Two Strides (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 30)

by Claire Svendsen

  “But now we have nothing,” I said, feeling faint. “No money at all? How are we going to feed the horses and pay for shavings and food for ourselves? There is the farrier and the vet bills and the mortgage.”

  “I know,” Dad said, yelling again. “I know. Just let me think.”

  I went up to my room, passing the two empty ones, and stood staring out the window at the rain. My horses were standing under the big old oak tree, their tails to the wind as the rain lashed down around them. Now there wouldn’t be any money to buy wood for that new shelter. There wouldn’t be money for anything. How could my own mother do this to us? She knew that we had horses depending on us and that we needed money to take care of them. Like Dad had said, we didn’t have much. We’d been struggling, scraping by really but how were you supposed to scrape by on nothing? Before I’d just felt sorry for my mother. Pitied her like I did Jess some of the time but now I just hated her and I hoped I’d never, ever see her again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The storm raged on all afternoon, which meant riding was out of the question but I couldn’t stay in the house. It was too depressing. I ran down to the barn and cleaned tack for an hour, pulling everything apart and lathering up the leather before putting it back together again.

  “Sulking?” Jordan said. I hadn’t heard him come in.

  “No,” I said. “Well, maybe. Did you hear? My mother has run off but not only that, she’s taken all of our money too.”

  “Well that stinks,” Jordan said. “What can I do to help?”

  He sat down next to me, his cologne so faint I could barely smell it but mixed in with all the other barn smells, somehow it was just right.

  “I don’t think you can do anything.” I shook my head. “She’s gone and Cat’s gone and they are not coming back.”

  “I could hunt them down and drag them back here by their hair?” he said.

  I smiled at the thought but told him no. My mother didn’t want to be here so there was no point in forcing her to come back and live with us if she didn’t want to. And as for the money? She’d probably already spent it and if she hadn’t, there was still no way that she was going to give it back willingly.

  In fact, I knew my mother would say that it was money my father owed her because he never paid any child support after he left and that she had raised me all alone, paying for my food and my clothes and the roof over my head. And maybe she’d be right. I didn’t really know what had gone on between them in those years. All I knew was that she’d managed to hurt us in the place where it mattered most, in our ability to care for our horses and that just wasn’t right.

  “So do you have any ideas how to make a bunch of money really fast?” I asked Jordan.

  “Legally or illegally?” he said.

  “Legally, definitely legally,” I said quickly.

  “Well you could sell stuff?” he said, looking around. “Sell some horses maybe?”

  “No way,” I said.

  “Isn’t it better to take care of less of them well than all of them badly?” he asked me.

  “We’re not taking care of them badly,” I replied, feeling hurt. “Not yet anyway and it won’t come to that. We won’t let it.”

  “Well in case you hadn’t noticed,” Jordan said. “Money is hard to come by in the horse world and unless you have some big sponsor, you’re not going to get anywhere. And without money to keep your business afloat, you’re in trouble.”

  “I know we’re in trouble,” I told him, feeling angry that instead of helping, all he’d done was point out the obvious.

  I hung the bridles back on their hooks, making sure that the reins were looped through the throat latches so they wouldn’t hang on the ground, fiddling with the leather straps so that I wouldn’t have to look at Jordan but he came to stand behind me anyway.

  “You know I’m here to help,” he said. “I have a few hundred bucks. You can have it if you want.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But that will only buy us a few bales of hay and not much else. We need big money.”

  “Then buy a lottery ticket,” he said.

  “I’m not old enough,” I replied, turning around to face him.

  “I know,” he replied.

  He had that look on his face again, the one that said he wanted to kiss me but now wasn’t the time or the place. And he’d already just put me down by saying that I wasn’t old enough. Did that mean that I wasn’t old enough for him too? I pushed past him but he grabbed my arm.

  “I want to help,” he said gently. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the farm or our relationship.

  “I don’t know what I want,” I said. Not entirely sure what I was talking about either.

  “I know you don’t,” he said.

  He let go of my arm and then leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

  “When you figure it out, let me know,” he said. Then he just walked off.

  I touched my cheek, brushing the skin with my fingers like his lips had done. There were times when I imagined that maybe Jordan and I could run away together and start a new life but deep down I knew that you couldn’t run away from your problems. You had to face them and so I trudged back into the house where my father was still trying to figure out how to make money from thin air.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  With our finances in the toilet, Dad went into emergency lock down mode. Everything was monitored. What the horses ate, who wasted what and where we were hemorrhaging money that we could potentially save. When Falcon pooped on the fresh pile of hay that I’d just put into his stall, I thought Dad was going to have a stroke.

  “I’ll scrape it off,” I said, quickly ducking into the stall to salvage the hay and save Falcon from my father’s wrath. “One flake of hay is not going to ruin us.”

  “It might,” Dad said darkly.

  The only silver lining to the whole situation was that he hadn’t put his winning check in the bank before my mother drained us dry so we had a little cash but it wasn’t going to last and it wasn’t nearly enough. And he’d been down to the bank and taken her name off all the accounts so that she couldn’t get her hands on anything else we put in there.

