Blue Ribbons

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  We sold tickets to Hugo, Patti, and Olivia’s parents, too. Danny parked the golf cart by the jumper ring at one point so he could go over and look at a horse he was thinking of trying. We watched Tara Barnes ride a cool-looking young horse in the 1.30 Meter class. That’s when I saw Dakota walking toward us. I elbowed Hailey. “Uh oh.”

  “Hi, girls,” Dakota said when she reached us. Most of the girls at the horse show had their hair back in ponytails or wore baseball hats, but Dakota’s long, no-doubt highlighted, blond hair was loose. I hated how she said “girls,” like she was so much older than us when she wasn’t. She wore a gleaming Rolex watch on her wrist and her phone in its bejeweled case was clipped to one side of her Louis Vuitton belt. On the other side of her belt was a small walkie-talkie. Big barns had walkie-talkies for trainers to call from the ring back to the tents to the grooms or other trainers. Sometimes Jane wore one so Tommy could reach her when she was out riding, but it was so ridiculous that Dakota had a walkie-talkie.

  “So what are you selling?” she added, as if she didn’t know, or that we were raising money for ourselves.

  “Raffle tickets to raise money for the lip sync.”

  “Oh, my parents just pay my sponsorship,” she said, eyeing Hailey.

  “My mom is matching what we raise,” I said. “So we could really raise a lot.”

  Hailey said, “There’s an award for most money raised—that’s what we’re going for. If you win, you get a golf cart for WEF, too.”

  “I have a golf cart,” Dakota said. She glanced at me. “Congratulations on being champion.”

  All I could think about was how I’d overheard her say Mom had bought Tyler just because she was dying. “Thanks,” I murmured.

  “Are you qualified for Pony Finals?” she asked Hailey.

  “Pony Medal,” Hailey said.

  “Hunters?”

  “Not yet.”

  I could feel Hailey’s annoyance building to anger.

  “What can I win?” Dakota flicked her eyes over the baskets. “Anything good?”

  “There’s an iPad,” I said.

  “Already have one.” She peered in the back of the cart at the other baskets.

  Hailey looked away and I could tell she didn’t care whether Dakota bought a hundred dollars worth of tickets—she wanted nothing to do with her.

  “There are really nice matching dog and horse blankets from The Clothes Horse . . .” I tried.

  Dakota scrunched up her nose. “My dog already has a Gucci one.”

  “There’s one from Belle & Bow with lots of fun stuff and two pairs of gorgeous bows,” Hailey said.

  “I have a million of their bows,” Dakota said.

  That was when Hailey let loose. “It’s for charity. Do you even know what charity is? It’s when you help a worthy cause.”

  “Of course I know what charity is. My parents are in Honduras as we speak.” Dakota took some cash out of the pocket of her Pikeurs. She peeled off two twenties. “How many tickets can I buy with this?”

  I made change for her. It was as if just because her parents did good deeds, she could be a total jerk. “Two tickets. Which basket do you want to bid on?” I handed her the list of all the baskets. “Here are the others.”

  She scanned the list. “The spa one, I guess.”

  “Figures,” Hailey muttered under her breath.

  “I’m glad you’re doing the lip sync again—you were third last year, right?” Dakota asked her when I was sure she knew Hailey hadn’t been third.

  “Second,” Hailey said.

  Dakota stuffed the ten dollars I’d given her back in her pocket. She looked to the ring. The 1.30 Meter class had finished and the course was being set for the Children’s Jumper Classic. “Well, gotta go. I think the course walk is about to start.”

  As Dakota walked away, Hailey said, “I am so winning the lip sync.”

  Chapter 18

  * * *

  At first Frankie jigged at the walk, which made Jane want to tear her hair out. She’d never win a hack, no matter how beautiful he moved, if he couldn’t walk in a relaxed way. But after a week of patience, long walks on a loose rein, and a lot of kind words and patting, he was walking calmly. Jane got him trotting and cantering well, too—that actually came easier because he liked to be in motion. Jane couldn’t lesson with us yet, but Hailey and I usually watched her ride Frankie. We were leaning against the fence watching one of the first times they jumped him. It was hot out, low eighties, and it felt like summer was just around the corner. I was almost out of school. Jane and Hailey went to public school so they had more school left than I did.

