“Yeah, that's her.”
“…should really learn to control her horse…”
“…sucks to be her…”
Of course. Gossip. I was sure if anyone hadn't witnessed my grandiose dismount, the news would spread by word of mouth faster than a wildfire on a prairie. It was salt in the wound knowing my reputation preceded me, and not in a good way.
Chuck kept his eyes on me while I mulled over the day in my head. I stood up and glimpsed at Whinny, who dozed on her feet. Frustrated and confused, I replayed the scene in my head. Had I overreacted with the whip? I'd given her a warning and it was only meant as a reminder that she was to pay attention to her rider.
Chuck asked again, “What's on your mind?”
I couldn't stop from vocalizing. “I just wish I could understand where Winny was coming from. I don't know her history and her quirks are ridiculous. I barely smacked her hard enough to agitate her into bucking.”
Chuck was silent a moment then drew a deep breath and said, “Let me tell you an Irish tale told to me by my granddad. He told me it had been told for generations, something which he respected as truth.”
I frowned a little, wondering what an ancient story would do to help my situation. Looking both ways, there wasn't another person in sight. From the smell of barbecue wafting with the wind, I guessed everyone was already gathered at the food tent. I took a seat in my camp chair and gave Chuck my attention.
“Long ago,” began Chuck, “there was a man of such terrible nature that he took great pleasure in bending everything to his greedy will. In a land full of people with fair skin, he was tall and broad, with a head of flowing black hair and skin like the color of the sun. But his most notable trait was his birthmark on the left of his neck, just under his jaw line. His family was wealthy, giving their son everything he desired and he was particularly gifted on the back of a horse.”
Chuck's golden brown eyes were entrancing. Unashamed, I stared deeply into them, requesting him to continue.
“Connemaras are Ireland's native pony. They are spirited and agile, able to carry immense loads and are extremely fearless. The man's favorite pastime was to capture the wild ponies and break them till they no longer had the will to fight. Then, he'd go round himself up another one. Did it just for the cruel fun of it, I suppose.”
Winny dropped a few strands of hay on my shoulder, listening intently as she chewed. My stomach growled with hunger but I crossed my arms over my midsection and ignored it.
“One day, he captured a particularly feisty pearl-white mare that he tried to subdue for months and months. He never could break her. It is now said that she was the old, wise lead mare, the one who guided the herd of Connemaras in the west country. She'd buck wildly, unseating him every time. After one brutal ride, he grabbed the dagger from his belt and,” Chuck ran his finger from his bushy sideburns, tracing the contours of his neck, “cut her throat, spilling her blood.”
In the cool of the early evening, goose bumps prickled along my arms and the nape of my neck. I shivered.
“The herd was seen circling his estate that night under the full moonlight, neighing and rearing, tossing their glossy white manes. A terrible storm which had never been seen in the land rolled through. Lightning flashed. Thunder!” he pounded his hands together. “The next morning, the man had vanished.”
My throat was dry. I tried to swallow but the feeling of wadded cotton wouldn't go away. “What happened to him?”
Chuck shifted in his seat, bringing his face uncomfortably close to mine. “The Connemaras. They took him.”
I stifled a laugh. “Where?”
“Well, you see, Nadia, these Connemaras were almost all white or gray, the color of smoke off a clean wood fire. Occasionally, there was a black one, but folks started spotting a new stallion running with them. He was enormous, several hands taller than the compact little ponies. And his mane was slick and black, his body the color of pure gold. The odd thing too was the spot on his neck. On the left and right under his jaw line.
“He was seen here and there for a few months, living life at the bottom of the totem pole until, one day, he disappeared too. Then, from the direction of the setting sun, the man who'd been missing walked back, naked as a newborn babe. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye but was none worse for wear.”
“Are you suggesting,” my eyebrows raised, “that he was turned into a horse?”
Chuck quietly stared at his boots. “Now, Nadia, I ain't sayin' what the story means. It just was that the man, after his return, was never a better horseman. The malice and cruelty was gone. The horses obeyed him willingly and he never raised a hand to them again.”
