“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Not really.”
She was right. That round wasn’t going to win Sand Hill any students. She still had three more classes to go. Maybe she’d manage to pull it together. If not, the fate of the place I loved was going to be resting on my shoulders.
I didn’t tell Mickey what I’d heard. She already couldn’t take the pressure of having to win for her Dad. He bought her the horse and even though he wasn’t there because he was away on one of his many business trips, he still expected blue ribbons.
“He didn’t spend all this money on Hampton for me not to win,” she told me once. And I felt bad for her but at the same time I felt bad for myself. I remembered my Dad wiping Summer’s boots off before she went into the ring and telling her that winning was great but that it didn’t mean anything if you didn’t learn something from your horse and the course. His words stuck with me as I sat in Harlow’s stall eating a sandwich. Winning may not have meant everything but today it certainly felt like it did.
Harlow had finally settled down. He no longer seemed to mind Hampton coming and going for his classes and now that Mickey’s mom had arrived, Mickey got her confidence back.
“That was the best round ever,” she beamed as she came back from another class. “We totally nailed it. See?”
She pulled out a green ribbon. Sixth place. It may not have seemed like much but with the competition we were facing, it was pretty good.
“That’s awesome,” I said. “I told you that you could do it.”
“I know,” Mickey shook her hair out as she took her helmet off. “I just have to believe in myself.”
We ate sandwiches looking out at the rain. Someone from Fox Run was cooking hot dogs and hamburgers. The smell wafted down the aisle towards us and made my stomach grumble. Not that the sandwiches Mickey’s mom had made for us weren’t good, it was just that the rain had cooled the usual sweltering temperatures to a damp chill and hot food just seemed like a really good idea right about now. But I was saving every penny. I couldn’t afford to waste any of my horse funds on food.
“Here.”
A paper plate with a juicy burger was thrust under my nose. I almost fell off the tack trunk with a squeak.
It was Ethan, beaming down at me. “I cooked this one especially for you,” he said.
“Thanks but I don’t have any money,” I mumbled.
“On the house,” he said.
“Really?” I looked up at him, noticing that he had amber flecks in his brown eyes. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”
“Poisoned?” he asked, looking confused.
“Well,” I stood up. “I know we’re not much competition being trailer trash and all but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to wipe us out anyway.”
I crossed my arms, still mad after hearing Jess talking about crushing our farm.
“Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was just trying to be nice. That’s all.”
He left the burger on the tack trunk I had been sitting on and walked away. I wanted to run after him and ask why they couldn’t just leave us alone.
“What the heck was that about?” Mickey said. She’d sat there with her mouth open the entire time, looking too shocked to say anything.
“Nothing,” I said. “Forget it.”
“Forget it?” she said. “A cute guy brings you a burger and you tear into him like that? What is wrong with you?”
“They played us,” I said, pushing the burger onto the floor. Its bun rolled off and landed in a pile of shavings.
“What?”
“Those British girls weren’t just on vacation. They ride here at Fox Run and Jess sent them over to spy on us. She wants Sand Hill Stables to go under so that she can get her father to buy it. Turn it into some training farm or something.”
“No way,” Mickey said.
“It’s true,” I said.
“Well what can we do?”
“We win and hope that we can get Esther some new students.”
Mickey fingered the green ribbon she’d just won. She only had one more class to go.
“I blew it didn’t I?” she said. “Hampton could have won all his classes if I’d just left him alone.”
“Don’t sweat it,” I said. “You didn’t know. Besides, you’ll win your last class for sure.”
“You really think so?” she said, sounding hopeful.
“Yes,” I said firmly, even though I wasn’t sure.
But after the lunch break, Mickey surprised us all. She rode with a look of determination on her face that I’d never seen before, poised and calm in a way that was pretty and functional. Hampton cleared the course like a pro, his bay ears bobbing back and forth to the applause that broke out when they finished.
“Yay,” I yelled, jumping up and down.
Mickey’s mom was almost crying from happiness and Esther just bit her lip and nodded like she was trying not to cry as well. When the class was finished and they called Mickey’s number first, she just stood there looking dumbfounded.
“That’s you,” I said, giving her a leg up. “Go on. You won.”
“I won?” she said.
It was the best feeling in the world, watching my best friend get handed her blue ribbon. She cantered around the ring in a victory lap with a look of pure joy on her face. Amber rode behind on her beautiful black mare, having placed second and looking pretty upset about it.
“It’s a travesty,” Jess snapped from somewhere down the rail. “There is no way Amber should have got second. I’m going to lodge a complaint.”
Whether she did or not I had no idea but since no one came to take Mickey’s ribbon away, I guessed that the judges stuck with their final decision. We spent the afternoon lavishing Hampton with kisses and carrots and bribing Harlow so that he wouldn’t lay down in his stall, since he suddenly decided the show was cutting into his afternoon nap time.
“He’s not going to win any jumper classes like that,” Esther said as we leant on the bars.
Harlow stood with his gray neck stretched down and his eyes closed, his button braids running down his neck in a neat row. But I didn’t care. He’d soon get all pumped up if we had to go out in the rain and at least he’d calmed down enough for me to be able to control him. I tried hard not to think about it but I had visions of us wiping out in one of the muddy corners and taking out a fence.
