Dark Horse (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 23)

by Claire Svendsen

  “A show? Here?” I said.

  “Yes, we can have a costume class and some games for the younger kids and I thought we’d set up an open jumper class. Bluebird might even be ready by then. It could be his first show back.”

  He was baiting me with the idea of a show here at our home barn where I could ride Bluebird and not even have to take him off the farm. It was the best idea ever and I hated him for coming up with it when I should have thought of it myself. Then again if I had, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to do it.

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s agree to put our disagreement behind us when we are at the barn. This is our workplace and you are right, we should act professional.”

  “And at home?” he said.

  “At home, I’m still not talking to you,” I said, hating the fact that I sounded like I was five years old.

  What made it worse was that Dad actually gave me a pretty good lesson on Socks. He set up a couple of exercises for us out in the jump field and had us work on tightening up our rollbacks. Socks was usually so fast that our tight turns became wide ones and there was definitely room for improvement.

  “Are we really putting on a Halloween show?” I said when we were done. “Or did you just say that to make me take a lesson with you.”

  “The flyers are in the office,” he said. “I had them printed up yesterday. Go see for yourself.”

  After I’d taken care of Socks and put him away, I ran to the office to see if my dad was a liar. He wasn’t. The flyers were orange and black and showed a kid on a pony flying across the top like a witch on a broomstick. It offered all manner of spooky classes, a costume class and a haunted pumpkin patch. I already had a million ideas for a costume for Bandit and I couldn’t wait to figure out which one I was going to use and then there were the proper classes. There were classes for the hunter kids and the jumper kids and some flat classes for those who didn’t like to jump at all. It looked like it was going to be a great show. We could decorate the barn with spiders and cobwebs and have a pumpkin carving contest where everyone brought their best horse themed carved pumpkin and the winner could get a prize. The little kids could trick or treat for candy. The bigger ones could battle it out in the ring. It had been ages since Fox Run had hosted a show. It was going to be awesome.

  But as I sat there thinking of all the possibilities, I also knew that putting on a show like that was a lot of work. We could have used Missy’s help and she would have loved it. Halloween was one of her favorite holidays. Maybe we could have even dressed Owen up as a little pumpkin or a baby ghost and he could have sat in a cart pulled by Bandit.

  As I thought of all the possibilities that could have been but now wouldn’t be, I started to cry. But I wiped the tears away as quickly as they’d come. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I just had to get on with it and keep myself busy. It was the only way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mickey was as excited about the show as I was when I told her about it that evening. She was tacking Hampton up for her lesson and I was sitting on the floor with the flyer, making notes on the back.

  “Do you think Faith will dress Macaroni up as mac and cheese again?” Mickey asked, tightening her girth.

  Hampton pinned his ears and made a grumpy face.

  “If you stopped holding your breath, I wouldn’t have to do it so tight,” she said, sticking her elbow in his stomach.

  Hampton rolled his eyes and let out a puff of air and Mickey pulled the girth a hole tighter before he could take another deep breath and hold it again. It sounded mean but if she didn’t, he’d let all that air out when she was up in the saddle and she’d end up swinging under his stomach.

  “No way she’ll do the same costume twice,” I said. “Even though it got her that blue ribbon. She’ll come up with something even better.”

  “I bet she will,” Mickey said. “And what about a class for us?” She pointed at her dressage saddle.

  “I don’t think we can have people running through dressage tests at a show like this,” I said, feeling sorry for my best friend. “It would take too long and besides, we don’t have enough judges.”

  “Fine,” Mickey said. “But don’t be mad if I win the costume class then.”

  “I won’t,” I said. “I have my eye on the open jumpers.”

  “Of course you do,” she said. “And so will everyone else.”

  “A little healthy competition never hurt anyone,” I said with a smile.

  “You won’t say that when you lose,” she replied.

  “I’m not going to lose,” I said.

  I knew that I wouldn’t because I already had a plan to enter Bluebird, Socks and Arion. One of the three should be able to pull out a win for me or I didn’t deserve to be riding them at all.

  “Do you think Jess will come?” Mickey said.

  I hadn’t even thought about that. After she admitted to poisoning my pony I didn’t want her anywhere near him or our farm.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “She wouldn’t want anything to do with a silly little fun show like this and besides, it’s mostly for our boarders and students. I told Dad we shouldn’t even open it up to other farms.”

  “Did he listen?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said with a frown.

  “Well at least you guys are talking again.”

  “Kind of. It’s a business arrangement,” I said.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Mickey asked, picking up her helmet and brushing a strand of hay off the pink sparkles. They matched the ones in Hampton’s browband. My best friend was nothing if not coordinated.

  But I didn’t have to answer her because Miss. Fontain appeared at the end of the barn, tapping her watch and making her disapproving face.

  “Uh oh,” Mickey said. “I’d better go, I’m late.”

  “Good luck,” I said.

  “Oh there is no way she won’t torture me now that I’ve made her wait one stinking minute,” Mickey said, rolling her eyes just like her horse had done.

