by Leigh Hearon
“I thought dressage riders didn’t post.” All the dressage riders Annie had seen on televised Olympic exhibitions had been firmly rooted to their saddles.
“That’s only in tests at training level. Once Lucy starts schooling first level, she will sit the trot.”
“Got it.”
As Lucy came to the first corner, she saw Prince’s stride imperceptibly shorten. It was a common enough reaction among horses when they approached a corner, and Annie wondered if Lucy was aware that Prince’s gait was changing.
Melissa recognized the horse’s intent.
“Keep his rhythm up, Lucy! Don’t let him slow down!”
Annie watched Lucy nudge the horse’s sides and lean forward.
“That’s right! Good! But don’t lose your center!”
Lucy immediately sat up, and Prince went into a stately walk. She gave a strangled cry.
“I’m trying! But when he slows down at the corner, I always manage to do something that makes him think I want him to walk!”
“You’ll get it, Lucy. It’s a lot to remember all at once. Walk through the next corner, then pick up the trot again.”
Lucy and Prince navigated the next corner much more adeptly. And this time, Prince picked up the trot on cue.
“Unlock your elbows, Lucy! Your hands are going up and down with him. Can you feel him bracing against you?”
Lucy nodded and let her elbows relax.
“That’s it! Much better!”
Annie continued to watch Lucy at the trot, then attempt twenty-meter circles at the same gait. This was less successful.
“Use your inside leg, Lucy! Make him bend!”
Prince’s head was pointed outside the circle, and Annie could see Lucy frantically trying to collect her left rein to pull his nose in.
“That’s right. Use your aids!”
Prince continued to ignore Lucy’s attempts and suddenly left the circle and began to trot to the other end of the ring.
“Outside rein!”
Prince continued to trot straight ahead until he reached the end of the arena, where Annie and Amy were watching. Lucy’s face was bright red from exertion. She was breathing heavily, and sweat trickled down her cheeks. Of the two, Annie thought, Lucy was working far harder than her horse.
* * *
After thirty minutes, Annie excused herself, told Lucy she was doing great and that she looked forward to seeing everyone at lunch. She managed to walk slowly and calmly away and not break into a dead run. Watching Lucy was torturous, and she felt for both rider and horse. They had a long way to go in their journey toward true partnership, and Annie wondered if they’d ever fully get there. But she had been impressed by Melissa’s coaching. Her knowledge of both human and equine physiology and body language was remarkable. And she’d corrected Lucy’s many errors in ways that didn’t destroy her ego or enthusiasm for trying.
She found Patricia and Liz in the indoor arena, and in the first few seconds could see a significant difference in riders. Sammy was a gorgeous Danish Warmblood who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, as did Liz. Annie watched Sammy do serpentines, circles, and walk, trot, and canter with hardly a blip, and Annie found it fascinating to see how Patricia nudged Liz to improve Sammy’s performance. An hour came and went without notice. When Patricia called for a break, Annie was effusive in her praise.
“You know, Melissa assured me our disciplines have a lot in common,” she told Patricia. “But after watching both of you, I see how hard you try to keep the horse supple and relaxed while doing all the work. I’m not sure I pay as much attention to that as you do.”
“We’re all working toward the same goal, and as I mentioned this morning, highly skilled Western riders unconsciously do dressage all the time.”
“I suppose. All my horses have to know how to get out of tight corners and be precise. But for me, it’s more a safety issue. If I’m riding next to a cliff, I don’t want my horse to make a step that I haven’t personally endorsed.”
Patricia laughed. “That’s more in line with the original reason dressage evolved into a training discipline. You do know that it originated around 400 B.C.”
“I most certainly did not!”
“It’s true. A Greek general named Xenophon believed his army would fight better if cavalrymen and their horses worked in complete harmony with each other. He developed a military style of training that was the basis for the dressage you see performed today.”
“Amazing. It looks like such a genteel sport.”