  A lot of ponies Jane rode had spooks or stops so she was used to giving a strong ride. Frankie didn’t ever think of stopping—his problem was that he ran at the jumps.

  “We need to get him to slow down and relax,” Tommy told Jane. He pointed to a simple vertical-vertical in eight strides that Hailey and I had ridden earlier. “Jump the in, land, and bring him back to a halt. Not harshly. Just nicely.”

  Jane picked up a canter, circled and headed to the in of the line. Frankie started to tense up and get quick the moment he turned to the jump. Jane’s immediate reaction was to sit back in the saddle and take a firmer feel on his mouth. Frankie got even quicker, hurdled the jump, and refused to stop afterward. Jane pulled harder and Frankie shook his head and dragged her toward the second jump. He popped over it and it took Jane halfway around the end of the ring to get him to stop.

  “He’s tough,” Hailey said, as Tommy explained to Jane that she couldn’t get so defensive.

  I wondered what made him want to run away like that. It was like he was trying to escape.

  Jane cantered by us on the way to try it again. She was sweating under her helmet and she looked exasperated. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be her. Each pony she rode had some problem she was supposed to be able to fix. Sometimes it probably stunk for Jane, but to me it looked like fun. People would see a pony, not its wealthy rider.

  She had ridden the line again and instead of being easier to stop this time, Frankie hurtled toward the second jump. Jane gave up and let him jump it. “I can’t stop him!” she said to Tommy. “I’m pulling as hard as I can!”

  “That’s the point,” Tommy said. “You can’t just keep pulling and pulling. He’ll dig in and fight you. You have to half-halt and when he relaxes, you relax so he learns to be good.”

  “He’s not ever relaxing,” Jane said. “He’s like a runaway freight train.”

  “Try it again,” Tommy said. “Don’t just grab his mouth and pull. Give and take.”

  Jane had jumped the in of the line again. She’d gotten Frankie to stop this time before the second jump. Then she cantered the out and halted.

  “That was better,” Tommy said.

  “Barely,” Jane said.

  I didn’t know who was sweatier, Jane or Frankie. The back of Jane’s polo shirt was as dark with sweat as Frankie’s neck.

  “We’ll get to him,” Tommy said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Are we done?” Jane asked.

  “For today.”

  A group of children’s pony riders were waiting for their lesson with Tommy, including Anna. As he turned to them, Jane walked over to us.

  Jane let the reins slide through her hands till she was on the buckle. Frankie reached out his head gratefully. “Did you hear Ike was champion at Kentucky Spring?”

  “Really?” I said, although I’d seen the results posted online already.

  Hailey motioned to Frankie. “He looked psycho.”

  “Dad keeps telling me to relax. It’s hard to relax when you’re seeing your life flash before your eyes.” Jane dropped her feet disparagingly out of the stirrups and hunched back in the saddle. “And now look at him. It’s going to take forever to get him cool.”

  “I’ll help you give him a bath and get him put away,” I told Jane.

  “Really? You don’t have to. You’re clean—” she e
yed my breeches and polo shirt. “You’ll get all yucky.”

  “So what?” I said.

  I helped untack Frankie while Jane took off her helmet, threw on a baseball hat, and glugged a bottle of water. We sprayed Frankie down and sponged him with a bucket of warm water mixed with liniment. The mint smell of the liniment filled the air. He stuck his neck out and sighed as we worked on him. We toweled off his legs and then I offered to take him for a walk while Jane cleaned his tack. I walked him all around the front field. He walked quickly, like he wasn’t sure where I was taking him. I talked to him and told him to relax. He wanted to rub his face on me and, even though it was bad manners, I let him. It felt like he was telling me he trusted me, even just a little. The back of my polo shirt was now wet and full of little white hairs but I didn’t care.