I could feel my brow furrowing. A guy got turned into a horse? Unbelievable. But I understood the meaning of his story. “Well, that's a nice fable, Chuck, but I don't think it's going to help me much with my own wild mare. For one, I gave up wishing I could be a horse when I was, like, six. Besides, she's the troubled one and I don't think I was overly cruel. I'm afraid Winny's the one who's lost her mind.”
Winny stamped her foot and snorted at me like she understood. I gave her a sassy shrug. My mare turned her hind end to me and swished her tail.
“Never said it was a fable.”
I smiled, suppressing another flat out laugh. “Well, whatever you want to call it, it was interesting.”
Before Chuck could protest further, Mike jogged to me, carrying a paper plate full of greasy potato chips and shredded barbeque pork on a mushy bun.
“Hey,” Mike chirped, “looks like you're feeling better.” Other than my bruised shoulder, my body felt alright and the haziness of my mind had cleared away with the nap. I sure hoped I didn’t have a concussion.
“I do. You haven’t met Chuck yet, right?”
“Sorry I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself,” Mike said, extending his hand. “I’m Mike.”
“Pleasure, son,” Chuck smirked from behind his mustache.
Mike turned to me and bent over like a waiter serving at a five-star restaurant. “Mademoiselle. Your dinner.”
My stomach practically lurched out of my body to grab the plate. “Thanks, Mike. I'm starving. Chuck, did you want…”
I looked behind Mike but Chuck had already strolled away.
“What did he want?” Mike asked when he was out of range.
“He was just trying to help me feel better with a story,” I remarked. “Complete nonsense if you ask me.”
Chapter Eleven
At eleven forty-eight, I was still unable to doze off. Gretchen, Ms. Diederich and Danika had left me at the show grounds to sleep in the loft of the trailer so I could feed the horses early enough that by the time they arrived, we could tack up and ride. It wasn't completely uncomfortable with a warm sleeping bag and a couple of pillows. My mind was just too preoccupied.
I stepped into my tennis shoes and pulled an oversized sweatshirt on. It had been hours since the sun went down and the air was crisp and chilly. The full moon was hauntingly beautiful, highlighting the entire land in a pale, silvery glow. In the distance, an ominous anvil cloud was building and blazes of lightning lit up sporadically.
The horses weren't startled as I walked to them. They'd heard me yards away and were waiting with pricked ears and deep puffs of air. Winny nickered at me and I reached in and scratched her nose. I'd been mad at her all evening but the sting of the afternoon had waned. If I didn’t know better, I'd think she was almost apologetic.
My heart hammered as I heard swift footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me. “Someone there?” I whispered, not really sure if I wanted to be heard.
“Nadia?” Mike hissed in the darkness.
“Mike! What are you doing up? It's almost midnight.”
“Looking for you. Well, actually, I was going to leave this on your stall,” he held up a gift. “It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?”
I blushed and giggled. I could have kicked myself. Lovestruck, sure. But giggling? Ugh, Nadia.
“Yeah, it is. In about two minutes actually—I was born at midnight on the dot. Anyway, it's sweet of you to remember.”
Mike handed over the pastel colored bag that looked like it was meant for a baby shower. It was compact, yet heavy, the contents tugging heavily on the strings.
“Go ahead,” he urged, “open it. We can celebrate now.”
We stepped under a light post swarmed by moths. Beneath the wads of tissue paper was an ornately carved oak plaque, etched with bronze detailing. A quote by equine novelist Lucy Rees was scrawled across the beautifully grained wood:
Riding is a partnership. The horse lends you his strength and speed and grace, which are greater than yours. For your part, you give him your guidance, intelligence and understanding, which are greater than his. Together, you can achieve a richness that neither alone can.
I flipped the plaque over and found the initials MH cut into the bottom right corner. “Mike,” I sighed, “you made this?” I ran my fingers delicately over the words like I was blind and they were Braille.
