Guest Post by Lorraine Turner

Please welcome Lorraine Turner, who guest blogs for us today about how she came to write her brand new book called Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail.

Divorce and Round-Ups

 

Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail - a young adult novel by Lorraine Turner.

I live in a world of flip-flops and palm trees – no wild horses. I didn't even know they still existed. But I came to learn about them in the most bizarre way—through daily meditation. I began seeing images of horses running over fields of calico fabric. Vivid patchwork mountains appeared as I flew over them. This continued until one day I saw three horses rendered in my own painting style standing on a hill. Who were these calico-covered horses and why did they appear to me? The final patchwork meditation gave me the answer. I was given a very clear message by these beautiful creatures: “We want you to tell our story”…and so I did.

In researching the novel I learned about the plight of the wild horses named after the colorful Calico Mountains located in Nevada. I added many elements to the story from personal experiences, such as when years ago I had to make the tough decision to relocate and uproot my children. As I learned about the mustangs and burros being stripped of their freedom I saw the truth in the powerful statement my three year old told me at the time I moved her from everything she knew: “Nobody asked me.”

 

This is the story of how Carrie, a girl ripped apart by divorce, helps the wild mustangs torn from the range. Together they face uncertainties brought on by the decisions of others. There is a strong element of magic realism throughout: is she a budding horse whisperer or is her troubled mind playing tricks on her?

 

In the book Carrie’s dreams are actually taken from my meditation journal. Here is an excerpt from Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail.

 

Sunday June 29^th:

I had another dream of rolling hills of fabric. It all began with those same lights flickering on sparkling water. Then I was looking down at the patterned lands that were made of patches of varying colors. I felt as if I were flying as I soared overhead. The hills had valleys and I dipped down into them as I looked all around me at the many colors of blue, pink, green, lavender, and gold. Then a black, misty fog covered the hills and all went dark. The darkness slowly became un-foggy as if the sun was beginning to rise. Black hills appeared and three horses were standing on the ridge. They were pawing the ground and I heard them snorting as they swished their tails. They were real horses but they were covered in patches of fabric. As I looked closely I could see that they were each made of the same swatches I had seen on the hills. Three beautiful horses covered in calico fabric. And then I woke.

* * * * *

 

As a meditation instructor and motivational speaker I encourage readers to move their thoughts into action. I will be offering Equine Water Color Workshops throughout the country, donating my services to help where I can. I hope this book touches the hearts of all who read. May it continue to raise awareness about the plight of all the wild horses and burros struggling for survival. A portion of all proceeds will be donated to organizations helping to rescue them, such as: http://www.returntofreedom.org/

 

My meditations have already provided material for a second book in the series. Look for Unbridled Sea Horses and the Hurricane Trail as we learn survival skills from horses that for centuries have galloped over the beaches of the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

 

 

Thank you so much for stopping by our blog, Lorraine, and good luck with Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail. Here's the link on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Calico-Horses-Patchwork-Lorraine-Turner/dp/1613778376/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1396113835&sr=1-1

 

And you can learn more about Lorraine here: http://www.openroadmedia.com/lorraine-turner

Meghan Namaste and Training Harry

by Linda Benson

Today, please welcome Meghan Namaste, who recently published a novel called Training Harry, which she describes as a "new equestrian saga for adults."

Training Harry is available right now as an eBook on Amazon, with a print version in the works.

Erica Rimwork is an everygirl, fighting her way up the ranks as a hunter/jumper trainer. She isn’t gorgeous, or highly successful. Perpetually single, she’s focused on her goal - an Olympic show-jumping medal. Or moving out of her parents’ house would be good too.

When she agrees to help out her brother’s friend with a troubled horse, Erica is totally unprepared for what she finds. The friend is Lawrence Cavanaugh, a rogue polo player with intense eyes and tight-fitting jeans. Mind blown, Erica finds herself agreeing to help train his renegade polo pony, Harry. For free. She knows what she’s in for - Harry is a mess, rank, thorny, and maddening. But unlocking the mystery of Harry’s resistance is one thing. Getting the guy is a lot more complicated.

Meghan has provided us with an excerpt from Training Harry, so enjoy:

Lawrence’s place was pretty close by, but off the beaten track. The route veered gradually, taking me away from the prestige and uniformity of my neighborhood. The scenery shifted from white-fenced Thoroughbred palaces to hay fields and small family farms. Lexington’s natural beauty was more evident out here, and I gazed out the window as my truck wound its way through narrow two-lane roads and eventually made the turn onto an unmarked dirt road.

