by Leigh Hutton
‘Not going so well in here, eh?’ It was Steve, the tall, slender and calm-mannered Veterinarian, speaking from behind her she didn’t dare take her eyes from her frantic horse.
‘No …’ Ebony reached for Monster’s head and he paused, just long enough for her to give him a quick pat. He looked her in the eye and lowered his head to hers, gentle for a brief moment. When his smooth muzzle touched her arm, goose bumps raced along her flesh. There was so much fear and pain in his face, she hated to see it — it had been so long since she’d seen Monster in such a state and she hated it, hated Luther for it. When a car door slammed outside, Monster jumped and shook his head, then got back to pawing and squealing in desperation.
‘Wow,’ the vet said, now close behind her. ‘Isn’t he a spirited fellow?’
‘He hasn’t really settled,’ Ebony said, stepping back.
‘Do you think you could grab his head for me, please?’ Steve asked.
Ebony managed to catch the spinning lead rope and pull Monster down by the noseband of his halter. His eyes were wet, almost like he was crying. She could feel that he wanted to be good, for her, but he was just too afraid. She knew the feeling, all too well. Her bottom lip quivered and tears slipped from her eyes.
‘Please,’ she said, glancing up at the vet. ‘Help him!’
He nodded, and stepped to the side, so Abia could enter the stall to help.
‘I’ll fetch some tranquilliser,’ he said. ‘Won’t be a moment.’
Ebony knew he’d have to be tranked, but she froze at the realisation of another needle for her poor horse. He’d already had blood tests and a second dose of vaccinations to meet the import requirements for France, the last thing he needed was another painful jab, especially as being confined in this cold container with the man he hated and feared the most seemed to be sending him back into his old, frenzied state. But she knew there was no choice. If he didn’t calm down, there was no way he’d make the journey in one piece and even if he did, she wouldn’t be able to get any water or hay into him, making his recovery at the other end near impossible in time for the World’s.
After Steve managed to administer the injection, Ebony pulled up a stool and sat in front of Monster’s stall. His head eventually found her lap and he closed his eyes. She could feel his pulse, beating at his temples, and rested her forehead against his, easing her hand up and down his long, dark face.
Monster was asleep by the time Luther brought Lutweig in.
Ebony glared hard at Luther, protecting Monster with her body and moving only enough to let the huge chestnut push past and into his stall.
Luther paused next to her on his way back out. ‘Careful, Ebony,’ he whispered, leaning in close. She could have sworn that she smelled wine and raw meat on his breath. ‘You’re playing with the big boys now.’
Thankfully, Luther left Lutweig to settle himself and disappeared to some unknown location on the plane, for the entire flight. Ebony found herself dozing against Monster’s head, and was able to get him to drink some water with the help of Steve and Abia — she was so thankful for her friend’s presence. Abia’s head groom, Summer, was also there to lend a hand and stayed with the horses, so they could rest. Abia and Ebony took a break for a while, and sat in a row of seats behind the crew, enjoying a coffee and soft croissants. When Ebony realised she was close to drifting off to sleep, she glanced at Abia, who was sitting in the window seat. ‘Hey?’
Abia turned to her, it was daylight now as they flew somewhere over the North Atlantic.
‘I’m sorry you got upset when we were talking about Marcus the other day,’ she said. ‘Have you guys ever—’
‘Been involved?’ Abia said, raising her chin. The sunlight shone off her sleek, black hair, and glowed against her smooth, flawless skin. Her cheeks were pink without any makeup, her black, slanting eyes clear and framed with thick, black lashes — without the need for mascara. She was so pure and good, like Cecile, Ebony thought, only stronger. Ebony was struck with an intense gratitude and admiration for Abia.
Abia clenched her jaw and stared into her mug of coffee. She took a cautious drink, and Ebony could have sworn there was pain in her eyes; wrinkling at the corners. She’d never seen Abia with a man before, maybe her new friend was harbouring feelings for ‘the Gale’?
