Kids and #Horses Can't Go Wrong by Julie Herman #Equestrian #Mystery

FEARLESS FRIDAY

I'm really happy to have Julie Herman guesting today. It's not often I get to introduce you to a middle grade (ages 8-12) novel. This is an equestrian novel and that is exciting for me too. My favorite author was Dick Francis and his horsey mysteries. Julie has a story about what led to this book that's all about fearless kids. Read on and enjoy!

When my daughter was young, her first word was “pony.” She loved riding, no matter how much work was involved. Getting on the back of a horse was like flying, she said. It didn’t matter if she was having a canter around a ring or going over fences. (Although she loved fences MUCH more than she did plain old ring work!) 

Through my girl-child, I got involved with the United States Pony Clubs. This is a great organization, a program similar to Scouting except we uses horses as our teaching medium.  As part of my work, I get to travel all over the United States and be in the barns with our members while they compete. Our competitions are different from most horse shows — no parents in the barns! We don’t exactly turn them lose on their own, we have horse management judges there to keep an eye on things.

I can always tell the first-time competitors: they’re the ones escorting their parents out of the barn and then skipping back with their pigtails flying, happy for the freedom of being part of their team, being with their horse — and being responsible for themselves without anyone telling them what to do. 

At our Pony Club Rallies, it’s not all smooth sailing, but smoother than many modern parents imagine it could be when you let children be in charge of themselves! I’ve had teams lock small teammates in their tackroom (ostensibly to keep them

clean, but I think it was just so they could find them — six-year-olds can disappear quickly!) had thirty competitors come crashing into the horse management judging office when the pinata I’d hung in the doorway spilled it’s contents onto the floor, and watched children who had kept themselves to a strict schedule, all while caring for themselves, their horse and their team.

So what’s a writer to do when faced with all this controlled choas? Write about it, of course! Thus BURNED was born. 

Sophie wants nothing more than to spend all her time riding her beloved horse Cricket with her friends and their horses. Then the local tack shop burns down and her mother is accused of arson. Sophie must ride to the rescue or risk losing everything.

I have so enjoyed seeing the happy grins on children’s faces when they pick up the book and discover that a character shares their passion for horses. Their parents purchase the book, then they gallop off for some reading time. I often hear back later that they loved the fact that Sophie gets back up and gets back on the horse (both literally and figuratively) just the way they are taught when they take a tumble. (Although, as Sophie’s trainer, Queenie would say — don’t get back on if you bump your head, childhood concussions are serious business!) 

So if you know a child (or adult) who loves horses and the freedom to fly across fields and fences that they bring, I’d love it if you introduce them to Sophie. They’ll have a lot in common.

BURNED BUY LINK CLICK HERE

MORE ABOUT JULIE CLICK HERE

#Fearless #Horse Tale by Sasscer Hill

FEARLESS FRIDAY

I love horse racing stories so I'm particularly pleased with my guest today, Sasscer Hill. She is fearless in this experience!

Back in my thirties, I got incredibly lucky and was given a handsome four-year-old steeplechase horse. I named him Rascal, and somehow managed to transform this spirited, high strung animal into a riding horse and foxhunter.

I’ve always been a bit too brave and reckless for my own good, and after owning him two years, I dared myself to ride Rascal in the Potomac Hunt Races. When my friends heard I was racing this two-mile course over four-foot, solid, nailed board-fences, they thought I was nuts. They might have been right.

In the jockey’s tent before my race, I was the only female. The male jocks wore enough bandages and braces over wrenched necks, broken collar bones, and shoulder injuries, that my hands began to tremble. In the race before mine, professional jockeys rode the exact same course I would soon be riding. One of them left in a medevac helicopter. Can you say nervous going down to the start? I was scared to death.

But if you’ve read my books, you might have picked up on one of my themes–that you get what you

give. This was so true with Rascal. I trusted him, so he trusted me. I was kind to him, so he was kind to me. Still, I was scared to death riding him to the starting tape.

I was about to have the most extraordinary experience of my life. I was so focused, and so in tune with Rascal that he seemed able to read my mind. It’s the only time in my life where the world moved in slow motion. There was a big crowd that day, and once the race began, the crowd diminished. I never heard them or saw them. The fences came at me, not the other way around. I became one with my horse, and about halfway through, Rascal was running so well, we had only one horse ahead of us.

Suddenly I realized we were badly positioned. Rascal’s head was even with the hindquarters of the other horse. We were speeding toward the biggest fence on the course. I was terrified he’d try to lift with the other horse, be unable to clear the jump, and crash down on top of that wall of nailed boards. I’ve seen it happen.

