Headed for the Win
A Novel
By
Rachael Eliker
Nadia Wells has spent her life trying to convince her parents that horses are a necessity but despite her best efforts, they see them only as an extravagant luxury. After landing her dream job mucking stalls in exchange for riding lessons, a wealthy philanthropist recognizes Nadia’s talent and decides to invest in her. Purchasing a mare nicknamed Winny, Nadia is sure she’s bound for equestrian greatness but on the cusp of their most challenging three-day event yet, Winny bucks Nadia off in front of a crowd of her peers. Humiliated and fuming, Nadia makes a birthday wish that she could better understand her horse. The next morning, she wakes up to discover she has four hooves and a tail swishing between her legs: she and Winny have switched places! If life as a teenage-girl-turned-show-horse wasn’t hard enough, Nadia has to figure out a way to tell the dashing Mike how she feels or risk losing him and the competition to the talented, gorgeous and spoiled Gretchen. Will the pair concede defeat or work together to overcome the impossible and be headed for the win?
Copyright 2014 by Rachael Eliker
SR Number 1-1456690611
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For those who have encouraged me to ride and write.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter One
On the way home from school, there are exactly sixteen routes that take me past horses. If I take a left on Prairie Crest Drive, there's a pair of Thoroughbreds so black, they'd be invisible in a new moon if it weren't for the glaring white stars on their foreheads. Straight down Saylor Street is a barn where several girls from school board their quarter horses. Sometimes I see them running barrels. I've tried to swallow my jealous pride and stop to say hello. I haven't succeeded yet—my foot can't seem to find the brake as my older-than-me half-ton truck crunches over the gravel road. One of my favorite routes is along Black Creek Lane. There's an endless verdant pasture, dotted with patches of wildflowers and oak trees. In it, several mares run alongside their knobby-kneed foals every spring and I'll unabashedly admit, I've been grounded a couple of times after visiting them. It's so easy to lose track of time when I pull off, climb down the ditch and feed the girls from my glove box sugar cube supply.
I don't own a horse. Never have. But I easily spend ninety-nine percent of every waking hour daydreaming or doodling equine pictures across my worksheets instead of listening to my teachers droning about pre-calculus or photosynthesis. I've had limited experience on the back of a horse, but the few blessed weeks at summer riding camps and on children's zoo ponies have been enough to give me fresh material to make my reveries as graphic as if I'd been born in the saddle.
“Nadia,” my mother sat me down on the couch one mild spring afternoon, “I don't want to give you the wrong idea but…” she hesitated as she drew in a deep breath, “but, your father and I have been discussing riding lessons for you.”
I leapt up and felt a violent scream of joy building up in the back of my throat. It could have rocketed me to the moon. Before it freed itself from my vocal cords, my mom grabbed my wrist and yanked me back down to earth.
“Like I said, I don't want to give you the wrong idea. We've only been discussing it.”
Smiling as wide as my lips would stretch, I looked my mother in the eye, “I promise to do everything in my power to convince you this is a good idea.” I felt like I should raise my hand as if I were going on trial, promising to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
“I know, darling,” she patted my knee. “It really does come down to a matter of money.”
My countenance dropped. Money had always been a stumbling block in my argument for having a horse. We lived comfortably but a horse fell under the 'unnecessary extravagance' category, though I had argued they were as necessary for my well-being as air.
“What do I need to do?”
My mom got up and began pacing the room, one hand on her hip. Her crimson red t-shirt had puffs of flour on the front from rolling out cookie dough. My sister Selma had insisted on sugar cookies for a treat but I had a sneaking suspicion Selma probably just wanted a few mouthfuls of raw dough.
“You're going to have to pay your own way,” she frowned. Her eyebrows creased together, overemphasizing her worry. “Now, I've called around and found out that Stoney Brooke Stables is looking for a part-time student worker. I mentioned that you'd be interested but that you're inexperienced.”
“Mom,” I groaned, “why'd you have to tell them that? I know more about horses than a lot of people. Probably even most people that have their own horse.”
“Yes, but knowing isn't the same as doing. You haven't been around them as much.”
I nodded. “And whose fault is that?” It was true that I knew more about horses in theory than I did in practice but being called a novice wounded my pride.
“Nadia,” my mother warned.
I quickly zipped my mouth.
“It's going to be a lot of work…” she trailed off, distracted.
The doorknob jiggled and my older brother, Peter walked through the front door. He removed his backpack from his broad shoulders and casually tossed it on the couch.
“College boy's home and he's hungry!” he announced.
“Pete! Guess what! I'm going to work at a barn!”
He rolled his eyes, the same mocha color as mine and said, “Finally. It's about time you go do that. You're a little old to be sleeping with a ratty stuffed horse and playing with plastic models.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Mr. Ed has been a very good stuffed animal and I don't see why I should give him up now.”