  They dashed out to the ring and I was left sitting there in the barn aisle with my flyer and Halloween dreams. It had been this time last year that I’d stumbled across my father at a show like it was some big cosmic accident bringing us together only it hadn’t been. He’d planned it all, even down to judging the class he knew I’d ride in. And here we were, one year later, trying to figure out how to be father and daughter and still getting it wrong.

  “You want to come with me to the feed store?” Dad stuck his head out of the office.

  “Alright,” I said.

  I needed a new lead rope for Four who had decided that his new favorite pastime was chewing his to bits and I figured that a car ride with my father to the feed store was still technically business so maybe we could talk and work things out after all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  While Taylor’s Tack Emporium tried to be fancy and cater to the wealthier clients in our small seaside town, the feed store was the place where locals got grain for their horses, corn for their hogs and hay for their cows.

  It was frequented by large, sweaty men who spent their time complaining about the heat, the rain, the lack of rain and the prices of everything. I found them intimidating and loud and usually avoided the store at all costs. Not that there was much to buy anyway. They had a small corner devoted to horse stuff with the usual ointments, hoof dressings and wormers. There were always a few faded, mismatched bell boots that looked like they had been there for ten years and a couple of brushes that were so hard that I wouldn’t bring them anywhere near my sensitive skinned horses.

  I stood there looking at the paltry selection of lead ropes while my dad went off to complain about the quality of the last hay delivery. It had been dusty and both boarders and horses had complained about it leaving my father to pass the buck onto the feed store in the hope that they would replace it with something better, which was highly unlikely but worth a shot.

  On the way there we’d ta
lked about the show, the fence heights for the classes and the age limits. I thought it might be fun to have a class for the younger horses, under seven or something as it wasn’t always fair for them to compete against the seasoned, more experienced horses. Dad agreed that it might attract some competitors who were bringing their young horses along and wanted experience without getting their butts kicked. I’m not sure if he realized that I only wanted the class for Four or not.

  And before I knew it we were there at the store. I would have to tackle the more pressing issue of our family situation on the way back.

  “Green, red or yellow?” I mumbled to myself as I pulled the lead ropes off the hook, looking for a more suitable color. “Who on earth would want a yellow lead rope?”

  “My horse has a yellow lead rope,” a girl piped up from behind me. “In fact all his stuff is yellow but he is black so it looks cool. I suppose if your horse isn’t black, it might be a bit weird.”

  “Mine is gray,” I said. “Well two of them are anyway.”

  The girl was short with round glasses and shoulder length hair. It was dark, almost black but with a slight sheen of purple. She looked at me curiously.

  “Do you live around here?” she said.

  “At Fox Run,” I replied. “My dad is the head trainer. I’m Emily.”

  “Denora,” she said with a shrug. “You’re having that Halloween show, aren’t you? I just saw the flyer.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Are you going to come?”

  “I guess I might bring my horse,” she said, already looking bored. “He’s for sale.”

  “Really,” I said, suddenly becoming very interested in the slightly weird girl. “What does he do?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “And she said that he free jumps well over five feet at home and that she has jumped him almost that high under saddle and they won everything on the west coast and he is super cheap too.”

  I was telling my father about the girl and her horse. The horse I was now dying to try out.

  “If he is cheap then there has to be something wrong with him,” Dad said. “You know that.”

  “But what if there isn’t?” I said, sitting on the edge of my seat. “Maybe Denora’s parents just don’t know what a good horse is worth. They’re probably not even horse people.”

  “They may not be but her trainer would know,” Dad said.

  “She doesn’t have one,” I said. “They just moved here.”

  “Then why didn’t they leave the horse back west for her old trainer to sell?” Dad shook his head. “It doesn’t sound right.”

  “Why do you always have to have such a suspicious mind?” I said, slumping back in the seat and crossing my arms.

  “When you’ve been in the horse business as long as I have, you’ll have a suspicious mind too,” Dad said.

  “Well can I at least try him out?” I said. “You owe me that.”

  “Do I?” he said.

  “Because of Missy,” I said sullenly. “And Owen.”

  Dad was quiet for a while then he said, “Fine, you can try him out but I’m not making any promises. You already have enough horses to ride.”

  “I know but Frankie will probably want to take Four any day now,” I said. “And who knows how long I’ll get to keep Socks now that you’ve run Missy off.”

  Dad didn’t say anything. I knew that Missy had said that I could keep riding Socks but how long would that really last? If things turned ugly, she wouldn’t want him at my father’s barn and who could blame her? But Frankie hadn’t come around in a while. I was pretty sure she was never coming back. She was too heartbroken. Still, I’d invite her to the show. Maybe she’d change her mind.

