Kally took the reins from Mike and told Winny, “I’m going to undo her braids since she doesn’t ride until the second day. I bet she’d rub them all out tonight if I tried to leave them in. Don’t suppose a bald horse would look presentable for dressage.”
“I wanted to ride when you’re done. Keep Winny loose and relaxed, you know. Is the practice ring still open?”
“As far as I know. I’ll get her tacked up,” Kally offered.
Mike grabbed Winny’s arm as she turned to go to the trailer to change again. “You don’t want to go get lunch first? It’s already late.”
“I’m a little too nervous to eat just yet. Come watch us work, then we can go get something.”
“Sure,” Mike agreed. “What are you in the mood for?”
Winny thought for a moment then confidently answered, “Bacon.”
“Easy, now,” Winny stood atop a mounting block with her left foot in the stirrup. Grabbing a chunk of hair, she nimbly hopped into the saddle. “That wasn’t so bad,” she patted my neck. “I think I remember what I’m doing.”
“Good,” I nickered. “Because I need to practice these four legs.”
The arena was deserted. It’d been freshly harrowed, leaving deep, even tracks raked through the sand. Mike sat under the shade of a decades-old sycamore and watched intently. Though I preferred to not have an audience while I tried to remember what it was like moving this massive equine body gracefully, it was a comfort having him there in case anything did go awry.
“Let’s just start easy,” Winny said. With a small squeeze from her lower legs, she signaled me to walk.
We twisted and turned around the arena, Winny guiding me in movements meant to loosen my muscles and tendons. Eventually, circles became turns on-the-haunches and half passes—movements requiring me to crisscross my legs sideways while continuing to move forward. I stumbled and clipped my hooves clumsily, but with each successful pass, we improved. Winny wobbled on my back but was conscientious about her reins, knowing what it was like to have a bit between her teeth.
“That wasn’t terrible,” Winny murmured, scratching the top of my withers and giving me a long rein so I could stretch my back. After an energetic walk around the arena, she gathered me up and said, “Well, here we go.” She squeezed her legs quickly three times and before she was finished, I surged into a working trot.
I slowed slightly when she clenched onto the reins and fell back in the saddle. Winny only giggled as she corrected herself. We followed the same routine in the trot as we did the walk—basic movements reviewed before moving to more difficult ones. Though I occasionally misstepped and Winny tottered in the saddle, we settled into a flowing rhythm. We’d been partners for years and we knew what the other was thinking and how we should react. When Winny pressed her calf against my midsection, I bent my body around it. When she shifted her seat bones in the saddle and swung her outside leg slightly back with a nudge of pressure, I danced sideways in a half pass. The first several times, I tangled my feet and broke from the movement into a tight circle.
Once we’d had several successful upper-level movements, she gave me the cue to canter. I rounded my neck, lifted off my forehand and launched into the rolling three-beated gait, pushing from behind. Winny squealed, and before I could stop, she slipped from the saddle and landed on her butt in the sand.
Mike jumped up and raced to her side. “Are you okay?” he asked, pulling her up.
Winny laughed flatly, brushing off the sand and said, “I’m fine. I just lost my balance.”
“At the canter?”
“Yes, at the canter,” she said, slightly irked. “Help me back up.”
Mike grabbed her ankle and hoisted her up. Again, she slowly worked me back into the canter. This time, she firmly gripped the pommel and stiffly fought my movements until she remembered to relax her thighs and sink into the saddle.
“Now I remember what it’s supposed to feel like,” she called ahead to me.
Winny gave me my head and pushed me into a full gallop, which I obliged. She stood in the two-point position, whooping and hollering as the wind whipped her face.
“You alright?” Mike shouted through cupped hands.
“Never better!” Winny laughed.
Spotting Ms. Diederich and Danika steering their golf cart towards us, I slowed back down to a walk, sucking deep breaths through my nose.
“Everything okay, darling?” Danika questioned.
“Just letting her stretch her legs. I think we’ll be ready for dressage,” Winny announced.
“That is good,” Ms. Diederich said, “but we are here for a three day event. Dressage is only the beginning.”