  When I brought him back to the barn, Hailey was cleaning out her tack trunk, singing while she was pulling out crops, bits, packets of hair nets, boot polish, saddle soap, old horse show programs, ChapStick, sunscreen, and loose change. I didn’t recognize the song—it must have been an old one by someone like Patti Smith. It was really pretty and it struck me as it did every time I heard Hailey sing how amazing it was that such a pipsqueak of a girl could have such a soulful, moody voice.

  I walked Frankie down the aisle. Hailey had her back to me and turned when I was coming up behind her. Seeing that it was me and not Hektor or Manuel she kept singing, even louder now, putting her emotions into the finale. Even Frankie, standing next to me, seemed like he was listening and enjoying the music, like it relaxed him.

  She held the final note and then I clapped and cheered like I was watching her in concert. Hailey gave a formal bow, dipping her head and spreading her hands dramatically.

  Frankie tossed his head once and then lowered his head and moved one of his front feet back. Suddenly I was sure he was about to fall down. What was happening? Was he having a seizure? But it soon became clear he was copying Hailey, bowing himself. He balanced on three legs and tucked his head down. He was doing a trick. So not only had he been bathed and clipped so much that he was perfectly relaxed about it, but someone had taken the time to teach him tricks. Who? I wanted to know more than ever.

  Chapter 19

  * * *

  “Did you just see that?” I said to Hailey.

  “He bowed, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  We were both wondering if we were seeing things.

  “Do it again,” I told Hailey. “Bow again, like you did.”

  She spread her hands and dipped her head. Right on cue, Frankie followed.

  “Oh my god,” I said. “Let’s go tell Jane.”

  We put Frankie in his stall and burst into the tack room. Finishing each other’s sentences we explained what had just happened. Jane wanted to see it for herself so back out into the barn we went. Jane slid open Frankie’s door. He popped up his head, eyes bright, a wad of hay in his mouth, like he was surprised to see us again so soon.

  Hailey bowed and Frankie did, too. “See?” Hailey said.

  “I can’t imagine Vi teaching him tricks. I mean her ponies are lucky if they get their feed.”

  “I know.” First the brand and now this. I had to know where Frankie came from, and Jane and Hailey seemed interested, too. “We should call Vi.”

  “And ask about him bowing?”

  “About the brand, the bowing, what she knows about where he came from. Did she ever get your dad his registration papers?”

  “No, she said she couldn’t find them. We did a search online for his criteria—white, 13.1 hands, blue eye—and nothing came up. Dad thinks Vi forgot to ever register him.”

  “We need to talk to her,” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Jane said. “She’s pretty loopy—we can’t just call her up.”

  “Why not?” Hailey said.

  “Yeah, why not?” I echoed.

  “I mean we could, but . . .”

  I had my hand on Frankie’s door. “Let’s go over to your house. Your dad’s busy teaching. My mom isn’t coming for another hour.”

  Jane shrugged. “I guess . . . okay. But I think this whole thing is kind of crazy.”

  Jane’s family lived in a small farmhouse on the property, not far from the barn. Her whole house was probably smaller than our apartment. It had a pretty wrap-around porch, but the paint was chipping off and a few shutters were missing. I didn’t love spending time there like I did at Hailey’s, but sometimes we’d go over just because it was so close to the barn. The few times that we slept over there I loved being able to walk to the barn at night and see the horses dozing in their stalls. They always looked so surprised to see us. They’d look up from their hay, like, what are you doing here this time of night? Sometimes we’d catch them lying down, snoozing, which was the best of all.

  Jane’s mother was at the computer in the kitchen. Horse show programs, feed and vet bills, and a check register were spread around her. In between teaching up-down lessons on two ancient appaloosa school ponies, she handled the show entries, the barn supplies, the vet and farrier scheduling, and the client billing for Tommy.