Soon it was time to warm up. I stood in Harlow’s stall brushing his gleaming coat and putting on Esther’s saddle. It had knee rolls that allowed me to cling to his back better when he jumped. Even if he decided to act stupid in the rain, I should still manage all right. I hoped.
But a murmur was running through the barn like water. People’s voices rising and falling. They sounded excited. I stuck my head out of the stall as a little girl in jodhpurs ran past.
“What is it?” I asked her.
She turned excitedly. “It’s stopped raining,” she said.
My spirits lifted. The footing would be horrible and the turns would be sloppy but Harlow and I could manage all of that. It had to be a sign. A good sign. I hugged Harlow’s neck and buried my face in it.
“We’re going to win boy,” I told him.
“Don’t count on it.”
Jess was dragging her horse down the aisle. The mare’s eyes were wide, her noseband was too tight and I could see the edge of a sharp twisted looking bit sticking out of her mouth.
“We’re the only winners around here. I don’t know why you guys even bothered to come.”
“We came to prove you wrong,” I snapped.
“On that old nag?” she pointed to Harlow and laughed. “I’m surprised he’s even sound. What does he jump? Hay bales back at your hillbilly farm?”
She walked off while I was still trying to come up with a scathing reply, dragging her poor horse behind her. I knew it was horrible to think it but I couldn’t help but wonder if Mickey was right about jumper kids being carted off in ambulances. Beauty looked like she could explo
de at any minute.
“Don’t you listen to a word she said,” I told Harlow. “I know that you are a champion.”
Esther appeared, looking happier than I’d seen her all day.
“It’s time to walk the course,” she said. “The rain’s stopped. This is it.”
This was it indeed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Andre’s masterpiece was a course of jumps that would have been better served at a pre-Olympic selection competition than a schooling show full of kids. It wasn’t the height. It was the twists and turns and the bending lines. He’d also gone overboard on the decorations. It looked like a craft store had thrown up over everything. Forget about flower boxes and hay bales. The whole course had a beach theme.
There sat the jump I’d first caught a glimpse of in the pouring rain, a blue vertical with yellow ducks stuck over the whole thing. There was a purple oxer with a surf board wedged under it. A rolled top draped in beach towels and a triple combination with an assortment of straw hats and flip flops dangling from the standards.
“Has the man lost his mind?” Esther said.
We stood in the middle of the ring, looking at the course in bewilderment. I knew that Harlow had experience with jumper courses and I knew that back at Sand Hill we’d had fun decorating our own jumps from time to time but I had no idea if he’d ever seen anything like this. I knew I hadn’t.
“It’s not exactly fair, is it?” I said, pointing to Andre’s kids.
Jess and Amber were on either side of Ethan, their arms locked in his as they walked the course. They didn’t seem worried. In fact none of Andre’s kids did. They’d probably been jumping these monstrosities all week. Their horses wouldn’t care less that ducks were taking a swim under their hooves.
“Totally unprofessional,” Esther shook her head. “But I guess we have to deal with the hand we’re dealt.”
That was all very well for her to say. She wasn’t the one who was going to be flying over beach towels. But as we walked from jump to jump, I realized that it wasn’t all bad. The footing was deep and soft, just the way Harlow liked it and the striding was well suited to a horse who liked to open up.
Esther pointed out the trouble spots. Where I should use my leg and where I might need to hold him back. Then we went over the jump off course. If my first round was clear, I’d stay in the ring and then jump off against the clock.
“This is what will make the difference,” Esther said, pointing out a rollback. “This oxer back to this vertical. The rider that comes inside this water jump will save time. This is where you’ll win.”
The water jump that I was supposed to cut inside was ten little rubber ducks swimming in a kiddie pool.
“It’s too tight,” I said. “No one will come inside. The footing is too slippery.”
“You come inside, you win. You go outside, you lose,” Esther shrugged, then walked off.
I knew that meant she was leaving the decision up to me. She was always like that. She didn’t make us do stuff by yelling at us like we were stupid. She laid out the plan and then left the ball in our court. If I didn’t take the inside track and I lost, she’d just look at me with her tiny frown and I’d know that I disappointed her. That would be worse than any yelling. I guess I was going inside the duck pond after all.
“What do you think?” Mickey said.
She’d been holding Harlow for me and gave me a leg up so that I could loosen his muscles and go over the warm up jump. I was going second to last so at least I’d have a chance to see what everyone else did first.
“I think it’s going to be ugly,” I said.
I took Harlow through his paces, trying to keep out of the way of Jess who was practically galloping over the warm up jump, spraying wet clay everywhere. Her horse already had flecks of white foam speckling her dark coat and a wild look in her eyes. When it was finally our turn, Harlow popped over the warm up jump and instead of circling, I looped back and jumped it again in the opposite direction.
“Nice,” Esther said, calling me over. “But he can turn tighter than that and don’t forget, you’ll be going faster too. Try this.”
She moved the reins from the big ring of his bit down to the bottom one.
“Don’t pull hard,” she said. “Or he’ll dump you off quicker than a rodeo horse. But this should give you the leverage you need. Now try it again, faster.”