“It's about time to send him to be made into dog food.” He lightly punched my collarbone.
Ignoring the throb of my shoulder, I spun back to my mother. I rubbed my palms together, excitedly thinking of all of the doors this opportunity would open. My eyes glazed over and my mouth gaped as I lost myself in a vision of Olympic grandeur.
My mom reluctantly intervened. “Honey?”
“So, how much do they pay?” I anxiously asked. I tried to estimate how many joyous hours I'd spend mucking stalls in exchange for an hour atop a horse.
Mom ran her hand through her sandy blond curls. “They said they'd give you two lessons a week in exchange for six days of work.
I didn't think it sounded quite even—”
“That's okay,” I waved my hand to stop her. “It sounds perfect.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought.” She tussled her hair again. “You sure about this? It's a lot of work and commitment—”
I couldn't help but interrupt. “I don't mind!”
“And your grades, Nadia. You’ve been letting them slip your senior year. Colleges do look at your performance in high school.”
“No worries, mom. I’ll make sure horses don’t affect them.”
“That’s the problem. They already are affecting your GPA and you don’t even have a horse.” I stared at her, innocently silent until she sighed and handed over the scrap of paper with the barn’s phone number.
Before my mom could tell me to give them a call, I'd skipped up the stairs two at a time, phone in hand and locked myself in my room. Trying to slow my breathing, I dialed.
“Hello?”
“This is Nadia Wells. I'm calling about your working student position…”
Chapter Two
Of all the horse properties I'd dared enter, claiming I was lost if anyone caught me in their driveway, each paled in comparison to Stoney Brooke Farms. At the head of the driveway, a majestic pearl-white equine statue reared, guarding the entrance to the estate. Other than the artwork, all the grandeur of the property had been hidden by a protective wall of towering poplar trees that stood so close together the wind would have a hard time weaseling through. I never suspected the place was there. I pulled up the drive the day after I'd made the phone call destined to change my life, practically drooling at the exquisiteness of the place. Acres and acres of manicured pasture were enclosed by endless straight lines of gleaming white fencing. In a pasture to the west, rolling hills and valleys were peppered with monstrous cross-country jumps. There was not a weed in sight among the lush beds of landscaping and the lawn looked like it was actually a golf course.
Following in the shade of oak trees the quarter mile to the barn, I found myself gawking at the facility. Not only was it enormous, it was more luxurious than my house. The barn was painted a grayish blue, accented by shutters and trim in a deep navy and white. About fifteen horses stuck their heads out of the Dutch doors, gazing curiously at me. A few privileged horses—pregnant mares by the looks of their fat bellies—roamed the nearby paddock and basked in the late afternoon sun.
I parked my Chevy and climbed out. It was awkward pulling between a Jaguar and an Audi, but I slammed the truck door and did my best to pretend that I didn't notice. It may not have looked like it, but I belonged there.
A row of wild rose bushes had begun blossoming, the tiny pink petals unfolding in the post-winter thaw. As sweet as their fragrance was, they failed to mask the distinct smell of a well-cared for barn. It was an aroma of pine, manure and hay wafting gently in the breeze. Happily sucking in the air, I relished each breath. Selma had repeatedly made sure I knew she thought I was crazy for thinking horses smelled good. I countered with the fact that she slept with a stinky, slobbering dog.
Letting myself in through the front entrance, my mouth dropped as I stared at the intricately carved wood handrail going up to what I assumed was the hay loft. All of the wood was cherry and oak, from the front door frame to the walls of each spacious stall. I felt a headache swelling at the thought of cleaning a place like this. I'd been known to be a klutz and I didn't want to be the first to mar anything.
A pretty sorrel mare named Allegro stuck her head into the aisle and let me stroke the kitten-soft spot right above her nostrils.
“May I help you?” a tender male voice asked from behind. Allegro and I were taken by surprise at the intrusion and I placed my hand over my heart, racing wildly from fright.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “You startled me.”
“Oh, my dear, forgive me,” the man said, a look of true concern, mingled with nervous apprehension. His timid awkwardness evoked a smile from me and I reassured him I was perfectly fine.
“I was looking for Mrs. Price. I'm here for the job?” I inquired uncertainly.
“Oh, yes. You must be Nadia.” He adjusted his bifocals back onto the bridge of his nose and smoothed back his hair, showing hints of white growing up his sideburns. “I'm George, Danika's husband.” He took my hand in his smooth palm and patted it.
I smiled, noticing he looked completely out of place, sporting khakis and a baby blue polo. His poor cordovan penny loafers had a smudge of what I only could imagine was fresh dung.
“Danika!” he barely shouted. “Your new stable hand awaits!” My heart skipped a beat. An affable man like George surely was complemented by a kind woman, wasn't he?