He allowed me to slow him, just enough to move back out of danger. But the move had cost us ground. As if reading my mind, he darted to the inside of the other horse, and cleared the fence. I hadn’t even had time to give him a cue. He just did it, then flew by the competition They’d never seen us coming. Now we were on the inside, saving ground. About three quarters through the race, Circus shortened his stride, but was only taking a breather. I did not carry a whip, I knew he’d give me what he had. After the last fence, I shook the reins, and scrubbed him out with my hands and legs. He opened his lead on the rest of the field and we won!

I’ve never been so internally focused. When I finally managed to pull the horse up, I saw my mother standing by the rail waving at me. It was so hard to mentally leave the race and re-enter the normal world, that it took me a while to figure out who she was and why she was there.

When I reached her, she was crying, and said, “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Find Sasscer's novel, The Dark Side of Town HERE

FIND SASSCER:

Website: http://SasscerHill.com

Facebook author page:  https://www.facebook.com/SasscerHill/

Twitter:https://twitter.com/SasscerHill
Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/Sasscer-Hill/e/B003LYXOMI/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1513441165&sr=1-2-ent

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3405969.Sasscer_Hill

BACK IN THE SADDLE … LITERALLY #horse #ride by Holly Bargo

FEARLESS FRIDAY

Please read on for a most heartwarming, yet totally fearless, horsey tale by my guest, Holly Bargo.

Anyone who knows me in the least knows that horses occupy a huge part of my life. From that first, impromptu ride when I was three years old, the four-legged beasties have populated my dreams and desires. With a loan from my mother and the understanding that I would not only pay back the loan, but also would cover all horse-related expenses from then on, I bought my first horse at the tender age of 15. So was she.

That first horse taught me a lot, initially that she was in charge, not I. We began our relationship with her throwing me against a stall wall when I attempted to pick up her foot. During our first ride, she bolted. Very quickly, I learned that I had a whole lot to learn. We eventually grew to trust each other and I thought I could ride anything.

Fast forward nearly 20 years and two children later to living on my own hobby farm. That first horse had long since crossed the Rainbow Bridge and I had a 10-year old, green broke gelding returned for the second time from training. With my toddler son watching, I tacked the horse up, longed him, hopped in the saddle, and … ate dirt. Even though I wore an ASTM-approved safety helmet, I still sustained a concussion, bone-deep bruising, and nasty abrasions.

I never rode that horse again. The very idea of riding terrified me.

But I remembered when riding was fun. When I enjoyed it. When the horse and I moved in synchrony with each other, a summer breeze in our faces. I wanted that simple and profound joy and peace again.

So, I went back to the drawing board and took riding lessons. The instructor understood my fear and understood that I needed to get beyond it. She pushed me: walk, trot, and, yes, damn it, canter.

I looked for another horse, something older, something settled, something easy. I saw an advertisement for a 19-year old Morgan mare. Since reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books as a little girl, I’d wanted a Morgan. I scheduled an appointment, drove out to see the horse, and fell in love with a pretty face. A friend with a truck and trailer hauled the lovely Lady Anastasia to the trainer’s. I begged the trainer to ride her first and work out the quirks and kinks.

After doing so a couple of times, she said to me, “You don’t pick the easy ones, do you?”

Back to the basics again. My knees shook. My stomach churned. I forced myself to get into the saddle. We walked. Eventually we trotted. When it came time to canter weeks later, my heart pounded with terror as Stasia launched into a canter. I wrestled my all too energetic, 19-year old horse to a halt and damn near cried I was so scared.

I took lessons for a few more months. That so-called settled and easy horse wasn’t: “hell on wheels” was a better term. Ounce by hard won ounce, I regained my courage now tempered with healthy respect and the reminder of my mortality. Stasia didn’t give me anything; she made me earn every drop of confidence and skill.

The lovely Lady Anastasia turned 33 years old in February. She looks amazing for being above-ground, bright-eyed and energetic. Last fall, I broke her out of retirement for the second time. She still has energy to spare. She still isn’t one of the easy ones. But we understand each other. And, as difficult and quirky as this old mare is, I’m once again confident in the saddle.

This bodes well for the next horse.

About Holly Bargo

Holly Bargo is a pseudonym that originated as the registered name of—you guessed it—a horse. She lives on a hobby farm in southwest Ohio with her family and a menagerie of animals. Holly has published 18 books with the 19^th, Daughter of the Deepwood, due for release on March 31.

To find all of Holly's books, visit her Amazon page. Click Here