We did and this time the distance I was able to turn him in was halved. I patted his neck and told him he was a good boy, avoiding the evil glare that Jess was sending in my direction. From looking at the order of go, I already knew she was going first and that was the worst place to be. I wondered what she’d done to piss Andre off enough to make him put her first.
“Try that in the ring and you’ll wipe out for sure,” she snarled as she walked by. “I hope your hick trainer has the ambulance services on speed dial.”
“Break a leg,” I called back sweetly, only this time I didn’t mean it for luck. This time I meant it.
Andre was over by the gate, giving last minute instructions. He was a skinny guy with dark hair and olive skin. He was waving his arms about while Jess stood there with a sour look on her face. When he was done, she leapt up into the saddle and spurred Beauty into the ring. Esther, Mickey and I stood off to the side with Harlow between us, watching.
Despite the fact that she looked like she could explode at any minute, Beauty jumped the first round clean, proving what we thought, that their horses had already been exposed to the stupid ducks and hats.
“They can probably do this course in their sleep,” I said. “We don’t stand a chance.”
“But I bet when they practiced, the footing wasn’t like that,” Mickey pointed at all the wet clay caking Beauty’s chest.
And she was right. As the bell rung for the jump off and Jess pointed Beauty at the first fence, it was clear that they were used to galloping around in good conditions. She splattered over the first jump and almost over shot the turn to the next one. It was awful. Jess was sawing at Beauty’s mouth and the mare didn’t like it one bit. She had the jump with the ducks down, they went scattering across the arena like they were afloat on a river. By that point the mare had completely lost her mind. Jess attempted the inside turn on the rollback but she came at the first jump far too fast and fishtailed past the turning. She snapped at Beauty’s mouth with the reins and the mare threw her head up and smacked Jess in the face. Momentarily stunned and bleeding, she pointed her horse at the jump anyway and Beauty refused. Running out at the last minute and dumping Jess into a big puddle.
“See,” Mickey nudged me in the ribs. “I told you.”
Jess lay there in the mud wailing while Beauty cantered up and down the fence line, screaming for Belle. Eventually someone grabbed the mare but Jess refused to get up until Andre stomped into the ring and yelled at her. Then she got to her feet and wiped the blood off her face, glowering while the crowd clapped.
I buried my face under Harlow’s saddle flap as she stomped past, well aware that I’d just told her to break a leg and she almost had. If Jess hated me before, now she was going to really have it in for me.
The next few riders were confident but slow. Having seen Jess attack the jump off course like a cowboy and pay the price, they were conservative in their efforts, putting in clean rounds but slow times.
Esther gave me a leg up while there were still two riders before me. I walked Harlow around, reminding him that he hadn’t done his real job yet. I heard a rail clatter to the ground as a girl on a bay didn’t make it to the jump off.
“One more and then it’s us,” I leant over and whispered in Harlow’s ear. “You have to do your best. Okay? Promise you’ll try.”
His gray ears flicked back and forth a couple of times and he let out a sigh. Esther came over and put her hand on Harlow’s neck.
“Are you going to go for it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” I nodded.
I knew what she me
ant. All the riders after Jess who had made the jump off had taken the longer line. No one had come inside the duck pond but I would. I could see now that Esther was right. Despite the abysmal effort that Jess had made, taking the inside line was the only way to win.
“Good,” she said, smiling. “Now don’t take the approach to the oxer too fast.”
“But it’s the jump off,” I said. “Speed counts.”
“You take it too fast and you’ll overshoot the turn. Trust me, okay?”
I nodded.
“Take the oxer slow, then look where you are going. Inside rein and outside leg. He’ll know what you want, you just have to show him. Got it?”
“Got it.”
I checked my girth one last time as the girl in the ring had a rail down at the surf board jump.
“Here,” Mickey said, pulling the horseshoe necklace from around her neck and fastening it around mine. “For luck.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m going to need it.”
I fingered the warm metal. If it did have any kind of magical powers, now was the time for them to work.
“Good luck,” someone called out.
It was Ethan, sitting on a handsome chestnut. He was the last to go and his round was right after mine. If I went clean and fast, he would be the only thing standing in my way of victory.
I wasn’t going to say anything to him. I was going to stick my nose in the air and ride right by him but then he winked at me. And it wasn’t a mean wink. It was a cheeky wink that cracked his face into a smile and he had dimples. Cute dimples.
“You too,” I said.
I guess if I had to lose to someone, losing to Ethan wouldn’t be so bad.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Soft hands, strong legs, look up,” I mumbled under my breath.
I tried to hold on to everything Esther had ever taught me but it was too late now. I either knew what I was doing or I didn’t. Harlow pranced into the ring, his black and white tail flagged over his back. He snorted at the duck pond and the flip flops. I nudged him into a trot and tried to get him to focus, fully aware that my jacket smelt of moth balls and the tall boots Esther had lent me were too big. Everyone was looking at me. They’d be able to see my hand me down clothes and borrowed horse. I knew people were judging me but that didn’t matter anymore. I had to get through this.
Secret Rider (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 1) Page 10
