by Toni Mari
The judge smiled sympathetically as she stood for my salute. She gave a thumbs-up and mouthed, “Don’t worry about it.”
I shook my head as I slunk out of the ring. Well, I meant to slink, but Windsong jigged into the trot even though we were supposed to leave the arena at a walk. His ears pointed toward Kate and he dragged me in her direction.
She reached up to clip the lead onto his bridle, and he nuzzled her shoulder. “You did fine, big boy,” she crooned as she stroked his neck. “And you did fine as well, Jane. We accomplished what we came for.” She actually smiled at me, her “cat got the canary” smile that meant she knew something. What was that for? I didn’t win; I was eliminated. Out! Waste of time.
Chapter 17
As soon as we were out of the indoor I leapt from Windsong’s back, ripping the reins over his neck and snatching the lead from Kate. I stomped back to the trailer, walking faster than the horse and dragging hard on the reins. I didn’t care if he wanted Kate. In fact, I was hoping he tried something because I was in the mood for a fight. I rolled my eyes when I looked behind me. Kate and my parents were strolling leisurely, apparently yakking about my stunning performance.
I unbuckled the bridle and pulled it off Windsong’s head, leaving the reins around his neck. I grabbed the halter and lifted it up toward his face. He lifted his head and started to back up, not helping me at all. My eyes narrowed. “Go ahead, run. I’m ready for you, butthead.” I yanked a few times with the reins on his neck. He stopped. I crammed the halter over his nose and reached up and rubbed the side of his face. He lowered his head at the rough caress, and I was able to buckle it behind his ears.
By the time Kate and my parents arrived back at the trailer, I had the saddle off, the shipping boots on, and was standing by the back ramp.
“I’m ready to load,” I stated firmly.
Kate smirked. “Okay.” She gave a look of amusement to my parents and placed herself under the trailer window. “Go ahead. I’ll grab the lead rope when you toss it through.”
I raised my eyebrows. She was going to let me load him? I sighed. Fine. I marched him up the ramp, wishing he would do something so that I could vent this anger on him. Whether it was the other horses waiting patiently or my complete disregard of his drama, Windsong loaded quietly and obediently.
The girls tried to talk to me, but I just fumed, so they gave up. We pushed the horses’ heads in and slammed the windows shut.
My parents gave me a hug and tried to say something, but I cut them off. “See you at home.” I didn’t look back as I climbed into the back seat of Kate’s truck. Maybe I could avoid talking about the whole thing if I rode in the back.
Almost halfway home, Kate said in a voice laced with amusement, “Don’t you even want to see your test?”
Funny, I had completely forgotten about my scores. The judge said she would continue to judge me, but it wouldn’t count. Usually, I obsessed over my scores. Every tenth of a point mattered. I would study my tests and the judge’s comments, like they were the answers to the questions of the universe. I had never been eliminated while showing Paddy, and I didn’t want to read the judge’s comments. “Rider needs to control horse.” “Rider incompetent needs to go back to basics.” I could imagine more that were even worse.
“No, not really,” I grunted.
Hailey and Brianna were sound asleep. Kate spoke softly, “It wasn’t as bad as you think.”
“Not bad! I was eliminated; it was a complete waste of time. I hate that horse.”
Hailey shifted in her sleep. Keeping my voice down, I said, “I can’t handle him, I want a different horse. Why do you insist that I ride this piece of crap?”
Kate sighed. “First of all, he’s not a piece of crap. Second of all, read the test. The first part had some nice moments and the judge gave you some good comments. And last but not least, you haven’t had him that long. I didn’t expect you to ride a great test because you barely know the horse. We came today to find out how he behaves at a show.”
“He behaves like an idiot! He’s hypersensitive, overreactive, and too fast.”
“Read the test!” Kate ordered.
I glared at the rearview mirror. I sent laser rays of frustration into the front seat. Kate was oblivious. Her hand appeared over the seat back holding out the test. I stamped my foot and snatched it out of her hand.