He fidgeted nervously while trying to explain away the amount of time it would have taken to create the masterpiece. “It's nothing, really. My uncle, well, he has a woodworking shop and I thought it might be something you'd like. It's no big deal.”
I concealed a shy smile. It was painfully obvious that he'd spent a long time with the project. Without a word, I took two steps over to him and rested my head on his chest, wrapping my arms around his trim waist. He sighed heavily. I could feel his heart thumping against his ribs, a bit faster than normal. He gently snaked his arms around me and dropped his cheek to the crown of my head.
I allowed myself to completely relish the happiness that raced through me. Mike was the first to let go. He loosened his grip and pulled my shoulders back. In the light of the moon, I could faintly see his cheeks were tainted a rosy hue.
“I almost forgot. I've got another something special for you.”
I chuckled a little. “I don't know if you could top the plaque. It's pretty amazing.”
“Close your eyes,” Mike coaxed. I obeyed, keeping my eyelids tightly squeezed shut as he rummaged around for something. “No peeking,” he warned.
“I'm not,” I cupped my hand over my eyes for good measure, half-hoping, half-fearing he'd plant a kiss on me. Instead, I heard the squeak of Styrofoam scraping against Styrofoam, the flick of a match, the smell of lacing smoke.
“'Kay, open up.”
Mike stood with a goofy grin, holding a chocolate frosted cupcake topped with one burning candle vibrantly flickering in the dark.
“Where did you…?”
“Don't you worry about it. Just make a wish.”
I bit my lip, unsure of what to ask for. It had been years since I believed that blowing out birthday candles would make any elaborate requests come true. On the other hand, I could use all the help I could get the next couple of days.
Should I wish to win grand champion of my division? I wondered. At least then I'd be beating out Gretchen and all those gossips, something they deserved. Money for new riding clothes? I thought of all the loose strings I could twirl on my hand-me-down dressage boots. Money sure seemed like it would solve a lot of problems…
Maybe I'll splurge and wish that Mike would ask me out, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. That’d definitely be worth it.
Mike cleared his throat and pointed with his eyes at the candle, which covered the frosting in a waxy green and threatened to melt the cupcake.
As clear as day, my wish popped into my head, the same thing I'd said to Chuck. I stared deeply into the flickering orange blaze on top of the cupcake, entranced by the sporadic dance. I wish I could understand Winny. Taking a deep breath, I blew out the flame.
Chapter Twelve
A flock of starlings was my alarm clock. Their melodic yet chaotic chatter was bothersome enough to rouse me from sleep but I refused to open my eyes. I mentally reviewed last night‘s incredibly vivid dream. Like the man in Chuck’s fable, I’d become a horse. I could feel the pounding of my hooves on the packed soil, the strength of my muscles as I galloped along. I felt powerful, leaping fallen logs in the forest and racing to the tops of mountain. I tossed my mane in the fading sun and let out a loud whinny… If I laid still enough, the sensation stayed with me.
There were dozens of voices, muttering around me. Still groggy, I only picked up a few words. “Hungry,” and “Feed us,” were frequently repeated. I yawned, figuring it was a group of kids who'd come to visit the show grounds, begging their parents for an early morning breakfast.
I stretched my legs and started drifting back to sleep when I was whacked in the face with a flake of hay. Scrambling to my feet, I shook the pieces of dried grass from my eyes. Why was I inside Winny's stall? I remembered Mike's surprise and him walking me chivalrously back to the trailer without (much to my dismay) so much as an attempt to kiss me. It had definitely rained cats and dogs and we'd gotten some earsplitting thunder but I'd fallen asleep fairly quickly. So how did I end up out here?
Mike looked in from the outside and I half expected him to laugh at me, snoozing with my horse. “Oh, sorry Winny.”
Winny? About to laugh, I approached the gray steel bars and shouted out to Mike to let me out. A shrill neigh escaped my throat. “What is going on?” I screamed, another neigh vibrating off my vocal cords.
“Are you alright, Winny?” a voice asked to my right. Isis, her mouth full of hay, stared intently at me.
“Did you just…just talk to me?”
