Ella wasn’t really listening to them. She was watching the other contestants. The guy with the nice hat was up. He led his massive quarter horse into the arena, and it pawed at the ground as they waited to start.
It was like being at the rodeo again, watching him tear around each barrel and hurtle through each curve at enviable velocity. The time had barely started counting down when he’d completed the pattern and was thundering home again.
The crowd roared.
“Twenty-two point one seconds!” said the announcer.
As the guy with the nice hat, now minus the hat, led his bay out of the arena, the announcer called, “In the hull is Ella Pierson!”
Two more people ahead of her. Ella’s pulse leapt to full throttle and Eight threw her head up. Ella could tell the horse felt her excitement. Eight already wanted to head toward the arena.
“Not our turn yet,” Ella told the horse.
“Come on, everyone,” said Ma Etty, appearing with food and drinks, Mr. Bridle at her side. “Let’s leave Ella and Eight alone to get ready.”
“Good luck,” said Ash, waving, and the kids left to get good seats.
“You’ll do great out there,” Ma Etty said, walking away. “Don’t worry!”
But Ella wasn’t worrying about out there—she was worrying about right here. Eight wouldn’t stop dancing, yanking on the reins, wanting to be out in the arena and running already. No matter how much Ella tried, she couldn’t calm Eight down.
Paul strode over, eating a hot dog. “It’s your nerves,” he said. “I bet she’s responding to your anxiety.”
“My anxiety? What anxiety?” Ella demanded, and her voice cracked. Eight tossed her head back. “Okay. Maybe I see what you mean.”
She wished Jordan were here. Jordan always knew what to say to calm her down.
“Hey, hey,” said Paul, rubbing Eight’s neck with one hand as the horse hopped from one foot to the other. “Settle down, girl.”
“On deck,” said the loudspeaker, “is Ella Pierson!”
The contestant out in the ring galloped back to the finish line and the announcer called out, “And Juniper Crowley goes home with twenty-one point eight seconds!”
The next contestant, a round guy on a draft pony who had been standing patiently in the starting pen, entered the ring. Next was Ella’s turn.
As she approached the gate to the starting pen, Eight flung her head to the side, ready to jump into the arena and run the race. Ella had never seen her like this. The more Eight slipped out of her control, the more Ella grew afraid. She knew the basic rules: if your horse couldn’t stay under your control on the way into the starting area, they wouldn’t let you race.
Paul took Eight by the reins and led her to the gate.
“Ella Pierson?” asked the attendant.
“That’s me.” Figure Eight tried to pull away from Paul and danced sideways.
“Calm that horse down,” the attendant said. “Or I can’t let you in.”
Ella couldn’t get Eight to slow down to a walk, no matter how many times she gently corrected her. Her nerves wouldn’t settle, and Eight knew it.
“Sorry,” said the attendant, making a check on his sheet. “Too risky.”
“Too risky?” asked Paul. “The horse is just a little excited to race, that’s all.”
The attendant eyed them. Time was ticking—the contestant currently in the ring was almost done. Ella was up next. She tried to relax, as Madison had once told her. While Paul tried unsuccessfully to calm down Figure Eight, Ella remembered opening the arena gate back at the ranch.
We’re back at the ranch, Ella thought, closing her eyes. It’s just us and the barrels.
Ella tried to recall that feeling—the gentle calm they shared before Ella gave the cue. She needed that focus now.
Gently, Ella tested the connection in the reins.
She sat deep in her saddle seat.
She thought only about the race. She looked where she wanted to go—inside the starting area. She thought only of her goal—to win. She let her shoulders relax.
Eight’s breathing slowed and her neck dropped. While Paul debated with the attendant, Ella and Eight calmly walked past them, into the starting pen, just as the previous contestant exited.
“Guess they’re ready,” said Paul, closing the gate behind them.
“Next contestant is in,” the attendant said into his walkie-talkie.