I immediately looked at the final score on the front page. Instead of a number, there was a big E circled repeatedly. Ugh! I banged my head against the back of the seat. I had never been eliminated before. Paddy would never have considered misbehaving to the point of getting me kicked out of the ring. I wanted to crush up this paper and throw it out the window, and I started to, but Kate’s voice stopped me.
“Read it!” she commanded sternly.
I reluctantly opened the test. Each movement was listed with a box containing a description of the correct movement, and then empty boxes for the score and the judge’s comments. The first score was a five, thanks to that squirmy start and skidding first halt. I needed sixes and sevens if I was going to beat Melinda. I banged my head on the head rest again. I was dreaming if I thought I was ever going to beat anyone, let alone Melinda.
“Read!” Kate watched me in the rearview mirror.
The next score was for my lengthening of the trot across the diagonal, the one where he practically reared at the end of it. It was an eight. An eight? “Lovely floating extension,” the judge had commented. Lovely? I read on intently. Four for the rearing transition, but a few more sevens and another eight on the right half pass at the trot. That’s my better direction. Then the shit hit the fan when he leaped out of the ring. There was another capital E written across that space. When I came back in the ring to do the canter work, the judge gave me all kinds of scores, but the most interesting were the collective scores at the bottom. She gave me as a rider an eight, and Windsong got a nine on his gaits and the way he moved. Her comment at the end was: “This horse and rider team has great potential! Work on relaxation and confidence. I can’t wait to see you in a few months.”
My mouth hung open. I looked at the rearview mirror. Kate glanced back at me, grinning. She gave a laugh. “I won’t say I told you so,” and she laughed again.
I turned and gazed sightlessly out the window. Great potential. A nine on gaits. An eight on my riding. This didn’t make sense. I just rode the worst test I’d ever ridden, maybe the worst I’d ever seen, and I got some of the best scores and comments of my whole career. I remembered what Cory said, “Takes time to bond.” Could I qualify for the North American Junior Team with this horse?
Chapter 18
Because I gave Windsong the day off after the show, I wanted to be sure to ride him on Monday after school. Kate wasn’t on the farm and the whole place was quiet. The sun was out, so I planned to ride outside. Feeling confident after surviving the show pretty well, if I did say so myself, I led Windsong to the mounting block. For the first time, I didn’t hesitate to get on. I practically soared into the saddle. I laughed at my old fears. Ha!
I went through my warm-up, ignoring the few hops and skips that Windsong added. I went through some trot work, gaining even more confidence. He broke into the canter during a change in direction, but I let him keep going. Kate always seemed to enjoy pushing him faster, and he always behaved so well for her. I rounded the corner and squeezed my legs to ask for a faster canter. Hmm. It was a little harder to follow with my seat. I remembered Kate standing in the stirrups when she galloped Windsong. I stood up, feeling a little wobbly, and tightened my legs on Windsong’s sides to steady myself. He poured on more speed at that signal. I grinned; I could handle it. We reached the corner.
He ducked around it and I tipped. My heart stopped and I snatched at a piece of mane hair. My hand pinched his neck instead and Windsong shook it off. Whoa, I slipped more to the side and my foot came out of the stirrup. I grabbed for his mane again, wrenching myself back up straight. With feeble hands, I pulled back
on the reins. “Stop! Stop!”
The sudden harsh pressure on his jaw made Windsong open his mouth wide and throw his head up. He skidded to a stop, but reared straight up in self-defense.
“Oh shit!” I had only one foot in the stirrup and started sliding backward. I was going down! But Windsong relented. He landed with a soft bounce and then just stood there. My butt was behind the saddle and on his back. I used his mane and my one foot in the stirrup to haul myself back into the saddle. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, waiting for my heart beat to slow down.
Damn him! How dare he scare me like that? This freaking horse. I gave a jab at his mouth. His head jerked up.
“Don’t you even think about lifting that head.” I cranked one rein until Windsong’s neck was bent in half and his face pointed at my toe. Then I started kicking him. He jumped away from my feet but could only hop in a circle since I didn’t let go of his head. I kept kicking him. “How dare you treat me like that, you freak!” I kicked him again, but he had stopped hopping around.
