Summer Camp For Legends
—Julia Fenstermacher
“That horse is wild.”
The lady with long red braids leaned on the fence squinting at the black mare. “You’d best leave her alone.”
I stood in the hot sun next to the other campers and watched the mare trot around the paddock, head high, ears pricked sharp. The word, “wild” sparked my interest, and the command to stay away, I took as a personal challenge–a new goal for my summer in the mountains at Camp Chimooka.
“What’s her name?” The other horses move lazily around the corral, tails flicking flies. The mare pushed her way through the herd to the water trough and dipped her nose–her long eyelashes fluttered with contentment. She looked calm to me.
“Moonshine.” The lady said and stood up tall in her worn out cowboy boots.
“Moonshine.” I pictured the mare running in an open field under a full moon.
“Nice name, but not a nice horse–especially for a 12-year-old girl. I’m Shadow.” She stood studying us, then said, “Besides, you’re all green little beginners, and might not even ride this summer.”
My heart stopped. But I’m not a beginner!
I stayed mute on the subject and hoped for the best. After dinner and singing songs about the gold rush, night animals, and the Native Americans who used to live right where we sat, Shadow led us to our sleeping area. We dragged our belongings behind her through the forest in the pitch dark, eyes peeled for bats, owls and maybe a ghost or two. We emerged from the trail and all we saw was a circular clearing with an empty bonfire pit in the middle. I clutched my sleeping bag and knapsack and searched for cots.
“Pick a spot on the ground and get to sleep now. No talking. You get up at dawn to muck the stalls. You want to play with the horses, you gotta take care of em.”
Shadow then walked away with a slight limp kicking up dust and ducked into a tent strung up under a low branched pine tree.
Figures.
I was used to being left to fend for myself.
I lay awake in my cluster of sleeping campers for hours feeling bad and sad.I said a little prayer for the Native Indians that used to live here and were driven away, then thought too much about the fact that my parents sent me away just after the baby was born, as if I wasn’t invisible enough.
We woke up covered in dew and shivered our way to the barn to muck the stalls, then showered, ate breakfast and sang more of those creepy songs. Afternoons should have been the best part of the day, but turned out to be the worst and I realized it really was just a beginner’s camp. By the end of the first week, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I sat next to Shadow one day and it all came out in one steady stream.
“Shadow, my parents accidentally sent me to a beginner’s horsemanship camp. I already know how to ride. I’ve taken lessons, rode on night rides, and tacked up my horse, but all I do here is clean and groom. I’m so bored.”
Shadow looked at me with a blank stare through bright blue eyes. I knew that face. It said, stop whining. It’s not all about you. Be Thankful… I flushed red and felt like a fool. “Well not much we can do about now, can we?” She said, “try to have a good time.”
“Never mind.” I pushed off the bench and ran to the barn.
That night, the moon sat high and full. I sat up and looked around. The ground was a glowing peach, and the tall trees sparse enough that the trail led off like a yellow brick road.
Perfect for a night ride.
I pulled my flashlight and an apple from the bottom of my sleeping bag, put on my boots, and wrapped myself in my thin white blanket. At the barn, the horses were in their stalls, and I found Moonshine munching hay. I felt strangely calm as I rushed to get her saddled and bridled. Outside, she glowed blue like the moon.
The trail system was simple, and I knew if I got lost Moonshine would bring me home. I could tell she knew the paths by how forward and willing she was. At the bottom of the trail, we rode along the rim of Trinity Lake weaving in and out of the forest with the village’s houses and shops across from us reflecting off the water.
Then I found out why Moonshine was wild.
As soon as I turned the mare to head back to camp, I felt a surge of power beneath the saddle. All I could do was hold on. I lost the reins, screamed, and clutched my blanket and the saddle horn. She ran all the way up the mountain to the barn gate.
At the corral, I fell to her feet, my heart pounding in shock. Once recovered, I hurried to get her put away, then returned to my sleeping bag where I fell fast asleep cherishing the best night of my life.
Night after night, all summer long, we repeated the wild ride. Moonshine bolted home, and I hung on and hollered all the way. No one ever found out and I knew I could never tell.
My first night back home I cried myself to sleep while the baby cried in her room and my Mama rushed to care for her. I felt alone again and invisible. When I woke up, I snuck downstairs to the sunny kitchen and sat at the table where my father’s newspaper lay open. I dropped my cereal spoon and could barely swallow when I read the headline:
Spirit of Ancient Chimooka Haunts Guilt-Ridden Hamlet at Trinity Lake
Ghostly visions and shrieks have haunted Trinity Lake citizens all summer. They now believe the spirit is a Chimooka Indian Chief who was cruelly driven from his land along with his tribe. The town has gathered to make amends by creating a generous foundation for the education of all Chimooka descendants, in the hopes of bringing peace back to their formerly quiet hamlet.
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