Dream Riders

by Jesse Blackadder

  “We’ll just have to do it as we are.”

  I would focus on my feel, I decided, as Shannon led us over to the small arena. No matter how nervous I felt out there, I promised myself, I would remain calm and focused.

  “If you don’t like it, or if something happens to stress you out,” I told Zen, “then we never have to do this again.” Of course, I knew that the language of horse was not English, so really I was telling myself.

  We were standing by the gate, waiting for the signal to start, when Shannon said “Look at that,” and pointed over to where Violet and her mother Leela were huddled deep in conversation next to Paris, who was stamping and tossing his head. “I wonder what they’re talking about?”

  It seemed like a very strange moment for Shannon to be wondering about Violet, I thought. But of course, I reminded myself, she was worrying about Paris, who would be attempting some very high jumps with Violet in the event straight after my routine.

  “There’s something new for young horse lovers to do in this town,” said the announcer, “and it’s called the Dream Riders.”

  His voice sounded tinny and thin through the loudspeaker, but you could clearly make out what he was saying. I felt a shiver through my shoulders, and my stomach did a little somersault. “There’s a new place for horse lovers aged twelve to eighteen, to learn about natural horsemanship, and it’s called Pocket of Dreams. And right now …”

  As the announcer kept talking, Leela walked over and began speaking quietly with Shannon. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could see Shannon shaking her head.

  “What did she want?” I asked Shannon, unable to resist even though any second now, Zen and I would be going on.

  “She’s asking if I would work with Violet again.”

  “Not in the Dream Riders?” I asked, my heart sinking. I really didn’t know if I wanted to be in the Dream Riders myself if Violet was going to be, too.

  “Oh goodness no!” said Shannon, and I realised to my relief that she couldn’t imagine it either. “No, she’s asking if I’ll take Violet back to work with her and Paris, but I said I won’t unless she apologises to Paris, and promises to listen.”

  I realised with a start that the announcer was calling us out. “It’s Zen, and his human companion, Frankie Jameson, for the Dream Riders.”

  “Now you and Zen need to get out there,” said Shannon, “and show the world what you can do!”

  Thirty

  The music started, and I held Zen back by standing in front of him with my hand on his neck as we waited for our cue. The music was louder than the announcer’s voice had been, and the drums sounded even more dramatic and exciting than they had at Shannon’s. I had thought I wanted a pretty piano piece, with trills and cascading chords, but once we began practising it had become obvious that this was the kind of music Zen responded to. It was from a collection of Dad’s called The Music of the Plains. It had a pounding drumbeat and majestic chords, and it made me think of the sun setting over mountain ranges, and big prairies and wild rivers. Maybe it made Zen feel that way, too, because he always seemed to perk up a little when it came on. Today, though, it seemed to be making him want to jump out of his skin. His head jerked up as other instruments joined in, and then, before I had given him the “start” signal, he went trotting off ahead of me out into the arena.

  Oh no! I thought as I scrambled after him at a half-walk half-run, trying to catch up. We’re only half a minute in, and we’re already out of sync! The idea was that Zen would circle around me, walking as fast as I could urge him to, first one way and then the other. Today, though, as soon as I reached the centre, he moved away from me to begin going around in circles, and instead of taking a while to warm up and get moving, as he usually did, he broke into a trot straight away, in much a bigger circle than we had ever practised before. What if he just trots right away from me? He was too far away for me to be able to “casually” catch up with him if he didn’t want me to. I’d look like an idiot running after him all over the place. People would think it was a comedy act!

  Don’t panic, Frankie, I told myself. Trust Zen.

  I calmed myself, focusing on breathing deeply in and deeply out for a few seconds as Zen kept trotting around. Although he was full of energy, he was actually going slowly, with his head up and his feet almost prancing as they lightly struck the ground. I blocked out any thoughts about the people watching, or what might happen in a minute, or even a second from now. I focused on the feeling between me and Zen, imagining there was a livewire connecting us, of energy and trust and love.

