Road to the Regalia (Nadia and Winny Book 2)

by Rachael Eliker

  “Aright, then,” Winny’s eyes widened and she puckered her lips into a wry smirk. “I take it that whatever is special is also secretive.”

  Madeline bit her lip and scurried over to a chair before she burst. Crossing her long, slender legs, she pulled out her phone and jiggled her ankle nervously as she stared at the screen.

  Kally returned and prepared the poultices, wrapping them carefully between my knee and fetlock. At first, the gooey cream applied on the wraps was cool but was soon activated, spreading a warming heat and soothing my tired legs. While I relished the spa-like treatment, Mom talked about everything from Grandma’s health to who she voted for in the last presidential election. Mike seemed to appreciate her refocusing everyone’s attention elsewhere and took the opportunity to slip into my stall for a while.

  The constant hubbub in front of my stall and quiet conversations with my barn mates made the time cruise by. For the most part, I could ignore the uneasy twitch in my gut when I thought about the cross country course or whether or not anyone was going to show up tonight with malicious intent while I was helpless to do anything.

  “Wonderful news!” Danika came in around dinnertime. “I’ve checked the leaderboard and Nadia, you’re in tenth place after dressage!”

  Winny’s grin sagged into a frown. “You’re happy with tenth place?”

  “I am,” Danika answered honestly.

  Winny’s was less than pleased. “Well, we’ll have to see if we can’t do better.”

  “It’s excellent for your first go at a four star,” Danika reassured her.

  “Not as good as second though,” Gretchen teased.

  “You’re in second place?” Winny squealed excitedly, forgetting her own disappointment. “Congratulations!”

  “Told you we’d give you a run for your money,” Gretchen laughed. “Harvey’s in first though so we’re going to have to rock cross country to get ahead.”

  “I’m sure Isis is up for it,” Winny looked to Gretchen’s coal black mare with a smile.

  Several other competitors stopped by to chat and congratulate us on our placings. Katie casually mentioned her third place standing, only a few fractions of a point behind Gretchen, putting Katie hot on her heels. I admired Katie’s talent for being sportsmanlike without a hint of bitterness or jealousy. She was just as keen about winning as anyone but wouldn’t burn bridges to get there.

  Once night came and everyone had left and the other horses were eating or napping, I became restless. Something in the air was unnerving. The pigeons cooing from the rafters and watching me with their beady little eyes, the eerie, silvery moon shadows cast into the aisle…it all put me on edge.

  Finally, sleep came. My dreams were a mixture of Winny and I triumphantly soaring across the stadium jumping but more often than not, visions of us repeatedly crashing and burning on the cross country course haunted me. The faint scraping sound of metal on metal woke me.

  “Is someone there?” I quietly nickered, not really brave enough to be heard. I’d rather sink into the shadows than have to fight. “Isis? Do you hear that?”

  Isis’ inky eyes gleamed in the moonlight and she pointed her perfectly set ears towards the noise. “Sounds like someone’s unlocking something.”

  We pressed our faces to the bars but were unable to see who was there. The door to Gretchen’s tack room opened slightly then shut with a dull clank. Small slivers of light pierced through the cracks but we were clueless as to what the perpetrator was doing.

  After a few minutes of rummaging, the light clicked off, the door was shut and relocked and the shadowy figure pressed against the wall, a precaution against being seen.

  I could smell the flowery perfume before I could see them. “It’s a woman,” I told Isis.

  “I smell it too,” she snorted deeply. “It could be anyone though. Any number of people are willing to resort to despicable measures for a win.”

  Suddenly, the figure stood up in front of Isis’ stall causing both Isis and I to jump back in surprise and terror. She whispered, “Let’s see how your pretty little blonde does with a little challenge.”

  ❖

  “We have to figure out a way to tell Gretchen,” I said, pacing nervously in the stall.

  Isis flicked her ears back and looked at me, annoyed. “We don’t even know what they did, much less how to communicate the danger.”

