“Good luck,” Winny offered encouragingly. “You’ll do great.”
“Thanks,” Gretchen smiled feebly. She always played cool, but as I’d gotten to know her better, I noticed her nervousness had tells, especially before she rode. She twirled her golden blonde hair into knots and bit her lips while wearing a fake smile. Once she was headed down the centerline to salute the judge though, she was all business.
Our group disbanded. Some left for the stands, others retreated to lean against trees to observe Gretchen’s initial ride. Winny waved casually to a few other riders she’d met in passing who were headed for the main arena.
“Well, let’s try to get some more practice in before tomorrow,” Winny whispered.
Our ride was uneventful. Yesterday was like riding a bike—a bit wobbly at first but it seemed like we both remembered the feel of riding in swapped bodies. I was still unsure how the jumping would go. That was going to be like riding a bike off a ramp, and that, for both of us, was going to be harder to remember how to do.
Winny purposefully stayed at the opposite end of the arena from Gloria and Chaos. I spotted Gloria inconspicuously drive her spurs into Chaos’ ribs when she wasn’t satisfied with her extended trot. Chaos wrung her tail but did her best to meekly comply. Any instinct to flee or fight pain had been extinguished in her.
Isis and Gretchen cantered smoothly by us. Even in the muffled sand, I could hear something was off. What should have been an even-tempoed footfall was staccatoed by the clink of metal against hoof.
“Isis?” I asked.
“I know,” she called back at me. “My shoe’s loose. I don’t know how to get her attention.”
“Stop in front of Ms. Diederich. Or Mike. Maybe they’ll notice,” I grunted.
Isis took charge and steered towards Mike. “What are you doing, dummy?” Gretchen snapped in her frustration. With a sharp kick, Isis wagged her head but kept her course.
It worked. “Hey,” Mike stepped into the arena. “Her shoe’s loose. It’s about to come off.”
“Fitzgerald, Gretchen! You’re in the hole!” the steward called through a loudspeaker as the enormous crowd in the stadium roared with applause. Harvey finished his test and his fans obviously had loved his performance.
Gretchen furrowed her brow and frowned. “There’s not enough time to fix it,” she faintly said.
“You’ve got to do something. She’s going to make herself lame if she rips her shoe off in the ring,” Winny pointed out.
Mike took charge. “Pete, help me bring back my tools from the trailer. Danika, do you think the steward will give us a few extra minutes?”
Pete dashed away like he was reliving his glory days as high school quarterback while Mike trailed. Danika put her socializing skills to good use while she explained the situation to the head ring steward.
“Stay calm,” Ms. Diederich said while Gretchen chewed at her nails. “You mustn’t let worry distract you from concentrating.”
Gretchen nodded and slid down from the saddle to assess the damage. Picking up Isis’ foot, the shoe hung precariously, attached only on the left side.
“Do you think someone messed with her shoe?” Winny asked.
“What? Like cheating?” Gretchen scoffed.
“Yeah.”
“Not everything bad that happens is because someone’s trying to undermine the competition. Sometimes stuff just sucks,” Gretchen snapped. Pinching her nose and clenching her teeth, she hissed out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m losing my cool. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
Winny shrugged, unaffected. “It’s just that something seems fishy.”
“What do you mean?” Ms. Diederich cocked her head.
“First Belle overeating and colicking. Now Isis with a loose shoe,” Winny suggested.
“Did anyone pull your shoe?” I asked Isis.
“No,” she whickered softly. “I just stepped on it wrong. But I don’t disagree with Winny. Something’s not been right. For one, I’ve seen Harvey slip things to Stoney that leave him barely coherent. We just need to be careful. And do our best. Cheaters shouldn’t have the satisfaction of winning.”
I’d forgotten to tell her about the events of last night in the whirlwind preparations for today and was again interrupted by Pete kicking sand and huffing as he drug Mike’s farrier tools. Mike skidded to a stop, filling his boots with sand. Leaning over, he pushed his hip into Isis and lifted her leg. He pried off the shoe with his hands and began filing the hoof to keep it from chipping.