She stopped chewing and stepped closer. She snorted at me and the whites of her eyes shone. “Winny, you smell funny.”
“Winny? I'm not Winny! I'm Nadia!”
She flipped her thick black fetlock out of her eyes, cocking her head. “Nadia is a human.”
“I know!” I screamed, pacing frantically in the stall. “Mike! Mike!” I called but he had his back to me, dishing out some grain for Dodger.
Gretchen skipped past my stall and wrapped Mike in a bear hug from the back. Pinning my ears, I tossed my head angrily and threatened with a sharp stamp of my foot but she took no note.
“How are you doing, Mike? Kristi's coming up today and she's bringing Sidney with her too. You remember Sidney?”
Gretchen had recruited Sidney to take riding lessons from Danika last summer. She had pretty brown eyes and was a compact little girl who lusted after thrills. After only three lessons, I spotted her galloping neck and neck with Gretchen and Isis, gliding fearlessly atop Serenity.
“Uh, yeah. That's great you've got someone to keep you company.”
“They're staying in my hotel suite with me,” she bragged and flipped her cascading hair behind her. It looked like she'd had time to wash and curl it before coming out.
I cried at Gretchen but she only threw a threatening scowl. “What's wrong with that horse? She needs a sedative or something.”
Mike laughed half-heartedly, “She's just wound up being in a new place. She'll settle.”
“Maybe I'll do everyone a favor and slip it to her.”
“Gretchen, I don't think so…”
“Oh, I'm just joking,” she said, trying to act innocent. “Where's Nadia? She's supposed to have fed the horses by now.”
“I'm here!” I neighed. The pair ignored me.
“It's alright. She had a late night so I took care of it this morning.”
“Well, then,” Gretchen leaned on his shoulder, “thank you, Michael.”
I had broken into a sweat and droplets begun to slide down the hair on my neck and shoulders. Everything felt so strange. Not just my body, but my senses too. They were intensely magnified. I could smell and see and hear everything and it was driving me mad.
“Hey, Nadia. How are you?” Mike called into the distance. I pricked my ears in the direction he shouted, waiting to see who had stolen my place.
A look-alike walked up and met him. It wasn't me, but it was. My face wore an expression of dazed confusion mi
ngled with lighthearted humor.
“How are you?” Mike repeated.
The girl in my body looked long at him, curiously studying his face. “Great,” she said, her voice sounding like the voice I seemed to have lost. She looked down at her hands, flexed her fingers and grinned. “Wonderful, really. Could you excuse me for a minute, Mike? I'd like to check on Nad—” she stopped herself. “Winny.”
The person in my body walked mechanically to me and stared into the stall. I turned my head to better see her face and she did the same. Neither of us uttered a sound for several moments.
“I think,” said my faux reflection. “I think we've, um, switched places. I'm not supposed to be in this body.”
Furiously, I pawed the ground and shook my head in agreement but my shrieks of, “Yes!” were useless, high-pitched cries.
“I'm Winny,” said my body, “so you must be Nadia.” Again, I nodded. She slumped down into the chair next to the stall. “This is so weird.”
Isis had been listening in on our conversation. “You two switched places?” she said, disbelieving. “No wonder you smell off.”
I answered Isis, knowing Winny could no longer understand the language of horses. “Yeah. I'm definitely not supposed to be a horse. This is really freaky.”
“How’d it happen?”
“I have no idea,” I tried shrugging but my shoulders didn't move that way anymore. Only the surface of the skin shuddered. “I made a birthday wish last night but those aren't real. They're just for fun.”
“Regardless,” Isis said, picking up a few wisps of hay with her lips, “you're a horse now.”
It was true. I was standing on four legs, had a long black tail that hung by my hind legs and every noise that came out of my throat was equine. I was a horse.
Before I could throw another tantrum, Danika approached. Of anyone, she'd notice the difference. If Gretchen had noted my odd behavior as a horse, surely, someone would notice Winny's while trapped in my body.
Headed for the Win (Nadia and Winny Book 1) Page 7