“Yes, but remember, many of the riders exhibit the same fierce warrior traits that Xenophon demanded from his own men.”
“I believe I met a few of those modern-day warriors this morning.”
A gong sounded from afar.
Patricia shielded her eyes from the sun and looked toward the Darbys’ home.
“That’s our cue that luncheon will be served in fifteen minutes. Ready for battle, Annie?”
“My armor is already on.”
Chapter Six
THURSDAY NOON, OCTOBER 12
More of Chef Gustav’s now legendary raspberry iced tea had been set out in large pitchers on the buffet table, and Annie secured a full glass as soon as she entered. She drained it in one gulp, then realized that perhaps this was not the approved method of slaking one’s thirst among her new crowd. Glancing around, she noticed with relief that everyone—Nicole included—was doing the same. The day was hot and everyone was thirsty.
Hollis entered as everyone was finding a place at the table, and Annie noticed with amusement that each guest automatically snared the same spot she’d had at breakfast. It was just like grade school.
“Ladies, may I have your attention for one moment?”
Everyone turned to see what their host had to say.
“I want to let you all know that Judge Jean Bennett will be arriving tomorrow afternoon, along with her scribe, Margaret Woods. Both women will be staying at the Hyatt ten miles away, but they plan to come out tomorrow afternoon to look at the ring and do a bit of setup in the booth. They’ll only be here an hour or so, so there isn’t much danger of any chance encounters.”
“I take it it’s not cool to talk to the judge before the event?” Annie whispered to Patricia.
“More than not cool—it’s forbidden,” Patricia whispered back. “Hollis has room to put the judge and scribe up here, but he deliberately houses them off-site, just to be squeaky clean.”
“So, have you met the judge? Ever ridden in front of her?”
“I haven’t, but she has quite the reputation. I have no doubt you’ll hear the horror stories over the next few days.”
Annie wanted to ask Patricia what role the scribe played in the show, but Hollis had not finished speaking.
“Harriett, it’s lovely to have you here today. We’re delighted you’ll be joining us for meals from now on. Annie, perhaps you haven’t met our other resident dressage trainer yet. Harriett coaches Gwendolyn and Tabitha and is staying in one of our cottages.”
Annie gave a smile in Harriett’s direction, which was returned with what she could only describe as anatomical precision. Harriett was a very tall, lean woman with short-cropped brown hair and looked to be roughly Annie’s age. She was seated at the end of the table, Gwendolyn on her right. Talk about twins, Annie thought. Both were practically identical; the only difference was the hue of their cropped hair.
“We look forward to seeing more of Melissa at mealtimes, as well,” Hollis continued, “although Lucy informs me she won’t be able to join us until later. And now, ladies, I must join my bride. Today, we are dining en suite. See you all at six, and enjoy the afternoon, on horseback or otherwise.”
A murmur of good-byes followed him out of the room, just as waiters began to appear from the kitchen’s swinging doors. They held trays with individual salads, and Annie could see crab legs and shrimp adorning each one. Baskets of crusty French rolls already were on the table. Annie reached for one an
d sighed happily. Perhaps at this meal, at least, bickering would take a backseat to putting on the feedbag. It was a short-lived hope.
“Where’s Melissa?” Harriett asked in the direction of Lucy and Amy.
“She noticed that Prince was a bit lame in his left hind,” Amy told her. “She’s with the show vet now.”
Annie studied Lucy’s face, but it didn’t show much reaction to this somewhat alarming news. She wondered if dressage coaches routinely addressed horse injuries with medical professionals on behalf of their students, or if Melissa was there at Lucy’s request. Annie had no doubt that the trainer was more knowledgeable and better able to deal with a lame or injured horse than her timid student. But it still seemed a bit odd.
“That’s too bad, Lucy,” Annie told her. “He seemed fine when I watched you in the ring.”
Lucy shrugged. “Melissa noticed it at the trot and thought it should be checked out.”
Annie wondered why Lucy wouldn’t have also noticed that Prince’s gait was off since she was on his back, but said nothing.
