie said, rolling her eyes and laughing. “You need to stop saying that. If you are gray, then think what my grandmother would be described as. And I know that she wouldn’t like that description.”

Tyler slipped an arm around her slender waist and said, “Melly, I never could argue with those green eyes of yours. And that expression! You look just like Ally when she’s proved a point. I’ll never win.”

Melanie looked up at her tall, sandy-haired husband and smiled, her green eyes twinkling. “If I were Ally,” she said. “I’d feel sorry for her teachers.” Fourteen year old Allyson was a good student, but she exasperated her teachers with her well-spoken and exact debates on almost every point. Finally her teachers had started a debate club, of which Ally was president. Her mother, whom Ally resembled quite a bit, was much the same about many things—including debating and school subjects.

“And speaking of Ally,” she continued. “She is trying to do some geometry, and I’m even more confused than she is. You’re the math genius, you help her. I can take care of the horses with Tim and Alanna.”

“All right,” Tyler said, smiling. “I’ll help her. But make sure that the horses are all right. Be careful.”

“Tyler, have I ever not taken good care of a horse?” Melanie asked, looking into her husband’s hazel-green eyes. “I do have a degree in animal husbandry, you know. I can do it with Tim and Alanna’s help. Be off with you, now,” she ordered, pointing at the door of the house and grinning.

Melanie walked over to the trailer and unhitched the ramp. She walked up it and patted the rumps of the two rear horses to let them know where she was.

“Alanna, can you give me a hand here?” she asked her daughter. “Tim, open the stable door for us? Thank you. Alanna, up here beside this chestnut mare.” Alanna took her place beside the chestnut mare, who was docilely waiting.

“Tim? Are you getting the door, now?” Melanie looked over at her son, who was leaning against the trailer, watching her. He was smiling the way he often did when he thought something was funny.

“Which one?” Tim asked, looking at her with an almost blank face that made her feel like laughing at him.

“The big one on this side, you know which one, Tim,” Melanie said, laughing tolerantly. Tim was a clown, but he would never hurt the horses with his jokes.

Alanna took one of the four halters that her brother had placed on the hook beside the trailer door and gave it to her mother. Melanie walked between the two rear horses and slipped the halter over the chestnut’s head. Moving to the ramp, she began to guide the mare down the ramp, one hand on its side.

The bright-eyed Arabian mare looked at her surroundings as she backed out. A lead-line was attached to her halter, and Alanna led her to Tim. Next came a gentle bay Morgan mare. As Tim easily held the two mares quietly, a whinny came from the trailer. Melanie led out a brown gelding, who was the quietest of the first three horses, and another whinny was heard from the trailer.

Alanna went to help her mother, who was trying unsuccessfully to lead the final horse from the trailer. Alanna was surprised that the horse was protesting, for her mother was the best horseperson in four counties, and had had some vet training too.

As she peered curiously into the trailer, Alanna was amazed at the size of the horse. A large stallion, around sixteen hands tall, with a dapple gray coat and a gray mane. The horse embodied every storybook stallion she had ever imagined.

Melanie edged closer to him, but he lashed out with his back legs, barely missing her as she backed away from him. “I’ve never seen such a horse!” Melanie exclaimed quietly. “It’s as though he wants to come out, but will not because of me.”

“Let me try, Mama,” Alanna said. “Maybe he would like me better. It might be that he’s scared of adults. You’ve said that some horses are. Let me try.”

“If you’re sure, then I’ll let you,” Melanie said carefully. She knew that Alanna was almost as good with horses as she was, though she wouldn’t say so to her yet. Still, there was quite a bit of danger with greenbroken horses, especially stallions, and this one was big. “If you promise to be careful, and to move and stop trying if he tries to kick you or gets riled up, I’ll let you. Here’s a carrot.”

Alanna took the carrot and moved closer to the horse, trying not to show him that she was nervous. She patted his rump to let him know where she was, and ran her hand over his side as she approached his face. When she reached his face, she offered the carrot. He sniffed it aloofly, then took it and looked around for more. Since she didn’t have another carrot, she reached up to the blind spot between his eyes and scratched it. As she scratched it with her right hand, she rubbed his neck carefully with her lift hand. Nickering softly, he nuzzled her shoulder with his muzzle. Alanna smiled happily.

“Good boy, um….um….” she paused puzzledly. “Mama?” she called.

“What is it? Are you all right, Alanna?” Melanie asked worriedly. “Did you get hurt?” She leaned towards the front of the trailer. Her worries were allayed when she saw Alanna patting the tall stallion’s neck gently.

“Mama,” Alanna said again. “What is his name? Does he have one?”

“I don’t think so, Alanna,” Melanie replied. “But I do think that he should have one. Why don’t you name him? He likes you, and you have the same gift for names that I have always had.” She smiled at her often over-exuberant daughter, whose only goals in life were to have horses and to be like her mother.

“Oh, Mama! Can I name him? Really?!! Oh, thank you so much!” Alanna was so happy. She could name the beautiful stallion all by herself! Name him whatever she wanted to! She had never had this privilege before. This was the first time ever!

“Well?” asked her mother. “Have you thought of any good names?” She smiled as she saw her daughter’s face screw up in thought. Alanna said,

“I think that Windy is a good name, Mama; but he is so majestic that it doesn’t suit him. What do you think?”

“You are right, Alanna,” her mother agreed. “He should have a name that incorporates all of his qualities. Prince would work, but so many stallions are named Prince, and his name should be different.”

“Oh, Mama! I’ve got it!” Alanna exclaimed excitedly, visibly brightening. “His name should be Lightning. It’s regal, and it describes him perfectly. Doesn’t it, Mama?”

“Yes, Alanna, I believe it does. Well done. That name suits him perfectly. I do believe that you have a gift for names. I’ll order a nameplate for him. It should arrive soon enough that we won’t have students asking what his name is for more than a week or two. Do you think you can lead him to the empty stallion’s stall at the end of the stable? I don’t think that he would let me lead him,” Melanie said, smiling at her daughter. “Here, use this lead line, it’s longer.”

After Alanna led the stallion into the stable and to his stall, she rubbed him down and groomed him. Unwrapping his tail, she gasped in amazement at the silvery beauty of his long, elegant tail. She currycombed his coat and brushed it till it shone like liquid silver over his bunching muscles.

Humming as she worked, Alanna pulled a flake of hay off the bale, and then placed it in the feeding trough. She lugged the hose to his stall and filled the water bucket with fresh, cool water.

When she had finished that, she tapped his front right knee and he lifted his foot and let her clean his hoof. As she repeated with the other three legs, Alanna sighed happily. Normally her mother let her help with the horses, but not the new ones that were still frisky and green. This was wonderful. She finished up and led him to the paddock that was attached to his stall. Then, happily humming “Molly Malone”, she headed back to the house.