  “Hi, Mom,” Jane said.

  Her mother took off her glasses. She was very plain looking. As long as I’d known her she had her hair cut to her chin in a bob. She wore faded jeans that sat too high on her hips and flannel shirts. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was married to Tommy. She didn’t come to the shows often, only the really big ones. Sometimes it seemed like Tommy and Jane lived a different life from Mrs. Hewitt and Alex. Like, Mrs. Hewitt and Alex stayed home all winter while Jane and Tommy were in Florida.

  She always talked really slowly and softly. “Hi, girls, what are you up to? Your dad need something?”

  “Nope. We’re just going up to my room.”

  The stairs creaked as we went upstairs. There were only two rooms on the second floor, Jane’s and her parents’ bedrooms, and no bathroom. There was a room in the attic that was Alex’s. The only bathroom in the whole house was on the first floor. I couldn’t imagine living with only one bathroom and it not even being on the same floor as the bedrooms. My mom and dad had a huge bathroom in the city and his-and-her bathrooms in Darien. When Hailey first saw the his-and-her bathrooms in Darien, she had stopped, and said, “Wait, your mom and dad both have their own bathroom?” I wished I could have said the house came like that, but it wasn’t true. If I could have chosen I’d live in a house like Hailey’s, not Jane’s. But I guess that was the point—you didn’t get to choose. Jane probably felt embarrassed about her house sometimes, the way I felt embarrassed about mine.

  Hailey and I sat on Jane’s bed as she found Vi’s number.

  “Who’s doing the calling?” she asked.

  Hailey and I both looked at each other and then at Jane. “You.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’re really good with grownups.” Of the three of us, Jane was the best with adults. Catch-riding ponies and tagging along with Tommy had made her act like she was older than us. Sometimes it irritated Hailey and me, but now it might come in useful.

  “Plus you’ve met her before and you’re Tommy’s daughter, so it makes more sense,” I said.

  “Fine.” Jane dialed and a few moments later, she whispered, “It’s ringing.”

  I was sitting on the edge of her bed. Jane’s room had old, faded floral wallpaper. Over her dresser she had a wall of photos of the many different ponies she’d ridden over the years. There were so many that some I couldn’t remember. I wondered if Jane could name them all.

  “Hello?”

  Even though I wasn’t on the phone I was startled by the creaky voice of the woman on the other end of the line and how well I could hear her sitting a few feet away from Jane.

  “Oh, hi, um, Mrs. Kroll, this is Jane Hewitt.”

  “Who?” the woman nearly shrieked. It was as if since she couldn’t hear very well, she was going to scream.

  “Jane Hewitt. I’m Tommy Hewit
t’s daughter.”

  She responded in an outraged voice, “I don’t know who you are, or what you’re selling, but frankly I’m not interested.”

  Jane held out the phone. “She hung up.”

  “Really?” Hailey said.

  “Yeah.”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

  “Just call back,” I said. “We need to try again.”

  “She probably won’t answer.”

  “Just try.”

  Jane sighed and pressed redial.

  “Get ready—in case she does answer,” I said.

  After a moment I heard the creaky-shrieky voice again. “Who is this?” she demanded.

  Jane spoke loud and fast. “Don’t hang up please this is Tommy Hewitt’s daughter Jane my dad bought one of your ponies—a white medium with one blue eye.”

  “One of my ponies?”

  Jane’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

  I inched forward on the bed.

  “A white pony, you say?” Vi Kroll asked.

  “Yes, a medium.”

  “I had a pony get loose yesterday. That the one you’re calling about? I already apologized for the trouble to your garden.”

  Jane’s expression flattened. “No, no, this is one my dad bought from you.”

  “My father bought me my very first pony,” Vi said, her cackly voice softening. “It cost fifty dollars, which was a lot of money at the time. I came out on Christmas morning and there was a bow around its neck. A big red bow.”

  “That’s really . . . Wow.” Jane made a shrugging motion to me and Hailey, as in, what now?