  “I’ve got to sell Canterbury,” Dad finally said, standing in the barn and looking sadly at his chestnut gelding.

  “No,” I cried. “You guys are doing so well. He could really take you far Dad. Duncan was really impressed when he saw you guys jump at the last show.”

  “Good idea,” Dad said. “Maybe he’d like to buy him then.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “You could ride in some more shows. Win some prize money and there is a girl coming to try Hashtag out later. She might lease him. That would be money coming in every month.”

  “A trickle,” Dad said. “We need a tsunami.”

  In the short term, I knew that his plan was sound and it was pretty much what Jordan had said. Sell some of the horses to make sure that you could take care of the others. But the horses weren’t just commodities. They were athletes and partners and friends. Without them we were nothing. There was no way that I could bear to see any of our horses go and that meant that I was really going to have to sell Miss. Fontain and her student on Hashtag.

  “You need to be on your best behavior today,” I told him as I groomed him and got him ready.

  He’d had a bath earlier and was now dry. I ran the soft brush over his gleaming coat, encouraging the shine to come out now that he had finally finished shedding.

  “If you’re good, you’ll get to go and live at Fox Run again,” I continued on. “And you know how fancy it is there. You’ll love it and you’ll be taken care of really well. I promise.”

  I felt sad as I brushed out the big bay horse’s black tail, like I’d failed somehow because I hadn’t been able to get him to jump. We’d had our moments, out in the woods he’d jumped his heart out for me. In secret he let me know that he could still do it. I just knew th
at he didn’t want to do it. Not anymore and it was time that he found his place in the world again instead of moping around our farm getting fat and lazy. And if he could help us out by bringing in some much needed money then that would be good too.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Miss. Fontain brought her student out to our barn, a timid girl with dark eyes and braces.

  “Hi, I’m Emily,” I told her, sticking out my hand.

  “Shonda,” she said, shaking mine quickly before withdrawing her hand.

  “Good to see you again, Emily,” Miss. Fontain said, sounding more like a school teacher than a riding instructor.

  I felt like she was judging me, even though she was smiling. I’d seen her get out of the truck and look around our small farm. I knew that she was probably thinking how far we’d fallen from our Fox Run days but the farm was neat and tidy. The fences weren’t falling down anymore thanks to Jordan, the grass was growing in nicely thanks to the rain and the horses all looked fat and happy thanks to the good nutrition and grooming that we made sure they had. All of them, that was, except Falcon.

  It was almost as if he sensed that I needed him to be on his best behavior and couldn’t control himself just like at the show. He was out in one of the smaller paddocks that Jordan had fenced off and as soon as he saw us watching him, he arched his neck and trotted up and down the fence line. At first it was okay. Miss. Fontain was watching him, probably thinking that he’d make a good dressage pony because he was doing this beautiful extended trot. But then he went and ruined it. The chestnut pony let out a trumpeting whinny and started galloping around his paddock like he was training for the Kentucky Derby.

  “Is he okay?” Miss. Fontain asked.

  If the horses at Fox Run behaved like that, they were brought in before they hurt themselves but I was just hoping that Falcon would calm down and act like a normal pony for once because bringing him in didn’t help. The last time I did that he reared in his stall and nearly got his pony sized hoof stuck through the bars and an emergency vet call was the last thing we needed.

  “He’ll calm down in a minute,” I said, crossing my fingers behind my back.

  But Falcon didn’t calm down. Instead he threw himself down on the ground, rolling in a mud puddle that had formed by the gate after the rain the day before. He made sure to roll in it good too and when he stood up he was covered head to toe in dirt. Looking rather proud of himself, he shook his flaxen mane and backed up a few steps.

  “What is he doing now?” Miss. Fontain said, sounding worried. She’d clearly never seen a pony act this way before.

  “Don’t do it,” I cried, already running towards the gate.

  But it was too late. Falcon backed up a few more paces, trotted up to the gate and popped over it.

  “You little stinker,” I told him. “How could you? Can’t you just behave for once?”

  I grabbed the pony’s halter and slipped it on his sand covered face. At least he didn’t run off after he jumped out. He just liked to stand there looking all proud of himself.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said as we all walked into the barn.

  “That’s an interesting pony you’ve got yourself there,” Miss. Fontain said.

  I knew she really wanted to say that he was a nutcase.

  “He’s not mine,” I said. “This is Faith’s new pony, Falcon.”

  “Well then,” Miss. Fontain said. “I guess she’ll have her hands full for a while.”

  “You could say that.” I shook my head as Falcon pranced beside me.

  I put Falcon in his stall and begged him not to do anything else stupid. Hashtag was still standing in the cross ties looking all handsome and well behaved. If nothing else at least Falcon was making Hashtag look good.

  “This is Hashtag,” I said, patting his neck and silently thanking him for being a good boy. “Did you bring your own saddle or do you want to use one of ours?”

  “She brought her own,” Miss. Fontain said. “It’s in the truck.”

  “I’ll get it,” Shonda said softly.

