"NO! No, you stupid girl! You could've had that in three strides!" Berthold Hawkeye yelled at his daughter as she exited her show jumping round, grabbing her jumping crop from her hand and smacking her leg with it. Riza didn't even flinch, used to it by now in her fifteen years.
"If I did it in three I would've possibly knocked a rail coming into my triple combination." Riza told him calmly, dismounting and giving her comrade Gunner a pat and a kiss on the muzzle.
Berthold pulled the girl's face away, dragging her by the ear and the horse the the reins to it's stall. As soon as Riza had gotten the Gunner's bridle off the elder Hawkeye grabbed the jumping crop again and smacked the poor animal across the face. Gunner let out a blood chilling screech of a whinny and reared up, tossing his dappled grey head, which had been scarred from previous abuse from Riza's father and others. The whites of his eyes were visible and the terrified creature was practically blowing smoke out of his nose.
Even though she knew it was dangerous, Riza got between her hated father and her beloved horse, pushing Gunner backward by the chest and taking the next strike across her face. She tasted blood, but honestly couldn't care less. As long as her white horse's face wasn't marred by red, she and Gunner could be considered alright. Berthold simply rolled his eyes. "Get that useless wretch loaded and get your half assed self in the truck. We're going home."
Unable to stand it anymore, even though she knew the consequences, Riza turned to her father and simply said. "Don't judge a thing 'til you know what's inside it." That night in the barn, Berthold Hawkeye beat girl and horse until both were bloody, bruised, and broken in some places. At the end of it, neither could speak. They never did with words anyway, but the look in their eyes said one thing, and one thing only. Sticks and stones, blows and throws may bruise their bodies and break their bones, but nothing could break one's spirit.