“I know. I’ll worry about each phase as it comes,” Winny grinned as she kicked her feet from the stirrups. Satisfied, Danika and Ms. Diederich zoomed away in the golf cart, leaving Mike, Winny and me behind.
“Hey, would you put up a jump for us?” Winny asked Mike, tilting her head in the direction of some poles and jump standards lined up outside of the ring. I knew we were going to have to face that challenge one way or another but we weren’t off to such a fantastic start to our out-of-body experience. My knees suddenly felt weak.
Mike nodded and quickly assembled a couple modest verticals near the arena edge. Winny circled me at the trot and pointed me to the middle of the poles.
Our effort was a disaster.
Time after time, I jumped long, I jumped too short, I missed the distances in between, and more often than not, I obliterated the jumps, knocking down the poles and standards even though they couldn’t have been set for more than two and a half feet high.
Mike patiently reset them without a word though his face said it all: he was worried. This wasn’t the kind of practice we were prone to, and it certainly wasn’t going to get us through the Regalia. I gulped down a lump in my throat. I was anxious too.
After a dozen attempts, I began to find the right spot for takeoffs, and Winny was recalling her role as the rider. She balanced on my back and kept her connection on the reins soft and giving. When we had a successful try popping over a series of four foot fences, Winny called it a day.
We walked around the arena, breathing deeply and quietly pondering whether this was a good idea or not. “Everything going okay?” Mike inquired as we walked passed. “You two looked, I don’t know, off today.”
“We are,” answered Winny honestly. “But we’ll be okay. I think.”
Mike didn’t press it further. “Ready for some lunch?”
Winny nodded and lighted from the saddle. “I’m famished. Race you back!”
I trotted alongside Winny and Mike, who were panting desperately by the time we arrived. I obediently went into my stall and drew a long gulp of water. Kally scurried over to pull off my tack and swung a lightweight cooler over me. I tried to sneak in a quick scratch where the bridle had left me itchy but she swatted me away, chiding, “Don’t rub your sweaty head on me. It’s bad manners.”
Chuck came in and sat in front of Isis’ stall, whistling and polishing Gretchen’s dressage boots for her test tomorrow. “Hi, Chuck,” Winny strolled over and stood in front of him.
“Well, hello there, Nadia. How was your ride?” he asked, tipping his cowboy hat back so he could see her better.
“Fine.” She paused. “I just, well, I wanted to thank you for buying up my horse. I don’t think I ever properly thanked you.”
Chuck nodded and said, “You’re welcome. It’s always a pleasure to help find someone a horse with whom they can be successful.”
“She’s been really good to me.”
“A good horse’ll do that for you.”
Winny paused again. “And…” she hesitated, “just be careful.”
“Careful?” Chuck humorously cocked an eyebrow. “What for?”
“Gloria.”
Chuck let out a rumbling laugh. “Gloria, huh? What’s a pretty lady going to do that I’d need to
watch out for?”
Winny sighed, agitated. “It’s not so much what she’ll do as much as who she is.”
Chuck took the warning about his girlfriend good-naturedly. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m a grown man. I’m not as naïve as when I was younger.”
“I know,” Winny agreed.
“Hey, Chuck,” Mike interrupted. “Ready to eat, Nadia?”
“Yep,” Winny turned to him. “See you, Chuck.”
In typical cowboy fashion, Chuck tipped his hat, “Nadia.”
I snoozed on and off the rest of the day, spending the time awake people watching. After Kally had left us and Winny bid me goodnight, Skylar came in once more to give Chaos a look over. In hushed tones, she whispered kindly and hummed to the mare who nuzzled her groom.
“Thank you,” Chaos whispered as Skylar gave her one last scratch on the nose and closed the sliding door behind her. Something in the quiet nature of her exchange spoke volumes about who Skylar really was.
The last rays of sun dimmed at the edge of the horizon and once Skylar flipped off the lights, it was dark. It took a moment for my eyes to see much of anything but after a few moments, my pupils adjusted. With the faint light coming from a sliver of a moon, I could see decently.