  Zen was cantering now, the other way, in wide arc around me. When I asked him to slow down and turn back the other way, by raising my arms and turning my body as we’d practised, he turned so smoothly, and so fast, that it took me another moment to catch up with myself and realise I could stop thinking about how to make it happen, because it already had.

  The music slowed, the drumbeats stopped and a haunting flute melody took over. Right on cue, Zen slowed to a walk and came into the circle to stop in front of me, with his head over my shoulder. I picked up my foot, and before I even had to touch his knee, he picked up his foot too, so that for a moment, our crossed feet would make the shape of a heart. Then the drums picked up again and I sent Zen flying away from me in a fast trot.

  I had never seen him so energised. I had to run fast to keep up with him, because this was the part where we chased each other, forwards and back over the grass before turning to face each other and doing it again, me moving forwards and him going back this time, in a kind of dance. Zen had slowed down, now – thankfully – in response to me purposely slowing down my pace. But the energy between us was crackling, and I barely had to think of an adjustment or a change I wanted to make before he would do it. It was almost as if he was reading my mind. Of course, what was really happening was that I was communicating so clearly with my energy and my body language, and he was feeling so receptive and was in such a good place to “hear”, that it was as though we were talking very fast, in horse language, and understanding one another perfectly.

  Now we had to walk in a straight line, the two of us picking up our feet in unison. This was always tricky in our practice sessions because it was so easy to get out of rhythm, but today it felt jaunty, and natural, and effortless. Zen was picking his feet up extra high, I noticed, and proudly tossing his head, really giving the movements we had rehearsed an extra helping of pizazz. It felt to me just as it always felt when we were doing something together: that we were just a horse and his girl, having fun and dancing to the music.

  Wow Zen, I exulted, as we turned to high step the other way, catching our breath and making sure we were in sync, in preparation for our big finish. Who would have known you loved performing so much? The music was building now, and we had one last thing to do before it would all be over. It was time for The Draw.

  We came to a standstill in the middle of the yard. I stood up straight and lifted my arms again, sending Zen out to the far edge of the yard. He turned to face me, his ears pricked, his eyes trained on me, his body perfectly still, waiting for my signal. The music was building, and building, the drums and flute and singers all combining in a beautiful wall of sound. Almost, almost … I held myself back, then – Now! – I lifted up my hands, the signal we’d worked out for “Come to me!”

  But Zen just stood there.

  Zen? I asked him, feeling along that invisible rope for our energy. It felt electric. We had never felt so connected. He was completely focused on me. Zen! I called silently, raising my arms again. Still he just stood there! The music was crashing around us now, the song reaching its final climax.

  What are you doing? I wondered. I didn’t feel stressed, though. The connection between us was so good that I knew we were demonstrating exactly what I had hoped we would. I just had no idea what was going to happen next.

  He tossed his head, his ears pricked forwards, his body alert and waiting. And then, just as the song
was finishing, he launched himself forwards across the arena. Not just trotting, not cantering, but galloping towards me! I almost stepped back. No, Frankie, I told myself. You can trust Zen. I could feel the vibration of his feet pounding across the grass and I watched, fascinated and transfixed, as he came floating towards me. And then he stopped. Perfectly. Just three feet away from me, and exactly in time with the end of the song.

  The crowd gasped, then roared, clapping and exclaiming, breaking the sudden silence. I burst out laughing. I couldn’t stop beaming as we walked out of the arena side by side, Zen’s feet once again moving in unison with mine.

  “He’s a performer!” I sang out to Shannon. I had to raise my voice over the sound of the applause. “Zen, you are the most wonderful show pony!” I said, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my nose in his coat.

  Thirty-one

  “Well?” I sang out to Dad, who was standing at the fence with Mum beside him, once I had settled Zen with an apple and some hay next to his trailer. “What did you think?”

  “I loved it.” He was holding Gillie in his arms, and as he leaned forwards to kiss me, Gillie gave me a great big lick on the cheek.

