The Love of Red: A girl's journey back to riding through the love and bond of a special horse.

By Tracey Skinner

Jessie loses her dad at 13 years old. Her love of horses and riding, their shared passion, has died with him.

On Jessie's fourteenth birthday, she is given a gift, her dad put into place before his passing. Scarlet O'Hara, barn name Red, a beautiful Irish thoroughbred mare, born and raised on the O'Brian's established breeding farm. Jessie and her dad watched Red grow from a baby to an exceptionally trained athletic jumper. Jessie's ultimate dream was for Red to be hers, but knew full well the price of her was beyond their reach, making her untouchable.

The presence of Red now, without her dad, is too painful. Jessie desperately wants her gone. "Give her time," her mom says. "After a month, if you still want her removed, I will make
it happen."

Red's love slowly encompasses Jessie's broken heart, rekindling her passion and restoring her hope of a riding future. When an unforeseen trauma hits Reds, it questions her future soundness and health. Jessie must dig to find the love, courage, trust, determination and strength to conquer what seems to be impossible. Will it be enough?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jan 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9780228871026

Book preview

Chapter 1

Can you believe school is finally out? Yippee! Becky cheered, bouncing up and down on the seat of the bus, nearly launching me into the isle. She’d tied her copper mane back in a feeble attempt to tame the unruly tendrils. They were having no part of it and sprang free, happily coiling and bobbing like dysfunctional mini slinkies. We’re going to have so much fun this summer! I can’t wait to go riding tomorrow! Hey, we could take the horses swimming in the lake. I’ll bet we could get Jake to come with Duke. Jake always says swimming is great exercise for jumpers. Not that Duke needs any help in that department—that big, black beast could jump the moon, for sure! What do you think, Jessie?

I pretended not to hear. She had some nerve. She knew I didn’t ride anymore, not since my dad died. Nearly a year had passed—ten months and fifteen days, to be exact—and it still hurt so much. I just wished I could forget, but everything reminded me of him, especially where horses and riding were concerned. And horses and riding were all Becky ever talked about. Well, that, and Jake of course.

I felt a blunt stab in my side. Ouch! I yelled, protectively hugging my ribs where Becky’s bony elbow made direct contact.

Hello, earth to Jessie! Did you hear a word I said?

Sorry, Becky, what did you say? It’s so loud in here I couldn’t hear you. Lame excuse, but I think she bought it.

"Jake, lake, horses, swimming! Oh, did I mention, Jake! Becky boomed. I know you like him, so don’t even try to deny it."

I squirmed. Be quiet, Becky, he’ll hear you. Just the thought of Jake O’Brian caused the butterflies in my stomach to happily riot, maddeningly against my will.

"Oh, and what if he does? It’s not like he doesn’t know already. It’s so obvious. Besides, I think he likes you too. You two would make such a cute couple," Becky giggled, grinning like a mad hyena.

I hate snakes, but at that moment I wished I were one, so I could silently slither off under my seat and disappear into some deep, dark crevice where no one would find me.

In the next instant, my wish came true, or some far-off, distorted version of it, anyway. The bus lurched to a stop at Jake’s driveway, and I shot forward, landing in a crumpled heap halfway under the seat in front of me. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Jake had made his way up the isle and was now standing right beside me. I know this because I was staring like a stunned fool at his lean, tanned legs, which were finished off rather attractively with cool blue Nike flip-flops that I noticed matched perfectly with his stunning blue eyes.

Hey, Jake, Becky oozed.

Hey, Becky. Hey, Jessie, you need help up? Jake asked, extending a hand to me.

I couldn’t even look at him, never mind touch him. No, I’m good. Great, in fact! I blurted, hurriedly squirming my way ungracefully back onto my seat. I should have stopped there, but why? I was on a role. You know, it’s like falling off your horse. You just get right back on and ride! I grinned madly. My face was on fire, burning uncontrollably, no doubt turning a most horrid shade of crimson, I could only assume, that would put even the ripest tomato to shame.

Right… I get it, Jake said slowly, obviously confused. Well, this is my stop. I’ll see you guys around?

Sure, Jake, yeah, for sure, see ya! I said too loud. I felt like barfing.

You bet, Jake, Becky added calmly.

Once Jake was off the bus, Becky lost it. She clutched her sides, rocking back and forth, in one of her very best theatrical displays to date, topped off by blood-curdling cackling. You’re so red! she snorted. Like falling off your horse. You’re a scream, Jessie!

Now I really felt like I was going to toss my cookies.

Becky and I hopped off at the next stop, right in front of my driveway. Becky lived down the road about a mile and normally took the next stop, but we had some serious last-day-of-school celebrating to do, so we’d planned on spending the weekend together. We’d lived in the same places ever since we were born, which is about as long as we’d been best friends; however, at the moment, I was beginning to think she could easily be replaced.

