Unbound - Rachel's Story
Copyright© 2025 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 18
With no riding school, Sunday breakfast was a more relaxed affair. It was 10 o’clock before Matt wheeled Rachel outside and around the house, towards a paddock in which two targets were set up at some distance.
Geordie and Caroline were already there, busy unloading a cart containing a variety of archery equipment.
“Have you ever handled a bow before?” Caroline asked.
“No, never,” Rachel replied. “Well, except when I was about 8 years old and given a toy bow and arrow for Christmas. I think my father had hopes I might catch the bug, as it was something he was keen on briefly as a teenager. Didn’t work. I was all thumbs.”
Rachel smiled, pointing at the equipment. “These are no toys. They’re not at the top end of gear, either, of course, though you could do someone a nasty injury if you were careless. That’s why we have very strict range rules, to prevent accidents. The two most important rules: At all times, obey what the instructor says – in this case, it’s Geordie. And never, ever, point a loaded bow towards someone, even pretending or as a joke. Got that?”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
Caroline reached down and pulled a curved piece of wood from the cart.
“This is a recurve bow. It probably doesn’t look like the bows you’ve seen in children’s books, but it will make sense when I string it.”
Caroline attached a string to one end, braced the bow against a footrest, and with one hand in the middle and the other at top end, bent the bow into shape and snapped the top loop of the string into place.
“It takes practice, but with a bow of this poundage, it’s easy to learn. Now, you can see how the two ends curve away – that’s why it’s called a recurve. The shape gives it more power than you’d get from a simple bow shape. Anyway, that’s enough technicalities. Let me demonstrate how you handle it.”
Caroline turned her wheelchair side on to the target, and rested an arrow on the middle of the string.
“There’s a notch in this end of the arrow, which slots onto the string, and the arrow rests on the hand holding the bow. The index finger of your right hand goes above the arrow, and the two next fingers go under the arrow to hold it to the string. Just try that,” she said unnotching the arrow and handing the pieces to Rachel, who imitated what she had seen.
“That’s great,” Caroline said, taking the bow back.
Holding the bow vertical, she pointed out the piece of apparatus protruding above the arrow’s resting point.
“That’s a sight,” she said. “There’s a cross at each end. You squint along and raise or lower the bow until the two crosses line up. The sight has been set up for the distance from the target, so in theory when you draw the string and release, the arrow will fly to the bulls-eye. Well, that’s the theory,” she laughed. “There’s many things that affect that – wind for instance.”
She handed the bow back to Rachel.
“Okay, load the arrow ... Good ... now place your fingers as I showed you ... Excellent. Now push the bow out with your left hand, but don’t pull with your right ... Okay, now just pull back your right hand a little, holding the bow as steady as you can.”
Rachel felt very unsteady with this unaccustomed pose, but made a reasonable attempt.
“Is the range clear?” Caroline called. “Clear,” came the response from Geordie.
“Okay, Rachel. Gently pull back with the right hand – don’t try and pull all the way back -- point towards the target and release your right hand.”
The arrow flew about 10 metres, and fell.
“For someone who’s never done this before, that was a good first try,” Caroline said encouragingly.
“Better than me on my first go,” called Matt. “At least yours went forward.”
“It’s very awkward, like I’m all thumbs,” Rachel said.
“It’s the same for everyone. But we’ll have you in the swing of it pretty quickly,” Caroline encouraged her.
Matt leaned back, squinting up at the sky. “You know, Mum said something once — that the target doesn’t matter nearly as much as drawing the bow. It’s about the stretch, the focus. Even if you miss, you’ve done something real.”
Rachel turned his words over slowly. “That sounded less like sport and more like life advice,” she said to herself.
“Maybe your mum’s onto something,” she murmured. “It did feel ... good, in a weird way. Like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to be able to do.”
Matt’s tone turned serious. “You are able. More than you think.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.