“It’s okay boy,” I whispered. “We’re in this together. I won’t let the ducks get you.”
I patted his neck and he let out a little sigh. Then I circled and pointed him at the first jump. And as soon as he launched into the air, a smile cracked over my face. The crowd faded away. Esther and Mickey and Jess with her bloody nose and dagger eyes. Even cute Ethan. There was nothing but the jumps and the beat of my horse’s hooves beneath me. I was riding in my first show and I was going to make it count.
Over the vertical with the buckets and pails, down to the surf board and then the beach towels. Harlow hardly cared about the stupid decorations. He didn’t even bat an eyelid at the ducks bobbing about in the kiddie pool and then we were cantering down the triple flip flop combination. All jumps left standing.
“You did it boy,” I patted his neck.
We were clean. But now we had to jump off against the clock. Only the fastest round would win. The footing had been far more slippery than I anticipated. A couple of times I’d felt Harlow’s back end slip out from under me. I was worried about his leg and his back and the fact that I could end up with a bloody nose like Jess or something far worse. But the bell rang and I pushed all those thoughts from my mind. I couldn’t think of anything but jumping clean and quick.
I picked up the reins and kicked Harlow on. His ears flicked back and forth a few times like he wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted but then he picked up the pace. We galloped to the first jump, soaring over like fire was on our tail. Over the next and the next. We were clean. We were fast. I was in control. But the oxer was coming. I tried to steady him but he was too excited. He let out a little buck as I tried to slow him down.
“Whoa,” I called out to him.
He pricked his ears and slowed just enough. We took the oxer and I was already turning him in midair, looking for the vertical and using my rein and leg just like Esther told me.
“Whoa boy,” I called out again.
But we were making the turn. His hooves clipped the kiddie pool as we slid round the rollback and then I was kicking him on to the vertical. We soared up with inches to spare and it was over. We were clean and faster than anyone else who had gone before.
“Good boy,” I cried, patting his neck.
Harlow stretched his head down and let out a little snort as the crowd started to cheer. I saw Jess slinking back to the barn. Today she’d been embarrassed and I was pretty sure she was going to make me pay for that but for now I didn’t care. I reveled in the glory as Esther and Mickey patted Harlow on the neck and me on the back and complete strangers came up to tell me that I’d ridden a great round and that my horse was amazing.
I fed Harlow a crumbling sugar cube I found in my pocket as Ethan trotted by.
“Addicting isn’t it?” he grinned.
I just nodded, unable to wipe the smile off my face. I was so happy that I didn’t even care if he rode better than me. The rush of jumping off against the clock and going clean was better than any ribbon or check. Well, maybe not better than the check but it was still pretty awesome.
Ethan rode well. His chestnut gelding was a no nonsense sort of horse who jumped like he was doing a job he was good at but that he didn’t really care about. With the first round clear, Ethan kicked him into the jump off. The horse jumped and galloped but he was stockier than Harlow and not quite as nimble. When Ethan took the inside line just like I had, I held my breath. The chestnut’s hooves clattered against the duck pond and he still made it over the last jump but he was slower. Much slower than I had been.
“You won! You won!”
Mickey was slapping me on the back and Esther had tears in her eyes as she gave me a leg up. I couldn’t believe I actually won.
“Am I dreaming?” I said.
“No, silly, you won!” Mickey yelled.
“Congratulations,” Ethan said as he walked out of the ring. “You put in a great ride.”
“Thanks,” I said, beaming.
“See you around at the next show?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“Cool.”
As I walked Harlow into the ring to collect our ribbon and check, the sun broke out from behind the clouds. It was the moment I’d been waiting for my whole life and as they pinned the blue ribbon on Harlow’s bridle, I caught a glimpse of her standing by the rail, hugging her arms around herself. It was Mom, looking so much like Summer that I could hardly breathe. She came. She was here. Everything was perfect.
We took our victory gallop, ribbon fluttering and crowd cheering, the check tucked into my jacket pocket.
“For all horses everywhere,” I whispered. “And for Summer.”
THE END
COMING SOON
PONY JUMPERS: SHOW JUMPING DREAMS ~ BOOK 2
Emily Dickenson has big plans for her summer vacation. Coming off a win at the Fox Run show, she expects to fill her days with jumping lessons and beach rides. But now Esther wants her and Mickey to help run the Sand Hill summer camp. Four weeks of teaching little kids to post at the trot isn’t exactly what she had in mind and that’s not the only problem.
Harlow is lame. The vet says that he needs weeks of stall rest. Without her four legged partner Emily is left with nothing to ride, until she stumbles upon a scruffy pony being taken to slaughter. If she uses her winnings to save the pony, will she ever be able to buy the show jumper of her dreams? But if she doesn’t, can she live with the guilt? And why does Jess want to stop her from saving the pony in the first place?
