Rules for Riders by author Natalie Scott

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NATALIE SCOTT

KING

1 I

can still remember the first time I saw him… He’s seventeen hands high, a dark bay, almost black, a white star on his forehead, and four white socks on his hind legs. I’m fifteen years old when I spy King bucking and rearing and giving the grooms a terrible time. I think he might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I point straight at him, “I want that horse.” My father rolls his eyes. “No, he’s wild. You just want him because he’s difficult like you.” We’re at the O’Rileys on a crisp Sunday morning. Jim O’Riley winks at me. “For God’s sake, Colonel, everyone knows you made a ton of money in the stock market. Let her have the damn horse.” “I said no! Besides, who’ll train her?” “I will,” Billy O’Riley, Jim’s oldest son, steps forward. His clear green eyes are fixed on King. “He’s a warm blood, sir, from Holland. We just bought him.” “Listen, son,” He growls at Billy. “I don’t care if he’s from friggin’ Japan! For God’s sake you’re only a couple of years older than my daughter.”


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RULES FOR RIDERS

Jim owns Starlight stables. He’s our neighbor and one of the best horse trainers in Connecticut. Yet my father, a retired colonel remains unconvinced. We all stand there watching, while his face turns bright red with rage. There’s no way in hell he's going to let me have the horse now. That would be too perfect. Instead, he shocks the pants off of me! “Fine, but if you break your neck, don’t blame me.” First thing the next morning I race over to the O’Rileys. I sprint the whole way. By the time I reach the stables, I’m out of breath. Billy’s busy brushing down his horse, Stargazer. I walk over to King and stroke his mane. Then I pull a sugar cube out of my pocket. “Hey, boy.” Billy looks up. “That’s funny, he doesn’t usually take to people so quickly. So, do you want to take a ride?” God, I’ve been riding since I was six! Okay, I admit it—Billy’s a hottie. I’ve had a crush on him forever. But it makes me crazy the way he still treats me like a little kid. He leans closer and places his hands firmly on his hips. “Bebe, if I’m going to train you, there are rules for riders. The first one’s commitment. Without it, none of the other rules exist. If I agree to train you, you’ve got to give me 100 percent.” I stare right back at him, giving him my best killer smile. “I’m all yours!” For the next few weeks, he insists I do nothing but flat work. He hardly lets me ride across the yard without making sure I am doing it properly. Unlike the colonel, Billy brings out the best in me and plays down the worst. Whatever I lack, he teaches me with infinite slowness; guiding King and me so we both gain confidence. “That’s right. Keep your back straight, hold your head up, shoulders back.” I learn from Billy that difficult horses become easy once you know how to handle them. The colonel’s threats don’t scare me. Instead, they fuel me, making me even more determined to succeed. Then, one morning Billy sneaks up behind me. I can feel his breath against my neck. When I turn around, he has an amused look on his face. “So, do you want to ride? Isn’t that what you’ve been dying to do—jump every fence this side of Connecticut?”


NATALIE SCOTT

3

I have this wild urge to hug him. Instead, I saddle up King. “C’mon, boy.” “Tell me what you’ve learned when you get back!” he shouts right before I take off.


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RULES FOR RIDERS

RIDING WITH BILLY

2 I

t’s early morning, the sun comes up to meet the sky. As soon as I put my foot in the stirrup, I know exactly who I am and where I’m going. All my fears and insecurities seem to melt away. The sensation of riding King over takes me, and I surrender to it, completely overcome by its intensity. With every jump, I become more invincible. “So, what did you learn?” he asks when I return from my ride. “I can’t explain it. I just know it. It feels so right. Like every fiber in my being is so happy to be alive.” He smiles, “That’s gratitude, the second rule. The one we always forget. Okay, rule number three—discipline. Be here tomorrow at six.” “Six in the morning?” “You heard me. It’s the toughest rule, but with the biggest payoff. You want this, don’t you?” There is something about Billy. He dares me to dream. He takes me to a place where anything’s possible—like some magical city I’ve always imagined but never visited. I lock eyes with him again. “I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.” He smiles, as if he’s mocking me. It’s annoying and reassuring all at the same time.


