Racing Home ~ Chapter 1

Here's chapter one of my NaNo novel, Racing Home. ENJOY! I want feedback, feedback, feedback!

Please. =)

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§Chapter 1§

Maci swung her legs over the edge of her bed, stretched, and leapt up. Swapping her PJ pants for some jeans, she threw on a sweatshirt and grabbed the halter and lead that hung on a hook by her door. Maci dashed out the door, she pulled on her boots and threw a sweatshirt over her head. Sprinting towards the barn, a loud whinny sounded from the pasture.

Reaching the pasture, Maci quickly unlatched the gate, just in time to be nearly knocked off her feet by the over-eager roan mare that stood before her. Make It Fine, or Fin, cocked her head and looked Maci in the eye. Laughing, Maci reached into her pocket and slipped Fin a treat as she buckled the clasp on the halter. She led Fin into the barn and tied her in cross-ties in the grooming stall.

Fin swung her head around and playfully lipped at Maci’s shoulder as Maci brushed the caked dirt off of Fin’s shoulder and back. The dirt fell in large, thick clumps to the ground, and Maci whistled a tuneless song. Fin picked her hoof up for Maci and, grabbing it, Maci used the hoof pick to get the clumpy mud out of the hoof. She flipped the hoof pick around and used the brush side of it to get all of the extra, dusty dirt off. Repeating the process with the other three hooves, she noticed that one of Fin’s shoes had slipped, and was slowly moving towards the tip of her hoof. Making a mental not to make a call to the farrier, Maci went towards the tack room, pulling a key ring out of her pocket. She unlocked the cabinet that held all of her and Fin’s tack and other things and pulled her saddle blanket out.

Throwing the saddle blanket over Fin’s back, Maci put her barrel racing saddle on the horse, too. The silver trim on the saddle sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the sun roof that was above the grooming stall. As she fastened the front and back girths, Maci heard Fin grunt. She chuckled a little but furrowed her brow in a small bit of worry. Did that hurt Fin? She’d never done that before; Maci shrugged and decided to let it go for now.

Maci returned to the tack room and was presented with a choice of bridles. She could use her brand new, only-used-once-before medium shade leather that had silver studs on the brow band and tassels on the place where the brow band and crown piece connected; she could use her old but nice dark leather bridle that had no silver or bling at all; or, she could use her friend Joni’s light leather bridle that had extreme silver accents. Smiling, Maci grabbed Joni’s bridle and rushed back to Fin. Quickly, she bridled her horse and led her outside to the dirt driveway of the barn.  

Thankfully, Maci remembered to tighten Fin’s front girth; a few months ago, she had gotten on without tightening it and, while running a barrel pattern, fell off and broke two bones in her foot. Thankfully, she didn’t take too long to recover and was back in the saddle within a couple of weeks.

Hopping up into the saddle, Maci played with Fin’s strawberry mane as they plodded down the driveway, towards the street that led to the trails. Fin – who had way too much energy for a six-year-old, and being a barrel racer just didn’t help – started prancing and Maci easily held on with her legs, lightly touching the bit with her reins to settle Fin down. As usual, and as a result of the great training Maci had done with her, Fin immediately stopped and settled down, walking flat-footed.

They reached the road and turned onto it. Maci clucked quietly and squeezed with her legs, urging Fin into a trot. The roan mare slowly perked up into her trot, which was so smooth, Maci felt as if she was barely moving. Maci reached down and gave Fin an encouraging pat on the neck and told her what a good girl she was.

Maci urged her horse into a canter, and they took off down the road. The mare’s hooves pounded on the dirt road, the air rushed out of her nostrils like thunder clouds, her eyes pierced the scenery before her like lightning striking trees. The two blended as one, simply enjoying each other. They reached their turn and Fin took on her own mind, sped up into a gallop, and bolted around the turn like a race horse. Laughing, Maci first asked, then commanded, to slow. Reluctantly, the hoof beats quieted to a slow, rhythmical clip clop, and the pair reached their destination.

They slowed to a stop. Maci stared at their destination, down the trail. Last time she’d been here, Joni had fallen off, sprained her wrist, and dislocated her shoulder. But this time, Joni wasn’t here… So it must be okay to ride here, right? It almost felt wrong to ride without Joni, but Joni was in Colorado – just a couple states away – and was flying back into Indiana tomorrow; Maci was so excited.

Feeling the contents of her stomach churning inside her, Maci nudged Fin forward into a trot and they started down the trial. Thoughts of doubt clouded Maci’s mind, and she noticed a thin white fog was still settled over the lake that was ahead; it was still morning, and the sun wasn’t quite high enough in the sky to make the fog and clouds lift. But still, the clouds hovering over the lake was a strange and unwelcome sight. There was fog on the day Joni was injured; but there was none on any day before that. Strange, thought Maci, This could turn out badly.

