Double Standards (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 20)

by Claire Svendsen

  The show was packed. People riding horses and kids on ponies were everywhere like ants on a pile of doughnuts. People who had skipped the last show because it was too hot had decided not to sit this one out and their horses were fresh and excited. I passed one bucking bay, a rearing chestnut and a runaway gray. It was going to be a crazy show.

  Bluebird was standing in the back of his stall sulking. He knew why he was here and my pony who was usually happy at shows looked sullen and mad.

  “Did he eat all his breakfast?” I asked Henry, looking in Bluebird’s empty bucket.

  “Yes,” he said with a shrug.

  “But did he eat it like he normally does at home?” I said.

  Henry just shrugged again, looking kind of annoyed. His hair was sticking up and he already had a mystery stain on his shirt. He looked mad that he’d had to spend another night at a show babysitting our horses. If my father had been there, he would have pulled Henry to the side and told him that he was being unprofessional, that his appearance and attitude were a reflection of our barn. He would have made him change his shirt and cheered him up with a coffee and a joke but Dad wasn’t here and so Henry just went off with his pitchfork and bucket and there was nothing I could do about it. He wasn’t going to take orders from a fourteen year old, no matter what I said.

  I rummaged around in the first aid kit for the thermometer and lifted Bluebird’s tail.

  “Sorry boy,” I told him as he turned around and gave me a really dirty look. “I have to check.”

  His temperature was normal. He didn’t seem dehydrated. He had poop in his stall and he was eating. But I knew my pony like the back of my hand. Better than that really. And something was off. Maybe he was just in a sour mood. Ponies were allowed to be. But it wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like him at all.

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  “Maybe I should scratch,” I told Missy.

  I was sitting on Bluebird after a more than lack luster schooling session while she shoved a green looking six year old into the saddle.

  “If you scratch, you’ll be out of the Talent Scout series,” Missy said, adjusting the kid’s stirrups and then sending her into the ring.

  “I know,” I said. “But if he’s sick.”

  “He’s not sick,” she said sounding irritated with me. “He’s eating and pooping. I know you took his temperature. What more do you want?”

  “He just seems off,” I said, jumping off and looking at my pony.

  He was standing there with his ears pinned. He never did that.

  “Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of his stall. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like being ridden today but you’re the boss, not him. If he’s not lame or sick, I say show him.”

  “We won’t win,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You won’t even place if you don’t show at all,” she said. “But he’s your pony and it’s your choice. I’m not going to force you to do anything that you don’t want to do.” But she didn’t sound like she meant it.

  “If Dad were here, he’d know what to do,” I told Bluebird as we walked back to his stall.

  My pony had jumped everything I asked him to in the warm up and he only knocked a couple of rails and none of them fell but it wasn’t like him to be so careless. He usually jumped much higher than the fences. He hated to touch them. Today he didn’t care.

  I untacked him and rinsed him off, then put him back in his stall and stood there watching him like a hawk.

  “Expecting him to grow wings and fly away?” Andy asked as he came to stand beside me.

  “Very funny,” I said.

  “So what is wrong?” He frowned.

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “Probably nothing. Maybe I’m just being overprotective of him.”

  “He’s a pony not a toddler,” Andy said. “If he didn’t want to be here, he’d let you know.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said. “That he is trying to let me know but that I’m just not listening.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Andy said. “Come and walk the course with me.”

  “Alright,” I said.

  I left Bluebird eating his hay to go and walk a course that was about ten times more technical than the last one had been. I stood in the ring trying to figure out distances and striding but all I could think was that this was going to be a real strain for my pony who was already competing against a class full of horses and I got the sick feeling in my stomach that maybe I was pushing him too much and he was finally trying to tell me that he’d had enough.

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  I sat in Bluebird’s stall and watched him, the sounds of the show fading into the background until there was only me and my pony. Every flinch of his muscles, each breath in and out, I scrutinized them all. I knew my pony and I knew he wasn’t right. It didn’t matter what anyone told me. I was going to scratch.

  Of course in the back of my mind was the knowledge that the Talent Scout series was important. If we didn’t compete in the middle show then we’d never stand a chance of winning the whole thing. That coveted cup. The money. The chance to win training sessions and sponsorship. It would all go away. But there would be other shows. Other chances to win. It wasn’t worth pushing my pony when he wasn’t feeling well and even if I rode him, he wouldn’t do his best anyway. We still wouldn’t win. It was a sucky situation.

  I got up and went over to Bluebird, laying my head on his warm back.

  “I won’t make you jump,” I told him, blinking back tears.

  It was one thing to be all stoic and not want to push him but it was another to fully realize the weight of what I was about to do and for the first time, I was glad that my father wasn’t here. He would have pushed me to ride just like Missy was saying that I should. He would force me to. He’d never let me scratch a pony that wasn’t technically sick but I knew my pony and I knew he wasn’t quite right. That was enough for me.

