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of schooling.

Sometimes she was a little fresher, particularly when jumping students and trainers drove their horses through indoor courses at full tilt. Even at ten, Angie still loved to run and to jump, whenever I let her.

When the arena was crowded or noisy, if a horse headed straight for Angie, she would often spook or spin suddenly. Eventually, I learned to anticipate these responses.

Of course, whenever I put a young child in the saddle for a ride on the longe line, Angie was a well-behaved babysitter. Somehow, she knew the difference.

RIDING WITH PONY CLUBBERS

During the summer, the barn held Pony Club day camps for young children. One morning, I saddled Angie to ride during a Pony Club session. The kids were paired with gentle old ponies and sent packing along the rail of the indoor arena. Each pony diligently followed the tail in from of him, around and around the arena.

Angie and I took the inside track, giving the youngsters plenty of room. We went through the paces together, beginning with a warmup walk. We advanced to trot and then canter.

At the canter, Angie and I practiced loops and lead changes. Coming around one corner, she slipped and fell. Down we went.

I can still see the whole scene in my head. Angie was on the ground, with me aboard. For about a heartbeat, I pondered our options. I could bail out and hope that Angie would stand up soundly on her own. If so, I could try to hold onto the reins and prevent her from getting loose. Or I could attempt to stay with the horse and urge her to stand, if she was able to do so.

Looking around at the Pony Clubbers, with their loopy reins and shaky balance, I chose to stick with the horse. Turning loose a frightened (and probably injured) equine with all those beginning riders in the ring was simply not an option.

Still on the ground, I shifted my weight uphill on the horse, to try to spread my weight out evenly on her. I loosened the reins and squeezed Angie's sides with my thighs.

"C'mon, girl," I urged her. I prayed the horse would find the strength and the sanity to right herself. Could she do it, with me aboard?

Underneath me, my mare groaned and rocked and stood. She shook her sides to drop off the arena dirt. She straightened up and began to walk off, though somewhat unevenly. We walked a large loopy serpentine, and we were done. Clearly, Angie was hurt.

HURTING, BUT HEROIC

The equine vet arrived that afternoon to take x-rays and ultrasounds of Angie's right front leg. She had torn a tendon and would require six months of stall rest.

Even with this painful injury, Angie had played the heroine, rescuing me and remaining level-headed around all of those Pony Club kids.

Those six months of stall rest became half a year of horse hospitality, as I pampered my mare with grooming and goodies. She deserved it!

Learn more about this author, Linda Ann Nickerson.
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