‘Marcus and I have known each other a long time, and dated on and off,’ Abia said. ‘His attention is intense, but sporadic. I was pleased, actually, that he was putting so much time and effort into you, but all the more disappointed when he left. It’s been very hard not hearing from him and not knowing what’s going on.’
‘What do you think he did?’
‘He’s made a lot of mistakes in his life. Maybe one finally caught up with him.’ Abia turned to the window, sipping her coffee as fast as a racehorse. Ebony hoped like crazy that she didn’t love Marcus, but suddenly, it did all make sense; why Abia rented his cabin, and always found her way back to his barn after working and competing all over the world. It was sad, though, Ebony thought. Marcus was so distant lately and really didn’t seem to care.
She rested a hand on Abia’s arm. Abia smiled, sadly, then took a deep breath. ‘How about we get back to the horses?’
‘Sounds like a great plan,’ Ebony said, handing Abia the last croissant.
She’d been planning on taking the time to write an email to Dallas that she could send when they landed and were allowed to switch on their phones, and hoped she’d have time once they made it to France and to their accommodation. Despite all the excitement for the event, she really was missing him.
Ebony was especially thankful to have Abia with her when they landed in Paris and Monster’s trank had worn off. He was straight back to fretting and wobbly after the injection as they loaded him onto the transport truck, which would drive them to the quarantine facility for a short stint before they could head for the barn where they would be stabled, near the D’Ornano Stadium in the city of Caen, for the largest equestrian event in the world.
Their barn in Caen was state of the art with large expanses of glass and perfectly formed galvanised steel stalls. It was light and airy and seemed brand new. Monster was happy to get out of the truck and pulled Ebony all the way to the barn, settling nicely in the back corner of his stall, looking out his window over the lush green paddocks and rolling fields, bordered by stone walls, surrounding the facility — some of the most stunning horse country in the world. His homeland. Normandy, and its city of Caen, was the centre of horse breeding in France, where the incredible Selle Francais breed, and Monster’s grandfather, were born.
He whickered when Ebony returned with a bucket of water and a hay net and nuzzled her gratefully before stuffing his head into the net to eat. A tidal wave of relief swept over her at the sight of Monster eating — he’d hardly touched a thing since leaving Calgary.
She let her tired, jet-lagged body collapse into the clean shavings, watching the fit, gorgeous bay relaxing, too, and resting his hind leg. Her eyes closed, but she woke with a start when Abia grabbed her by the shoulder.
‘C’mon, teammate,’ Abia said, hauling her up on to her feet. ‘We’ve got a chateau to check into.’
Ebony rested her forehead against the window as Abia drove their hire car through the winding streets of Caen. It was a pleasant day, with warm sun and a blue sky, just like back home.
She’d insisted that Winnie have the passenger seat, as Win seemed much more awake and was talking a million miles a minute, in broken English, about her excitement to be seeing Clancy again. He’d been away, showing with Marcus at Hickstead, and, according to Winnie, would be attending the World’s to groom for Mantina, as Marcus’s horses had been sent home with his girl grooms after he was arrested in England.
Caen was a ‘commune’ located two hours northwest of Paris and it was simply stunning. The buildings were older and more majestic than any Ebony had ever seen, with fairy-tale turrets and castle walls of pure, aged stone. The houses and apartments were cl
assic French with cream walls, black roof tops and white shutters, which Ebony loved; such impeccable style.
The city was also lovely and green with plenty of trees and gardens bursting with flowers to admire. The streets were narrow and busy with shop fronts and cafes, their tables overflowing the footpaths. The street signs were gibberish to them. Winnie and Abia had a map stretched as wide as the windscreen in the front, and Ebony was sure they were lost.
‘Gimme that!’ Ebony said, pulling the map into the cramped back seat. ‘What’s the name of the suburb, again?’
Winnie yabbered off in Spanish and Abia laughed, swerving their hatchback Peugeot to miss a vendor with a flower cart slowly crossing the street.
‘It was supposed to be just around the corner from the barn!’ Abia said, turning left and speeding by a breath-taking castle the size of the Saddledome. ‘Past the McDonald’s!’