I knew the place where he was living, vaguely. It belonged to a family friend. She’d inherited it when her husband died and it had stood empty for a long while. I guessed Lou had helped hook him up with it.

I pulled in the drive and shut down my vehicle. Looking around, I could see the old stable was still in good shape, wearing the patina of age and slight neglect. There were several paddocks nearby, but no horses were turned out in them. The footing in the outdoor arena had been harrowed recently. But the farmhouse drew me in the most. It was small, just the right size for a person or two, with windows all around. That is a house I could live in.

I climbed out of my truck and slammed the door, piercing the quiet. I heard a horse call out and then the door of the house opened. Before I knew it, Lawrence Cavanaugh was standing in front of me, shaking my hand. "Hi there," he said warmly. "You must be Erica." I nodded like one of those absurd-looking bobbleheads. I couldn't speak. Hell, even breathing was difficult.

He stood no taller than I did, just under six feet. He was lean but not skinny, and he carried himself like a Thoroughbred in the post parade, all taut, controlled, dangerous energy. His hair was jet black and it fell haphazardly around his face, the longest of it ending below his jaw. His eyes were unbelievably dark and so intense that it both thrilled and terrified me to be so close. I tried to comprehend how I had missed him before, when he used to hang out with Lou. Was I blind?

Slowly, I became aware that I was staring at him. I knew I needed to stop, but it seemed an impossibility. Feeling embarrassed, I pulled at a stray thread on my shirt. Don't panic, I told myself. He's probably used to this. All the same, I hated my lack of self control. I could almost hear the seconds go by.

Fortunately, Lawrence threw me a lifeline. "Harry's in his stall. I left him in this morning so as not to waste any of your time. He doesn’t like to be caught."

I smiled gratefully. "That was good thinking. Well, I'll get started with him then."

Almost surprised by my newfound ability to form words, I followed Lawrence to the barn, noting that the back view was as righteous as the front had been. Well, that's not going to help you concentrate, is it?

We stepped through the barn door. My stomach was floating unnaturally with anticipation.

I saw Harry immediately. He was black with a bold white blaze on his face. That was all I could tell at first. He was straining against his stall door, weaving slightly. At the sound of our feet he turned his head and focused on me. The weight in his stare was shocking. There was more behind his eye than there should have been.

I stayed back, watching, as Lawrence clipped a lead to his halter and brought him out. “Meet Harry,” he said.

I could see the potential my brother had spoken of immediately. Harry was athletic and muscled, yet streamlined. His legs and feet were well built and clearly up to the rigors of polo. He stood up as if on tiptoe, poised. The whites of his eyes were prominent, like an Appaloosa. My heart was suddenly very loud in my ears.

We moved Harry to the cross ties so Lawrence could tack him up. Harry stood well for the process, but I could see his mind working overtime.

"So. What kind of problems have you been having with Harry?" I asked, like this was just a normal training gig with a normal owner and a normal horse.

Lawrence stopped what he was doing, a stirrup leather frozen in his hand. His eyes went even darker for a second. “He…” Lawrence seemed to be doing a lot of editing. “He has no work ethic,” he finally said.

“What do you mean?” I needed more information than that.

“Harry could easily go along with what I want. I’m not asking for much, at this stage. But he won’t. He works himself into a lather fighting against me. He’d rather fight himself ragged than walk in a straight line when I ask him to.” Lawrence stared dimly at Harry. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I walked around to Harry’s near side. “I assume he’s been vetted?”

Lawrence snorted. “Flexed, poked, prodded, x-rayed, scoped by the finest vets in Wellington. He’s had a bone scan, an MRI even. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

I didn’t bother asking about saddle fit. I could see the saddle was a match, and even if it wasn’t, horses are adept at tolerating a little pain. This issue went way deeper. Whatever it was.

Lawrence went to Harry’s head, fastening the noseband and throatlatch. I realized I would have to ride soon. Harry seemed to realize it too. His head came up, and his calm demeanor vanished. Staring at his twitching muscles, I felt my confidence retreating. Lou said he’s not a rogue, I reminded myself. Lou said he’s not a rogue.

Oh, hell, what does Lou know? My brain rebounded. Lou hasn’t even seen the horse!

Lawrence handed Harry's reins to me.

I looked into Harry’s quivering eyeball, then back at Lawrence. He was waiting, ready to take Harry’s reins back. He thought I was going to bail. I turned back to Harry with resolve. He wasn’t any different than the young, fractious ex-racehorses I started all the time. He was smaller, too. I hesitated for a brief moment, then fastened my helmet. "Come on, Harry," I said in my best fake self-assured horse calming voice, "Let's have some fun."