We watched the bus rumble away, kicking up a rolling cloud of choking, hot dust. It was noisy here this time of day, way out in the countryside of Vernon, BC, but this was a good, happy kind of noisy, where fat bumblebees hummed, bobbing amongst the purple clover that grew rampant along the roadside. And little blackbirds twittered high above, jostling for position along a single strand of wire, making it sag under their massive numbers. Horses whinnied off and on, communicating with their friends, and cows bellowed for no apparent reason. A stallion screamed off in the distance, and we knew it was one from Jake’s farm.

I’ll bet that’s Duke, Becky guessed, having regained her composure, or no, maybe it’s Duke’s dad, Excalibur. Yes, definitely Excalibur! What do you think, Jessie? Becky asked.

I haven’t the slightest idea, I answered flatly, not wanting to play this game.

A dog yipped, and I knew at once it was Misty. We watched her come barreling across the field at top speed, a mottled streak of cinnamon and white, pink tongue lolling. Her stride stayed unchecked as she zipped under the fences to come wiggling uncontrollably up beside me.

Hey there, baby girl, how was your day? I crooned as she spun in a tight circle then flopped down at my feet, rolling over and exposing a speckled pink and gray belly.

I wish I had an Australian shepherd just like you, Misty, Becky said affectionately, finding that magic scratching spot on Misty’s belly, making her leg kick and twitch. Or any dog, for that matter.

Yeah, but you’d have to get rid of that older brother of yours, since he’s allergic, I said, suppressing a giggle, thankful the subject was now off horses.

Oh, pretty please, Becky begged, pressing her hands together in mock prayer.

At least Blake isn’t as annoying as Dillan, I put in, referring to my little brother "He is the truest definition of twerp."

No arguments there. Oh look, if it isn’t the little twerp himself, Becky announced as Dillan sped up on his BMX bike, doing a slide stop and filling us with dirt.

Oops, so sorry, didn’t see you there, Dillan remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Get lost, you little creep! I screamed, chucking a fistful of dirt at him. It tinged, ricocheting off the bike’s metal frame.

You’d better watch it, sis. Scratch the paint, and I’ll tell Mom, he warned, speeding away, showing off by jumping down a four-foot bank onto the driveway and pulling a wheelie all the way to the house.

He was really good; I had to give him that. Too bad he was so annoying.

I wish he was allergic to dogs, then maybe we could get rid of him, I said, feeling suddenly exhausted, having lost my sense of humor. Deep down, I really wished we got along. It had not been quite so bad before our dad died, but ever since he passed, we fought more than ever. Dillan seemed to think I dwelled on it too much and kept telling me to get over it.

I don’t think he cares at all that Dad is gone, I choked, feeling my throat close.

I’m sure that’s not true. He probably just knows your dad would not want you guys moping around, Becky said.

What are you getting at, Becky? And why are you sticking up for him?

I did not mean… I just think your dad would not want you to quit riding, the thing you love the most, just because he’s gone, she finished, slamming her mouth shut, knowing she’d gone too far.

"How could you, Becky?! You know my dad was my life. We were supposed to ride together, to start our own training stable, together! You said you were okay with me not riding anymore; you said you understood!" I screamed, sobbing, unable to control the flood that threatened to drown me.

Your life? What about me? I thought we were best friends! Becky threw back. "What about us riding together, training for the summer jumping circuit and the fall classic, or does that not count?!" Becky cried.

I could not take it anymore. I bolted, sprinting down my driveway, needing to get far away from her. My heavy, book-laden backpack banged painfully against my back. I could care less; it was nothing compared to the swallowing pain inside me. Misty ran, silently glued to my side, sensing my world was crumbling.

Jessie, please… I’m so sorry; I did not mean it, Becky called after me, her voice muffled by the brutal, pounding pulse in my head. I did not stop, and I did not turn around. I did not trust what I would say to her, nor at that moment did I care that she had a mile-long walk home. I would talk to her when I was ready, but right now, I just wanted it all to go away. I would settle for a gigantic hole where I could hide away from it all forever, if possible.

Chapter 2

I hurled my backpack the minute my feet touched our lawn, cringing as it ricocheted off the trunk of our apple tree, taking a big chunk of bark with it. Not finding that deep hole I was looking for, I settled for the cool grass, throwing myself face-first into it. It pricked and stung and I screamed, long and loud. The physical pain felt far more tolerable than the nauseating turmoil that feasted itself on my insides. I pressed harder and screamed again. My outburst may have been doing wonders for me, but it was having the opposite effect on Misty. She pawed at my back, whimpering pathetically. I took a long deep breath, sucking in the smell of pungent, moist earth and freshly cut grass, and reluctantly sat up.