  “I know,” I huffed. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want someone who cheats to get away with it. And I don’t want you or Gretchen getting hurt.”

  “Give her some credit. Gretchen’s a great rider and I’m at the top of my game. I’d like to see someone stop us.”

  Harvey arrived earlier than anyone. He stopped by Stoney’s stall to murmur a few encouraging words and slip him a handful of something. After grabbing a pair of keys and slipping on his field boots from his personal tack room, he walked hurriedly by, stopping in front of my stall. He shifted his weight away from me and winked, taking me aback. For a moment, I thought the gesture was directed to me until I realized he was looking at his reflection in the metallic nameplate hanging from my stall. He smoothed his hair and checked all his facial angles before strolling out. His vanity was nauseating.

  The entire morning was a flurry of activity. Gretchen had been drawn to go just a few riders before Winny but we both tacked up at the same time. I couldn’t help but notice Gretchen grasping her left wrist and rubbing it firmly. She had removed her brace for her ride but it was apparent her sprain hadn’t fully healed.

  Kally checked and Danika rechecked all of our tack, the snugness of our boots, the sheen of our coats. Unable to communicate my gnawing worry to Gretchen and my nervousness for the upcoming cross country, I was wound tight.

  Our procession left the barn at ten sharp for Gretchen’s start. I briskly carried Winny to the warm up jumps, settled in between a huddle of green, grassy hills. Less than ten horse and rider teams swarmed around the jumps. Most riders wouldn’t show up more than an hour before their scheduled time to keep their horses fresh and themselves as calm as possible.

  “Just relax, both of you,” Ms. Diederich reached up and placed a bony hand on Gretchen and Winny’s knees. “This is something you’ve done a hundred times before. Be ready for the surprises, but ride boldly. Now, go warm up. Take the jumps a few times but mostly, canter your mares around to loosen them up. They will need to reserve their strength and stamina.”

  Gretchen and Winny caught each other’s gaze for a moment, then went their own ways. Neither smiled. At that moment, they weren’t friends—they were each other’s competition.

  “Well, ready or not,” Winny said. I tried to keep calm but my muscles felt like springs, bouncing Winny around with every stride. Flatwork was challenging in its own right but trying to coordinate two bodies—much less two swapped bodies—over large, daunting and potentially dangerous jumps was infinitely more unnerving.

  “Looks like we can have a turn at the vertical,” Winny breathed in a low voice, not wanting to be overheard. Lots of riders talked to their horses but it was usually little more than a patronizing reward for their good behavior. Winny would sound crazy for discussing tactics with me.

  My heart felt like it would crack my ribcage. I counted strides until I could no longer see the rails, then trusted in Winny’s aids to guide me. She sunk into the saddle, lightened her reins and pushed me forward with her calves. At just the right moment, I launched into the air, sailing well above the poles and landing as lightly as was possible with my twelve-hundred pound body. Apparently our practice had paid off.

  “Good girl!” Winny cheered a little more enthusiastically than she should have for a successful warm up jump but as usual, she didn’t notice or didn’t care that other people stared.

  We leapt a few more times then slowed to catch our breath and wish Isis and Gretchen good luck. “Take good care of her,” I told Isis.

  “As if there ever was any doubt,” she tossed h
er mane sassily. “See you at the finish.”

  Gretchen took a few last words of advice from Danika and her grandmother while Kally smeared grease on Isis’ black legs. When her name was called for on deck, she resolutely turned Isis towards the start box and trotted briskly to try her luck at cross country. Ms. Diederich drove the golf cart behind her to coach and cheer her on as long as she could.

  My heart was in my throat as the bell sounded for her. Though much of our view was obscured, I could see one of the jumbo screens in the middle of the course, broadcasting bits and pieces of the competitor’s efforts.

  The crowd cheered with each successful completion of a jump. Isis gave a magnificent leap over the picnic table, making Gretchen duck her head next to her horse’s neck to miss low-lying tree limbs. Isis always did know how to give a good show.

