Chapter Four
Bay
The situation in the house the next morning is delicate. I feel like we're balanced on a knife edge and that any movement will send us over the brink. The very air feels brittle, like one word will shatter it. I feel like I should say something to try and piece back the situation, but I have no idea where to start. It's like a puzzle where every piece is the same color and the edge isn't straight. I didn't sleep much last night and I don't think Dad did either. When I come into the kitchen, he is in the process of making coffee. I can't stand the stuff, but Dad drinks it religiously. This morning it's strong; I could smell it in my room before I got out of bed. I start opening cabinets and drawers, pretending to look for something to eat but I'm really just giving my hands something to do. Eventually, I pull a box of cereal from the pantry and half a jug of milk from the refrigerator. I find a clean spoon and bowl among the dirty dishes that clutter the counter and bring it all to the table. Dad is sitting down, sipping his coffee. He's already on his second cup. In silence I pour cereal into my bowl and splash it with milk. I stare into the bowl like it might give me answers.
"So, are you going to work today?" I eventually ask. I know it's a stupid question, but I can't think of anything else to say.
"Yes." Dad answers in an annoyed tone, giving me a glance that clearly says he doesn't need me to poke into his personal affairs.
I stir my cereal with my spoon and take a half-hearted bite. I chew slowly even though I'm not really hungry. "I'm sorry," I mumble after I've swallowed. "For what I said last night." There's another pause. "But I'm still riding in the races," I clarify.
Dad stands up and puts his empty coffee cup in the sink. He grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and puts it on before responding sternly, "We'll talk more later, Bay." And with that, he walks out the door and jumps in his rusty old truck. I hear the engine turn over a couple times before it starts and then the truck rattles out of the driveway. I get up and dump my cereal in the sink, setting the bowl and spoon back on the counter. There's no use keeping up the pretense when no one is watching. I lean on the counter and look out the kitchen window, watching Dad's truck crawl down the road until it is out of sight. I wonder if he is really going to work. He's sober, so he probably is. It's ironic really that he is a fisherman. Or used to be anyway. He still works down at the docks, but he doesn't have his own boat anymore. He sold it years ago under the excuse that it made him think of Mom too much. I know now that he really needed the money. Now he just hires himself out to any of the fishermen who need an extra hand or a boat repaired. After Mom died, he went out on the sea less and less and even now he's rarely on it if he can help it. As I got older, Dad began spending more time away from the house, drinking in town at night, shirking work on bad mornings. He's never made a fortune, but lately money has been stretched pretty thin. It's a good thing we own our house and his truck already, or they probably would've been taken from us years ago.
As it is, I started my delivery services to add to what Dad brings in and keep us afloat. I've worked it out now to where I get commission from the shops I deliver for and tips from the farmers. Whenever I deliver to the Malvern Yards, Sean tips me in feed for Selkie. Sometimes the farmers' wives will tip me with a fresh-baked loaf of bread or new-churned tub of butter. I hate taking these handouts, but I can't find it in me to refuse them. If I'm honest with myself, we need them.
It was on a cold morning where I'd been tipped with a pair of gloves and a generous pot of stew when I decided I had to do something to change our fortunes. When I decided I'd ride in the Scorpio Races. If I win the races, I'll win the prize money, and that will ease our empty pockets for a while. But even if I don't win, I'll get a name for myself and establish connections in town. Then maybe I can stand on my own two feet and find a cure for the downward spiral Dad has been in ever since Mom died.
The hardest part of my plan is over with - getting a capail uisce. There's no way I could buy one and I'm not sinking low enough to take fifths with a monger. I've solved my biggest problem. I've got a horse, but it doesn't feel like a good start. With a sigh I turn away from the window and, grabbing my sweatshirt, head outside as well.
I walk out to the barn and greet Selkie and Tempest. They're both quiet this morning, which is a good sign. I turn Selkie out to pasture for now. I'll make my rounds with him later, but right now I need to focus on Tempest. If I am going to win the races, I need to spend all the time I can in these precious few weeks training.