Come here, silly girl, I managed, pulling her gently onto my lap, hugging her, burying my face and hands in her warm, downy fur. She smelled like love and sunshine. I’m all right, girl, just a little messed up is all.

She showed her obvious delight by smothering me with sloppy, wet puppy kisses.

Misty st… op it, that ti… ck… les, I giggled, gently giving her a shove.

She leapt off, spinning once, then crouched low, emitting a playful growl, bum poking in the air and wiggling gaily in an attempt to wag her nonexistent tail. I made a playful grab for her, and that was it, it was game on. She took off, tearing through the paddock and across the field toward Dallas, my palomino pony. Upon Misty’s arrival at Dallas’s heels, Dallas merely cocked a back leg and laid his ears back, but kept right on eating. This just would not do, and Misty stepped it up, barking and attempting to nip Dallas’s heels. Dallas finally took the bait and shot forward, flinging up tufts of grass with Misty in hot pursuit. Anyone who witnessed this would surely see it as total harassment on Misty’s part, but this was their game, and half the time it was Dallas chasing Misty.

I climbed the fence, swinging my leg over to perch on the top rail, giving me a stadium-seat-like view.

They made a wide arc of the field, circling around to come heading straight for me, with Dallas still out in front, wavy blond mane and tail billowing, followed closely by Misty; and bringing up the rear was our old, rather plump, jersey cow, Mertle, rocking after them in her painfully slow, jerky lope.

Dallas neared the paddock fence at top speed. He raised his head, judging the height of the top rail, checked his stride—muscles coiled, ready to take flight—then in a split second, he jammed on the brakes and half slid, half pogo-stick hopped to a dead stop, inches from the fence, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.

You crazy little maniac! I scolded, hopping down beside him, feeling like my heart was going to leap out of my chest. "Man, you freak me out when you do that. I thought for sure you were going to jump it this time!"

He paid no mind, and just feverishly nuzzled at my pocket, certain he was owed a treat. Annoyed at finding nothing, he shoved me hard, toppling me over backward, flat onto my back.

Dallas, you brat! No treats for you, you little rotter!

With that, he hung his head; if ponies could pout, he was a master at it.

You kill me, I giggled, nice face, Dallas. You make it impossible to stay mad at you. Here, you missed a pocket. Just mind your manners.

Knowing better than to push his luck, he gingerly nibbled the shriveled carrots out of my palm.

Much better. See how good you can be? I said, throwing an arm over his stout, rich golden back, leaning in, feeling the warmth of him, breathing in his wonderful, sweet pony scent.

Make sure you save some for poor old Mertle, Mom remarked, coming up behind me, resting a manicured hand on my shoulder.

Mertle had finally made it in from the pasture, winded, but looking hopeful her efforts were not in vain.

I wouldn’t forget you, now, would I, you silly old tub.

Easy. You will hurt the old girl’s feelings, Mom warned, suppressing a giggle.

Mertle was rather large, to say to the least, and tub just fit.

You know I’m just teasing, don’t you girl? I said, allowing her to lick the carrots from my hand, her scratchy tongue lathering my palm. "Ew, gross!"

With that, she snorted, showering us with green, stringy, slimy cow mucus.

"Okay, now that’s gross!" Mom exclaimed, shaking her hands, desperate to rid herself of the foul stuff, which only resulted in splattering her beautiful yellow sundress.

Nasty! Gee, I bet you wished you changed when you got home from work, hey, Mom? I cried, for a completely different reason this time, doubling over in an uncontrollable laughing fit. I clung to the fence post; not certain I could stay standing without it.

"Oh, you think that’s funny, do you, miss smarty pants? You don’t look so purdy yourself," Mom giggled, trying really hard to control herself, but it was no use; she snorted and lost it completely. Tea… we need ice tea! she managed to get out, after a minute or two. I’ll get it. Meet me on the porch.

Mom returned composed and clean, in a fresh pair of khaki shorts and matching tank top, carrying a big tray of ice tea and her legendary, killer, monster-sized, peanut butter cookies. I wolfed one down in a matter of seconds and reached for a second, downing my ice tea between bites.

Would you like some more? Mom asked sarcastically through my loud slurping, as I tried to suck the last few drops up the straw.

No, I’m good, thanks, I replied, stifling a burp.

You’d think you had not eaten or drank in weeks, Mom said, mouth gaping.

"Ha, ha, I said, laying back, stretching out on my lounge chair, linking my hands behind my head. Mom, do you think Dallas misses Max?" I asked, suddenly thinking of my dad’s gelding. I knew the answer, but I needed some sort of reassurance that it was okay, since I was the one who made the decision to sell him. It had been just too hard to see him every day. Where Max was, there was always my dad, and I couldn’t take it. And he was too good a horse to let go to waste being a glorified lawn ornament. And because I’d given up riding, I certainly was not going to use him. Selling him was