Willow Chapter 12: Mack’s Voice
The long summer continued, and Sonia was in the habit of going to the stable every day now to help Mack take care of Willow. Climbing the ramp to the stable’s upper floors seemed natural to her now. Without thinking about it, Sonia placed her feet just as the horses placed their hooves, seeking the old strips of wood on the ramp that gave the horses traction on the steep ramp.
The first thing she did on arriving was go to Willow’s stall and give her a treat, whether a carrot she bought from the bodega, or an apple she had slipped out of the fruit bowl at home. Except for the dull thud of dirty sawdust landing in wheelbarrows, the occasional sound of a groom soothing a horse, or the ring of the blacksmith’s hammer on a metal horseshoe, the stable floors were quiet.
After Willow had finished the treat, Sonia scratched her neck and put her halter on. Willow lowered her head to make haltering easier. To Sonia, Willow always seemed to understand what was next. She led Willow to the grooming stall and hosed the strained tendon on her front leg for twenty minutes, as Mack had instructed. It was early July, three weeks after the tendon strain, and Willow’s leg looked much better. Sonia had to look carefully to see any swelling now.
Sonia turned off the hose and brushed Willow until her gray coat gleamed in the dull light that filtered in through the windows that were high on the wall. Mack stopped by just as she finished and rubbed a strong smelling liniment on Willow’s leg. He stood up and nodded approvingly.
“That’s the way girl, she’s getting better. Willow needs to start walking now, can you take her down to the ring and walk her? Start with ten minutes today, and mind you don’t get in the way of the lessons.”
“Yes, sir” Sonia whispered, happy to have another task in the stable.
The girl and the horse descended the ramp together, slowly, so as not to undo the healing so far. It was morning, not a busy time for lessons, and Sonia walked the mare in wide circles around the edge of the riding ring. Now that she had spent time upstairs she understood the oddity of the building, how all the weight of upper floors filled with stalls and horses and equipment rested on the steel pillars that interrupted the open space of the ring. The instructors used them as landmarks and teaching aids; weave your horse through the pillars, they sometimes said, or trot a tight circle around one.
In the quiet of the morning, with the sun just starting to get hot on the open ramp that led to the street, Sonia walked the mare carefully, willing her to get better so they could enjoy their rides again. Without thinking, Sonia rested a hand on her neck as they walked along, Willow obediently staying beside her, the lead rope slack, almost unnecessary.
Then it came to Sonia, a flash of vision that played out against the silent, shadowed walls of the ring. She saw the Hudson River, and a cheerful melee of carriages drawn by beautiful horses. Some of the carriages were open, and some were enclosed with cabs made of exquisitely finished wood. Some of the horses were driven by uniformed men, but others had gentlemen or ladies at the reins, The ladies wore long dresses and wide hats. It was a warm day, and a few seagulls floated on the breeze off the river.
Then she heard a man’s voice. It seemed not to be speaking to her, somehow she heard it as her patient equine companion heard it, nevertheless her view of the scene changed. Now she was viewing the carriages from a stationary place, instead of moving along smartly with the others.
“Willow, whoa there!”
Sonia’s brief vision vanished as the lead rope suddenly offered resistance for the first time. Willow had halted, head high and nostrils flaring, as if she too were trying to take in the distant scene.
“That’s ten minutes and a bit, girl, that’s enough walking for Willow today.” Sonia refocused, and saw Mack standing halfway down the ramp. He must have come down to check on them. Slowly, she led Willow over to him, while trying to make sense of the vision. Willow had dropped her head once more, and gave no sign of her momentary excitement.
Reluctantly, Sonia handed the lead rope over to Mack. His calloused hand brushed hers as he took the rope, and Sonia wondered how she had not noticed before how the veins stood out on the backs of his hands. Suddenly she blurted out the question she would not have had the courage to ask if she had stopped to think.
“Mr. Mack, do you know Miss Sarah? She had a horse named Willow and her footman was named…”
Sonia trailed off when she saw Mack’s eyes open wide in fear, and the way he shook his head. He held his finger to his lips in a silent but unmistakable signal to say nothing further. There seemed to be no one around who could overhear, but apparently Sonia would have to wait before getting an answer.
A note to readers: Thank you for giving this book chapter a chance, I hope you enjoyed it. I am sharing one chapter at a time of Willow. In case you are wondering, publishing this book chapter is part of my new goal to share my fiction. Unlike my work on historic African American schools and sharecropping (which has been published in various venues and featured at dozens of film festivals), I have not shared my fiction widely. For links to my documentary films and history articles, please see: http://stackstories.com/