A slender, fifty-something woman strutted over. I wouldn't have blamed her one bit for looking down her perfectly straight nose at a working student but instead, when her eyes caught hold of me, a genuinely warm smile spread across her entire face. “Nadia,” she cooed as if she already knew me. She pulled a sleek leather glove off, revealing manicured nails and a wedding ring that had to weigh at least ten pounds. She slid her softer-than-a-baby's-rump hand into mine and delicately shook.
”Mrs. Price.”
Though petite, the confident air she carried with her was intimidating. “Please, call me Danika.”
“Danika,” I repeated obediently.
“Ladies,” George apologetically interrupted, “I must excuse myself. I have a four o'clock tee time at the golf club with some clients I cannot afford to miss.”
“Have fun,” Danika kissed him on the cheek. “Dinner's at seven.” He strode out to his Audi, the engine purring as he drove off.
“Why don't I show you around and then you can tell me what you think.”
I nodded without a word. We toured the facilities while I intently listened. The barn was equipped with twenty stalls, each with its own automatic watering system, fan and heat lamp. I peered into a vacant one, not surprised to see they were clean enough that I could have crawled right in and taken a nap on the hay.
“A young man does the feeding and turnout in the morning so I'm looking for someone to do the evening chores.”
Slowly, we strolled the aisles, appreciating the magnificent creatures in each stall. They, like the barn, were groomed to perfection, sleek, muscular and well-behaved. They posed gracefully, striking a stance for me to admire as I peeked in each equine suite. On every sliding door hung a golden plaque with the name of the creature inside. Isis. Calypso. Serenity. Even their names were richly elegant.
Adagio poked his massive flea-bitten gray head from his stall and sniffed at my pockets. I produced a sugar cube and smiled as his scratchy whiskers tickled my palm and he delicately picked up the treat with his lips.
The tack room, with rows of wooden lockers full of polished saddles and spotless bridles also functioned as an observation area for guests. A line of trophies, ribbons and photos decorated the back, evidence of just how successful Danika's career had been.
“Are these all yours?”
“Yes,” Danika picked up a trophy, dusting it lightly with her fingertip. “I've won my fair share of competitions.”
“I'll say,” I murmured in awe under my breath.
I picked up a black-and-white photo of a youthful Danika. She sat smiling atop a Welsh pony, adorned with a flowing ribbon and sash of roses “So, when did you start showing?”
“I was twelve the first time I showed. I'd only been riding for three months but I practiced hard. My pony was stubborn yet smart and I had a knack for it. I got first place, beating the other riders who'd been at it since they could walk.” She tilted her head back, giving a slightly sinister laugh. “Sure made them mad.”
“And now you're an instructor?”
“Yes. I do mostly teaching and training now, though I find myself still regularly competing. There's not much difference to me if I'm helping someone else master riding or if I'm riding myself. As long as I'm around horses, I’m happy. They've been a lifelong love affair.”
> Up in the hay loft, neatly stacked bales of sweet smelling grass filled the space except for a few paths to walk from one end to the other. I caught a glimpse of a tiny cobweb dangling precariously from a rafter. Danika, following my gaze, spotted it and welding a broom, knocked it down.
“That's better.” She triumphantly smirked.
Gawking upward, I stumbled over my feet. A cat screeched as I kicked him in the side. Jumping back and pressing myself to the haystack, I watched the feline tear down the aisle, tail puffed three times its normal size.
“Oh, kitty, I'm sorry. Here, kitty, kitty!” I called sweetly. Peeking out from a hiding spot, the gray tabby reappeared and leapt up onto the railing. Balancing easily as he trotted towards us, Danika reached for the cat and stroked his spine.
“This is Greg. You'll never find a better mouser.” He lifted his head and purred at Danika, thanking her for the compliment. Slinking over to me, he sniffed my outstretched fingers, then rubbed his scent on me. I assumed forgiveness and approval.
Danika smiled affectionately at him and then turned her attention to me. “So, what do you think of the place?”
I stammered, unsure of how to put into words my appreciation for the beauty of her facility. “It's… awesome. Seriously.”
“So you wouldn't mind helping out around here?”
My eyes widened and I vigorously shook my head. “Mind? It'd be my dream come true!”
“Good. I know your mother mentioned you were not as experienced as others, but I have a good feeling about you. You know, I got my start with horses in the same way.”
“How so?” I asked, perplexed.
Danika twisted her sparkling wedding ring and flashed her smoky-blue irises from the cluster of diamonds to me. “I came from a family that wasn't particularly well off, but I managed to get a job at a barn when I just twelve. I worked hard mucking stalls, grooming for others at shows and watching as many lessons as I could to absorb as much as I could. And now look where I've ended up.”
Headed for the Win (Nadia and Winny Book 1) Page 1
