by Leigh Hearon
Annie thought disciple probably was the right word.
“But I do see your point, Annie. Harriett once told me I’d be better off taking up knitting. That hurt. With another kind of student such as Lucy, that kind of comment would destroy her. With me, it fueled my determination to do better. I guess we need all kinds of trainers, to fit the many kinds of riders who are drawn to dressage.”
“The judge sounds like a mini-Harriett,” Liz ventured.
“Oh, she’s all right. Jean has judged many of our shows here over the years. The biggest criticism against her, and here I’m being catty, girls, so don’t go repeating it, is that she’s risen to her position using a variety of different horses to take the tests.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Once more, Annie was astounded by the intricate rules surrounding the discipline.
“Well, it would hardly be fair to have someone judge you on a level they hadn’t already excelled in,” Patricia explained.
“Absolutely.”
Patricia smiled at Annie and continued. “But generally speaking, riders learn and test at each level on the same horse, to show that the horse has improved incrementally with the rider. Remember how Betsy told us she’d ridden the same horse for the past twelve years? There’s no rule that says you can’t test on a horse that already performs at a certain level, but when it comes to judges, well, it’s just not cricket.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
“In her defense, Jean is a very busy lady,” Miriam added, looking a bit ashamed at having divulged this bit of gossip. “She teaches English lit at one of the state universities, and her academic schedule is absolutely grueling. Finding time to indulge in her passion for dressage is a real challenge. We’re lucky to have her this Saturday.”
A round of nods followed this statement. No one was going to argue with their hostess.
“Patricia, I’d like to come and watch you work with Liz this afternoon if I might. Are you ready to go down to the stables?”
“Sure.” Patricia glanced at Liz. “It’s nearly two o’clock. We really should get going.”
Miriam carefully stood up. “Will you join us, Annie?”
“I think I’ll first catch a glimpse of Harriett and Gwendolyn in action. That is, if they’ll let me.”
“There will be more than five hundred people on our grounds in just a few days, Annie. One spectator shouldn’t throw either of them off their stride.”
* * *
Out of deference to Miriam, the tuk-tuk was employed to transport the group to the stables, with Liz at the wheel. Compared to the drive to the Darbys’, Liz’s motoring was positively sedate—but then, the golf cart’s top speed probably was fifteen miles per hour. The lulling ride gave Annie time to think, and it occurred to her that she’d forgotten to ask Miriam about Harriett’s previous encounter with Judge Bennett. Perhaps she’d get a quiet moment with her hostess and find out.
Liz vanished to tack up Sammy while Patricia and Miriam headed in the opposite direction, toward the small turnout pastures where Beau Geste and his two buddies were grazing. Annie entered the stables, where she saw Lucy diligently soaking Prince’s left rear foot in a large tub of steaming water, undoubtedly filled with Epsom salts.
“How’s he doing?” Annie asked quietly.
Lucy looked up from where she was examining his foot. “I hope he’s going to be okay. I feel so bad about not catching it myself.”
“Trust me, it’s happened to all of us.”
“I just hope Prince recovers in time to ride by Saturday.”
“Well, if not, there’s always the next show.”
“Yes. I’d just hoped . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Everyone must think I’m a total loser.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy. Things happen to horses, and half the time we don’t know why or how it happened. All of our horses could turn up lame, and we’d all be wracking our brains, trying to figure out what we did wrong. The critical thing is the problem was quickly spotted and diagnosed, and now you’re treating it. It’s the best you can do.”
Lucy looked up and gave her a tentative smile.
“Thanks. I really do want to ride on Saturday. I don’t want to have to cancel. Even though I was hoping we’d have some other judge than Judge Bennett.”
“Is she really that tough?”
“I’ve shown Prince twice in front of her, and both times she pretty much annihilated me. Of course, I do realize I have a lot to work on. But even Melissa was upset at her last scoring. At this point, I’m kind of afraid to ride in front of her. She has this way of looking at you that just makes you freeze.”