“Bad luck,” Harriett said dismissively.
“Maybe we shouldn’t compete.” Lucy’s words were barely audible.
“He’ll be all right,” Amy anxiously told her friend. “You’ve worked so hard, Lucy. It would be terrible if you couldn’t ride on Saturday. Anyway, he’s still got a whole other day to rest.”
Harriett gave an impatient tsk. “One day won’t be enough. For all we know, it could be a suspensory ligament injury. If Bennett even suspects he’s lame, she’ll ring him out for unsoundness. You could be eliminated as soon as you trot into the ring.”
It occurred to Annie that in this segment of the equestrian world, most riders probably were familiar with the people who judged their horses’ performances.
“I take it you’ve shown before Judge Bennett before?”
“All of us have,” Tabitha told her. “And believe me, she’s not one of our favorites.”
“I haven’t.” Gwendolyn gave a nervous giggle. “I’ve just heard the stories.”
“Nor I,” Liz said. “I’m not sure I want to hear them.”
Nicole ignored Liz’s desires. “She’s a notoriously low scorer.”
Maybe, maybe not, Annie thought. Anyone who got less than what they thought they deserved on a test would say that.
“And her comments are always so critical. She’s rude,” added Amy.
“I swear she put a hex on my horse the last time I appeared in front of her.” Tabitha’s eyes were big. “I’d never gone off course before, but I did it twice in front of her.”
Gwendolyn gave an almost imperceptible snort.
“We are not going to discuss the attributes of the judge at this table.” Harriett’s stern edict was met with a sudden hush. For a moment, nothing was heard but the soft clank of silverware on china.
Then Nicole spoke quietly. “You’ve got more right than any of us to hate Judge Bennett,” she told the austere trainer. “Remember what happened last spring.”
“I said silence!”
Annie had only known Harriett for five minutes, but she already knew that among the three trainers staying at the Darbys’, this woman had galloped into the lead position.
* * *
Melissa burst into the dining room just as dessert was being served.
“Good news, Lucy!” The trainer was beaming, oblivious to the deathly silence that had prevailed before her entrance.
Lucy now showed the emotional response Annie had been looking for. She leapt out of her chair, nearly knocking it over. “What? What did you find out?”
“The very beginning of an abscess, near the frog. You have been diligent about cleaning his feet, haven’t you?”
A quick flush came over Lucy’s face. “Pretty much.”
“Well, pretty much almost got your horse unable to compete. Fortunately, we’ve got the farrier working on him right now, and I think, if we keep him on Epsom salt baths and wrapped and no riding, he might be able to perform on Saturday.”
Lucy sat down suddenly. She seemed overwhelmed by what perhaps her less than stellar grooming routine had almost brought on her performance horse.
“Let me grab some lunch, then I’ll show you exactly what happened to Prince’s hoof. After you’ve given him a salt bath, find the vet to show you how to wrap his hoof.”
Lucy nodded dumbly, but she looked considerably relieved. Annie wondered how much personal care she’d ever given the horses she’d owned. Surely at boarding school she must have attended to quotidian tasks such as the ones Melissa had just described.
Melissa sat down and gratefully dug into the salad that had been placed in front of her by a discreet waiter.
“It’s not a surety that Prince will be able to compete, Lucy. But we’ll do everything we can to try to make that happen. Prince will tell us how he feels.”
Nicole had not uttered a word since Harriett had silenced her. She appeared to be sulking. But Melissa’s appearance got conversation flowing again among the other women.
“You will have time to work with me this afternoon, won’t you?” Amy’s eyes reflected her concern.
“Of course. I’ll see you at two o’clock. And let’s work on your leg yields. Schumann’s left side still needs work.”
“Schumann?” Annie couldn’t help herself.
Gwendolyn offered up her usual sarcasm.
“It’s the name she’s bestowed on her little Arab. We’re pretty sure she has a St. Bernard named Beethoven back home.”
Melissa gave her a sharp glance.