“And Jack Lipman walks away with twenty-two point one seconds!” roared the announcer.
Ella and Eight faced the starting gate.
Eight didn’t paw. She didn’t dance. Ella and Eight stared ahead at the barrels and for a moment, Ella thought she could hear what Eight was thinking. How she was seeing the pattern ahead of them as a series of timings, of curves, of twists and sprints.
The gate opened.
Eight stepped into the arena. Around them, the sky and the people and the announcer’s voice vanished, and all that was left were those three white metal barrels, arranged in a triangle.
The attendant gestured at her. “Go!” he mouthed. “Your turn!”
Ella stared straight ahead at the first barrel. Then she leaned forward in the saddle, let Eight have the reins, and kicked.
Eight sprang into a gallop. She roared toward the first barrel, perfectly following Ella’s line of sight.
Look.
Ella let her gaze wrap around the barrel.
Feet.
She guided the front of Eight’s body around the barrel with one knee, the back with her outside knee.
Reins.
Ella pulled the reins in, and Eight knew what came next. She turned at the barrel so steeply that Ella felt her knee bump it.
Ella focused on each of Eight’s hooves clawing the dirt, grabbing traction, pushing off again; through Eight’s reins, the corners of her sensitive mouth directly connected to Ella’s hands.
Then they were clear of the first barrel and headed like a freight train toward the second.
Ella’s feet moved automatically, pressing Eight’s body around the barrel, harnessing their momentum. As they hurtled around the second barrel, Ella forgot where Eight’s body started and hers ended. They took the turn together like a single creature: Eight’s hooves were Ella’s hooves. Ella’s hands were Eight’s.
Together they cleared the second barrel, and thundered on to the third.
This was the toughest turn. She had to go around the barrel almost a full revolution, and Eight had sprung off the second barrel with so much momentum that they were coming in too fast.
Ella panicked. If they overshot, they’d lose entire seconds.
She slowed down Eight as they approached the barrel. But they were going too slow now, Ella realized. Still, she’d rather her turn be careful and safe than end in disaster.
Eight was ready when the turn came.
Her whole body tilted into the barrel. Ella had to push her foot back and out of the way to avoid hitting the barrel with her stirrup. Knocking over a barrel would ruin their time.
The turn was long. Ella felt the seconds tick by until Eight had gone all 360 degrees around the barrel, and now faced toward home. It was time to put the pedal to the metal.
Ella crouched as far forward in the saddle as she could, gave Eight plenty of slack in the reins, and said, “Go!”
Eight put on a last burst of speed. Her breath came in huge gulps, in time with the beating of her hooves in the dirt.
The wind pummeled Ella’s cheeks. It tossed Eight’s mane into her face. But none of that mattered as Eight’s powerful muscles tore up the dirt, and her huge, strong legs carried them flying toward the finish line.
They passed through the laser and the buzzer went off. The crowd, as she had hoped, roared.
“Twenty-one point four seconds!” came the announcer’s voice, fueling the audience’s furor. “Twenty-one point four seconds for the new competitor from Quartz Creek Ranch, and a new best time in today’s competition!”
“That was incredible!” said Paul.
“A really solid run,” agreed Ma Etty.
“You did great,” said someone behind Ella.
Ella spun at the sound of Jordan’s voice. Jordan held Eight by the reins, patting the panting horse’s velvety nose. “You should take her for a cool-down walk,” Jordan said, handing the reins to Ella.
Ella stared at Jordan, then down at the offering in her hand. Ella was still in shock from the race.
“Yeah, okay,” she managed at last, taking the reins.
Why was Jordan here now, after ignoring her all week? But Ella felt too elated by what she’d just done to care.
She’d done it. She’d really done it. And she was at the top of the leaderboard. That belt buckle was practically hers. And the cheering! It had been everything she’d hoped for.