‘A McDonald’s?’ Ebony yelled into the front. Winnie had turned the stereo on and a French pop singer was screeching through the tiny cabin of the car.
‘Yep,’ Abia said. ‘Wherever in the world you travel you can always be assured of a quality Big Mac.’
Ebony laughed, but couldn’t reply, as Winnie had cranked the stereo and was now singing along in sporadic French, but mostly Spanish.
Ebony smiled and folded the map. She rested back in her seat, gazing out the window and watching as the beautiful, mysterious French city rolled past. She knew this would be one of their only moments to relax, before their hectic schedule for the show kicked in. She decided to enjoy it.
The girls found their way to the heart of the city and stopped for lunch at a cafe across from the incredible castle-like building and gardens of the Esplanade Jean Marie Louvel.
Thankfully, Abia understood the menu, and ordered the ‘TARTARE DE SAUMON FRAIS’ which turned out to be salmon with shallots, cucumber, lemon zest and chives, which was incredible. Ebony remembered the last time she’d dined in such a classy establishment and ate such fine, flavourful food: with Cecile, when they were away in Germany, and then in Argentina.
Abia also ordered the ‘ESCARGOTS À L’AIL’ and laughed when snails in cream sauce were delivered to the table. Ebony tried one, because, well, she was in France. It was slimy and rubbery, but surprisingly tasted salty and not too bad. She didn’t go for a second, though, as Abia did. Winnie crossed her heart and wouldn’t touch them.
Ebony had brought the map to the table and after their meal, during what Winnie liked to call their ‘sobremesa’, the girls worked out their route back through the city, past the D’Ornano Stadium where the show jumping would be staged, and the barn where the horses were stabled and their team accommodation, which was literally only a few blocks away, but in the opposite direction than they’d travelled earlier.
They all agreed they would have to spend another afternoon sight seeing and checking out the venues where the other disciplines of horse sport would be staged during the sixteen-day event, including the Parc des Expositions (reigning and vaulting), the Hippodrome (driving and para equestrian), Saint-Lô (Horse ball), the Bay of Mont St Michel (endurance), the sprawling, stunning grounds of Haras du Pin (Eventing Dressage and Cross-Country), the Vallee de l’Orne (driving marathon) and Deauville, where the polo demonstration would be held on the second last day of the event.
Now, they had to get back to the barn to check on the horses, unpack the tack boxes and set up the tack rooms and grooming stalls, organise feed, rugging, take the horses for a short walk for some fresh grass, meet with the vet who would be doing the official pre-event vet checks, do the night feed and head to their rooms, to, finally, sleep for the night.
By the time they made it to their chateau, it was pitch black, with only street lanterns lining the grounds and their narrow headlights to bring the dreamy chateau into view. The girls sat in the car, staring in awe at the wide front of the building, dotted by dozens of white windows and framed by two square turrets at either end. The courtyard was gravel with manicured gardens all around and a pond out front.
‘Welcome, Marie Antoinette,’ Abia said, glancing across at Ebony.
‘We are so lucky,’ Ebony said, grinning. She’d never imagined she would visit such a place, let alone stay here.
‘Oh, we’ll be working for it.’ Abia winked, smiled, and slipped from the car.
Jump Canada
BREAKING NEWS
Online Edition
Sunday, August 24
Final WEG countdown on for Canadian Show
Jumping Team
The 138 horses representing 41 nations that will potentially compete in the show jumping discipline of the World Equestrian Games were today presented for veterinary inspection in Caen, France.
All four of the Canadian team’s horses, as well as Monster, the horse of traveling alternate, Ebony Scott Harris (of Calgary, Alberta) were presented.
Luther Hammerstein’s Lutweig (a 13-year-old Holsteiner stallion owned by Vorherrschen Corp and Black Pond Stables) will be represented on Monday morning.
At the Alltech FEI World Equestrian Games, Canadian Show Jumping Champion, Trey Taylor, will ride De Ja Vu, an 11-year-old Belgian Warmblood gelding, owned by Shoalhaven Timber.
