Leopard's Kin Page 9

  Lori continued to slam the metal together, unnerved by the cat’s eerie stillness, hoping against hope that it would turn and run. But it didn’t. It just continued to sit there silently, its enormous, fuzzy tail flicking in irritation at the noise. A hardness crept into the animal’s eyes, almost as though it were annoyed and frustrated at her feeble attempts to drive it away. Are you about through with that? it seemed to say.

  Lori stopped abruptly, feeling foolish now at her actions. She held the pot and pan with wrists gone suddenly limp and glanced around, wondering what to do next. Obviously the extinguisher couldn’t be used until the animal was almost on her – she would have to keep an eye on the creature and prepare for a massive pounce to come from across the river. With the distance the snow leopard had just travelled she was certain it would only take one powerful leap for the cat to be upon her.

  But instead the leopard remained where it was, intently watching her with those mesmerizing eyes, its glorious, regal head moving imperceptibly. Sizing her up.

  Lori swallowed, uncertain what to do. She didn’t want to draw attention to movement – she knew that was Lesson #1 in survival skills against a lethal predator of this nature: don’t move. So she stood there, staring back at the animal, feeling an alarming sense of vertigo beginning as the leopard’s eyes drew her in. Her skin went prickly, as though a fever had just broken, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire. She exhaled shakily and licked her dry lips. Unaware, her fingers let loose and the pot and pan slipped to the ground at her feet; moments later the extinguisher tucked under her arm did the same.

  As though it were a signal, the snow leopard stood at that and giving a tremendous stretch reminiscent of the ones Luke and Leia did in Lori’s waking state, it turned and began to walk back towards the way it had come. It paused one time and turning with the fluid movement of a snake, it gave her another long, hard look in invitation. Come, it said, without saying a word.

  Lori followed it – she had no choice but to heed that bidding. She sloshed through the stream, unaware of the cold water, and up the other side, always following about ten feet behind the big cat, the white tip to its thick rope of a tail always luring her on. They walked for miles, the leopard going at a much slower pace than it had come to get her, until they passed the volcano, winding their way along the narrow path.

  Lori noticed that they were heading south-east, into the night, away from the setting sun. She gave no further thought to how she would survive without food or shelter – she just followed the snow leopard into the dark until the white-tipped tail was no longer visible and the woman and the cat became one with the blackness around them.

  **********

  She woke the next morning, bemused by what it all meant. Surely there was symbolism of a monumental nature in such a dream, but she couldn’t figure out what it stood for. Pan-handling gold? A volcano? Obviously the snow leopard was a subconscious remainder from her trip to the zoo, but the rest she couldn’t piece together. She shrugged her shoulders as she brushed her teeth by the bathroom sink, and made a mental note to see what she could find in her dream dictionary that might explain it.

  In the meantime, she had more pressing concerns, like three hungry horses waiting to be fed. She finished with the brushing and flossing, did a quick clean of the litter box in the upstairs bathroom, and ran a towel across the water drops on the countertop.

  It was only as she was about to shut off the bathroom light that she noticed the two long, grey hairs at her right temple. She made a small noise of amazed disgust and leaned over the counter to look in the mirror. She was only 21! She couldn’t be turning grey already! She examined them in consternation and viciously yanked them out with a quick tug.

  “Not ready for that yet,” she muttered as she flicked the light off.

  Chapter 7

  Two weeks later, there were eight grey hairs where Lori had yanked the two. She stared at them in the mirror - disbelieving - then sighed in exasperation. She was just reaching up to pull them out when she stopped her hand. What if even more would come back the more she yanked? What if she were damaging the roots by pulling them out?

  She decided not to tempt fate and instead pulled another strand of jet black hair down over the top of them, trying to disguise the grey. She might have to get creative with hair styles in future if this continued, since her customary way of going about life was in a ponytail. That, however, would expose her grey to the world. Today she was with Shannon – they were going to ride Rick’s filly for the first time – so at least she wouldn’t have to worry about it now. Shannon wouldn’t really care and Lori would have her trusty cowboy hat on to help cover them up, anyway.

  It was a surprisingly warm day for September; with the kids newly-returned to school, they would probably be taking advantage of the air conditioning provided in the classroom. Lori wasn’t so lucky – her house was stifling by noon so she headed outside with a case of bottled water and dumped them into a cooler by the roundpen along with some ice. Shannon was already there, doing some yoga stretches and watching the filly as she pranced around the enclosure.

  “When did you get here?” Lori asked as she flipped the lid shut on the cooler and picked up the handy stick. This was the first time the two ladies had worked together, breaking a colt, and they had discussed the day in detail on the phone the night before. Since Shannon was agreed to be the better rider and Lori had done all the groundwork with the mare so far, Shannon would be onboard as the passenger while Lori directed the horse’s direction from the ground.

  “Oh, about ten minutes ago, I guess. I thought I’d limber up first since I was stiff from riding in the car.” Shannon bent over and touched her toes in a long hamstring stretch. “How’s she been so far?”