  She went to get the saddle and Miss. Fontain stood there awkwardly for a few minutes. I was glad that Shonda had brought her own saddle since we didn’t actually own any dressage saddles, a fact that I was pretty sure Miss. Fontain already knew.

  “He looks well,” she said, motioning to Hashtag.

  “I’ve been schooling him on the flat,” I told her. “I think he’s ready for his new career.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Miss. Fontain said, not sounding convinced.

  I suddenly realized that maybe the only reason she’d even brought her student out here to try our horse was because she was doing me a favor and that meant there was absolutely no guarantee that the girl would want to lease Hashtag at all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I followed them out to the ring with a rock in the pit of my stomach. I knew that it wasn’t going to work out but I desperately needed it to. Shonda didn’t look like a dressage rider. She didn’t even look like she could ride at all.

  “Do you want me to warm him up for you?” I asked as I flipped the reins over Hashtag’s head.

  “No, I’ve got this, thanks,” Shonda said.

  “Okay,” I said, backing away.

  Shonda stepped onto the mounting block and checked the girth. Then she was up in the saddle and walking Hashtag away.

  “The footing seems decent,” Miss. Fontain said as she dug her boot into the ground.

  “Thanks,” I said, still staring after Hashtag and wondering if the girl was going to get hurt and sue us.

  Shonda walked Hashtag around the ring on a loose rein. I’d cleared all the jumps out of the way, the poles and standards piled up by the fence so that she could have the whole ring free to do dressage things. If she even knew any. Dad had drug the ring and made sure the footing would be up to Miss. Fontain’s standards because we all knew how fussy she could be, and it was just as well he had. I think he was worried that she was really coming over to spy on us and report back to Missy and the last thing we needed were rumors circulating that we couldn’t afford to keep our farm going.

  “How does he feel?” Miss. Fontain asked as she finally stepped into the center of the ring and I hopped up on the fence to watch.

  “He feels good,” Shonda said. “Supple. He’s soft.”

  “Alright then, let’s see what he can do,” Miss. Fontain said.

  Shonda gathered the reins and the next thing I knew she was trotting Hashtag effortlessly around the ring. Working trot. Extended trot. Working canter. They did flawless half-passes across the ring. Shonda got Hashtag to do things that even I didn’t know that he could do. His flying changes were clean, his counter canter was good. I was starting to think that maybe we should keep him after all when Shonda patted his neck and declared that she loved him. Miss. Fontain nodded her approval.

  “I guess we’ll bring him over tomorrow?” I said.

  “That will be fine,” Miss. Fontain said. “There will be a stall waiting for him.”

  “Thanks for letting me ride him,” Shonda said as she dismounted and gave the reins back to me.

  “That was amazing,” I told her. “Just totally wow.”

  “Well Shonda did beat Mickey at the last three dressage shows on the previous horse she was leasing,” Miss. Fontain said. “Didn’t she tell you?”

  “No.” I shook my head, feeling a little annoyed. “She didn’t.”

  “Strange.” Miss. Fontain shrugged.

  “What happened to the other horse you were leasing?” I asked Shonda.

  “The lease was up and they wanted him back,” she said. “But Hashtag will be a good replacement. You really don’t mind giving him up?”

  “I’m not a dressage rider,” I told her. “And I never will be. I’m a jumper and Hashtag has decided that he doesn’t like to jump anymore. I’m just glad he has a few other talents up his sleeve.”

  “Do you think maybe you could tell me some more about him tom
orrow?” she asked timidly as Miss. Fontain stood by the truck, looking impatiently at her watch.

  “Of course,” I told her.

  “Good,” she said. “I’d like to know his favorite treat and where he likes to be scratched and all that sort of stuff.”

  “No problem,” I said, waving as she ran off to get in the truck.

  I had no doubt that Shonda was going to take good care of Hashtag while he was out on lease to her and that made me feel a little less sad about letting him go in the first place.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You have to drive,” I told Dad the next morning. “They are expecting us. I told you last night.”

  Hashtag was groomed and ready to go. The trailer was loaded. The only thing that wasn’t ready to go was Dad.

  “I thought Jordan could take you,” he said with a huff.

  “Well Jordan is not here,” I said. “He had an errand to run.”

  “This is an errand,” Dad said.

  He sounded like he was five years old. I guess he just wasn’t ready to see Missy but he could sit in the truck if he wanted to. I didn’t care. I just needed to get Hashtag to Fox Run and have his lease signed because at least then we’d be getting a little more money coming in each month and we’d have one less mouth to feed.

  “This is important Dad,” I said. “And you have to face your fears. Besides, don’t you want to see Owen?”

  My half-brother had all but vanished off the face of the earth. I knew that Dad had made a couple of halfhearted attempts to see him but they had all fallen through. Secretly I was hoping that if Dad and Missy ran into each other then maybe they’d be able to make up and things could go back to the way they used to be before my mother showed up and ruined everything.

  “Of course I want to see Owen,” Dad said. “But it’s complicated.”

  “It’s not that complicated,” I told him gently. “Don’t let him grow up thinking that you don’t love him like I did. He’s going to need a father and you’re a good one.”