Horse Games Read Online Free PDF Page B

riders departed by the time she got back. She was in luck. The place was almost deserted. She untacked Starlight, cleaned out his stall, and groomed him carefully. She also gave him his afternoon ration of grain and some fresh hay and water. He nodded his appreciation and nuzzled her neck when she gave him a carrot for a treat.
    When she was sure he was all taken care of, she hefted his saddle and bridle and took them back to the tack room.
    “That you, Carole?” Mrs. Reg asked from her office next door. Mrs. Reg was Max’s mother and the business manager of the stable. She was also a sort of unofficial mother to anyone she thought might need mothering from time to time.
    “Yes, it’s me,” Carole said.
    “Max said you’d disappeared from the practice. Everything okay?”
    “Yes ma’am,” Carole told her. “I just had to go visit a friend. She’s sick. And she lives in one of the houses on the other side of the fields.”
    “Hmmm,” Mrs. Reg responded.
    Carole lifted the saddle and put it on its rack. She straightened out the pad and made sure that the leathers were hanging straight. Then she untangled the bridle and hung it from its hook. As she was doing that, she saw that there was some mud on the bridle. It must have happened in polocrosse practice. She took it back down. It would only take her a second to clean it. She grabbed the saddle soap and a sponge and sat down to do the quick job.
    Mrs. Reg came in and sat down beside her. “It’s a good thing you’re cleaning that now,” she said. “If you wait until the next time you ride—”
    “I know, I know,” Carole said with a good-natured laugh. “If you clean your tack every day you’ll never have a problem.” She repeated what she had been told hundreds of times by Max and Mrs. Reg. She knew it was a good lesson.
    “Well, some things have to be taken care of right away. Some things just take time, you know.” Mrs. Reg picked up a sponge and began cleaning the other end of the bridle for Carole. She talked as she cleaned.
    “Reminds me of a horse we had here once,” Mrs. Reg began. She was famous for her stories. They always had to do with horses and riders from long ago, but they usually also had to do with a problem or a situation that was happening right then.
    “This horse belonged to the stable,” Mrs. Reg continued.“Max, my husband, just loved that guy. I sometimes thought it was because they were both stubborn. He was an Appaloosa, bred for the rigors of the plains. Anyway, he was one of the best trail horses we ever had. He’d take riders out for hours at a time and never get fussy or anything. At the end of a long trail ride, when all the other horses would start hurrying to get back to the barn, this old fellow would just walk at his own leisurely pace. Max sometimes even hurried him up, just to see if he would act like the other horses, but it never worked. Then Max would put him in his stall, groom him and everything, and put a bucket of water in there for him. All the other horses would guzzle their water. Not this fellow.”
    Mrs. Reg finished the strap she was working on. She put down her sponge and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
    “Max got worried about how he wouldn’t drink after a long ride. Then one day, he asked the vet about it. The vet said, ‘When you get there in the morning, is the water gone?’ Max told him it was. ‘Then what are you worried about?’ ”
    Mrs. Reg put her hands on her knees then and stood up. The story was over—at least as much of it as Mrs. Reg was going to tell. One of the most challenging things about listening to Mrs. Reg’s stories was figuring out what they were really about. As Mrs. Reg returned to her office,Carole thought about the Appaloosa who wouldn’t drink when his bucket was filled.
    “Oh!” Carole said, suddenly getting it.
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink, and as long as he isn’t getting dehydrated, leave him alone
. That had