  I sat back in the seat and imagined a big, beautiful black horse that could jump the world and would get me noticed by not only the Junior Olympic team but the real one too. Perhaps I’d be the youngest rider ever selected to ride in the Olympics and perhaps this horse just might be my ticket to do it. I ignored the fact that my father was probably right. Any sane person wouldn’t drag a horse all the way across the country just to sell them. They’d leave it with their trainer who had connections and leads. There was probably something wrong with the horse after all or that weird girl was just over inflating his assets and he couldn’t jump a two foot cross rail without falling over his own feet but if I didn’t try him out then I’d never know and I couldn’t risk another fantastic horse going to someone else, someone like Jess.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The horse came out of the trailer the next day like the devil, all steel hooves and barred teeth, showing the whites of his eyes. Denora hung onto that yellow lead rope like her life depended on it, digging her heels in so that the horse wouldn’t pull her off her feet. She’d agreed to bring her sale horse to Fox Run for a few weeks and stay for the show. Apparently after that, if he didn’t sell to us or any of our clients, he was being shipped down to Wellington where, if he could jump as well as Denora said he could, he would be snatched up in a snap. I couldn’t let that happen. I just hadn’t expected the horse to be a monster.

  “He gets excited,” Denora said as the horse dragged her into the barn.

  “He doesn’t look excited,” I said, pointing to the empty stall she was meant to put him in. “He looks mad.”

  The horse barreled past the stall and Denora was dragged up and down the barn aisle a couple of times before finally getting the horse in the stall. She slammed the door shut and the horse spun and tried to rear.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I said.

  “Oh he’s fine,” she replied, hanging his halter on the hook like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

  “But is he always like this?” I said.

  “All the best jumpers are temperamental,” she said, sticking her nose in the air. “I’m sure you know that.”

  I thought about my horses. How Arion could be hot headed and Socks could be fast but all of them did their jobs and none of them looked insane. Dad was right. No wonder the horse was cheap. Riding him was going to be like taking your life in your hands every time you sprung up into that saddle. And suddenly I realized what an adrenaline rush it would be to ride the horse that seemed like he had several screws loose.

  “No,” Dad said when he saw him. “No way. He’s going back, right now.”

  “You can’t send him back,” I said. “He just got here. Besides, all jumpers are temperamental.”

  I used Denora’s line of reasoning on my father as we stood and watched the horse dig giant holes in his bedding. If there weren’t rubber mats in the stalls, he would have dug halfway to China by now.

  “He is clearly unhinged,” Dad said.

  “He’s just settling in,” I said. “Getting adjusted.”

  “By trying to kill us all?” Dad said as the horse lunged at the bars.

  His teeth clashed with the metal and it sounded like it would have hurt but the horse didn’t care.

  “You don’t ride that horse without my permission,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Understood? And not until he settles down.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “If he settles down,” Dad added before walking away.

  “It’s okay Nyx,” I told the horse. “You’ll like it here, I promise. And if you are good then we’ll buy you and you’ll get to stay.”

  But the horse just kept on digging, dust billowing up into the air as he showed us how angry he really was. I’d never seen a horse with so much rage and if it could be harnessed maybe Denora was right and he would become a great show jumper. But if she was wrong and my dad was right then the horse would more than likely kill you and not think twice about it. The sensible part of me knew that I shouldn’t even attempt to ride such a horse but the other part, the one that was craving adventure and adrenaline, thought that maybe the horse was just the sort of challenge I needed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “You’re not really going to ride him, are you?” Mickey asked.

&n
bsp; She’d come by after school to help me plan the Halloween show but so far all we’d done was watch Nyx destroy his stall. Despite what Denora said, the big black horse hadn’t settled down at all. In fact I think he was worse than ever. Dad had told Henry to put the horse outside before he completely wrecked his stall and our head groom had been dragged out to the field like a puppet on a string. Henry was used to dealing with unruly track horses but this horse was something else. He didn’t even settle in the field, all he did was gallop back and forth until his sides were slick with sweat and the grass was all torn up.

  “I’m sending that horse back,” Dad had said as Henry brought him back in before he hurt himself.

  “Just give him a chance,” I said.

  “Fine,” Dad said. “One chance. But if he is still like this tomorrow then he is going back. I don’t care if he can jump a house. He’s not worth it. He’s disturbing the peace.”

  “I think once he settles in, he’ll be fine,” I told Mickey.

  “You can’t ride him,” she said. “You won’t last five seconds.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said.

  “Look, I just don’t want you to end up as a human lawn dart, okay? I need you.”

  “I need you too,” I said, looping my arm through hers. “Come on, let’s go do some planning, he’s better when people aren’t watching him.”

  “He probably isn’t,” she said as I pulled her away from the stall. “It’s just you think he is because you can’t see him.”

  She was probably right. But it was hard seeing the horse so distressed. Dad just thought he was crazy but maybe he was in pain or emotionally scarred. I wanted to help him. I just didn’t know how.

  We sat in the office and worked on the show plans. There was a warm breeze and it was less humid than it had been so I had opened the big window and the warm wind tousled our hair and sent the show papers fluttering to the floor.