Annie wanted to tell her she should be looking at where she wanted to go with her horse, not at the judge. The letter markers in the rings made it pretty clear that should be any rider’s focus. But Miriam was right. If she told Lucy what she thought, it would only undermine her further. Besides, coaching Lucy was Melissa’s job, and she seemed to be doing a good job of finessing criticism and encouragement to maximum effect.
Although she did wonder for one teeny second if Lucy might have deliberately ignored Prince’s incipient lameness to ensure she’d be sidelined from the show. She was ashamed of herself as soon as she thought it. No, that would be too devious. Far too devious for someone as well-meaning and transparent as Lucy.
She strolled outside to find Harriett and Gwendolyn but immediately caught sight of a multicolored horse in her peripheral vision. At least, that’s what Annie thought she’d just glimpsed. He seemed to radiate a rainbow of colors, just like a fantasy horse in a kid’s movie. Maybe the sun was getting to her. She turned around slowly and saw Tabitha’s Friesian grazing in one of the front paddocks. The horse was bedecked in what appeared to be brightly colored jewels—a browband adorned with dazzling stones, a flysheet shimmering with multicolored glitter, and over its mane, a long copper-colored leather strap filled with tightly set small stones that clicked every time the horse moved its head. Since Jackson was in a constant search for a new blade of grass, the clicking was constant.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Annie saw Tabitha standing by the paddock fence.
“He’s something, all right.”
“They’re special charms to help us when we compete on Saturday.”
Annie nodded and smiled. Dressage people were an interesting bunch, all right.
Chapter Seven
THURSDAY AFTERNOON, OCTOBER 12
Annie left Tabitha and scoured the three outdoor arenas for signs of Gwendolyn and Harriett. She saw only Nicole, who was riding her Andalusian in the far left ring, the official warm-up area. They were trotting very prettily alongside one long rail, the Andalusian tucking his hind legs one behind each other in a long, diagonal pass. When they reached the end, Annie watched them trot in a small circle and repeat the same trotting diagonal on the opposite side. Despite Nicole’s harsh words toward her that morning, Annie felt drawn to observe her on horseback more closely. It was better than hearing about Jackson’s magic amulets.
As she approached the ring, Annie noticed how rounded the Andalusian’s neck was and how his hind legs seemed to propel his entire body forward. Nicole sat very tall in her dressage saddle, yet, unlike Lucy, she looked relaxed at the same time. Annie saw her occasionally give the Andalusian a quick tap with her boot—which, she noticed, had a spur attached—but other than that swift movement, her legs were practically motionless.
Annie reached the arena without taking her eyes off the horse and rider and unconsciously put one foot on the lowest rung of the white fencing. Nicole’s back was now to her. The Andalusian cantered through a corner, then made a small pirouette to the right, all four of its hooves making tiny small steps around an invisible circle. When the pirouette was complete, Nicole loudly slapped the horse on the side of his neck and halted. Then she began a leisurely walk up the center of the ring, and Annie knew from the broad, sardonic grin on Nicole’s face that her presence had been detected. Annie also saw the strangest, most complic
ated bridle she’d ever seen on a horse. She could have sworn he was wearing two bits.
“So, what do you think of all this? Learn anything new?”
The words were thrown out as a definite challenge, but at least they weren’t as insulting as her previous remarks about Annie’s choice of riding discipline. Annie decided to answer honestly.
“Absolutely. I love the way your horse carries himself. His hind legs and back seem to radiate energy that reaches every part of his body.”
“Very good!” Nicole’s words had lost her mocking tone, and she looked at Annie with a small modicum of respect in her eyes.
“And I see you wear spurs, as well.”
“Knobs. Spiked rowels aren’t allowed.”
“I’ve never been a fan of either, to tell you the truth. But I am intrigued by your horse’s bridle. Am I imagining it, or do does he have two bits in his mouth?”
“You’re seeing right. A curb and a bridoon.”
“I’m not familiar with the latter one.”