The crowd clapped politely as the next rider entered the arena—a dainty flea bitten gray with a pretty head. Gretchen’s chin trembled as Mike fitted the shoe to Isis’ foot, cold-hammering it to accommodate her wide hoof. Pete read her anxiety and went to her side. Without speaking, Gretchen rested her head on his chest while he clutched the small of her back.
Danika returned, breathless. “The steward radioed Carlos. He said they can’t make an exception and she has to go on at her scheduled time or face a penalty for each minute she’s late.”
“Ridiculous,” Ms. Diederich growled. “Hurry, Michael. We will not let Gretchen be penalized for unreasonable, unsympathetic rules.”
The veins surfaced on Mike’s forearms, and perspiration dripped down the end of his nose as he pounded, clipped and filed the shoe into place. Over at the arena, the crowd cheered and whistled as the gray mare and her rider finished.
The petite show steward with a severe bob jogged over. “You’re up, Ms. Fitzgerald. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you an extension.”
If there ever was a time I wanted to kiss Mike, it was at that moment. With a few final scrapes of his rasp on Isis’ foot, he dropped her leg. “Done!” he declared as we heard the faint tinkle of the head judge’s bell, indicating Gretchen needed to start in forty-five seconds.
Without a word, everyone chose a job. Pete threw Gretchen on Isis, Ms. Diederich shined her boots with a terry cloth wetted with spit, Danika straightened the tails of her shadbelly and Kally wiped the foam from Isis’ lips. Once ready, Gretchen pointed Isis towards the arena and spurred her into a gallop. Sliding to a stop, they elicited a roaring cheer from the crowd. Gretchen indulged them with a beaming smile and a wave before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.
Gretchen and Isis sprung into a collected trot and headed unwaveringly into the arena.
Chapter Thirteen
Despite the stress before their test, Gretchen and Isis did beautifully. I figured all the drama left no room for nerves. Whatever the trick, they were sitting in third place, at the end of the first day, not wholly unheard of for a novice but rare enough to make Gretchen all the rave of the dressage so far.
Winny and I practiced for an hour, and having the same success on the flat as we’d had the previous day, we didn’t push too much. Winny handed me over to Kally for a lukewarm bath and stayed at the arena to study the test. I knew the sequence of dressage movements like the back of my hand but Winny had some catching up to do. She had to at least look like she was in control and that our success wasn’t attributed to her horse being well-versed in the test.
The intruder who’d maliciously caused Belle to colic didn’t return that night. At least not to our barn. So far, there were no clues to who it was—no scent, no physical characteristics, no sound. I was at a loss for what to do, and even if I did know who it was, how could I stop them?
“I’m nervous,” Winny admitted as my door squeaked and groaned along the track. I stuck my head out of the stall and sucked in a breath of sweet morning air. The sky was periwinkle in the moments before the sunrise, and there wasn’t a wisp of a cloud to be seen. A perfect day for dressage.
“You’re preaching to the choir,” I snorted. Winny had showed up early, obviously not sleeping well in the trailer. She’d insisted Kally have a turn in her hotel suite and that she’d be more comfortable staying near the horses, lulled to sleep by the faint scent of cedar, hay and warm hor
ses.
“You’ll be fine,” Isis motheringly said.
“Easy for you to say. You guys did amazing in dressage and the judges always love you. You could fall splay-legged in the arena and they’d still give you a ten.” Isis laughed. “Every time I think about the cross country course, my stomach lurches. Sure, we might be doing fine on the flat, but we still haven’t had a chance to refresh our jumping. Everything feels like it’s culminating into something ominous, like we’re going to gallop to the first jump, crash and burn.”
“What an optimist,” Isis said sarcastically through a mouthful of hay that Winny had tossed her.
Changing the subject, I asked if Isis had noticed anything awry last night.
“Nope. Why?”
I filled her in on Belle’s mystery perpetrator and that other than my disdain for Gloria, I hadn’t the faintest clue who would sink to such deplorable levels to win.