PONY JUMPERS : CHAPTER ONE
“Is it laminitis or founder?” Mickey said, swinging on the fence.
“I thought they were both the same,” I replied.
We had the questionnaire for Esther’s Sand Hill summer camp spread out before us on the grass. Two of the pages had already blown away and the rest were held down by some big rocks we found in the ditch.
“This is so dumb,” Mickey flopped down beside me. “Three year olds aren’t going to know what either of them are anyway so what does it matter?”
“The camp kids aren’t three. It says right here, ages six to nine.”
“They might as well be three. This is so boring. I don’t know why we have to do this.”
“Because it’s for Esther,” I said.
But I had to admit that I thought it was pretty boring too. It wasn’t exactly how I’d seen the start of my summer going. Esther had insisted that we give the horses a week off after the Fox Run Farm show and that meant we’d been hanging around the barn like lost dogs, bored out of our skulls.
“Help me with these,” Esther finally said, shoving the questionnaires at us.
After Harlow and I won the jumper class at the show, several parents had come up to Esther and inquired about lessons. Many of them had enrolled their kids in her summer camp program as a sort of trial run. If the camp was a hit then these kids could go on to take weekly lessons and that would inject some much needed cash flow back into the dwindling Sand Hill bank account.
“Esther really needs this to go well,” I said. “Last week I overheard her tell the feed guy that she’d have his check next week.”
“So?”
“So, that means she didn’t have enough money this week.”
Mickey kicked the fence with her boot, a blank look on her face. I knew she didn’t get it and it wasn’t really her fault. Her family had always had money. She’d never known what it was like to struggle. I’d lost count of the times my mom and I had stretched a can of beans into several meals because it was either pay the rent or put food on the table.
“She got half your winnings,” Mickey said. “She should be happy.”
“I don’t think five hundred dollars goes very far in a barn,” I said. “I think she used it to pay off the farrier.”
“Well, I still don’t think it was fair. You won. You should have got to keep it all.”
The prize for winning the jumper class was a blue ribbon and a thousand dollars. I’d never seen so mu
ch money in all my life. I had dreams of handing Esther the check and in return she would place Harlow’s reins in my hand.
“I always wanted you to have him,” she would say.
But the reality was that instead I placed five hundred dollars in her hands because I’d ridden her horse and Mom said that it was only fair that we split the winnings. Esther tried to give it back but my mom insisted.
“How are you going to buy a horse now?” Mickey said.
“I don’t know,” I sighed.
But I didn’t mind that Esther had half my winnings because the truth was that I was lucky to be able to ride at all. My mom and I had worked everything out. I mucked stalls at Sand Hill in exchange for lessons and she didn’t come and watch me ride. It was still too painful for her, after all my sister had died in a riding accident. But she had come to the show and watched me win so we were making progress. And when Mickey outgrew her riding clothes, she passed them on to me and it meant that Mom didn’t have to use our electric bill money on breeches, not that she ever would. She’d rather see me ride naked than spend any money on anything to do with horses.
“I’m hungry, let’s go inside,” Mickey groaned.
“You’re always hungry,” I laughed.
Harlow hung his big gray head out of his stall and nickered as we ran into the dark barn.
“I miss riding you so much, boy,” I said, feeding him a crumbling sugar cube from my pocket.
“They may miss us but they sure don’t miss working,” Mickey said. “Look at Hampton.”
Her big bay Warmblood was lying flat out in his stall, his stomach rising and falling gently. Every now and then he made little grunting sounds.
“He’s dreaming!” I laughed.
We opened the latch to his stall and slipped inside quietly so as not to wake him. Then we fell into the shavings and hugged him. I lay my face on his warm broad back while Mickey hung all over his neck and lavished his face with kisses. He opened one eye and looked at us like we were mad.
“He hates this so much,” Mickey laughed.
“But not enough to get up,” I giggled.
Eventually Hampton did get up, sending us scattering out of the stall as he shook the shavings from his coat. We ate our sandwiches in Esther’s office, her equine veterinarian manual spread out between us.
“Look,” I said. “Laminitis is the inflammation of the laminae but it’s not considered founder until the coffin bone sinks and rotates.”
“Whatever,” Mickey said. “I don’t even want to think about it. It’s too horrible. I don’t see why little kids should have to learn about all the awful things that can happen to horses. I think they should just enjoy the nice stuff.”
“Like braiding their manes with ribbons and putting glitter on their hooves?” I said sarcastically.
“Exactly.”
“That’s not going to turn them into good horsemen.”
“I don’t think any of them are going to turn into good horsemen and they are probably only coming because their parents are making them. I bet riding camp is probably wedged in between ice skating lessons and beauty pageants.”
I hated to admit it but Mickey was probably right, only I didn’t have much time to think about it. The campers were due to start on Monday and that meant we only had one weekend of freedom. I was going to make sure I spent all of it in the saddle.
“See you tomorrow girls, I expect you in the ring bright and early,” Esther called out.