  “That was amazing,” said Mum, giving me a hug.

  “Zen was incredible,” said Kai. “I filmed it, and as soon as I get near a wi-fi signal I’m going to post it straight onto YouTube.”

  “He didn’t even fart,” said Eloise. She and Viv were standing next to Mum, concealed by a giant cloud of fairy floss.

  I leaned down and gave her a hug. “You know what? Zen can fart all he wants, I don’t care.”

  “Well done, Frankie!” I looked up at the stands to see Ash, Lesley and a whole crowd of the girls from pony club. I was glad I hadn’t noticed them before, or I would have been really nervous.

  “Did you like it?” I asked, suddenly shy.

  “Like it? We loved it,” said Ash. “We definitely want to join the Dream Riders, as well as doing pony club.”

  I looked around at Shannon, eager to share this amazing moment, but she was standing on her tiptoes, looking over at the big arena.

  “That’s strange,” she said.

  “What’s strange?” I climbed up onto step next to Shannon, craning my neck to see what was going on.

  The riders were lining up to compete in the heats for the show jumping. I could see Oliver on his horse, Dancer, and two other riders representing the Byron Shire Pony Club, all wearing the club’s light blue tie and blue hat bands, but … I squinted as I made another quick scan of the horses and riders … Violet and Paris weren’t there.

  Thirty-two

  “I hope Paris is okay,” said Shannon.

  If only Violet realised what she and Paris could achieve together if he was happy, I thought as I stood next to Shannon, anxiously scanning the riders circling the showground.

  At that moment a shadow fell across us. Violet was standing there, her riding crop in one hand, her crash hat in the other, her expression grim.

  “What’s wrong? What are you doing here? Where’s Paris?” asked Shannon.

  “He’s fine. Or rather, he’s not fine, exactly, but he’s okay.” Violet shrugged, and then she blushed, which I’d never seen her do.

  “Where is he?” asked Shannon, jumping down off the stands.

  “Shouldn’t you be in the arena?” I asked. “Your event is about to start!”

  “That’s the thing,” said Violet. She bit her lip, and it looked as though she was trying not to cry. “Paris is refusing to let me mount him. And I think if I force him it might be dangerous.”

  “Violet, are you all right?” asked Kai, staring at her in concern.

  Violet was trembling, and her face was pale. Shannon had already reached her side and was gently guiding her into a chair.

  “Will you train me, Shannon?” Violet’s voice was shaking. “Can Paris come and live with you, for a little while? I’ll do as you say, I promise. I won’t argue, or fight. I just want him to like me.”

  Shannon looked away for a moment, and I realised she was blinking back tears.

  “What made you change your mind?” she asked.

  “Zen really likes Frankie. I want Paris to like me!”

  Shannon squeezed my hand. “Frankie and Zen have done amazingly well.”

  Violet cleared her throat. “I’d also like to join the Dream Riders, if that’s okay.”

  “What? Why?” I blurted out.

  “I really want to learn how to connect with my horse.”

  No, we’re not doing it, any more, actually, I wanted to say. There’s been a change of direction. We’re focusing on ice-skating now. We’re banning anyone with long hair. We’re only taking two people, so we’re already full. Anything! Just so long as we didn’t have to include Violet.

  “I think that would be really good for Paris,” said Shannon, squeezing my hand really, really tightly.

  “Um, okay,” I said, barely able to keep my own voice from shaking from sheer dread.

  Not that Kai noticed. He seemed lost in thought, watching Violet’s face intently, as though he had never seen a girl before. He seemed completely oblivious to what I was going through.

  “In that case, Violet, I would love to teach you,” said Shannon.

  What just happened? I asked myself, as I sat back down behind the little table we’d set up between the arenas for registering potential Dream Riders, or anyone who might want to board their horse at Pocket of Dreams. What on earth just happened, Frankie? I kept saying to myself, as Kai offered to buy Violet a lemonade, to help get her blood sugar levels up, and Shannon headed for the D’Angelo horse trailer to calm Paris.

