Tags: Riata Stone, Erin Moore, Keaton RamsesIt was late in the evening, most of the staff had left or gone to their respective dorms; the horses were quietly bedded down in the stalls and paddocks. The only noises were the soft snorting of horses eating and the crickets out in the fields. Ria was half lit by the computer screen in front of her, the tab bar of her chrome app loaded with more pages than one person should be capable of viewing at a time. The dark wood desk she sat at was completely covered with text - books, scrap papers, and formal documents. Having spent much of the day working with horses and humans - training rides, instructing lessons, and working with the wild mustangs - she'd dedicated the evening hours to working on the office. Mounds of papers had to be sorted, updated, typed up, deciphered, or filed away; New boarding and training contracts, new feed and medication charts, supply invoices and ordering sheets, and the number of scraps of paper her staff and especially assistant trainer left for her with all sorts of notes about the horses and facility maintenance. The upkeep alone was enough to keep a pounding pulse point in her temple. The screen was growing blurry and Riata couldn't quite remember what she was supposed to be typing into the ever blinking text box. Rubbing her aching knuckles over her tired eyes, the woman sat back against her cushioned wheelie chair. She couldn't help but let out a sigh as she took in her surroundings, especially the chaos that was her work space. Getting to her feet, she moved around to switch on the overhead light, but it only made her squint in pain and scrabble to turn the room back into darkness. Ria couldn't help but sigh again, discouraged. Looking around, she grabbed the clicker to the electric fireplace and lit it with a simple press. She also twisted the switch on a standing lamp that had a dimmer ambiance. Ria ran her finger along the spines of the piled books her young assistant had left to reside within the small office until she came across an interesting novel. The book cover had a magestic black stallion and a young woman in renaissance costume artistically altered to appeal the potential reader. She flopped on to the grey loveseat and pulled a worn maroon woven throw blanket up to her shoulders. The only thing she was missing was a tall glass of wine, but the water bottle from the mini fridge was fine for the moment. Cracking the cover, she delved into the fantastical world of princesses, knights, and the opposing forces of good and evil.
It was in the middle of an espionage scene - the rebel leader of the Robin Hood type scheme had infiltrated the fortress of the tyrannical kingdom in his mission to rescue the imprisoned princess who was held against her will set to marry the phony prince - that Riata came across a phrase that made her pause. The rebel knight dashed silently through the heavily guarded castle, keeping to the shadows; as he neared the princess's prison chambers, he stealthily crept behind the standing guard and delivered a fatal
Coup de Grâce to successfully free the captive maiden and spirit her away on his majestic black Friesian stallion. Ria read the phrase again, her attention caught on
Coup de Grâce. Taking out her phone, she looked up the term and found several definitions - mainly meaning dealing a mercy killing. Separating the terms, she found that Coup meant a clever act and de Grâce was french for '
of grace'. She was intrigued and her mind gravitated towards the curiously spotted tobiano currently residing in the back pens. He was certainly clever and was of grace. It would take patience, kindness, and faith on both their parts. Thinking back to the novel - she thought about the handsome rebel leader and his fancy steed. Her own mustang had a rebellious side she had observed - which he pulled out if unjust demands were made of him. She also reflected on the horse's coat - the rebellious spots that splashed the bold brown and white splotches.
Riata smiled from her comfortable position, the open book resting on her covered knee; the phrase resonated with her and she knew it was the one. Coup de Grâce, would be his show name, while
Rebel would be the name she'd greet him tomorrow with. The weight of the past week seemed to have shifted from her shoulders, a step in the right direction. All would be well. Tomorrow was a new day, a day to accomplish, to achieve. Just as that day had and the one before. The next three months would pass in a blink of the eye, but everyday would be an amazing journey to cherish, a clever act of grace.
❂
"
What does that even mean?" Erin looked bewildered at the older cross country trainer. Her right hand held on her hip in a defiant stance while she tried to uncover the puzzle that Keaton presented.
"
It's obvious." He replied nonchalantly. He was the cat and she always fell hook, line, and sinker for the mouse routine.
"
No. No, it's not. Nobody in their right mind will ever understand you."
"
Or, that's just your problem."
"
Whatever, just tell me." She huffed in a childish manner. If Erin had to be honest, she loved the sibling like relationship the two junior trainers had. It kept things around the barn interesting.
"
Well, for those, like you, who can't put two and two together: Full Moon Shadow -
like the eclipse we just had. He's a seal black horse - like the eclipse shadow, not true black. He's got a full moon shape for a star, and the snip on his nose is like it's mirror reflection. And jackal's are just cool." Keaton kept his voice even and low, not giving way to the excitement he felt over naming his stallion. He took pride in the way he'd studied his wild horse, figured out his quirks and personality enough to find a suitable name. The young cross country rider had spent hours observing the stallion from a distance, analyzing the time spent together in the round pen, and scouring the internet for ideas. He'd liked how the mustang's full name was representative of the horse's outer shell - the resemblance to the moon; while his call name was taken from his personality - aggressive but loyal, sensitive and alert. Jackal was actually from the canine, which he'd come across in his Ancient Studies class when they were going over the Egyptian mythologies and Pharaohs. Anubis, the jackal headed death god, had always intrigued him.
Keaton couldn't help but let a smile slip,
Full Moon Shadow - Jackal, his wild mustang had a name.
