In which I provide another NaNoWriMo snippet to enjoy

Claus of Death, a murder mystery

Louise Didn’t See the Bear knew that Anna Frost knew that Louise thought that Anna could be won over by a horse, but Anna didn’t believe it.

Anna had ridden horses her whole life, all over the world.  

She’d been a military brat, traveled the globe and no matter where she’d been, her parents had made sure there were horses there to greet her.  Short, hairy ponies in Germany.  Tall, bony Thoroughbreds in South Africa.  Elegant finely boned Arabians in Egypt.  And, back in America while her dad was deployed to the Gulf, an enormous grey warmblood with legs like phone poles and the inexorable gaits of a freight train.  She’d ridden endurance in Argentina, hunted foxes in Ireland. 

But Anna had never ridden a horse like Plum, and Louise Didn’t See the Bear knew it.

Plum didn’t look like much.  Almost as short as a pony, but with too much dignity and not nearly enough deviltry to be a pony.  Square of body, sturdy of leg, with feathered fetlocks like a draft horse and the long slender head of royalty.  Dark brown, not quite black, and a purplish sheen to her coat that showed in the plush dapples of her rump. 

Anna was prepared to be underwhelmed.  Louise Didn’t See the Bear thought that Plum was something special, but maybe Louise Didn’t See the Bear hadn’t spent as much time with horses as Anna had. 

There was nothing else going on, though, so Anna fetched up the dusty leather gear from the weathered barn at the back of Louise’s property, and saddled Plum.  There was a sand arena behind the barn, with dressage letters nailed to the posts, and few jump standards scattered around. 

Anna figured that her knees would drag the ground on such a small mount, but the little horse was well sprung, and she took up most of Anna’s long legs.  Somehow, riding this mare felt like sinking into a familiar chair at the end of a long day, with a long-striding walk and a daisy-cutting trot that wasted no energy and covered ground.  A softly swinging canter that riders call “rocking horse,” and this horse really did seem to rock forward and back, forward and back, like the childhood song about the cradle on the tree top.

Louise watched from outside the ring, leaning forward on her elbows against the fence boards.  “Go ahead,” she called.  “Take her over the jumps.  She might surprise you.”

Anna doubted that she could be surprised by this absurdly tame, fuzzy creature.  But she directed the little mare towards the short jump in the center of the ring.  As soon as she set the course, she could see the dark ears shoot forward, feel the center string of the mare begin to thrum.  They approached at a steady canter, and at exactly the right moment, lifted up and over the jump.  The mare tucked her knees up high, and seemed to stay aloft an extra beat as she soared and then landed with scarcely a sound on the other side.

“Take the taller jump,” suggested Louise.

So, Anna took Plum around the perimeter of the ring, and lined the horse up at the tall jump set halfway down the far long side.  The thrumming feeling increased, but the canter rhythm did not falter: rocka-bye, rocka-bye, rocka-bye. 

Once again, they approached and lifted off, up and over. 

The mare’s head stayed high, and Anna found herself looking, not at the far end of the arena, but at the tops of trees on the distant horizon.  A beat passed, and another, and another, and still the mare’s hooves did not land.  Anna counted:  …three…four…five…six…seven…eight…

Instead, horse and rider continued at the same, rhythmic canter, rocka-bye, rocka-bye, rocka-bye, without ever touching down on the ground.

After a few circuits of the ring several feet above the sandy surface , Anna turned her puzzled and delighted gaze downwards to Louise Didn’t See the Bear, who stood, hands clasped in delight, on the ground below.

“What are you waiting for?” shouted Louise Didn’t See the Bear.  “These fences will not stop you now!”

And off they went:  away from the arena, to the top of porch, to the top of the wall, and dashed away, dashed away, all through the afternoon and into the red tinted sky of evening. 

“How does she do it?” Anna breathlessly asked Louise Didn’t See the Bear, when she and Plum finally returned to Earth.

“How do the others not do it?” Louise had replied. 

And that was as much of an answer as Louise Didn’t See the Bear ever gave anybody.