I led Harry to the arena, pulled down the stirrups and mounted up. He stood obediently. Encouraged, I gave him a long rein and brushed him with my leg.

When I got on a new horse, unless they were totally jazzed up and ready to buck, I always gave them a minute to just walk out, and I followed them with my seat and hands, asking nothing. It gave me a chance to get used to their rhythm, and I found it made them more agreeable in the end. Horses didn’t subscribe to the same social standards as people did, true, but it seemed to me that it was rude to jump on a new horse and immediately start demanding things.

Harry did hesitate. I let him have that moment of uncertainty, and then he picked himself up and walked on. His neck was upside-down, and his head floated above the contact I offered. But he walked dead straight.

I patted him, turned him in the other direction, and gave his sides a light squeeze. He burst into the trot, skittering around in a quick tempo. I controlled my posting, lingering in the air each time I rose, and Harry slowed his gait to match the rhythm I’d set for him. Encouraged, I picked up the contact, wrapping my inside leg against him and fluttering the reins, reaching down to touch his neck whenever he softened.

I changed direction a couple times, bending him different ways. Harry was melting, answering me, giving me the power to shape him. That was a big deal for a horse like Harry. But I could see, from the glimpses I caught of his eye as I rode him, that his mind was far from quiet.

             Gently, I brought Harry to a halt. I patted his neck, which wasn't even sweaty. And I looked up from the black curve of Harry’s neck, right into the equally dark and deeply-set eyes of his owner. He was smiling.

Thanks so much for stopping by, Meghan, and best of luck with your new novel. Once again, the Kindle edition of this book is right here: http://www.amazon.com/Training-Harry-Meghan-Namaste-ebook/dp/B00H3QAZK4/

Happy Reading, everyone, and hope you and your horses are staying snug in the bitter weather many of you are experiencing!

Guest Post from Author Julian Ross

                                                by Laura Crum

            We here at Equestrian Ink are always excited when one of our regular readers/commenters comes out with a book of his/her own, and today I have a fascinating post from Julian Ross about his Riding Holiday Centre Manual. Julian writes the equally fascinating blog, White Horse Pilgrim (listed on the sidebar), which I have been reading for several years now. I have always loved this blog, as Julian writes of his (to me) exotic and romantic life running a holiday riding center in Translyvania and his current (equally romantic—to me) life riding his mare, Brena, through the chalk hills of England. Whether he is describing the Carpathian Mountains that Bram Stoker made famous in Dracula, or the ground that Tolkien traversed and used as the inspiration for his novels (think Tom Bombadil’s barrow downs), Julian’s always lyrical descriptions and lovely photographs make me feel that I am right there with him.

            But Julian has a practical side as well, as anyone who has guided rides for a living must have. So his knowledge of tack and gear and saddle fit and hoof care and horse training…etc is deep and extensive. His Riding Holiday Centre Manual is aimed at helping others who want to start a holiday riding center to benefit from his experience, as his post will tell.

            I really enjoy Julian’s writing, and I think you will, too. To give you an idea what a colorful life he has led, here are a few photos from his time in Transylvania.

            And a shot of him in England on his current mount, Brena.

            Here is Julian’s story of how he came to write the Riding Holiday Centre Manual.

The Riding Holiday Centre Manual

On a summer morning fourteen years ago I arrived in Transylvania with insufficient money, an unsuitable horse and a rebellious wife. I was there to start a riding holiday centre. Why not? People around me may not have understood what drove me. My family certainly didn’t. However I enjoyed riding, I loved the outdoors and I needed a spot of adventure. I was moving to a lovely scenic area where there were lots of horses. One of the major equestrian holiday agents had expressed an interest. What could go wrong?

Actually many things could go wrong, and a number did. I knew how to ride – tolerably well at least - however I had never run a business before. I chose a scenic mountain location only to realise too late just how inaccessible it really was for international travellers. I was hostage to a nation where civil society was in its infancy. Beautiful as the Romanian countryside is, the country enjoyed a dreadful reputation abroad thanks to all those orphanages. And I thought that I’d stay healthy forever.

It wasn't entirely my fault that I knew so little. I didn’t know much about politics or history, and I didn’t know much about romantic attachments either. I'd worked in an office, never at an equestrian facility, so I'd done well to pick up as much as I did about horses. Besides, other than the old cavalry manuals, there wasn't a single book that set out how to take horses 'out on campaign'. 