We all quietly finished the last of our hay and Isis was the first to sink down into her shavings for a quick but deep sleep. Locking my own knees, I dozed, letting the sounds of spring at midnight lull me to sleep.
The soft pad of quick, rhythmic steps caught my attention. Someone was running this way. Who is that? I pressed my face to the metal bars and listened as the steps grew closer. Near me, I could see detail—an orb spider putting the finishing touches on her web, the fissures in the aisle, each piece of hay that escaped being swept up—but at the end of the barn, it was only shapes and shadows. Quietly, a hooded figure in all black slunk into the barn.
I wanted to cry out but couldn’t find my voice. Though the intruder hadn’t done anything, a creeping, sinister feeling told me they were about to. A spot of light slowly ambled over to the barn. One of the security guards had arrived for the routine fifteen minute check. The figure in black pressed into the corner, hugging their knees and halting their breath while the guard slowly moved the light from stall to stall.
“Look in the corner!” I screamed, my heart now pounding with terror. Other horses who weren’t sleeping nickered their agreement, more in curiosity than fear.
The guard, hand on his two-way radio, shined the light at me and scoffed, “Crazy animals.” He turned and walked away without a second glance.
Once he was gone, the figure stood and looked right at me. It was the person in the ski mask Winny had told me about. My hackles raised while a sense of foreboding flooded the barn.
Whoever it was unlocked the feed room next to Belle, the stringy Thoroughbred mare who’d been in heat and crabby all week, and began dumping scoopfuls of grain into her feeder. Belle stuck her nose in and gulped it down without hesitation.
“No!” I whinnied. “You’ll colic eating that much grain!”
Belle ignored me and continued to eat, pinning her ears at the other horses who complained about not getting grain themselves. The intruder dumped out the mare’s water buckets too so she’d be dehydrated, practically guaranteeing an intestinal impaction. Then, they carefully returned the lid to the feed and locked up. Almost like magic, they slipped into the shadows and disappeared without a trace.
Chapter Twelve
Belle colicked terribly overnight. A few hours after enjoying her feast, the moaning began. She kicked at her swelling belly, laid down and rolled several times but couldn’t find relief as the grain impacted in her gut. Though the security guards walked by several times and hour, they didn’t make much of her laying down since half the other horses were curled up, sleeping too. By the time her groom found her in the morning, she was downed with barely enough strength to complain about the pain.
“Someone get the vet!” her groom, Megan, shrieked. Skylar shot out of the barn, returning shortly with Dr. Herriot on her heels.
While the veterinarian listened with his stethoscope and injected Banamine, Megan paced the aisle, tearfully explaining the situation over the phone to the mare’s rider. Skylar held Belle’s enormous head so Dr. Herriot could snake a long tube through her nostril down into her stomach and began dumping copious amounts of mineral oil into a funnel attached at the end.
“What’s going on?” Gloria entered, peering into the stall.
Skylar answered, “Looks like this mare’s been colicking all night. Poor thing.” She moved Belle’s forelock and stroked her face.
“I’m not paying you to help other people here. This is a competition and sometimes in competition, the weaker fall by the wayside.”
Skylar’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Once she recovered from Gloria’s stinging disregard for the animal’s suffering, she masked the brewing look on her face with a compliant, “Yes, ma’am.”
Megan hung up and took Skylar’s spot. Brushing the shavings from her jeans, she crossed the aisle to feed Chaos who was observing the commotion and patiently awaiting her breakfast.
“I’m going to go eat. I want her tacked up in an hour so I can hack today. The rest of the time I’ll be observing the dressage.” Gloria turned on a dime and marched away.
“You’re welcome,” Skylar muttered under her breath.
Isis and I watched the drama until our people arrived. Today was all about Gretchen and Isis since Winny and I weren’t scheduled to perform our dressage test until the following day. Kally showed up twenty minutes earlier than Gretchen and Winny’s entourage to start the morning routine. I felt a little guilty downing the grain so fast, knowing it was what had made Belle sick, but as a horse, self-control, especially when it came to eating, was elusive.