  The anxiety for my friends was finally subsiding. They knew what they were doing and they were doing it well. I was confident Gretchen would come galloping across the finish line in a blaze of glory, undeterred by whatever challenge the mysterious midnight visitor had promised for them.

  All of a sudden, an audible gasp broke from the crowd at the second water combination. I flung my head high in the air and caught sight of the screen just in time to see Gretchen’s stirrup leather snap mid-jump.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The whole world focused on Gretchen. I watched in slow motion as she tilted over Isis’ left shoulder, helplessly slipping from the saddle.

  “Oh, no,” I breathed, the blood in my veins turning to ice. If she fell, she might be injured. Worse, there was no question she’d be eliminated.

  By divine providence, she kept herself in the saddle. As Isis hit the other side of the jump, Gretchen grabbed a handful of mane and braced herself. She smashed into Isis’ withers but thanks to her safety vest, she didn’t have the wind knocked out of her. Reining Isis in, she wriggled back from the pommel into the seat and bent over to examine her left stirrup leather while Isis pranced anxiously. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it looked like she was asking for direction from the jump judge. A moment later and precious seconds lost, Gretchen’s face screwed up in anger and she gave a loathing glare to the judge who’d obviously given her bad news. She ripped the stirrup leather out of the saddle and tossed it on the ground, kicking Isis into a gallop.

  “She’s going to finish with one stirrup,” Winny said in disbelief.

  “She has to,” Danika said. “An equipment malfunction would be her responsibility.”

  We watched the nail-biting scene unfold. The cameras and announcers loved the drama of Gretchen’s handicapped ride. It wasn’t really a secret that most people who watched eventing hoped for at least one bone-crunching fall at a show, a lot like how NASCAR fans watched races in part for the crashes. It looked like Gretchen might do it for them.

  We all paced nervously. Eventually the cameras lost sight of Gretchen and moved to next horse and rider team. “Nadia Wells? You’re in the hole,” a steward jogged up and told Winny.

  Winny thanked them and said to me, “Let’s get one or two more jumps in, just for good measure.”

  Circling the flagged off warm up ring, we had been joined by a few new competitors waiting for their turn. Harvey posted lightly on Stoney, waving on occasion to a knot of fans that had gathered to watch him start. As much as he’d proven to be completely absorbed with himself, he, at least, was right about one thing: he made riding look good.

  “Here she comes!” Danika yelped excitedly as Gretchen came into view at the top of the hill. Isis huffed with each stride but appeared to be in good shape. Gretchen, however, was in visible pain. She favored her un-sprained right arm and without the support of the left stirrup leather, leaned dangerously with each of Isis’ arching jumps. As she approached, I could see a small trickle of blood coming from her nose.

  The fans clustered between the start and finish pumped their arms and whooped as Gretchen and Isis approached the final obstacle, an unassuming flowerbox. Isis sailed over it beautifully but Gretchen lurched forward and slammed again into her withers. The spectators gasped mid-cheer and Gretchen hung on, urging Isis to the finish line.

  Ms. Diederich pulled up in her cart, having found Pete watching his girlfriend ride from the field. “She will not be pleased. She is going to have penalties.”

  “Let’s get over there and help,” Pete said with more urgency than was his norm.

  Winny and I weren’t allowed to go to our friends, and instead, we stayed on our side of the flags. The bell rang for a cute palomino horse with a crooked white blaze and her petite blonde rider. “Our turn in a few minutes,” Winny muttered, more focused on Gretchen and Isis who stood panting but patient while the veterinarian cleared her fit to continue competing.

  Kally was waiting to take off the tack and replace Isis’ bridle with a more comfortable leather halter, but the minute Gretchen’s feet hit the ground, she started screeching at our groom. I wouldn’t have even needed my sensitive equine hearing to know what she was saying.

  “Your job isn’t that difficult! One of the few things you’re to do is check my tack so stunts like that don’t happen in the middle of a very important rides! Is that too difficult for the likes of you? You should have been fired a long time ago as far as I’m concerned!”

