Page 13 of Where the Rivers Merge

Forest trails traverse the ecologically rich area encompassing the watersheds of the Ashepoo, Combahee, and Edisto rivers. The trails are made up of organic matter, including fallen leaves, twigs, and decomposing plant material. Over time, these organic materials break down and contribute to the nutrient-rich soil along the trail.

1912

June became July, then the dog days of August approached. We were seeking shade like black dogs in a heat wave.

I rose early each morning to spend time with Capitano in the cooler morning air. He expected my presence in the stable, even demanded it. He settled on me to feed him and let me, and only me, brush him and stroke his velvety nose. It was in these everyday routines that trust between us was built and we became friends.

Mama came to accept the horse’s affection for me. I venture to think she maybe even took pride in the fact that I—being a girl—was the chosen one. Not that we discussed it, or she ever openly praised me. It was more she looked the other way when I went to the barn. And there was one morning that I awoke to find a new pair of tall riding boots and gloves by my bed.

As much as I enjoyed my time with Capitano, I had less time with my other friends, Covey and Tripp. As we grew older, we took on more responsibilities at Mayfield. Tripp loved helping at the animal barn. Covey assisted Clementine in the house. Still, we gathered in the tree hollow most afternoons with sugar cookies to talk about our days and just be together.

When at last came the day Daddy let me saddle Captain for our first ride, I felt the first indefinable something in the air that hinted at a change in the seasons. The horses felt it too. The sky was clear, the air cooler, and the mosquitoes were at bay. When I nodded that I was ready to mount, Daddy’s hands trembled when he gave me a lift up. I knew he was afraid I’d be hurt, but I wasn’t scared in the least. I couldn’t wait to ride Captain. I put my boot heel in his hands and in a single hoist, I was astride my horse. Captain shifted his weight, testing my weight on his back.

“Don’t do anything rash,”

Daddy said as he shortened the leather stirrups. “Just take him around the pen a few times. Keep it slow and easy.”

“I know what to do.”

I looked to the fence and saw Heyward and Hugh perched and eagle-eyed. I shook off their gazes like Captain shook off the pesky flies.

Cap began walking at the mere pressure of my leg and a click of my tongue. I walked and trotted him around the pen, me learning his cues and he learning mine. At the completion of each circle, Captain veered toward the gate like a magnet. I guided him away, but I knew what he was asking for. He was a smart horse and bored with the pen. He sensed the wide world outside the gate. After a short workout, I slowed to a stop. Captain lifted his head as high and curved as a Persian painting.

“You’re not going out,”

Daddy called back from the fence.

“What are we waiting for? He’s not happy stuck in here. He’s ready to go out on the trails. I can handle him. I promise.”

Daddy looked at his boots, then lifted his head to Wilton. He met Daddy’s gaze and nodded his head.

“I’m going with you,”

Daddy declared, straightening.

“Me too!”

called Heyward, leaping from the fence. Hugh was right behind him. They sprinted to the stable to mount up.

I grinned as I took a few more rounds of the pen. Finishing the third, I spotted Daddy, Heyward, and Hugh saddled and ready.

I sensed Cap’s eagerness in the tautness of his muscles and how he held his head high and his neck outstretched. I bent to pat his neck. “This is our moment, Cap,”

I said. “You trust me, and I’ll trust you.”

The gate opened and I was proud that Cap didn’t charge out. “Good boy,”

I murmured, then nudged him with my leg. His ears communicated his emotions. They were pricked forward as we left the fenced area and walked single file along the gravel path that led to the woodland trail. I felt the tension flow from Captain as we ambled along the shaded forest trails. His ears were erect and his tail high as he took in his surroundings. It seemed all of nature was smiling on us this morning. The sun shone on the dark, green pines and there were just enough clouds to provide passing shade.

Hugh trotted up to ride beside me. The dun mare and the stallion, being pasture mates, walked in easy camaraderie. “You’re good on that stallion,” he said.

I turned to look at him, feeling saucy. I knew I was doing well, but it was nice to hear. He had a straw cowboy hat on his head, and his blue eyes appraised me beneath the rim.

“I think you’re riding the tough one.”

“She’s a good girl,”

Hugh said, reaching out to pat the dun. “She was just checking me out.”

We walked a few paces. “Like you did when we first met.”

I gave a snort of disbelief. “I most certainly did not.”

“If you say so.”

“I don’t have time for silly talk,”

I said and gave Captain a nudge, sending him into a trot. Hugh clicked and the dun came trotting up once more to our side.

“Hello again.”

I glanced at him with disdain, then with pressure from my legs, sent Cap into a canter. I heard Hugh laugh behind me.

“Hey, slow down!”

came a shout from Daddy.

I laughed to myself, knowing I wasn’t going to slow down. Captain and I were having too much fun. Up ahead the trail opened to a field of soft grass. My heart expanded. I knew where I was.