I untangled my whip from the reins. I’d get him to move. I smacked him right on the side of his haunches. The whip made a sickening thwap against his hide. His body jerked, but he still didn’t move.
Oh my god! I caught sight of his big, liquid brown eye and his wrinkled brow. His nose was inches from my knee. What had I done? Tears blurred my vision. I slumped in the saddle, releasing his head. Quickly, I jumped down, pulled the reins over his head, and dragged him out the gate and into the barn. He resisted the reins, not wanting to get close to me. When he realized we were heading for his stall, he sped up.
Sniffling, I unbuckled the saddle and dumped it on the floor. I tugged the bridle off his head as he flung himself away from me. I threw the bridle on top of the saddle and slammed the stall door shut.
I ran to the tack room and crawled into my spot under the saddles. I had ruined everything. I didn’t deserve any horse. And that horse deserved a better rider than me.
Running footsteps rang out in the barn aisle. I muffled my sobs against my arm and tucked my feet in closer. Two dusty cowboy boots appeared in front of me. Double shit. It was Cory, of course. I tried quietly wiping my tears off with my jacket sleeve.
“Jane.”
I didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t actually know I was there. “Jane. You have to go back out there. You can’t end your ride like that. You have to get back on,” Cory demanded.
“No.” I sniffled.
“You can’t get off a horse when he acts like that, Jane. You have to end it on a good note. Get up,” Cory commanded. “You know that if you get off him when he’s still misbehaving, he’ll remember it as a way to get out of work next time. He’ll just act up more and more, thinking you’ll get off him if he’s bad.”
“I can’t, Cory. I’m not you. I suck. Leave me alone,” I hissed.
Cory bent down and caught hold of my hands. I was trembling. I didn’t know what was worse, how I treated Windsong or Cory seeing me cry again. “The horse was a jerk, Jane. He can’t get away with acting like that. I saw what he did,” he said gently.
“He didn’t really do anything. I scared him!” I protested. “I did it! I yanked on him. It wasn’t his fault.”
Cory sighed. He gently drew me up from the corner and put his arms around me. I was quivering. “You don’t have to blame yourself. Horses act up sometimes. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” I didn’t deserve anyone to be nice to me. I should be beat with a whip. I pushed back from him. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. He scared me so bad. But I scared him. I made him do it. I suck. I can’t do it.” I tried to stifle the sobs. I couldn’t admit to Cory that I hit Windsong.
“You don’t suck.” He grabbed my chin, putting his face right in mine. “Shit happens with horses. It’s not all smooth sailing. You don’t quit when it’s bad, you try and try again. You don’t suck.” He touched his forehead to mine.
I looked at him hopelessly. “You don’t understand. I ruined it. I beat him with the whip. He’ll never trust me now.”
“Beat him?” Cory looked at me closely. “You’re being a little hard on yourself. Give yourself a break, Jane.” He squeezed my hands, and then tugged me forward. “Come ’ere.”
I couldn’t forgive myself. I beat a horse for no good reason. Cory glanced back at me with those intense blue eyes. I let him lead me to Windsong’s stall. I didn’t want to look, but teenage morbid curiosity got the better of me. Did I leave a bleeding wound on his side? Windsong stood in the back of the stall but came forward and stuck his nose through the bars when he saw us. Cory pulled a treat out of his pocket and gave it to him. “Remember, Jane, when he first came here? He wouldn’t come to us. He would actually turn away when we went in the stall. Now look at him. He wants your attention. He’s not even worrying about that drama in the ring.”
I reached up and touched Windsong’s velvety nose. He pushed against my hand, hoping for more treats. I looked at Cory and saw the encouragement and confidence he projected. Where did he get that? “I wish I had your confidence,” I said quietly.
“I’ve seen you ride, and I’ve seen you with this horse. You’re great, you’re sensitive. Right now, it’s your own mind that is defeating you.” Cory looked so concerned, he was still holding my hands. I couldn’t face him, so I stared at his hands. “Jane, I’ll help you.”