  Lori looked at the filly, who was trotting the circle, inquisitive and alert at her surroundings. “She’s a real sweetheart. She tries so hard to please you – but sometimes she’s so busy trying that she doesn’t pay attention to what you’re asking. She has a tendency to try to guess what you’re going to ask next, so we’ll have to keep things nice and slow with her. Let’s just plan on doing a lot of circles at the start and a lot of changes of direction so we keep her mind busy.”

  Shannon nodded while fastening the chinstrap on her riding helmet. “And how has she taken to the saddle?”

  “Real good. No significant bucking at all – just a few little jumps the first time I saddled her and now she’s acting like she’s been saddled every day for the last two years. But really, I think this is the fifth time I’ve had one on her.”

  Lori opened the gate, walked into the roundpen and fastened it behind her. “Let me just do a bit of groundwork with her first and then I’d like to have you come in and we’ll do some desensitizing with you on the fence, up by her head. I want her to get used to seeing humans up there above her eye before you get on.”

  The two women had been around horses their whole lives and knew that you didn’t wear a watch when introducing a green horse to its first rider. It took as long as it took and trying to force the experience into a timeline always ended in disastrous results. They did a variety of desensitizing-in-motion exercises with the liver chestnut for almost an hour before they both felt she was ready to have a rider on her back.

  While Shannon stood in the middle of the roundpen and flexed the mare’s head from side to side with a hackamore on, Lori tied a plastic bag to her training stick then came back to the duo. The plastic bag served two purposes: it would get the filly’s attention when Shannon started riding her and it would also serve as a further desensitizing exercise to white things that made a lot of noise. It wasn’t the first time the filly had seen the plastic bag, but Lori hadn’t been using it much the last couple of weeks.

  Shannon pulled the filly’s head back around to her left shoulder and held it tightly there while putting her foot in the stirrup. Mounting and dismounting a horse were two of
the most dangerous times while riding because the rider was particularly vulnerable until she got into position. It was one thing to be astride and using your balance, legs and arms to stay on the horse; it was quite another to be caught with one foot stuck in a stirrup, hanging off the side of the horse, while your other leg was hauled along the ground and you were being either dragged or trampled. With this in mind, Shannon kept a tight grip on the filly’s turned head and bounced up and down near her shoulder so the horse wouldn’t be surprised by any movement.

  Slapping the saddle and making as much noise as possible, she continued bouncing alongside and holding the filly’s head tight to her shoulder until she saw the mare relax, then she stopped and let her look forward again. She repeated that a few times then stepped up in the stirrup and lay across the saddle, touching the filly on the other side. She still didn’t swing the other leg over – all she wanted was for the filly to get used to seeing the same human out of both eyes above and behind her. If the horse overreacted and decided to run, Shannon could quickly step out of the stirrup; by keeping the filly’s head tipped towards her, she could also ensure she didn’t get kicked by the back legs.

  They did that a few times, as well, until Shannon felt certain the filly was used to the image and feel of someone hanging off of her. She looked at Lori and nodded.

  “Okay, this time, I’m going to swing over and we’ll go for a ride.”

  Lori returned Shannon’s smile. “Okay. Good luck. Remember to flex her back and forth some more and then when you’re ready, we’ll start spiralling her out in circles.”

  Preparation meant everything. Lori had had some dramatic falls in her time when she hadn’t prepared herself or the horse properly and she had learned from those mistakes. Today’s session went as smoothly as though they had been riding the filly for months and it was because Lori had taken the time to prepare the filly beforehand.

  The 2-year-old was clumsy and stiff, certainly – she had never had to compensate for a human’s weight on her back and it meant a whole different way of walking, trotting and cantering when somebody was there. But she wasn’t afraid of what was happening and she followed Lori’s cues to turn, go faster and slow down when asked because she’d seen them a hundred times before. There was no rodeo bucking, no refusals to go forward, no balking when Shannon moved around on top of her as they cantered along. She took everything in stride and the calm look in her eye never altered.

  It wasn’t a long ride. The key to success was to quit while things were going well and Lori was satisfied with the filly’s performance after 20 minutes of work in the ring. She signalled to Shannon to bring the filly back to the center of the roundpen, where they finished with some more flexing while the mare got her breath back. Then Shannon did some more desensitizing to the motion of a human getting off a horse by rocking back and forth over her withers, before stepping off up by the filly’s shoulder and her head flexed once again to the left.

  Lots of pats, treats and congratulations followed and the women hosed the filly off before leaving her tied to a ring in the arena for awhile to think about what had just happened. They stayed nearby, drinking water and watching her to make sure she didn’t injure herself while they talked about the success.

  “Could you come back tomorrow, then, Shannon and we’ll do one more day with me working her from the ground while you ride? I think after that I should be able to start riding her alone.”

  “Sure, no problem,” the little brown-haired woman affirmed. “She’s a lot of fun and you did a fantastic job with her, Lori. I’m amazed at how well you get these horses trained in such a short amount of time.”

  Lori shrugged in embarrassment. “It’s no big deal, really. I just follow what a lot of the other trainers and clinicians tell you.”

  Shannon snorted. “Lori, I could watch those same people – and I have – every day for a year and I still wouldn’t get the results you do. You have a gift, woman – a natural ability to read what they need all the time. That’s rare and you should be proud of it.”

