Truth

The previous essay does relay a large part of the truth, but because it was indeed an essay it was given an sweetened fairy tale ending a lie.Everything I wrote was true accept for my opinion of Twilight and her son Mateo, there was an entirely different scenario behind the words.
 Once Gretchen  moved up and settled at Bishops she began re-inviting her students back, there had been a wide gap of time between the move from the cozy barn down in the valley to the mountain stables crouching on a slab of dirt and gravel. The stable was beautiful, made of steel with a large interior and a line of wooden stalls and a spacious indoor tack room. It could fit several tons of hay in its hull stacked up upon each other till it almost reached the skeletal ceiling. The out door paddocks were crowded, there was only so much flat space on the side of a mountain. It worked well for Gretchen's horses however, they got along with their paddock partners after the pecking order was established.
I have firmly decided that life's road does not go in a straight line or even one direction, its like a snake, it winds back over itself several times as it moves along retracing patterns of movement. Horses who I had met years ago at Saddle bred Stable were suddenly back in my life, living at Bishops ( that was the name of the man Gretchen least the barn from so the name seemed to suit.) I was shocked to see a fully recovered Griffin, the chestnut Thoroughbred I had seen hobbling and limping through the green pasture years ago was cantering up and down a loose dirt hill, with only a slight stiffness to his gait. Jack-O-Lantern, was much calmer and  would stand still when I walked into his stall to pet him, his 'spooked' white eyes showed more intelligence than fear. The small arrogant colt who ignored me at Saddle bred was now an extremely tall (about 17 hands) gangly 2 year old with a bright golden coat and thick dark mane. He was still arrogant and difficult to deal with, but he had grown up into a beautiful horse, with strong resemblance to his Thoroughbred heritage. Gretchen sold him months later to a trainer in Sun Valley who cherishes Noah above all her other horses.
The scholarly Mark was there, as well as Adam the dark bay from the pasture that Griffin and Mark had shared before. And of course the handsome and proud Navarre was present, still a breath taking force despite his age of 15 years.
It was like the mountain air had acted as a cure, these horses had all been taken to the highest of the mountain to a retreat like the ancient monk monasteries, to cleans and refine themselves. I was impressed. Griffin was sold shortly after my arrival, and new horses were brought in.
Sarah my dear friend from horse camp had introduced her mother to the wonders of horses. It was almost comical to see them together, Risa a short wiry woman with thick brown curls, and Sarah a tall straight blonde with appealing curves and a sweet open face. With her mothers support Sarah had begun her search for her first horse. Gretchen had urged her to purchase Jack-O, but she declined, she did not like his spooking nature, he was still a wild card. Instead she purchased a large black mare, half shire and half Thoroughbred named Penelopy.
Sarah and Penelopy were meant for each other, they were large and in charge in the arena. Sarah was a confident rider, strong and brilliant on a horse's back, she needed a companion who would reflect her prowess as a rider, Penelopy fit the order. She was massive and a princess, it was her way or the high way. She demanded food, she did not wait for food, she was on top of the pecking order and no one could stop her.
Risa followed suit and found Lacaro, Navarre's half brother and a little red bay Andalusian named Carita.
Gretchen sold Jack-O and it seemed like the picture was almost perfect, almost. I had been riding Mark and Adam and had grown deeply attached to Adam, but he was not my horse and would never be mine. Gretchen needed school horses and Mark and Adam were perfect teachers.
Adam is the only horse I have ever met who I could say has OCD. He would not canter, trot, side step, or do anything for that matter unless he was asked perfectly. If I wanted him to canter I had to apply slight pressure with my inside leg roll my hips forward as his lead foot came forward in the trot and drag my outside leg up his side making sure his weight was placed into the back of his haunches. If anything was even slightly off he would not canter.  He is a true proper English horse, and a coward. Sheep, the wind, his shadow, certain sounds scared him silly, he never bucked or ran away or reared, he would just bulk and shy away from anything that scared him. It would happen in a split second his muscles would tense and suddenly we would be moving  45 degrees away from where we originally started. I loved him anyway.
Adam had found away to replace the hole Sting had left in me, a horse who could show me new levels of riding, like the gallop. I was so proud, almost hysteric with pride the day Gretchen told me I was the only person she trusted to go that fast with him. She began teaching me dressage, side steps, spins, a complicated dance of horse movements.
She talked of showing, not me and Adam but, of herself and Navarre, she subtle hinted at the fact they could use a traveling groom, some one like myself. Things seemed to be going perfectly, till the day Gretchen went to check up on a mare who she had bred Navarre to two years before to cover some bills. What she found was horrific and it turned my world topsy turvy, and it has not been quite the same since.