“Let’s show them how it’s done,”

I said and loosened the reigns. The Captain lifted his big head, tasting freedom, and he pushed himself faster over the grass. I heard Hugh galloping behind me. I bent low against Cap’s neck and tucked in. Cap’s ears went back, and he pushed himself faster. My hair was a flag waving behind me. Ahead was my glorious live oak tree. Her dark, mysterious hollow draped in curling ferns, her limbs stretched far out in welcome.

After rounding the tree, I spotted Hugh and Daddy entering the field at a canter with dust at the hooves. “Whoa, boy,”

I said. Hugh caught up to our side, a grin stretched across his face. Together we slowed to a walk and let the horses cool.

“You’re something else,”

he said, squinting at me in the sunlight.

“Where’s your hat?”

“Blew off somewhere in this field,”

he said with a short laugh. Then, indicating Captain with a lift of his chin, he said, “That’s one fast horse.”

“The fastest I’ve ever ridden.”

I glanced up to see Daddy cutting across the field toward us, Heyward behind him. My gut tightened and I worried that I’d be yelled at in front of Hugh. But what did I expect? I’d disobeyed his order. Captain stood as noble as the prince he was, his body glistening in the sunlight. His head was up and he whinnied when Daddy and Hugh drew to a halt before us. I sat behind his raised neck, proud of my horse, and held firm the reins. I’d get no less than I deserved.

Daddy’s eyes were bright and focused on the stallion. He took a breath. “You call that going slow?”

His tone was accusing.

“No, sir.”

He shook his head and muttered something I couldn’t hear.

Hugh spoke up. “It’s my fault, sir. I challenged her to a race.”

Daddy’s eyes were thunderous when he turned on Hugh. “You’re a damn fool.”

“Yes sir. Sorry, sir.”

I held my breath.

“Did you see how fast Capitano was?”

asked Heyward, diverting Daddy’s attention.

Daddy curtly nodded and looked out over the field. He fought a smile. “It was a sight to see.”

“He’s got more in him,”

I said. “He loves to run. I didn’t have to urge him. Not at all. He’s got heart.”

There wasn’t nothing that Daddy loved more in a horse than heart.

Daddy’s eyes gleamed as he listened, and his gaze swept the beautiful bay stallion. I knew this was what he’d hoped for, and it was a joy to be able to show him his worries were for naught.

“He’s still young,”

Daddy said in a gruff voice. “And he needs training. You rode him well, Lizzie.”

Then, almost begrudgingly, “You’re a natural.”

I beamed in the saddle.

Daddy turned to Heyward. “I want you to start riding him. Put him through his paces. He’s ready to train.”

Hurt stung deep. “But he’s my horse,”

I blurted out. “He runs for me.”

Daddy turned to look at me kindly and smiled in a condescending way. “That he does, darlin’. And you’ve done good with him. Real good.”

He paused to adjust his seat. When he looked at me again, his smile was gone. “But he’s not your horse. He’s my horse. And your brother is the one who will be riding him in the races.”

“But Daddy—”

“Capitano has to win. Plain and simple. That’s his job, hear? To show the world how great he—a Marsh Tacky—is. He must if he’s going to bring in a stud fee worthy of him.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Heyward gave a subtle shake of his head to indicate I shouldn’t. My shoulders slumped and I tightened the reins in my hands. “Yes sir. I’ll walk him back.”

I guided Captain toward the trails home, leaving all my triumph on the field behind me.

Once on the woodland trail the shade was cool, and the loamy smell of compost filled the air. It was a comforting scent. I felt the strain of the morning ease from my shoulders as I rocked in the saddle. The tears that filled my eyes shamed me. I told myself I was being foolish. What was important was Captain had his chance to escape the pen and run free. I helped him show Daddy what he was capable of. Maybe I couldn’t ride him in the races, being a girl. But I could give Captain the confidence he needed to win. I could do that for him. For Daddy. For Mayfield.

Hugh rode the dun up beside me and we walked in tandem for a while, the wide hooves making soft thud noises on the earth. In a nearby pine a mockingbird was singing its heart out in a long repertoire. I listened to his song, thinking he didn’t ask for any thanks for his soul-piercing effort. He sang for the joy of it. There was a lesson there.

Hugh finally spoke. “Ain’t nobody ever going to ride that horse as well as you can.”

I looked over and saw the violence of his emotions in his heavy-lidded eyes. I was confused by it and could only mutter, “Thank you.”

And then loyalty to my brother won out. “Heyward’s the best rider.”

“He’s good. I’ll give him that.”

Then Hugh smiled. “But not as good as me.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. There was a friendly camaraderie in his glance.

“And not as good as you,”

Hugh added. “Least, not on that horse.”

“We’ll have to see,”

I said, accepting my fate.

“I’ve seen you fish, and I’ve seen you ride. Boy or girl, you’re the one to beat, in my book.”

My mind swirled as I looked ahead at the trees and leaves, not seeing anything. Cap set one foot before the other as I rocked in silence. But my heart was beating fast. I didn’t care if Hugh ever called me beautiful or wrote poetry in my honor. Nothing else Hugh Rhodes could have said to me would have sounded so sweet on my ears.