“Bye Esther,” I called back, waving.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t wait to get back in the saddle and take Harlow over some jumps. The rush of winning at the show had worn off. There were so many things I knew I could improve on and do better. My position still needed work. My back was never straight enough, my legs never as long as they could be. There was only so much you could do on the ground. I’d spent hours with the balls of my feet on the edge of a step, forcing my tendons to lengthen and my heels to lower but nothing beat actual time in the saddle.
I was already awake when my alarm went off at six, having spent a few hours drifting in and out of restless sleep. I was excited to ride again but in the back of my mind was the nagging thought that something was wrong. The other day I’d seen Harlow take a funny step in the paddock. He’d been off for a few strides and then seemed fine. I brought him in and checked his legs for heat and swelling but I didn’t find anything. I even mentioned it to Esther.
“He probably just stepped in a hole,” she had shrugged.
But it made me nervous. Without Harlow, I had nothing. Lameness was always a concern with horses, especially older ones like Harlow. I even felt like I was jinxing myself just by thinking about it so I tried to push the thought from my mind. The only problem was that the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did. By the time Mickey’s mom pulled up outside my house, I was chewing my lip and frowning.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mickey said. “I thought you’d be bouncing off the walls now that we finally get to ride again.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s nothing.”
I could tell that Mickey didn’t believe me. She put in her headphones and ignored me for the rest of the ride but I couldn’t talk to her about my fears. They just sounded stupid and I knew that she’d say that it was pointless to worry about something that hadn’t happened yet. I also knew that she was right. It was just putting it into practice that I had trouble with.
Esther was still mucking out stalls when we got to the barn. Mickey and I grabbed muck tubs and rakes and helped her finish. Mickey didn’t really like cleaning stalls but I always found it relaxing. There was something so methodical about sifting through the shavings and tossing the bedding. Plus you could see that you’d accomplished something by the end of it.
“Thanks girls,” Esther said. “See you in the ring in ten minutes?”
She went to the office for probably her third cup of coffee and we got to work grooming our horses. Harlow nuzzled my pocket for treats as I ran the brush over his sleek, gray coat.
“After we ride,” I told him.
He sighed and looked disappointed.
“Do you think we’ll get to jump today?” Mickey asked.
“I hope so,” I said.
Mickey actually sounded as excited as I felt and by the time we were standing in the ring with the horses, my stomach was doing little flip flops of excitement. Esther came over with her coffee mug, setting it on the fence and motioning for us to warm up. As we let the horses walk out, she barked commands at us.
“Shorten your reins, Mickey. Emily, lengthen your legs.”
Mickey looked at me and rolled her eyes but I just grinned. This was what I’d been waiting for all week. Harlow felt solid and warm beneath me, his gray ears flicking back and forth as Esther told us to pick up the trot. We circled, bending and stretching our horses and then picked up the canter. Harlow moved easily under me, his canter reminding me of the rocking horse I had when I was a little kid.
“Just a couple of jumps today girls,” Esther said. “Let’s ease these guys into it.”
The horses didn’t seem like they needed easing into anything. They were fresh and ready to go after their week off. Hampton had already shied at Esther’s coffee mug on the fence and Harlow had let out a little buck at the canter.
“Over the cross rail to the vertical and then the oxer,” Esther said. “Mickey, you go first.”
Mickey picked up her reins and circled Hampton. He cantered over the fences, his face actually looking happy for a change. He tucked his knees and rounded his back with Mickey releasing him at just the right time. Esther looked pleased.
“Good,” she said. “I’m glad to see that your week off hasn’t set you back.”
Mickey pulled Hampton up next to me beaming. Sometimes it seemed like she felt she had to ride because her parents spent so much money on Hampton so it was good to see her happy about working for a change.
“My turn,” I grinne
d back.
But as I circled Harlow and he hopped over the first fence, I instantly knew that something was horribly wrong.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Claire Svendsen fell in love with horses at age two when she got her first pony. The only trouble was that it wasn’t a real horse, it was a rocking horse. From that day on she begged, pleaded and bribed for lessons, riding clothes and a horse of her own. She had to wait and work really hard to finally get her first real horse but when she did, it was a dream come true. Over the years she has trained horses, given lessons and even run her own stable.
No longer able to ride due to injury, Claire lives vicariously through the characters in her books. When she’s not busy writing, you’ll find her hanging out at the barn with her retired Thoroughbred Merlin who loves carrots, apples and bowing on command.
STAY CONNECTED
To keep up to date on all the Show Jumping Dreams news and to learn about horse and pony care, you can follow my horse Merlin on Facebook. He is the only one with the inside scoop. Plus he’s really cute!
https://www.facebook.com/showjumpingdreams
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
COMING SOON
PONY JUMPERS : CHAPTER ONE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
STAY CONNECTED
Secret Rider (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 1) Page 11