  How was I going to manage this … well, frankly, this disaster?

  Kai offered to buy Violet a lemonade, to help get her blood sugar levels up. Shannon headed for the D’Angelo horse trailer to calm Paris, and I sat back down behind the little table we’d set up between the arenas for registering potential Dream Riders, or anyone who might want to board their horse at Pocket of Dreams.

  What just happened? I asked myself. How was I going to manage this … well, frankly, this disaster? I fumbled around in my bag, getting out pens and an exercise book. When I looked up I saw that a small queue had formed at the table, including Lesley and Ash. I had no time to worry, I realised. I had to sign people up, taking down their details and making sure they had all the information they needed. I answered questions and introduced myself, thanking people for their compliments, and after a little while I began to feel calmer.

  Pretty soon ten people had signed up to join the Dream Riders. I was pretty sure this meant Shannon wouldn’t have to worry, for a little while at least, about having to leave.

  I looked around for Shannon, eager to share the great news, but instead I saw Oliver striding across the grass, still dressed in his jodhpurs and riding jacket, making a beeline for me. I looked around for Mum and Dad, or any support, from anywhere, but Dad was helping Eloise put a lead on Gillie over near the donut stand, and Mum and Viv were behind our trailer, feeding slices of apple to Zen.

  “Frankie, what’s all this about you starting another pony club?” he asked in his clipped accent, very rudely, I thought, interrupting the last person in the line. She wore a strange kind of medieval costume, and I’d been looking forwards to speaking to her.

  “It’s not really another pony club,” I stammered. “Here, would you like a flyer?”

  He picked it up, looked at it for a moment, then put it down again.

  “You can have it you’d like,” I said.

  “No thank you. Frankie, does your mother know what you’re getting up to?”

  “Of course,” I exclaimed. I was about to tell him what told me this morning, about how she wished she could have learned to be as close to her horse as I was to Zen, when finally – finally! – Shannon appeared.

  “Hello, Oliver,” she said. “Is there a problem?”

  “I’m not sure. Apparently three of my best riders – Vi
olet, Ash and Lesley – have just signed up for your club.”

  “That’s wonderful,” said Shannon, stepping between us.

  “But Shannon, our ways of working are completely opposite.”

  “Steady on,” said Shannon.

  “No,” interrupted Oliver. “Violet’s just missed her main event and now I hear she’s going to be driven even further off course with her horse staying at your … your …”

  “My equestrian centre,” said Shannon calmly. “Pocket of Dreams.”

  “But is it safe?” he asked.

  “Of course it’s safe,” said Shannon, and she took him by the arm and led him away, talking intently and gesturing towards Paris and then Zen, before pointing at Violet – who was looking better now, with more colour in her cheeks as she stood talking to Kai – and then at me.

  I stared down at my list. If Ash and Lesley and Violet had to choose between the Dream Riders and pony club, they might stick with pony club, and that meant we would only have seven people. Or maybe eight, I thought hopefully, looking up at the tall girl who had been standing to one side this whole time, waiting patiently. She looked like someone out of a history book with her old-style skirt and bodice, dark red hair curling down her back and a leather band on her forearm, as if she was waiting for a hawk to land on her wrist. She had a smudge of dirt across her cheek, and her skirt was caked in mud.

  “Are you here to sign up for the club?” I asked her hopefully.

  “Forsooth yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” she replied.

  I didn’t really know what forsooth meant, but she’d said yes, which meant that whatever happened with Oliver, we now had eight definites.

  “Hi, I’m Frankie,” I said, smiling at her.

  “I’m Storm,” she said, reaching out and shaking my hand. No one had ever shaken my hand before. “That was a beauteous performance you just did with your horse.” She wasn’t smiling or joking with me like the other people in the line had, but I felt like she was someone I instantly wanted to know.