❂
It was early in the morning, the sun was shining through the strategically placed trees, the pattern dappling the crushed gravel pathways. Horses whinnied and neighed at each other and their grooms, calling for food and companionship. Staff hustled about with their various jobs, some with muck forks in their grips, or laden with tack to be set upon horses or cleaned and then put away. The main ring was already full of horses and riders warming up, collecting and extending gaits, trotting over cavaletti, and getting ready for the day's session. The young head trainer stood in the doorway of the barn watching the activities of her younger riders; it had already been a busy morning and was going to stay that way for most of the day. She had a furrow in her brow as she scanned the surroundings looking for her redheaded assistant. The girl was unusually absent from the scene - and it was definitely noticeable. Her thoughts were interrupted by a waist high rider, holding an upside down bridle questioningly up to the pony she was supposed to be tacking up - the bay pony was not about to give any hints about how to put the metal bit in his mouth; if it wasn't a carrot or sugar cube, he wasn't interested. It was a few minutes later, and the barn aisle was quieting down - the activity moving outdoors to the training ring; looking uncommonly disheveled, with large dark sunglasses shielding her eyes, Erin sucked on the straw poking out of her designer coffee cup, hoping to get the last dregs of sugary healing. Ria glanced at her assistant, disappointment written on her tightened lips. "
Ibuprofen is in the cupboard by the coffee pot in the office." The words were clipped and disapproving.
☼
The day went from bad to worse. She knew she shouldn't have gone to the party - it wasn't even supposed to be a party. Just a small get-together with her friend - a night of video games and bad movies. It started off that way - then her friend (who was getting over a stupid break-up) started sending out hangout texts with BYOB. Erin had declined red cup after bottle after shot glass, completely understanding her role in the morning's schedule, and knowing any sort of drinking might affect her ability. The better of her judgement was finally deceived when the handsome young man she'd been chatting with handed her an unopened fruity drink. The pink color was misleading and overly inviting - the taste was sweet, like carbonated strawberry lemonade. It was delicious and Erin quickly found the bottle empty, and another in it's place. The effects of the high alcohol content came slowly but hard - her vision blurry and her brain felt sluggish to function. Erin knew that she had to call it a night, but couldn't quite figure out the time or why exactly she wouldn't be able to wake up early - she did it everyday, a drink or two shouldn't change that. Her friend came dancing across the room over to her, a sunny orange drink in a tall glass in hand - which was soon pressed into the young trainer's. Again the fruity color and flavor deceived her, as she unwittingly drank more alcohol than she had in a long time.
☼
She stood next to her boss, her stance sheepish but tried to make up for her failures. "
It will never happen again."
"
I doubt that, but appreciate the sentiment."
"
Honestly - I'll never touch another alcoholic drink again. It was just supposed to be a girls' night playing video games. The last thing I remember is being handed an orange drink." The young assistant tried to explain; she hated that Riata thought badly of her.
"
Mhmm," The older woman agreed sarcastically - her gaze never leaving the riders as they circled the ring at a rising trot.
"
Ooh, I love Tequila Sunrises - they are soo good. The worst hangover in the morning though. One time at this party..." A young female rider, in her very early twenties, who had been adjusting her stirrups (so she claimed) but rather being her normal nosy self jumped into the private conversation.
"
Celia - get a move on, you're supposed to be trotting Vanity not gossiping." The head trainer said harshly to her student. She was going to need several headache pills herself by the end of the day if it continued at this pace.
Erin's eyes light up - which caused her to squint in pain and hold a hand to her throbbing temple. "
That's it!" She exclaimed softly so as to not provoke the migraine again.
"
What?"
"
That's his name!"
"
Whose name?"
"
My mustangs! Tequila Sunrise!"
Riata raised an arched eyebrow at her assistant -
maybe she's lost it and should be sent home to recover. "
You're going to commemorate your bad choices by naming your mustang after a drink?"
"
Well," Erin hesitated, trying to think. "
I mean it fits - his sunny color is so bright and bold.
And it wasn't the worst decision ever made - I did get the number of this super cute and smart engineer student."
Riata rolled her eyes and refocused on the riders.
☼
"
You are so lame." Keaton commented when the redheaded trainer told him she'd come up with a name.
Erin retaliated by sticking her tongue out at him.
"
Did you come up with a barn name?" He asked. They were in the tack room oiling saddles and various pieces of tack - punishment dished down by 'Management'.
"
I was thinking Sunny. Or Goldy. Or maybe Spirit." Erin said, pausing in between the names as she thought them up.
"
What is wrong with you?!" Keaton stared at her with wide eyes."
Of all the names you could call him, you come up with Goldy?" The saddle soap sponge slipped out of his grasp and bounced away to freedom in a dusty corner.
"
There's Midas or Soleil or any number of names for a yellow horse. But please, for his sake, don't name him something so ridiculous."
The younger trainer gave him a look, not pleased by his remarks. After a few moments passed by, she'd resumed cleaning the dressage saddle before her, and Keaton had retrieved his lost sponge - Erin quietly asked, "
What does Soleil mean?"
Glancing over, he replied "
It's French for sun." After a pause he added, "
You could try the Spanish word, Sol"
She said it a few times in her head, an image of the golden stallion popping up. "
Sol. Sol. Sol. It's perfect!" She couldn't keep back the smile as she knew the name was perfect. "
Entering the ring, Erin Moore and Tequila Sunrise." The assistant trainer said the names in her best announcer impersonation, "
Oh! It's perfect! Thank you Keaton!" She gushed.
