"You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else." – William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle

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When I was thirteen, I leased a golden horse down the road. He lived eight miles from my family’s house. Often in the summer, I would hop on my bicycle and ride down to the farm. Then I would spend the entire day at the barn.

I would help with chores. I would take lessons instead of money. This was grand. I took about three or four lessons a week and I got to learn while I helped with the barn. 

One summer day, I rode out to the farm. I was going to help with evening chores then ride the golden horse afterwards. 

One of the habits this barn had was to let “The herd” out by just opening the gate. They would all gallop into the barn and place themselves into their stalls. You had to be careful not to be in the stalls when this happened. Sometimes the wrong horse went into the wrong stall, and this would lead to a brief altercation. 

The gate was latched only with a chain that sat looped on top a nail that stuck out about three inches. 

The girls had started turning in without me. I had been a little slow. 

I watched the horses galloping through the gate as I rode up towards them on my bicycle. The dominant ones always went first. The lesson horse I rode was always last. She was small and old. She came barreling over the hill. She must not have been paying attention. She was far behind everyone else. She galloped through the gate, but this time, this time she went too close to the post.

The interior of her leg caught the nail that usually held the chain. She dropped to the ground on the spot. 

“OH no!! I am going to get the owner!!” One of the girls working cried out. Someone else started shouting too.

 I rode my bicycle up near to her and dropped it on the ground. She staggered up, shuddered as she had a seizure and fell to the ground again. Her white stockings were red. 

I saw her going to get up again and ran to her head. I grabbed her nose and tipped it up so she couldn’t push herself up.

“It’s okay,” I told her.

She released a large breath of air. 

“It is okay.” 

She looked at me. I could see the whites of her eyes. She was very scared. 

“It is okay.” She blinked once, then her head was heavy in my hands. 

She was gone. I placed my hands on her soft face as I stared in disbelief. 

“It is okay.” 

I could hear voices, panic, people were coming back. I stood up, lightheaded. 

I spun and jumped on my bike. Nobody had seen me.

I started pedaling away.

It is okay. 

I was already halfway home. 

The nail must have hit an artery. 

It is okay. 

I was in the garage. I threw my bike in the corner. 

“Hi Honey, I didn’t expect you to be home so soon!” My Mom was in the sitting room. 

It is okay. 

My throat felt tight. 

“They started early and didn’t need me. I think I am sick. I am going to shower.” 

I was in the bathroom. I turned on the fan and the shower and the sink. 

I stood there shaking. Then I got under the water. I turned it on cold. Soon I was shaking from the temperature. 

It is okay.