“I didn’t see you out in the arena this morning, Gwendolyn.”
“We’ll be working together this afternoon,” Harriett said.
“But I need more work on my ten-meter circles!” Tabitha sounded on the verge of a small hysteria. “I’ve almost got Jackson to where he should be!”
“You mean where you should be. Jackson needs a rest. We’ll work again tomorrow. And I don’t want to see you tacking him up for your own private practice. The poor horse has been through enough this morning with you on his back.”
Well, Annie thought, no chance of misinterpreting what Harriett thought of that student’s riding skills. But Tabitha seemed unaffected. The consternation Annie had seen on her face a few seconds ago now settled into a smooth, bland mask.
“All right. I’ll just groom him, then. Maybe work on his braids.”
“Fine. Just don’t apply any of your silly bling. He doesn’t need stardust in his mane. Groom him but then turn him out. If you’re around him too long, he’ll think he needs to work.”
No misinterpretation at all.
* * *
“Let’s catch a few rays, shall we?”
After lunch, Patricia led Liz and Annie toward the patio doors and the brilliant sun outside. It was the hottest time of the day, but Annie didn’t care. Lisa, her stalwart stable hand, had sent her a photo of her two Thoroughbreds this morning. It was a lovely portrait, framed with raindrops on the lens.
Flopping into a chaise longue, Annie let the full strength of the midday heat fall on her face.
“So, who trains Nicole?” She’d realized this was the only rider who didn’t have a trainer for the show.
“No one,” Patricia replied. “At least, not in preparation for this event. She knows it all, didn’t you know?”
Annie laughed. For Patricia, this was a rare snarky remark.
“Of course. How silly of me. Although it would take a pretty thick skin to have Harriett critique your riding. Maybe Nicole secretly doesn’t want to risk her criticism.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” was Liz’s thoughtful remark. “Although Tabitha and Gwendolyn seem to take it pretty well. Of course, I couldn’t think of training with anyone but Patricia.”
“Thanks, Liz. I appreciate your vote of confidence. But to be fair, Harriett has a lot to be proud of. She trained with Jo Hinneman, you know, and used to name-drop terribly until he started working with
a Dutch team. And she made the U.S. Dressage Team at Athens in 2004. She’s turned out some excellent students over the years, several of whom have gone on to Grand Prix.”
Annie had no idea who Jo Hinneman was but assumed Harriett got all her tough-love training techniques from him. She decided to play devil’s advocate.
“Yes, but can’t you train just as effectively using your methods—or Melissa’s, for that matter? I mean, what good ever came out of constantly criticizing a horse?”
“We’re talking about two different animals,” Patricia said firmly. “No comparison. Rewards and punishments are necessarily different.”
“I wonder.”
The three women jumped. None of them had uttered the two words, which seemed to come from a large palm tree by one corner of the pool. A fabric sunhat emerged in front of it, and Miriam gave a cheery wave.
“I wasn’t really eavesdropping,” she explained. “I just couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”
“Come and join us.”
“I shall. Be patient. It takes a bit of time to get me organized these days.”
Miriam gathered her many accoutrements and walked the ten steps to where the women had congregated. She was dressed in slacks and a colorful blouse but had stout walking shoes on.
“How can you stand this heat? I had to retreat to the shade almost as soon as I came out.”
Liz threw out her arms and raised her face as if to a sun god. “We come from the land of rain. We’re storing up your rays to keep us warm when we return. Sort of like the Energizer Bunny.”
“Well, you’re welcome to them. Frankly, I can’t wait for a rainy day. It cleanses the earth and the air.”
“So is Harriett really as much of a martinet as she seems?” Annie asked a tad impatiently. Enough about the weather.
“No, not really,” Miriam replied, settling into a patio chair. “She just wants results for her students and pushes them as far as they can go. I used to train with her, believe it or not. She was tough, even on me, but I don’t think I’ve ever learned as much as I did in the years I was a disciple of hers.”