I pull out my saddle and the old bridle from the Malvern Yards. I promise myself I'll return it soon. Tacking up Tempest might be tricky because I've only ever put a halter on him before, although I've ridden him bareback on the beach a few times. If I have to, I suppose I could ride the race bareback. I step into the stall and let Tempest investigate the saddle for a while before I throw it on his back. I make sure to use my best saddle blanket for him, the softest one that wrinkles the least so that it will be more comfortable. Tempest snorts curiously as I tighten the girth strap around his belly, but he doesn't protest. Then I slip the bridle over his nose and push the bit into his mouth. To my surprise, he takes the bit easily, as if its something he remembers. I lead him out of the stall to the pasture fence. Using the fence rails as a mounting block, I sling myself up into the saddle.
"Alright, Tempest, let's go show 'em what we're made of," I say, spurring him into an easy trot. He responds to me like he's worn a bit before and I'm surprised, but not complaining. When we get to the end of our drive, I turn him down the road toward the beach. Today it will be full of other riders, all practicing for the races, but the rules specify that you have to train within a certain distance of the beach and on it is as good as anywhere else. Besides, it will give me a feel of how Tempest reacts to the other capaill uisce and to the sea.
The day is bright as I head toward the beach. Blue sky studded with thin white clouds hangs high over my head, promising a rain free day. The breeze is gentle, but cold. I wish my thoughts were as clear as the day. Half of the reason I'm heading to the beach is because I'm hoping to find Sean and make up with him for last night. I'm also mincing words in my head that might smooth the rift between me and my dad. But when I get to the beach, most of that is driven from my mind.
As soon as I get Tempest down the trail from the cliffs, I'm bombarded with a cacophony of sounds and sights. The beach is a seething mass of riders, uisce, and handlers. Today everyone wants to show off their horses and their spirit so they've all gathered on the beach. I scan the sand for Sean, but at the moment, I don't catch a glimpse of him or Corr. What I do see surprises me. Puck Connolly is out in the surf with her island pony. Why in the world she would bring that little horse to the beach today beats me. You couldn't pay me enough to ride Selkie on the beach during race training. Puck obviously trusts her horse a lot. Her horse is dwarfed by all the capaill uisce. Even Tempest, who is smaller than most of the uisce, is a good two or three hands taller than Puck's horse. I trot Tempest down onto the beach, keeping a wary eye on the other riders. I know I can handle my horse, but half of these boys can't handle themselves, let alone their mounts. I keep an eye on Puck as well. I can't shake the feeling that she is asking for trouble. Her little horse is brave that's for sure, but her ears are laid back and her steps are jerky. She has a very healthy fear of the bigger water horses that I think her rider would do well to take notice of.
As I watch, a white uisce stallion charges down the beach out of nowhere and heads straight for Puck. He looks familiar like maybe he belongs to one of the Thisby riders, but he could just as easily be a stray who wandered up from the sea. There's a general commotion as several other riders realize what is happening and Puck's horse lets out a shrill whinny of fear. I'm too far up the beach and there are too many riders and horses in my way for me to make it down to Puck in time, but I try anyway. Suddenly someone yells Sean's name and after a second or two I see his dark head dodging between riders and running down the beach. By now the capaill uisce has reached Puck and is terrorizing her pony. He rears and so does Puck's horse, one in hungry, wild anticipation, the other in absolute terror. Puck falls off into the water just as Sean splashes into the surf.
By now I'm about half-way down the beach. It would be faster for me to get off of Tempest and run, but I don't dare leave him unattended on his first day in the middle of all the other capaill. Sean pulls himself up on the stallion's back as Puck flounders, trying to keep her head above the choppy surface and trying to stay out of the way of those deadly hooves. Her horse runs back several steps, but stops and paces the water restlessly, calling to Puck in anxiety. She doesn't want to come any closer to Puck, but she also won't take another step onto the beach. She's still in the edge of the surf, which is probably the safest place on the beach for her.