  Wandering through the show grounds on my way to the steward’s office, I looked up and saw black clouds building in the sky. The breeze had picked up, blowing tarps and toppling folding chairs that people had set up by the ring. It would be raining soon. At least Bluebird and I wouldn’t get wet.

  The steward was a nice lady with short gray hair and glasses.

  “I’d like to scratch my pony from the Talent Scout class,” I said, forcing the words out of my mouth.

  “That’s an invitation class,” she said, flipping open a folder.

  “I know,” I said with a sigh.

  “If you scratch, you’ll be behind on points.”

  “I know.”

  “Name?” she asked.

  “Emily Dickenson and Bluebird.”

  She looked at me and frowned. “But you won the last class. If you scratch, you’re going to lose a lot of potential points.”

  “I know,” I said again. “But I have to put my pony first.”

  CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

  I left the office with a scrap of paper and my dignity intact. I knew my father wouldn’t feel the same way. Neither would Missy. She’d told me to suck it up. That I should just ride. But I couldn’t do that to Bluebird. I just couldn’t. Maybe I was over reacting. Perhaps my pony really had woken up on the wrong side of his stall and was being grumpy and maybe if I’d forced him to then he would have got over it and jumped a clear round. But he’d never been like that before. He loved to jump. I’d never had to force him and out in that warm up ring, I’d definitely made him do it and he’d hit rails, proving to me that I was right and everyone else was wrong. I knew my pony better than they did.

  I hid out in his stall, feeding him cookies from the giant tub that we brought to shows. He snuffled them up and crunched them thoughtfully.

  “You’d better not be faking,” I told him.

  But I knew that he wasn’t.

  Missy came back to the stalls with her students. They were excited, happy. I guessed that they had placed in their classes. I listened as they put their p
onies back in the stalls and rain started to fall, hitting the metal roof of the barn. I was still sitting in the corner when Missy stuck her head in.

  “Why aren’t you all tacked up and ready?” she said, frowning at me.

  “I scratched,” I said, picking at the shavings.

  “You what?” she cried.

  “I told you,” I said. “He’s not right. He’s not being naughty or stubborn or grumpy. He doesn’t feel good and I’m not going to force him to show when he doesn’t want to.”

  “Oh Emily.” Missy shook her head. “Your father is going to be so disappointed in you.”

  “Why?” I said, jumping to my feet. “Because I was a good horse person and put my pony first?”

  “No, because he’ll think that you chickened out because he’s not here, that’s why.”

  “Why would I do that?” I said, getting mad now. “I competed perfectly fine before he came along. I didn’t need him to hold my hand at shows before and I certainly don’t need him to do that now. I have and always will put my pony’s well-being ahead of everything else.”

  Missy frowned, looking at Bluebird who was picking through his hay.

  “He doesn’t look sick,” she said.

  “I know but he is,” I said.

  “He is or you just want him to be?” Missy said.

  “Missy, can you help me with Popcorn’s girth,” one of the girls called out. “She’s holding her breath again and I can’t get it tight enough.”

  “Coming,” Missy called back.

  “You can’t be mad at me for doing the right thing,” I said.

  “I know you think you’re doing the right thing,” she replied. “But deep down I think there is a part of you that is relieved. A part of you that actually doubted your pony could compete against horses on a technical course for the second month in a row and win and now you don’t have to find out.”

  “That’s not fair,” I said but Missy had already gone.

  CHAPTER FORTY NINE

  If it had been anyone else, I knew Missy would have supported them. Told them that they were right to put their pony first. So why was it that when I did it, people thought I was being a big baby? That I was a chicken or that I doubted my pony. I was mad at Missy but I was also mad at myself. I knew that part of me did doubt Bluebird and that same part of me was mad because maybe she was just a little bit right.

  The storm grew closer. The wind whipped around anything that wasn’t tied down. We scuttled about picking up tack and brushes, grabbing ribbons as they were ripped off the fronts of our stalls and fluttered away. The horses could tell a bad storm was coming and even though they were in their stalls, they didn’t like it. Bluebird picked up a hind hoof, kicking the wall and Ballycat stood in the stall next to him, shaking.

  People were trying to ride in the warm up ring and some of the horses didn’t seem to mind but a lot of them were acting up. A gray horse reared, striking the sky with his steel hooves. The girl on his back clung to his neck with a terrified look on her face as he touched down for a moment and then surged back up again. Her trainer bolting into the ring on foot to grab his reins and pull her student off his back before he flipped over and crushed her. It made me think of Four. How rearing was his vice and a nasty one at that. I knew I hadn’t seen the worst of it and I was glad that I hadn’t brought him here.

  Andy was riding Mousse around on a loose rein. He came over to the fence, looking at my jeans with a puzzled face.

  “Why aren’t you warming up?” he said.

  “I scratched,” I told him.