But Ella wanted to see her competition, to be there when she got that first-place ribbon. So she loosened Eight’s saddle cinch and led her around the perimeter of the audience, as Jordan suggested, to cool her down.
Jordan walked with her, not speaking. Ella couldn’t read her face, nor the set of her shoulders. But Ella had raced! Her entire body was warm with victory. She and Eight had done it together.
Out in the arena, it was the last competitor’s turn.
The tall girl was on fire. Her small spotted horse easily folded its compact body around the turns at breakneck speed. It seemed like she was done as soon as she’d started.
But surely Ella and Eight had gone faster. Except for that slight speed loss before the third barrel . . .
“Twenty point nine seconds!” shouted the announcer. “Holy cow, a twenty-second run at the junior level? With that time, Delia Perez takes the top spot on the leaderboard!”
The crowd went wild. Ella clenched Eight’s reins.
There went everything.
“Ella?” asked Jordan. “Are you crying?”
Ella stuffed her palms into her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears, and dropped Eight’s reins in the process. “No.”
“Why are you crying?” Jordan stared at her, dumbfounded, as she picked up Eight’s reins. The announcer was listing rankings.
“Third goes to Mike Rogers,” the speaker boomed. “Second, to Ella Pierson!”
“You got second!” Jordan whispered, leaning in. “Second, dude!”
“Don’t ‘dude’ me,” Ella said, fresh tears sliding down her face. “I didn’t win.”
“Seriously?” asked Jordan. “You’re crying because you got second instead of first?”
It did sound ridiculous when Jordan put it like that. But Jordan didn’t understand what first place meant to Ella.
“I wanted to show you,” Ella said. Eight pawed the ground at the distress in her voice. “I wanted to—” She shook her head. “Whatever. It’s pointless.” And Ella started to walk away, taking Figure Eight with her.
“Wait,” said Jordan. “You wanted to show me what?”
“What do you care?” asked Ella, but she didn’t have the energy to put any venom behind it. She was tired and sad and she wanted to be alone. “You ditched me.”
Jordan met Ella’s gaze for a moment, then she flushed and dropped it again, hunching her shoulders. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
That was all she had to say? But the fury Ella expected didn’t come. She had been the one who failed Jordan, after all, just like the other girl had predicted.
Second place.
“I just . . .” Jordan bit her lip. “I got so attached to the two of you. To your success. I wanted so badly to help you win.”
At this, Ella’s mind went blank.
“What?” When she’d had a moment to think, she added, “Then it especially doesn’t make sense why you abandoned me right at the end.”
“I know!” Jordan was crying now, too, and tried as hard as Ella had to hide it. “But when you asked me about failing and I realized what I’d taken on by teaching you alone, I couldn’t take it. It was too much pressure, Ella! Whether you won or lost would be a direct reflection of how good a job I’d done as a teacher. And because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, I didn’t want to be the one to make you lose.”
“First place,” boomed the announcer, “and this handmade belt buckle, go to Delia Perez!”
Ella tried to understand what Jordan was telling her. “That’s . . .” She wanted to say That’s ridiculous, but that wouldn’t help. Ella sighed. “Well, I wish you hadn’t left me. I needed you.”
“I know,” said Jordan miserably. “I’m sorry.”
“I am, too.” Ella glared at the announcer’s box, like the second-place win was actually his fault. “I had meant to get first place. I wanted to win that belt buckle and show you what a great teacher you were.”
“Why did you need first place for that?” asked Jordan. “You got second! In an event you only learned a few weeks ago. It’s . . .” She searched for the right words. “It’s amazing.”
“The only reason I’m even here is because you trained me,” said Ella. “But maybe you were right. I only got second.”
“Only!” A small laugh burst out of Jordan, unexpected, through the tears. “Nothing’s ever good enough for you, is it?”
“What about you?” said Ella, sniffling. “Even if I had gotten first place, you wouldn’t have believed me. You would have called it a fluke, or—”
“You have natural talent, Ella.”