  Kally shrank further and further away from Gretchen’s accusing finger. She tried to defend herself but it wasn’t until Ms. Diederich stepped between the two that Kally was able to escape. “You know your tack was checked by more than one person, including Danika. What? Are you going to fire her, too?”

  Gretchen ripped the Velcro straps from her body protector and unbuckled her helmet. “Excuse me if I’m ticked, Grandmother. I’m already at a huge disadvantage thanks to my sprained arm, and any standing I had went out the window with a refusal and time penalties.”

  Ms. Diederich and Gretchen continued sharing words until Gretchen conceded by throwing her hands in the air and roaring. Isis stood patiently next to Pete who tried to calm Gretchen by reaching his brawny arm around her shoulders. Gretchen ducked and pushed him away, storming off. Her pounding feet left a trail of boot imprints in the soft grass, heading in the direction of our stables.

  “Sorry I’m running a little late,” Kally muttered as she jogged over with the needed supplies from where she had been tending Isis at the finish. “We probably should’ve hired another groom. I hope I didn’t mess things up for Gretchen. I’d never be able to get a job if I got fired for missing something as simple as securing a stirrup leather.”

  “No one’s going to fire you,” Winny reassured Kally. “You’re a fast learner and honestly, I don’t think Gretchen’s incident is your fault. Checking your own tack before you mount is one of the cardinal rules of riding.”

  It suddenly clicked. That was the person was doing last night, rummaging through the tack room. In all of my years of riding, I’d never had a practically new stirrup leather inexplicably snap. They were sabotaging Gretchen’s tack. But would anyone ever be able to prove it?

  “Where’s Mike?” Danika asked as she hurried over.

  “I haven’t seen him in a while. Last I saw, he was near the warm up. Maybe he went to find a better spot to watch Nadia.”

  “You mean Winny?” Danika chuckled lightly. Her voice was calm though her cool blue eyes were intense as she worked quickly, helping Kally grease my legs.

  “Good luck!” I heard Isis neigh as Pete lead her away, dressed in a monogrammed cooling sheet.

  “Thanks!” I called back. It came out in a shrieking neigh that shook my sides.

  Danika jabbed my side with her thumb. “Pay attention, you silly mare,” she said sternly. I obeyed.

  “Nadia Wells, you’re up in three minutes,” said the steward in a deep, Southern drawl.

  “Go ahead and canter her once or twice around to get her mind refocused. Then, you’re up.” Danika patted me on my broad chest. “You two are ready.”
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  Winny leaned forward and tweaked my ear playfully. “Yes, we are.”

  We cantered lazy circles, admiring a muddy-looking bay galloping for the finish line under time.

  “Nadia!” I heard my name from afar. Mike crested a hill and sprinted towards us, running along the flagged off area until he found a place to cross. “Nadia!” he yelled again.

  “Mike?” Winny finally heard and squinted her eyes.

  Mike dashed towards us, flashing his credentials to enter the restricted area to a security guard who’d leapt from his seat at Mike’s approach.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he gasped. He reached out his arm and leaned on me slightly. I stood still and let him rest.

  “I’m up in about a minute,” Winny pointed out. “You haven’t missed anything yet.”

  “Actually,” Mike swallowed. “I have Gretchen’s stirrup leather. I was out there waiting for your turn and I saw the whole thing. I convinced the technical delegate nearby to give it to me since I’m working for you two here.”

  “Thirty seconds, Ms. Wells!” called the steward. Danika stood by the start line, looking slightly frazzled that Winny was talking to my boyfriend instead of priming herself for the biggest ride of her life to date.

  “You wanted to show me Gretchen’s broken stirrup leather before I started?” Winny asked, an eyebrow raised. “Is that supposed to be a way of wishing me good luck?”

  Mike laughed. “No,” he said. “Look here. See how the material on the outside of the stirrup leather is stretched? That’s how it broke. But it’s brand new—it should have withstood several hundred uses before it would have had any wear on it. But look at the other side.” She leaned over in the saddle while he flipped it over and traced a clean break with his index finger.