Over time I learned a great many lessons, some of them thanks to mistakes. Before it was too late I realised the vital need to focus on customers rather than simply the logistics of running each trail. I adjusted the trails to be more interesting both scenically and culturally, and made them bit faster too. My marketing improved, including a website with lovely photos. And I began to understand the financial element of running a business, even if mine always was a bit too 'hand to mouth' for comfort. 

I loved riding those trails. The scenery was fantastic, mountains and forest as far as the eye could see. Clear streams tumbled, and meadows were strewn with wild flowers. In the course of a week-long ride we crossed just one highway. Working horses outnumbered motor vehicles. My neighbours were simple farmers, hospitable and ever willing to share tales over a glass of brandy. Back before extensive mobile phone coverage we really were heading off into ‘dark territory’, out of touch with home and office for days on end. I was a pioneer: a real wilderness guide. Resourcefulness, skill and fortitude were foundations to my trade.

I got divorced too. As someone else in the tourist business bluntly put it, I could never prosper with a partner whose attitude was so very negative. Ruthlessly I chose my dream over a woman temperamentally incapable of understanding me. My business continued another four years, during which time I made some memorable rides, made some great friends, and met the woman who is now my wife. 

The decision to end a venture is always difficult. Eight years of riding professionally left me with a worn, painful lower back. There was no chiropractor accessible out there, indeed no treatment for for back pain – just strong medication to temporarily mask the symptoms. And the economy was getting worse in the face of global recession. Costs were rising faster than revenue, taxes were hiked, and oversupply existed in the riding holiday market. I'd made the mistake of helping newcomers to establish riding businesses, a facet of my sometimes naively helpful attitude.

Perhaps I'm still unquestioningly helpful? After leaving the riding holiday market I started to write a textbook setting out how to set up and run a riding holiday centre properly. To help me I recruited as co-author Wendy Hofstee, a veterinarian and owner of an excellent equestrian travel agency called Unicorn Trails. 

It's been said that "those who can't do, teach". That’s an unfair quip. Working in a difficult environment I'd stayed in business for eight years and survived a number of mistakes. More than that - and this is something I'm proud of - some of my original horses were still hard at work eight years later. 

What about the mistakes? Well I bought six nice mares as a group from a stud, only to discover that each one was in foal. At least the foals all grew into good working horses. Our accounts were in disorder for the first four years thanks to my first wife (an accountant by profession!) which led to unpleasantness with the authorities. I didn't engage with local politicians and civic leaders nearly as much as I might - but there again I was learning the Romanian language pretty much from scratch without a teacher. And I hadn’t looked after my health.

I got some things right. My horses remained fit and healthy, and they had well maintained tack that fitted nicely. I loved those horses. I even trained and employed a farrier to keep my horses well shod. We learned a lot about hoof care, and about making shoes last. I became deft at applying borium. We ran some delightfully scenic trails and introduced hundreds of guests from forty nations to a fascinating part of the world. We had an enviable safety record too largely because, coming from an engineering background, I sought to eliminate risk at source.

I compiled The Riding Holiday Centre Handbook to bring together all the information that a manager, actual or prospective, might need. It doesn't replicate, say, a veterinary or farriery manual. But it does assemble the specialist skills of the equine tourism professional. These are varied: businessperson, publicist, guide, barn manager, wrangler and linguist to start with. Reading the book anyone who seeks to follow the path that I trod may do so informed. 

The Riding Holiday Centre Handbook isn’t a mass-market book. It won’t sell sufficient copies to make a tidy profit for a commercial publisher. However the book wasn’t written for financial gain. The aim is to pass on information to aspiring owners of riding holiday centres, and those already in the business too. Therefore it’s a pleasure to make it available as a free resource. You can find out more on the book’s blog: http://transylvanianhorseman.typepad.com/the_riding_holiday_centre/. I can supply a PDF copy of The Riding Holiday Centre Handbook - please leave a comment on the blog. It is also possible to buy a paper copy at: http://www.lulu.com/shop/julian-ross/the-riding-holiday-centre-handbook/paperback/product-20234052.html. 

I hope that The Riding Holiday Centre Handbook inspires and educates. But do remember one piece of advice that isn’t contained in the book: before starting a career as a riding holiday centre owner, or even as a guide, think about what you’ll do when that career comes to an end. I’m fortunate: as a professional engineer I had a rewarding career to return to. Riding professionally is a nice dream. But dreams tend to be finite.