  Lori was silent, absorbing the compliment.

  Shannon vigorously ran her fingers through her hair and groaned in contentment. “It always feels so good to get that helmet off – even if I do have hat hair afterwards.”

  Lori demurred with a sound of protest. “You’ve got the cutest hair – it looks fine all the time. Not like mine,” she stated, pulling off her hat. “Would you look at what’s started happening lately?” she demanded, pointing at her temple where the grey hairs were clearly visible. “I can’t believe I’m going grey at 21!”

  Shannon leaned over to inspect the hair and grinned at her friend. “Oh, I think you’ll survive. Good grief – I’ve got more than that – I just disguise it with a bottle every month!”

  “But I didn’t have any and then a couple of weeks ago – poof! All this grey showed up!”

  Shannon laughed and shook her head. “‘All this grey’ – it’s what? Ten hairs?”

  Lori pouted at her lack of sympathy. “Eight, I’ll have you know.” But after a moment she grinned at the older woman’s teasing.

  “Well, if it really bothers you, then you can always pull it out or dye it,” Shannon said, then grew a little more serious. “But you know, they say it can be brought about by stress and Heaven knows, you’ve had enough of that this year. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I’ve known people who’ve had a patch of grey like that after something traumatic and then a few years later, it’s all gone again. And not because they coloured it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. A rider I knew who got into a bad wreck while jumping had a huge patch of white show up. He lived with it for about six months and then after awhile, his hair started coming in brown again and now you’d never know.”

  “Hmm,” Lori said, thinking. “You reckon I can wear a cowboy hat to church for the next six months?”

  **********

  Shannon was back the next day for the second ride on the filly. Things were going well – almost a repeat of the first day – until they were almost finished. The mare started to get agitated and distracted, looking continuously down the road that was barely discernible from the riding arena at the side of the Pate property. When Shannon tried to get the filly’s mind back on the job at hand, the horse started to snort and tense up, resisting Shannon’s request to flex.

  When the 2-year-old started whinnying in loud, plaintive cries, Shannon turned the filly back to the center of the roundpen.

  “Right,” she called to Lori. “I’m getting off before this thing loses her brain completely.”

  She flexed her hard to the left, dismounted in the same fashion she had the day before, and then handed her over to Lori.

  “Let me do some more groundwork with her, Shannon,” Lori said as she affixed a long line to the halter and secured the hackamore reins so they didn’t interfere. “I want her to realize that every time a human gets off because she’s misbehaving, she’s going to work.”

  Lori had the filly sweating by the time they saw what the horse had been reacting to; as she was finishing up with the lunging and had started to desensitize her to the plastic bag again, a group of riders came around the corner of the house, following the tracks made by trucks delivering hay to the nearby shed.

  “Hi there,” Shannon called as she headed to the gate to welcome them.

  “Hi,” a middle-aged woman on a bony grey mare answered back as she rode up to the arena fence. “My name is Kate Dickson – I’m from the horse farm across the highway,” she said in introduction, gesturing with her chin towards the road in question. “Are you the new owners?”

  Shannon shook her head and looked back towards Lori, who was leading the filly up to the roundpen gate. She flicked a thumb in Lori’s direction as she ducked under the fence.

  “No, I’m a friend of Lori’s – she owns the place. I’m just here helping out today.”


  Lori wrapped the filly’s lead line a couple of times around a fence rail close to the riders, who were starting to fill in behind Kate; she scooted out from the arena and extended a hand upwards.

  “I’m Lori Pate,” she offered, shaking hands with Kate briefly before turning to say a firm word to the excited, pawing filly. Shannon went back to the rail and stayed near the youngster as a source of reassurance.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lori,” Kate answered. “I’ve been meaning to come down this way a lot sooner, but I’m sure you know how it goes – there’s always something to do at your own place.”

  Lori returned Kate’s grin and nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t had much chance to meet the neighbours myself with getting the place set up. Which farm are you at again?”

  “It’s the riding stable about three miles from here, across the highway. We’re on rather a long ride today, but I wanted to introduce myself and also let the neighbours around these parts know we think we had a cougar around our farm the other day.”

  “A cougar?” Shannon and Lori said in unison, startled by the announcement.

  Kate nodded grimly and patted her fidgeting grey before adjusting her grip on reins and riding crop. “Yeah, there’ve been rumours for awhile that one has been making its way over from London. They usually stick close to a water source and people think they’ve spotted one near the Thames on several occasions. We never thought too much about it because that’s a good distance away, but apparently it’s on the move.”

  Lori had to consciously jam her hands into her pockets to keep from wringing them and took a deep breath. Dealing with sick raccoons or a bold coyote was one thing; having a predator the size and lethal cunning of a mountain lion come after a horse was quite another.

  One of the other riders nudged her horse forward at this and confirmed, “My aunt lives near London and one of her horses was killed by it. Well, it didn’t actually kill it, but they’re fairly certain it attacked one of her mares and she got so scared she ran headlong into a shelter and broke her neck. She had long claw marks down one whole side of her body, but it looked like she got away. Unfortunately, she wasn’t thinking clearly and collided with the wall.”