Also representing Canada will be Olympic bronze medalist, Abia Takahashi, aboard her own Samurai, a 12-year-old Holsteiner stallion and Natasha Giebler and Anna, a 13-year-old Russian Warmblood mare.
Scott Harris, should she be called on, would ride Monster, a 10-year-old bay Selle Francais gelding by Northern Star, and owned by Ebony Scott Harris.
The opening round of show jumping competition takes place tomorrow, beginning at 10am. The first round of team competition begins at 10am on Tuesday. The top 10 teams then advance to the second round to take place Wednesday, beginning at 1pm. Team medals will then be awarded.
On Friday night at 5:30pm, the individual competition will be held, with the top-thirty individual competitors hoping to be among the ‘Final Four’ who contest the World Championship title on Saturday night, at 8 p.m.
In the ultimate test of horsemanship, the final four competitors will ride each of the four horses over the course set by course designers Johnny Bettino of France and Richard Gates of Great Britain to decide the individual medals, and the title of World Champion.
Ebony didn’t see the story that was loaded to the Internet just after midnight Caen time. She was tucked up in her wooden, four poster bed, enjoying the freshness of the black and white sheets, but staring hard at the garden mural painted on the wall, stressing about the opening round of show jumping the next day.
She managed to force herself to sleep just after two am, but hated herself for staying awake when her alarm on her phone buzzed just after six.
Oh, great, she thought, jumping out of bed and rushing for her en suite. The biggest day of my life starts on less than four hours sleep …
The barn was buzzing with anticipation for Lutweig’s vet check, which had come up questionable after the horse showed heat in his rear fetlock joints the first time around. Ebony purposefully stayed away from the arena when he was re-presented that morning, at eight thirty. The last thing she needed in her nervous state was to run into Luther. When the barn was silent well past nine, she ventured from Monster’s stall and found Abia standing outside the main doors, watching Luther yanking on a distressed Lutweig’s lead rope in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at the vet, Mr. Channelle and an event official.
Ebony studied Lutweig’s legs in the early morning light. They weren’t ballooned enough for a spectator to notice, but Ebony had been watching him since she was a young girl, and could see that his legs were carrying swelling.
‘Tendinitis,’ Abia leaned in close to whisper, ‘they’ve passed him. I don’t know how.’
‘Did he look sore when they trotted him up?’ Ebony asked.
Abia nodded and rolled her eyes.
‘How did he get passed, then?’
‘They reckoned that any temperature had gone �
�� Cortisone injections can keep a horse in his condition going, but I wouldn’t do it. I’d hate to think how many Luther’s given him.’
Ebony remembered how well Lutweig had gone at Spruce, and shook her head. ‘I’m amazed he’s still jumping so well.’
Abia shrugged. ‘There are always tricks, for those willing to sink to that level. It’s a real champion who can win without them.’
Ebony felt sorry for the towering chestnut, and hoped he wasn’t in pain. But, at the same time, she couldn’t help but be disappointed. Her and Monster would have been in.
★
The opening ceremony was held on the evening of August 23rd, the Saturday before the start of the event, in the d’Ornano stadium in front of a wild and passionate crowd of 20,000 fans.
Ebony washed and straightened her hair, then dressed in her new, red riding jacket, which she’d finished with the Canadian flag patches provided by the team, one fastened to her right arm, the other just above her heart. She also wore her white breeches and neatly polished, Ariat tall boots. She met the rest of the team in the front entryway of the stadium, to prepare for their introduction to the crowd.
Ebony had never even attended a soccer match and was excited to see what a first-class soccer pitch looked like — the fact they were going to be showing their horses on the pristine grass surface, illuminated by the brilliant lights and fully surrounded by towering bleachers packed with excited fans, was a point she was expecting to comprehend only when her and Monster trotted out on to the pitch.
Nerves were attacking her stomach and she needed to visit the ladies’ room for about the third time in an hour. Ebony knew she had to hurry as she pushed open the door, to return to her team.
When she hit a man in the chest, she rocked back, raising her hands in front of her in apology for her mistake.
‘Lorcan!’ she said, her face going hot. ‘I didn’t see your name on the rider list?’