NATALIE SCOTT

5

I rise at the crack of dawn every morning. Freezing cold weather is not an obstacle. I braid my hair, polish my boots, throw on a T-­‐shirt and jodhpurs, and rush to meet Billy. Day after day, I come home bruised and sore. Every bone in my body aches, yet I am strangely content. My life is right on track until the day I return to school. Reality hits me like a speeding train when I see Tommy Wilkes grab my little brother, Kevin, around the neck. He’s a mean little shit with flat grey eyes. He pushes my brother to the ground and spits on him. Finally, I decide to step in, “Leave him alone.” Since I’m a foot taller than his two friends, they back off—but not Tommy. He takes a step closer and swings at me, but I duck. I lunge at him like a wild animal. Then I twist his arm behind his back, sit on top of him and rub his face in the mud. “Any of you douche bags touch him again, I’ll kick you from here to Nebraska. C’mon Kev.” I put my arm around his shoulder. I look over at Tommy, who’s still face down in the mud. I pick him up by his hair. “If you lay a finger on him again, I swear I’ll kill you.” My reputation spreads quickly, filtering back to the colonel. He deals with the situation the way he deals with everything—swiftly. Without warning, my brother’s to be packed off to boarding school. I watch helplessly, waiting for the next axe to fall. God! He’s like some crazed commando in one of those war movies he loves to watch on TV. I swear, even though he’s retired, he still lives his life like he’s in the military. Besides playing the stock market and his secret meetings at the club, I haven’t a clue what he does. Meanwhile, my mother sits around in her bathrobe drinking all day. My brother’s the only one I can really talk to. He’s two years younger than me with fair hair and deep blue eyes that look right through you. We might look totally similar, but we’re so different. I know there’s bullying issues, but boarding school, it’s just so extreme. Pretty much like everything my father does. “I love you Kev. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Pinkie swear!” We reach out to each other, linking our fingers, just like we did when we were little kids. What am I going to do without him? I step forward and give him a hug; but the more I hold him, the more I feel him slipping away, leaving me with this unbearable sense of loss.


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RULES FOR RIDERS

Sensing my anxiety, he whispers, “Bebe, you did me a favor. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. Now c’mon, let’s get out of here. The colonel’s probably on the war path by now.” When we walk outside, I see my father sitting in his car, red faced and seething. My mother sits next to him. Picture Barbie twenty years later, heavily sedated and smelling like gin. Something tells me this is going to be a really long drive with only the deafening silence to keep me company. Because that’s the way our family deals with our problems. We don’t. We both jump in the back seat and the colonel speeds off.


NATALIE SCOTT

7

THE O’RILEYS

I

3

have been given a reprieve. I am to be homeschooled with the O’Reilys. I report for duty, no pun intended, on a rainy afternoon in January. What strikes me about the O’Riley girls is their bright red hair. They’re all copper red like their mother, Maggie. Billy’s a reddish blonde, the spitting image of his dad. Jack, the youngest, has golden blonde hair like me. Jim and Billy are on their way to a horse auction. Maggie’s making a peach pie in the kitchen. The girls, Margie, Mary, Katy, and Careen, are all in the living room, glued to the TV watching Titanic. Little Jack, barely three, pummels towards me when I enter the room. “I’m king of the world,” he squeals, grabbing me around the legs, not letting go until he sees the family dog, Rufus, and tries to ride him like a horse. That’s the thing I love most about the O’Rileys: the way they love each other and their animals, the smell of home-­‐cooked meals swirling through their kitchen, and the way they all like to gather around the fireplace in the living room. But, if I had to pick a favorite time, it’s the crack of dawn. That’s when Billy and I go riding, as the pale yellow sun creeps through the clouds and rises into the morning sky. “Come on,” whispers Billy, “I’ll race you.”


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RULES FOR RIDERS

I chase after him. We’re neck and neck. At first I think he’ll let me win. Gradually I become more daring, King and I streaking past him. I feel like I’m flying. Every day after our lessons, we race out of the house, and jump on our horses, and we ride from late afternoons to early evenings. One afternoon, I look over at Billy. “Remember how everyone said King was trouble? Look at him now. He’s not afraid of anything.” “Don’t be so sure,” he warns me. “You wait long enough, everybody’s scared of something.” . . . . . It rains for three days straight. Finally the gray clouds begin to shift and the sun comes out to flirt with the sky. I’m wrapped in a blanket sitting by the fire. Billy asks if I want to go riding. I shake my head, giving him some lame excuse how it’s damp and cold outside. “Don’t give me that shit,” he snaps, “If you really want to compete, you have to learn to ride through the rain, the sun, and whatever else you’re feeling.” I nod reluctantly and go up to my room to change. When I’m ready, we walk out of the house and head to the barn. We saddle up our horses and begin our ride. I glance over at the stream near the Johnson’s farm. I can’t believe it! The rain has turned it into a raging river. “Bebe, dare you to jump it.” “You’re on!” Billy’s horse, Stargazer, makes a flying leap, clearing the water easily. I speed up, but just as I’m about to make the jump, King tenses up. He rears his hind legs and begins kicking and bucking furiously while I desperately cling to the reigns. It’s no use. I go plunging into the muddy water head first while everything around me goes black. The next thing I know, I am sprawled across the bank of the river like a broken doll. Billy’s mouth is on mine. “C’mon, breathe,” he says pressing his hands to my chest. Water splutters out of my mouth and I’m able to breathe on my own. I begin to cry. Billy brushes the wet hair from my face. He quickly ties King and Stargazer to a tree before he returns. “Bebe, I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay. Can you sit up?”


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I try, but my head throbs. I feel a shooting pain through my left shoulder, and I lie back down on the ground in agony. Before I know it, he lifts me up into his arms and carries me to the Johnson’s farm. Every movement is excruciating. Old Man Johnson, who looks like he’s a hundred years old, opens the door. “What in God’s name?” He calls his wife, “Grace, call an ambulance and hurry!”


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