Here, the trail forked: you could go left and go towards the open meadow where you could run your horse or race your friends or work on groundwork or do whatever you wanted; or turn right and walk on the trial that led around the lake. Since the meadow was where Joni fell, Maci steered the roan mare onto the trial that led around the lake. They walked for a while, and Maci was lost in her thoughts. The memory of the day Fin was born returned to Maci:

“Maci. Maci. Maci.” The urgent voice of Maci’s father, Max, woke 8 year old Maci from her sleep.

“What, dad?” Maci whispered, peeling her eyes open to stare at the silhouette of her father in the early morning darkness of her room.

“Maddie’s foal is about to be born. Come, put on some jeans and your boots. Don’t forget the halter.”

Maci nodded and her father left the room swiftly; young Maci could tell that he was in a hurry and excited. This was the foal of Max’s stallion, Finish Line, and Maci’s mother’s – who died five months ago from brain cancer – horse, Gone Make It Work. It was Gone Make It Work “Maddie’s” first foal, and the first of Max’s that he got to keep.

Maci grabbed the black foal/weanling sized halter from the hook by her door, and eagerly ran out of her room, down the stairs, and outside to the barn.

The little girl reached the barn and ran inside, not even bothering to pull the barn door shut completely behind her. Her father called out to her from the largest stall, held in the very back of the barn. Maci slid the door of the foaling stall open quietly, slipped inside, and shut it behind her. She crept on tiptoes over to the far wall, where her father crouched. Maddie was laying on her side in the middle of the stall, stretched full out. Her sides heaved, her nostrils flared, and her ears were pinned violently.

Just minutes later, Maddie was on her feet, rapidly licking and chewing the air and the foal. Shaking what little mane it had, the foal nickered loudly to its mother, and attempted to stand. It stumbled, and fell, landing splayed on its belly. Little Maci laughed, and her father shushed her quickly.

Max, who was an expert when it came to horse breeding, foaling and training (thanks to his best friend, Joseph Diamond, who breeds, trains and shows horses), reached over and gently supported the foal’s belly as it struggled to stand. Thanks to the additional support, the foal was able to leap to its feet. Once it found its balance, Max took his hand away.

The foal stumbled as it attempted to walk, and tottered precariously; though it didn’t fall. Reaching its mother, the foal stretched its muzzle up and began to nurse from its mother.

“It’s a filly,” Max whispered to his daughter.

“What will you name her?” Maci said back.

“She’s yours,” the father said, “so you name her. What do you first think of when you see her face?”

“A fish,” Maci laughed, “because the mark on her forehead looks like a fin.”

“So what kind of name does that make you think of?” Max said in all seriousness. “Finny?” The father-daughter pair both chuckled.

“No, more like Fine,” Maci smiled. “I don’t know why.”

“Hows Make It Fine sound? That way she’s got part of Maddie’s name in her, too.”

The pair were happy with that. The little girl watched with a big, sloppy grin on her young face as the foal stopped nursing, turned around completely, and walked over to her. The soft, velvety muzzle of Fin touched Maci’s cheek and Maci giggled. The baby’s small, prickly whiskers poked Maci’s face, and one even touched the inside of her nose.

Maci sneezed, and immediately giggled. Fin dashed to the far corner of the stall, hiding behind Maddie’s legs. The mare snorted and stomped her hoof, swinging her big, heavy head around to look at Maci and her father. Maddie blinked, flared her nostrils, pinned her ears, and lunged for Maci. The mare’s teeth just barely made contact with Maci’s shoulder, grazing her skin. Gasping, the little girl started crying as she stared at the cut that was beginning to bleed before her very eyes. Max frowned and left the stall for a moment.

While Max was gone, Fin emerged from behind the mare and reached out with his muzzle, rubbing it against the skin just below the broken skin on Maci’s shoulder. More carefully this time, Maci giggled. She reached her soft, tiny hand to meet the foal’s fluffy face. Eagerly, Fin shoved her forehead into Maci’s hand and held it there, with two big brown eyes gazing into young Maci’s icy blue ones.

Max returned with a large band-aid and a disinfectant wipe. His daughter winced when he carefully wiped the dirt and grime out of the cut before placing the band aid on it. He kissed his fingertips and then lay his fingers gently on the band aid.

“There,” he said, smiling at his daughter, “that’ll make it all better.”

Maci nodded and looked at the foal, who had retreated a few feet away, waiting. Max, understanding immediately, retreated to outside the stall, presumably going to do something interesting.

Fin looked at the door of the stall, then turned her head to look at Maci with her beautiful, liquid chocolate eyes. Fin shuffled her long, clumsy legs as she walked over to Maci. The two stood there for a long time, the little girl stroking the little horse’s neck, shoulders, and back. Eventually, Fin folded her legs and lay down on the soft, padded stall floor, her fluffy head resting in Maci’s lap.