  “Because of the storm?” he said, patting Mousse’s neck as an out of control horse galloped past. Mousse pinned his ears.

  “No,” I said. “He’s not himself. I think maybe he’s coming down with something.”

  “Too bad,” Andy said with a sly smile. “Now I’ll steal your points and we’ll be tied.”

  “If I fall too far behind in the standings, there probably won’t even be any point in me riding in the last show,” I said, leaning on the fence and laying my arms on my chin.

  “Just giving up then?” he said.

  “Maybe.”

  “Are you sure you’re not the one coming down with something?” he said. “You don’t sound like yourself at all.”

  “It’s been a rough month.” I sighed.

  “And you are tougher than that,” Andy said. “I know you are.”

  “I told you, Bluebird is sick,” I said again.

  Maybe if I said it enough times people would believe me. Or maybe saying it would force it to come true. Did I really want that to happen? I’d already scratched. It was too late to compete now. Maybe I should just admit that I was scared of losing.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The Talent Scout class took place during one of the worst rain storms I’d ever seen. There wasn’t any thunder or lightening so they weren’t obligated to postpone the class and as they say, the show must go on. So it did. Amid puddles in the ring and rain so bad that you could hardly see through it and I didn’t regret scratching one bit.

  Andy and Mousse had several rails. The course was just too technical to be ridden in a rain storm. Jess and Valor did better than I’d thought they would, the big black horse plunging his way around the course but even he had a rail, getting stuck in the slop on take-off and completely missing his distance.

  There was no jump off. Only one girl went clear and that was because her horse looked like he was part Clydesdale with giant dinner plate hooves that didn’t slip and slide as they thundered around the course.

  On a sunny day in perfect conditions Andy or Jess would have surely won. They would have added the points to their standings from the last show and there would have been no way that I could have beaten them but now the points were distributed among people who didn’t get any in the last class and maybe there was even hope that I could ride in the third show and still finish in the top three standings after all. But I wasn’t even worried about that. I was worried about Bluebird. I’d gone back to the barn after the class to find him lying down in his stall. That wasn’t like him at all.

  “What is it boy?” I asked him.

  I laid my head against his stomach and listened for gurgling noises, which he had. It wasn’t his stomach. It was something else.

  “I told you he was sick,” I said as Missy looked in.

  “Fine,” she said. “You were right and I was wrong but we’ve got bigger problems.”

  “Bigger than getting my pony back home and finding out what is wrong with him?” I said.

  “Yes,” Missy said. “I’ve just had Faith on the phone. She was so hysterical I could barely understand her but from what I could gather, Jupiter has gone into labor and it’s not going well.”

  “Well Sandy is there and Dad,” I said. “Can’t they handle it?”

  I’d been worried about Jupiter before but now Bluebird was my top priority and getting him home and well again was all I cared about, not a horse that didn’t belong to me but instead was owned by a person I didn’t even like.

  “No,” Missy said. “They can’t. Sandy has gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Disappeared. Vanished.” Missy shook her head.

  “And Dad?” I said.

  “He’s gone too.”

  THE END

  COMING SOON

  SHOW JUMPING DREAMS #21: STABLE VICES

  Bluebird is sick and no one can figure out what is wrong with him. Emily feels like her heart is being torn in two. If they can’t find out what he has then how can they treat him and make him better? And if he’s not well enough to compete in the third show of the Talent Scout series then Emily’s dreams of winning a sponsorship and competing in Europe will be crushed for good. But getting her pony better is all she cares about, even if it does mean sacrificing her career.

  And Bluebird isn’t the only sick horse. There is a new foal at Fox Run, born during the storm amid chaos and confusion and he’s not doing well either.
Abandoned by his owner and shunned by his mother, the foal needs a nurse mare and fast if he’s going to make it.

  So with all the barn drama there is little time to worry about family drama but it is affecting Emily more than she realizes. Her father keeps disappearing. He’s not getting better. He’s not willing to accept help. He’s throwing the dream life that Emily has longed for away. And when people from her past resurface, Emily is finally forced to confront her family’s issues once and for all.

  STABLE VICES: CHAPTER ONE

  The second show of the Talent Scout series had been a wash out. I’d scratched Bluebird before the class anyway because I knew that something was wrong with him but the fact that a torrential downpour had occurred just before and during the class definitely made me feel better about my decision.

  I was pretty sure that Bluebird would have tried his best but we never would have won. But my toughest competition hadn’t won either. That meant that I still had a chance if I won at the next show but only if Bluebird was better by then. I didn’t even know what was wrong with him. All I’d known was that he wasn’t right.

  Before we left I’d found him lying down in his stall and it wasn’t his stomach that was bothering him either. He had a fever. We’d dosed him up with meds and now he was in the trailer with all the other horses as we made our way back to Fox Run but it was taking forever. Traffic was horrible thanks to the wet roads and we’d been stuck in a traffic jam for half an hour because of an accident on the highway.