“There is a cash prize,” Bullet interrupted. “Something like $150,000 for first place. That’s pretty significant.”
“True,” I grunted. “But is it worth the risk of being caught? I mean, other than being a horrible person for sinking so low, you’d be blacklisted from the show circuit for years, if not indefinitely.”
Bullet cocked his head. “I’ve heard of some pretty disgraceful behavior from people. Some of it’s vindictive but not entirely harmful, like horses that’ve had their tails cut short so they look funny. I’ve heard of other stories, everything from drugging to filing sharp points onto bits, tossing nails into stalls so horses get them stuck in their hooves and go lame—all kinds of crazy stuff.”
“Everyone just be wary of strangers. Best not to let anyone get their hands on you,” Isis warned.
Kally showed up a half hour after Winny and took over the morning chores while Winny sunk onto a hay bale to look over the photos I’d taken of the cross country course.
This is the one I’m worried about most,” Winny stood up and showed me a picture of the enormous uprooted ash. The photo looked like it was made of solid gold. “It’s right after that tight turn. I can only imagine what it’ll look like to you now.”
Kally looked over her shoulder and cocked her eyebrow. “Are you talking to me or Winny?”
Winny shrugged nonchalantly. “Winny. What?” she said innocently. “They understand more thant people suspect. Besides, couldn’t hurt if they didn’t.”
“I guess,” Kally said, turning back to mucking out Isis’ stall.
It seemed like the sun was in no hurry to come up over the horizon, casting long, eerie shadows over the grounds. A throng of people migrated from the parking lot to the stadium, some hanging back to mingle at the shops. Everyone’s groom was present, whether their rider had a test today or not, and all the horses were fed, watered, brushed and returned to impeccably clean stalls.
Winny stood facing me, still studying the cross country course and mumbling softly, unaware that Harvey was making a beeline for her. As he approached he said, “Looks like this is the gal to beat in dressage,” he gestured to Isis.
Winny shrieked and flattened herself against my stall, dropping her photos. “Sorry,” she muttered, “Didn’t hear you coming.”
Harvey stooped down and plucked her study guide to the cross country course. “Nervous?” he asked suavely, flipping through the pages.
“Can’t be too prepared,” Winny answered.
Harvey leaned against the stall and trapped Winny between his arm and the open door of the tack room. He asked, “So what’s with you and that Mike guy? Are you two serious?”
Flustered by his attention, Winny stuttered a response, mixed with a girlish laugh. “Yeah, well, isn’t it obvious? I mean, yes. We’re pretty committed.”
Harvey gave her one of his trademark debonair smirks. “Let me know if anything changes.” He reached down and gave her hand a squeeze.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mike enter at the end of the barn. He toted a light breakfast for two and an expression that clearly meant he’d seen Harvey’s exchange.
“I’ve gotta go,” Harvey strode back to Stoney’s stall. “I’ve got an interview in ten minutes and this guy’s coming with.” He maneuvered his gelding from the stall and arrogantly nodded to Mike as they passed.
Winny finally saw Mike and heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, Mike. I’m glad you’re here.”
Mike sharpened his glare. “What’s up with Romeo?”
“Who?” Winny asked, the reference lost on her.
“Harvey. He was leaning awfully close.”
Winny nodded. “Too close for comfort,” she agreed. “I guess he’s attracted to me.”
Mike practically choked on his orange juice. “You think? I hope you aren’t sending him any mixed messages is all.”
“Why?”
“’Cause that’s what you’re sending me.”
❖
Winny came back from the trailer in my white short-sleeved blouse and full-seated breeches, ready to meet our fate in the dressage arena.
“How do I look?” she asked Danika.
Danika stuck a few hairpins in her mouth and transferred them into Winny’s low bun to better secure it. “There,” she said triumphantly. “Ms. Diederich and I will bring your coat and necktie. Meet you at the warm up ring.”
Winny nodded and took my reins from Kally, thanking her for her meticulous grooming job. She’d even had time after redoing my braids to brush a quarter mark design onto my gleaming rump.
“Ready?” Winny asked Mike, extending her elbow to link with his.