Nicole nimbly dismounted and flung two sets of reins over her horse’s head. Well, two bits could require two sets of reins, Annie thought. It made sense. Nicole now was standing by the horse’s mouth.
“The second is the double-jointed one. The bridoon’s a bit shorter, so they both fit into his mouth. Only riders who have achieved certain levels in dressage use double bridles. I seriously doubt anyone else staying here is.”
No, I’m sure they’re not. Just as I know you can’t help showing off.
“What’s the point? I mean, why are two bits better than just the snaffle? Frankly, if I can’t get my horses to do what I want with a snaffle, I figure there’s something wrong with me, not the horse.”
Nicole bestowed a deprecating smile on her.
“Simple. It allows me a more refined use of the aids.”
The aids? Melissa had mentioned them, too. What were they talking about? She’d have to ask Patricia later. Annie had no desire to flaunt any more of her ignorance than she already had.
Still smiling, Nicole lightly touched her arm, and Annie tried not to flinch.
“Listen, I want to apologize for my remarks this morning. They really were uncalled for. I’m sure your Thoroughbreds are great athletes, and I suspect you don’t have any desire to learn dressage. And I realized after talking with Douglas—my fiancé—this morning that we know someone in common.”
Not this again. Annie wanted to groan, but instead smiled back.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, Douglas said you and Marcus Colbert are quite the item. Marcus has been one of Doug’s clients for years, and they’ve become rather good friends. I understand your . . . boyfriend plans to join us this weekend. It would be super if we could slip away to have dinner one night.”
Kill me now. And why does every woman dressed in breeches say “super” all the time? Surely the English language contains more adjectives than that. All Annie wanted to do after Marcus arrived was lock him in her bedroom and only come out to see Liz ride. And for meals, of course.
“Perhaps. Although the real objective of my trip is to find buyers for three dressage horses. I don’t suppose you need another one?”
Nicole laughed. “I always need another horse. But this one takes all my time and money . . . at least, right now. Maybe after Doug and I are married, I’ll be in the market. A Dutch Warmblood would make a very thoughtful wedding gift, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I do. I’ll tell Patricia and make sure you get to meet them while you’re here.” Annie was sweating, and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the nouveau riche side of Nicole that was coming through. Whatever it was, it was making her distinctly uncomfortable.
“Will she be riding any of them?”
“They aren’t competing, if that’s what you mean. But they’ve all had some schooling in dressage.”
“I hear your first buyer bit the dust a few minutes after leaving here.”
Nicole’s lack of compassion somehow didn’t surprise her.
“Yes, it was a tragic accident. I wondered if all of you had heard the news.”
“Hard to miss. First, Hollis comes and collects you and Patricia, then we saw the strobe lights from the patio. The police were there for hours, it seemed. But Hollis made us promise we wouldn’t talk about it, at least in front of you.”
So much for honoring Hollis’s stated wishes. She noticed Nicole’s eyes studying hers.
“So, what happened to poor Betsy?” Nicole’s words dripped with false sincerity.
“Why, did you know her?”
“I knew of her, of course. She competed locally and I saw her at shows. She was pretty much a rank amateur, of course, but did have a lot of determination. I’ll give her that much.”
“We don’t know what happened to Mrs. Gilchrist,” Annie replied firmly.
“No stray dog found who’d run into the road? No mysterious oncoming headlights?”
“Why don’t you ask Deputy Collins?” Annie was beginning to feel even more heated, and it wasn’t just the noonday sun causing her blood to boil.
“I’ll do that,” Nicole said brightly. “He’s asked all of us to give statements. I think I’ll deliver mine in person.”
She smiled, and Annie intuitively knew that while Douglas’s bank account might be bigger, Deputy Collins outranked him in pure good looks.
“Anyway, let me know if you’d like to see any of the horses we’ve brought.” Annie sounded impatient, even to herself, and knew she was not being a particularly good salesperson.