My head snapped up when he said that. “Why? Why do you even care?”
Cory sighed and looked away. I watched as his face turned red. “You’re a good team, you and Windsong. I didn’t think so at first. I thought you were a snobby rich girl who bought a fancy horse she couldn’t handle just to try to get blue ribbons. But you are a good horseperson. Jane, you just need to give yourself time to sync up with Windsong. I don’t want to see you give up. I know you can do it.”
He didn’t look back at me, but I kept staring at him. I wanted to tell him his first impression was the right one. I actually opened my mouth to say so, but he turned back and the look in his eyes floored me. “You mean it?” I whispered.
He smiled crookedly. “Yeah, I do.”
I almost believed him, he had that much of an effect on me. I closed my eyes, trembled. “But what if I can’t? I am so afraid.”
“You keep at it until you’re not, that’s all,” Cory said. “C’mon, let’s just groom him and turn him out. Make him feel good.”
As we brushed Windsong’s glossy coat, Cory told stories of what he went through with Jet. He was charming and funny, but he didn’t spare himself as he went on about the many humiliations he suffered at Jet’s hand. It was sweet, him trying to make me feel better. I watched his strong hands gripping the soft-bristle brush, stroking my horse’s neck. I wanted him to like me. I nearly dropped my curry comb when my dream of kissing Cory flashed through my mind. I couldn’t even look in his direction without sexy images flooding my head. My face was hot and I wasn’t listening anymore. He was being so nice and I didn’t deserve it. I was that shallow bitch he thought I was. I realized he had stopped talking. Did he ask a question? Was I supposed to answer?
“What?”
“It’s just a welt. The skin’s not broken.” He stared at Windsong’s side. I walked around Windsong’s rump and there was a raised line on Windsong’s gleaming black coat. I put my hand over my mouth as the tears rolled silently down my cheeks. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Cory, so I squeezed my eyes shut tight.
“Jane, look.” I felt Cory’s hand on my arm. “It’s already fading.”
He ran my hand over the mark, and it did seem less pronounced.
I turned away, shaking my head. Cory turned me back. He gently wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumb.
“It’s no big deal. He’s not really hurt.” He pulled me against his chest. I liked it there. I wanted to stay there and forget everything that happened. “Put it behind you. Start fresh. Horses are great at forgiveness.”
I heaved a sigh and sniffed. I was trying n
ot to get snot on his shirt. I put my arms around his waist to steady myself. I felt Cory’s body go still and he stopped stroking my back. He put his hands on my shoulders and stepped back. His face was red again.
I gave him a watery smile. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
As I watched him stride away, he took my will with him. I put Windsong back out and then sunk to the floor in front of his stall. Wow, Cory was great. I sucked, but Cory was really great.
Chapter 19
Kate was shuffling papers in her office when I poked my head in.
“Hi, Jane. What’s up? You getting on Windsong?” she asked distractedly, pulling open drawers and digging through the contents.
“I don’t know. Can you do a lesson?”
“No, I have to run these damn papers over to the vet, if I can figure out where I put them. Did you ride yesterday? How did it go?”
“Yeah, I didn’t do much. I’ll just give him the day off, I guess.” I was trembling and couldn’t look at her, afraid she would guess.
With her head below the desk, her voice drifted up. “No, you need to ride. No skipping days anymore, show season is here. We will keep our lesson on Thursday.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and slipped out, closing the door softly behind me.
I slowly brushed Windsong with shaky hands as Cory came striding down the barn aisle toward me. He nodded to the other girls who were tacking up their horses but didn’t stop to chat with them. They all watched him as he passed, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was smiling at me from under the brim of his hat. The warmth that spread through my body had me smiling dopily back.
“Hi.” The intimacy Cory put into that one word floored me. My hand mindlessly kept stroking the same spot on Windsong’s side until he twitched and swatted me with his tail. I forgot to respond to Cory as I watched him walk to Windsong’s head, pull a treat from his pocket, and slip it to him.