He smiled, obviously in love with who he thought was me. I was always amazed not only how fast Winny could get herself into awkward situations but how quickly she could extract herself with a bit of charm. It helped tremendously that Mike seemed to be in a forgiving mood. “Of course,” he laughed and threaded his arm between hers.
“Good luck, Nadia,” Isis whickered softly.
Winny clipped a lead line onto my bridle and rested it casually over her shoulder. Chatting happily together, Winny looked down at her feet, suddenly realizing she’d forgotten something.
“My spurs!” she blurted out in the middle of Mike retelling a hilarious chemistry lab blunder where one of his students purposely added chlorine to milk. The resulting explosion had caused the building to be evacuated.
“What about them?”
“I forgot them in my tack trunk. Would you mind fetching them for me? I don’t want to keep Danika waiting.”
“No problem.” Mike leaned in for a quick kiss and Winny expertly offered her cheek.
“Thanks,” she grinned. Mike winked and turned to jog back to the barn.
We continued our trek to the warm up arena when a gangly teenage boy with unruly hair saw us walk by. He looked both ways and seeing there was no one to stop him, ducked under the guard rails and raced toward us. My immediate reaction was to rear away from his outstretched hand, whipping the lead rope across Winny’s exposed neck.
“Can I have your autograph?” the boy eagerly asked, shoving a poster of me atop Winny in her face. “You’re the hottest one at the show. Well, between you and Gretchen Fitzgerald.”
Winny was livid. Scared herself by the stranger, she glared hard and opened her mouth to give a scathing rebuke but a security guard spotted the fence jumper and hauled him away, apologizing to Winny for his behavior before she could get any words out.
At the arena, Ms. Diederich did a triple check of the tack and tightened my girth until it was snug while Danika helped Winny arrange her tie.
“Is that a hickey?” Danika giggled.
Mike’s eyes flashed to Winny’s neck where the rope had scraped off skin. Unaware of what a hickey even was, Winny shrugged and said, “This crazy kid came running up from behind and scared Winny. It’s just a rope burn.”
Everyone else seemed placated and though Mike kept his peace, his usual jovial eyes were once again cold and hard. Great
, now he really suspects there’s something going on with Harvey. Once her shadbelly was buttoned and her helmet securely in place, Winny climbed into the saddle, unaware of Mike’s brooding.
We warmed up amongst the other competitors swarming the arena. Winny still steered me clear of Gloria but she wasn’t paralyzed anymore in her presence. I did my best to remain supple and power through movements from my hindquarters forward, knowing the judges were scoring on not only accuracy but submission and impulsion as well.
“Gloria Reed, you’re on deck. Nadia Wells, you’re in the hole,” The same short-haired steward from yesterday announced through a megaphone. She looked for a nod from each of us to confirm we’d heard and went back to busily ordering volunteers around.
Once Gloria headed into the arena, Winny and I couldn’t help but watch her and Chaos. Their test was technically right on—Chaos bent through the corners and made transitions at precisely the right moment but there was something missing in their companionship. Trust. They knew each other well enough but having built their relationship on fear, neither one was completely comfortable with the other.
A cheer came from the grandstand as Gloria gave a dramatic final salute. She patted Chaos’ neck, more out of playing to the crowd than actual praise and walked out of the arena past Winny and I toward a waiting Chuck and Skylar. Out of their earshot, she sneered, “That’s how you do dressage.”
Without missing a beat, Winny smirked and answered, “Stiff, awkward and choppy?” Gloria’s face slackened in disbelief, and if I wasn’t mistaken, Chaos sniggered. Winny laughed too, almost hysterically and answered, “You made that one too easy, Gloria. A school horse and a first time rider would’ve been more harmonious than you are with Chaos. Gotta give your horse credit though. Not many would be able to work with the likes of you.”
Without a reply, Gloria spurred Chaos into a canter toward her entourage, tossed the reins to Skylar and gave a dramatic kiss to Chuck, like she was marking her territory.
Road to the Regalia (Nadia and Winny Book 2) Page 9
