Chapter 88

"You are a natural horsewoman, Mrs. Butler- Sometimes I wonder why you even need a teacher-" said Mr. Johnson to Scarlett as he rode alongside her on the country road just outside Clayton County. "You've got steady hands and you already seem to know how to handle the reins. You aren't rushing the horse and he seems to trot along just fine."

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson" said Scarlett, pleased. "It's just that its been such a long time since I rode a horse and I didn't want to seem over-confident. But I do want to try him on different terrains."

"What kind of terrains did you have in mind?"

"We own a large plantation in Clayton County and we do have some lovely trails around the cotton rows. But I wanted to ride beyond those trails to the slopes and around the yellow river-"

"I see." Mr. Johnson shrugged a little. "The thing is, you've got to ride the horse and make your own trail. There's no other way to learn it. I could come up and show you how to look out for holes, marshy grounds- that sort of thing- But if you really want to learn, you've to establish a friendship with the horse."

"Oh?"

"A horse is like a person- He has his own temper and if he's scared, he'll just refuse to move. So, you have to be firm with him. But if you show him that the trail is safe, he'll get back to trusting you. You've got to show him that you mean business. Sure, a horse pulling a cart will slog on down the road. But that's a beaten track. You keep flicking the whip and the horse will obey you. But this is different. You are going off the track, so you've got to really know the land and make sure that your horse doesn't get frightened or impatient."

"Well, how do I get to know this horse?"

"First of all, you've got to give him a name."

Scarlett looked down for a moment, her face going completely blank. Then when she looked up, her green eyes were glinting determinedly. "All right, I'll call him Mr. Butler."

"That's fine. Now, you've got to call him that often so that he knows that's his name. And he's got to know what you smell like. What I mean is, if you start petting your horse right away, he might bite your hand. He's got to catch your scent first and if he seems friendly, then you can just reach up and give his nose a good scratch like this- There, you see- he likes it. And be careful not to stand too near him, he might crush your feet with his big hooves. Horses like apples and carrots. You might like to feed Mr. Butler a carrot or two by yourself. If you keep doing this, Mr. Butler will become downright friendly and he will trust you. And trust is important for riding a new trail."

Meanwhile a letter made it to Aunt Pitty's reading desk sometime the following week. It read,

"I don't want to alarm you but there have been some awful goings-on at Tara. Scarlett arrived a month back and she brought her own horse to ride around the farm. And while I approve of the exercise, one day, she herself declared that she had been out jumping hurdles! Both me and Will forbade her to go riding! Well, I didn't because I know Scarlett would snap my head off. But Will gave her a stern talking-to. But last night, he told me that she didn't intend to stop hurdle jumping. Will tells me that she is suffering from a broken heart and means to become reckless just for the pleasure of it. He tells me that recklessness runs in Irish veins. Aunt Pitty, you must stop Scarlett from taking these awful risks! Please do write back to me when you do!"

Aunt Pitty finished the letter and promptly swooned on her living room sofa. She was revived by smelling salts and her maid rushed to get the swoon bottle from the cabinet upstairs. But Pittypat didn't have time for the swoon bottle. She pressed her lips to a thin line so that her mouth half disappeared into her face and mustering courage, she bravely set out to write a letter to Rhett Butler. It was about time the husband knew what his wife was upto!.