Sean stretches across the stallion's neck, reaching toward his nose with a closed fist. I can't see them from here, but I know he holds deadly holly—it's the only way he can get the stallion away from Puck now. He's too excited and too wild to be calmed by anything Sean or anyone else can do. I see Sean's hand connect with the capall uisce's nose. The stallion throws his head around toward Sean and his forehead connects with Sean's violently. Sean reels back, overbalances, and tumbles into the surf. The stallion calls faintly and crashes into the water. But I don't care about the horse. I know it's dead. I jump off of Tempest and hand his reins to the nearest person on the beach—I don't really know who it is—then dash down the sand. I burst from the crowds just in time to see Puck pull Sean up out of the water by his collar. He coughs and spits water, then stands up, quickly getting himself out of Puck's grasp. He says something to her, but I can't hear him over the water and the horses and the people. Sean turns away from Puck and storms up the beach. Puck looks like she's about to cry, but there's a brave, determined look to her face as she collects her pony and rides off the beach.
"Keep your pony off this beach," Sean shakes his head in annoyance. "That's what I said to her." He wrings water out of his jacket and hangs it from Corr's saddle. I collected Tempest again. As it turns out I handed him to Tommy Falk, so when I got back to him, there was an admiring crowd of guys gawking at my horse. Tempest even seemed to be showing off for them. I'm just glad Tommy handled Tempest well. It could have been potentially disastrous.
I find Sean where he has three Malvern horses picketed in a small natural enclosure formed by the cliff walls and the rocks on the beach. One of the horses is Corr, and the other two are bay mares - one with white points, one without. Sean gathers the horses to take them back to the Malvern Yards. There's not much point in staying on the beach anymore. After this morning's excitement, the riders and horses won't be calm all day and Sean is too wet to stay out in the cold for long. I offer to help Sean take the horses back to the Yards. It seems the groom that came down with him was frightened off by the white stallion. I won't envy him when Malvern figures out. As he gathers the horses, Sean keeps shaking his head like he is distracted. He's not satisfied with what he said to Puck Connolly and it's probably the first time that this has ever happened to him. Although Sean is quiet most of the time, when he does speak it is because he says exactly what he means. Which reminds me of what I need to say to him. I clear my throat as Sean hands me the lead of one of the bay mares.
"Sean," I begin. Somehow apologizing to my best friend is always one of the hardest things to do. I've only done it a few times in my life (for something serious), but each time it never quite comes out right. Sean looks at me expectantly when I don't continue. I take a deep breath as we start walking up the beach, staying well away from the other riders and horses.
"I'm sorry," I finally mumble. "You know, for what I said last night." This time, I really mean what I say.
To my complete and utter surprise, Sean says, "Don't be."
When I look back at him to confirm what he said, it's like he never spoke at all. He watches a tangle of capaill uisce mares down the beach, walking between Corr and the second bay. I'm not quite sure I heard him right, but I know he won't repeat himself, so I don't ask.
"What do you think Puck Connolly was doing on her horse this morning?" I ask instead.
"Riding," Sean says.
"No, I mean, really, what was she doing?"
Sean gives me a sideways glance. "Riding," he repeats himself as if I didn't hear him the first time.
To be impractical or annoying is not Sean's style so it bugs me that he won't answer. "I know that, but what I want to know is why she had her horse—" I suddenly break off as realization dawns on me. "You mean she's riding her pony in the Scorpio Races?" I ask incredulously.
Sean nods but doesn't speak.
"She can't do that!" I splutter. "That's breaking two of the rules. She's a girl and she's not riding a capaill uisce? That's just not—" I stop talking. The look Sean is giving me reminds me that I'm in no position to call out a rule-breaker. After all, I'm breaking the rules myself. By now we've reached the Skarmouth road and we walk the rest of the way in silence. Halfway back Sean is shivering so I offer him my sweatshirt. He just shakes his head. I roll my eyes. When we reach the Yard I help Sean untack the two mares so that he can get into dry clothes sooner. I know he won't do anything about himself before he takes care of the horses. After that, I bid Sean good-bye and take Tempest back out to the cliffs. I ride him up and down on top of the cliffs overshadowing the beach. It's quiet and peaceful up here. Far cry from the chaos on the beach. I catch glimpses of the beach as I ride and it is still a mess of riders and capaill uisce. I can hear the occasional shouts and screams from below but I don't interfere. What I don't see is Puck Connolly or her pony.