“You should work on Gwendolyn. She’s got buckets of money, and I hear she was tight with Marcus’s wife before she died, too. But be careful. She’s been trying to find a husband for ages and I think she’s got herself set on Marcus. Douglas says he’s devilishly good-looking.”
Not another competitor. Annie wondered uneasily just how many would-be paramours of Marcus Colbert existed between here and San Jose. They probably numbered in the dozens, if not more.
“Well, I must get back to work. Nice talking with you, Annie. Perhaps I’ll see you again before I take off on my hot date.”
Annie recalled that Nicole wouldn’t be at dinner tonight. She reflected that the woman’s absence would not bother her in the least. Then the sound of quick, solid footsteps in the dust behind them diverted her attention.
“Where is that woman?” Harriett angrily strode up to the warm-up arena, with Tabitha in tow. “Gwendolyn was supposed to be tacked up and out here by now.”
Nicole scanned the stable entrance, a few hundred yards away.
“I think I see her coming now.”
“Well, it’s about time. What are you working on, Nicole?”
“At the moment, flying lead changes. Although I think Andy has them perfected.”
“You should work on them. You have five of them on the diagonal at the canter.”
“Yes, Harriett, I know. I’ve read the test once or twice before.”
“Show me what you’ve been doing.”
Nicole stood for a moment, her face a bit flushed. For a moment, Annie thought she might refuse Harriett’s demand. Then, her mouth set, Nicole simply said, “All right,” and turned to lead the Andalusian to a nearby mounting block.
“All right? I’m giving you a gift. I won’t even charge you for my time.”
Nicole did not reply. She mounted her horse, and once she was seated, instantly began a short, contained canter around the ring. She made one full loop before turning to execute the maneuvers. To Annie, the flying lead changes did look damn near perfect. Using a cue Annie did not see, Nicole had the horse change leads while his four feet were in the air.
She noticed that Tabitha was standing beside her. “She’s late,” she murmured to Annie in an undertone.
“Really?” Annie murmured back. “Not sure I saw that.” Apparently she was of the minority opinion.
“You’re late!” Harriett impatiently called out to her. “His hind legs ar
e practically one stride after the front. We need a little more excitement.”
As Liz had predicted, Nicole’s face showed her displeasure at being criticized, and she urged her horse into a faster gait. Horse and rider made another lap around the ring, then once more up on a diagonal. The flying lead changes came fast—every few strides, it seemed to Annie—but now she saw what Harriett had the first time. The horse’s rear legs made the change after the right legs. It wasn’t by much, but the timing of the hind change definitely was off.
“Better. But you still need a lot of work. Try riding renvers in canter. Or teach him to pick up the lead from the whip. Anything to stop being so sloppy.”
Annie had no idea what Harriett’s suggestions meant. But Nicole did. The look she gave Harriett as she cantered by was murderous. Annie glanced at Tabitha. There was a definite smirk on her face.
Gwendolyn rode up and quietly watched the Andalusian’s next attempt. He changed leads expertly, but still with the same small-time lag in back.
“I’d give that a four,” she drawled after Nicole once more cantered by. “Wasn’t that Judge Bennett’s score the last time you appeared in front of her?”
Nicole abruptly brought the horse to a halt and jumped off. As she furiously pushed her stirrups up the back of the leathers, she replied, “Oh, I don’t think I have to worry about Judge Bennett, Gwendolyn. Not with what I know. It’s you who should be worried. First time in front of her, isn’t it? It might be your last.”
With that, Nicole lifted the latch to the entrance gate and began leading her horse toward the stables without a backward look. Annie knew it would have been hard to thank Harriett for delivering such a severe critique of her riding, but still. Apparently, Nicole didn’t have a scintilla of good manners drilled into her.
“Well!” Harriett looked at Nicole’s back. She was walking briskly, her shoulders set in a straight line. “That horse will never learn how to change leads if she doesn’t listen to my advice.” She turned to Gwendolyn. “Neither will you. Are you finally ready to start working? Tabitha, pay attention to what we’re doing. You need work on this, too.”