Ella pointed a finger at Jordan. “See? That’s exactly what I knew you’d say. I don’t, Jordan. You saw me when I first got to Quartz Creek Ranch. Eight was way too much for me. I couldn’t jog barrels, not to mention run them. I was a mess.”
“You practiced.”
“Only what you told me to practice.”
Ella knew she wasn’t getting anywhere, so before they could argue again, she said, “Whatever, Jordan. You’re right. Second place isn’t bad. And you helped me get it. I’m not a failure, and neither are you.”
With that, she turned and led Figure Eight back to the Quartz Creek Ranch trailer that was parked on the other side of the arena. As she led Eight over, Paul came out and took Eight’s reins.
“Go over there! They’re giving out the ribbons.”
Madison found her as she was walking back to the event area.
“Did Jordan find you? She was looking for you.”
Ella just nodded.
Back at the main gate, the attendant was handing out ribbons and trophies. Ella got a huge red ribbon with 2nd written across it, and a little gold plaque with the show’s name.
Chapter Twenty
On the final day of camp, the kids packed their things, and then it was time for one last riding lesson before they boarded the van for the airport.
“Why is this with my stuff?” Jordan held up the big ribbon that Ella had shoved into her duffel bag.
“I put it there.” Ella didn’t wait to hear Jordan’s objection. She headed out to the barn to tack up Eight for the morning lesson. Figure Eight had been in great spirits since the show, and was eager and waiting to run when Ella took her out each morning, anticipating a day of practicing barrels.
But Ella had stopped practicing. Who knew when she’d get a chance to race again? She wanted her free time to play games with the other kids while they still had time, and to give Figure Eight treats.
When the kids showed up with their horses for lessons, Paul was waiting for them in the arena.
“Wanted to do something special for your last day on the ranch,” he told them. “Thought I’d give you a tour of what I do around here.”
Ash and Drew were almost electric in their saddles.
“Do you have to rope
cows?” Drew asked.
“Yep,” said Paul, patting the rope hanging from his saddle horn. “To deliver meds, or fix ’em up when they hurt themselves.”
“What about calves?”
“Sure, when it’s time to brand ’em.”
They headed up north across the ranch lands. Paul talked to them about the cattle business and showed off the training a few of his ranch hands were doing with the dogs. Soon Paul fell behind, engaged in conversation with Drew about cattle work. The group approached a fence, the gate closed and latched.
“Can someone get that?” Paul called. Madison was a few horses back, with Ella, Kim, and Jordan at the front.
“I can,” said Madison, working her way up.
But Ella was already walking Eight over to the gate, using her heels to sidle up to the latch. She pulled the lever, let the gate swing open, and allowed the other horses to pass through.
Jordan stared at her, and waited next to her as the caravan passed.
“Nice work,” Paul said to Ella as he passed.
“Go on,” Ella told Jordan. “So I can close it.”
Jordan opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut, nodded, and went through. Snatching up the end of the gate, Ella pulled it closed behind Eight and dropped the latch back into place.
As they continued their ride, Ella fell to the back of the line. Jordan, up ahead, slowed down Loco Roco so she fell into step beside her. Ella had a sense of déjà vu.
“When did you learn how to do that?” asked Jordan. “You handled it like a pro.”
“I learned when you taught me.”
The words hung thickly between them. After a long while, Jordan said, “I actually did something good here.” She stared off into the distance as she said it, so Ella wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or to Ella. “I actually helped someone.”
“Of course you did.”
Jordan shook her head. “But you didn’t back down, either. Every time you messed up, you just tried again.”
“And again, and again, until it worked. Perseverance is my superpower.”
“Or stubbornness,” Jordan said, laughing.
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That evening, while the other kids ate churros and played cards at the dining room table, Ella snuck out. She walked to the dark barn, slipping through the creaky door and flipping on the light.
At Top Speed (Quartz Creek Ranch) Page 13