Once everyone had arrived, there was a flurry of activity. Madeline and Chuck began running soft body brushes across Isis’ inky coat until it gleamed, Kally’s nimble fingers braided her mane in record time and Danika and Ms. Diederich mentally prepped Gretchen. Mike hated sitting down while other people worked, so he and Winny hauled out tack for a polish. Pete, however, had slumped in a chair and was already snoring under his ball cap.
“What’s going on down there?” Winny said aloud, not really to anyone in particular.
Skylar overheard from Chaos’ stall and answered, “Belle’s colicking. Not sure how, but it looks like she got into her grain. There’s tons of it spilled in her stall.”
“Is she going to be alright?” Mike queried.
Skylar smiled sweetly, “Aren’t you Mr. Caring?”
“He always has been,” Winny answered defensively. “Everyone knows that.”
Skylar ignored Winny and answered simply, “Belle will be fine.
Winny surveyed the commotion and murmured, “Something doesn’t seem right.”
“What?” inquired Mike.
“How did Belle get into that much grain? Everyone keeps it locked up precisely for that reason: it’s disastrous when a horse overeats.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Sabotage,” Winny whispered, unblinkingly staring at Belle. “I just don’t know who.”
“Nadia…” Mike chuckled, shaking his head.
The tone of the stable became more somber once Belle’s rider showed. She bolted into the barn and after a moment of terrified staring, threw herself onto Belle’s neck and wailed. It was a sobering reminder of how fragile life was and how quickly a competition could change.
I could hear Harvey pull up in the VIP parking lot on his rumbling Harley. In his reflective aviator glasses and leather jacket, he looked like James Dean reincarnate. Before he’d even kicked the stand out, he was surrounded by a hoard of fans.
He played to the crowd for a few moments, taking pictures and scribbling his name in Sharpie on various keepsakes before leaving the throng for his waiting mount.
Ston
ey called to his rider, prancing anxiously as Harvey’s groom clutched the reins. “You big goof,” Harvey clapped his hand on his gelding’s neck. Turning right to Winny, he let his eyes wander along her form-fitting breeches before asking, “You riding today?”
“No, she’s not,” Mike answered, deflecting Harvey’s advances.
Winny seemed totally oblivious to his flirtations, her mind focused elsewhere. “Gretchen’s riding today. I’m not on until tomorrow, but I was going to get in a little ride. You?”
“Yep,” he said. Unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off, he hung it on a nearby hook. Harvey didn’t think twice about pulling his t-shirt over his head, seemingly unconcerned that he was standing half-naked in everyone’s fully-clothed presence. He looked more suited for a modeling gig than an international horse show at the moment. His groom handed over his dress shirt and I could have sworn he was flexing each of his well-developed muscles beneath his tawny skin while buttoning the crisp white dress shirt. Hidden under his motorcycle chaps, he wore a pair of full-seated breeches.
“At least he didn’t have to change into his pants here,” Mike muttered under his breath.
Finishing up his stock tie, Harvey mentioned, “I’m on in forty-five minutes.”
“Forty-five minutes?” Gretchen practically shrieked. “Why aren’t you warming up already?”
Harvey coolly shrugged. “I don’t like to wear Stoney out before a test. He’s better at dressage when he’s a bit fresh.” His groom carefully folded his shadbelly over his arm and handed Harvey his top hat once he was securely in the saddle. Pressing it over his windswept hair, he winked at Winny. “See you later.”
Shortly after Harvey left, Gretchen carefully climbed from the stepstool into the saddle so her spotless white breeches would remain so, ready to head down to the warm-up ring. Mike tossed Winny into the saddle and Winny, back to her lighthearted self, giggled as she squirmed to the center. “Easy there! You about launched me all the way over!”
Danika gave the signal to our small army to move out. We escorted her and Isis to the arena where five other horses effortlessly danced in upper-level dressage movements. All of the horses looked relaxed with floppy ears and foaming mouths.
Road to the Regalia (Nadia and Winny Book 2) Page 8
