by Toni Mari
I nodded, finally making my dropped jaw form the words, “He sounds perfect.”
“I have high hopes for him. Listen, I’ll see you around.”
After he moved on to his own table, I asked Kate, “Was he serious? About the horse being Olympic caliber?”
She nodded. “Probably.” Seeing my face fall, she put a hand on my arm. “Really, no worries, like he said. This is your first national competition against professionals. A good ride is what you need to focus on. It’s not always about first place, but about how well you showed your horse.”
Melinda snorted, patting her perfect, auburn bun. “I’m glad he’s not in my division. I’m glad you’re not either,” she said, leaning into me. “Gives a girl a chance.”
With a promise to catch up later, Melinda left us to join her parents.
I was wishing he wasn’t in my division either. I pushed the food around on my plate until everyone else was finished eating. Cory’s arm around my waist propelled my leaden bones forward, and we walked out of the cafe.
Later, after one last check on Windsong, I pulled the covers up to my chin. I thought about what Kate had said earlier. How quickly I had become accustomed to winning, to placing first. Melinda even seemed to expect it. But I had been competing against young riders and amateurs, not professionals. The idea of not having a chance at the first-place ribbon and the championship put a chink in that secret hope I held of winning and getting a big break toward my career. As a Finals champion, I would be someone whom fans would recognize. People remembered champions, not runners-up.
Chapter 14
Kate and I had decided to do Fourth Level Test 2 as my warm-up class, and it was conveniently scheduled around lunchtime on Friday. The easier test would give Windsong a chance to perform in the arena without challenging or tiring him too much. And Melinda, after placing first in her division at Regionals, was supposed to be showing in the third test of this level, too. Her class was scheduled after mine.
Windsong was bathed and braided after his breakfast and was relaxed before we entered the arena if his heart rate was anything to go by.
When I dropped my hand for my final salute, I remembered how relieved I used to be to make it to the end of a test still on top of Windsong’s back, not lying in the dust somewhere. This time it occurred to me that this performance was on the easy side, nothing to worry or be nervous about.
As I rode out of the ring, Michelle waved me over. “This is Chris Redicci. He’s the photographer we are using to get the promo pics. He took some in the ring but has a few more he wants to do in front of some of the sights in the park.”
“Shouldn’t she cool Windsong off first?” Cory asked. “He’s damp and it’s not exactly a warm day.”
Chris Redicci slid dark brown eyes over Cory’s attire, his eyes narrowing. “I want the sun to glisten on the horse’s wet coat and the raised veins for the photograph. It will show the strain and the effort he has put forth.”
I blinked. The snooty English accent didn’t match the burly, baseball-capped, bearded man.
Cory cocked his chin at me. “Jane, don’t you want to check on Windsong?” He lifted the leather stethoscope pouch.
I looked from his annoyed face to Michelle’s hopeful one and then to the photographer, who shifted his weight and pursed his lips in impatience.
“He feels fine. Let’s just get the pictures done.” I tapped my legs, walking Windsong behind Chris.
A ridiculous amount of shots and angles later, Chris finally pronounced that he may have caught a few good ones. He disappeared without another word and I slid down from the saddle. My mouth was dry and I reached for the bucket Cory held with ringside supplies in it. I patted Windsong, his coat stiff from dried sweat. He head-butted me with impatience, trying to tip the bucket from Cory’s hands, looking for a drink.
Cory’s brow wrinkled as he took the reins from me. “This is what you have to do that is more important than college and worth lying to your parents about?” he hissed in my ear. He turned and walked Windsong back toward his stall, not waiting for me.
I tipped the water bottle up, draining half of it in one gulp. Kate held my gaze for a moment, and then turned and silently followed Cory.
Michelle clapped me on the shoulder. “That went well.” She smiled and strolled off in the direction of the offices.
Wiping the water from my chin, I mumbled to myself, “Is this what models go through? Because that was the most boring yet grueling hour of my life. I hope he got his perfect picture.” I glanced at my watch. If I rushed straight to her arena, I would be just in time to catch Melinda’s ride.
Cory stalked next to Windsong without looking back, and Kate following purposefully behind them. They would take care of Windsong. I speed-walked in the opposite direction.
Melinda rode a nice test, but the competition in her level was fierce. Only time would tell whether hers was a winning ride. We clasped hands and I said I would be rooting for her.
When I stopped by Windsong’s stall, he was quietly munching hay, wearing his clean sheet, and fresh water and shavings had been put in his stall. Nodding to myself, I continued on to the trailer to change.
“Where were you?” Kate demanded when she spotted me.
I plopped into a chair. “I went to watch Melinda’s ride. I told you I wanted to support my teammate.”
“Did you forget that Windsong needed to be taken care of?”
“No, but I knew you and Cory would be fine.”
Kate squared off in front of me. “It should have been you. We’re not your grooms. He’s your horse and he got you here and he deserves your attention.”
“Geez, this once I try to support someone I care about. Give me a break.”
She shook her finger in my face. “I don’t know what is going on with you, but your horse comes first. Do you understand? I don’t care how famous you think you are, but I taught you that you take care of your horse, your partner, before anything else. That includes publicity, friends, and whatever else you think you have to do. Are we clear?”
I curled my fingers, resisting the urge to cover my flaming cheeks with my hands. I glanced toward Cory. He dropped his chin, hiding behind the brim of his hat.
Lips pressed tightly together, I inclined my head. “Of course.” I stood, leaned sideways to pass Kate, throwing a glare at the top of Cory’s hat, and stomped into the trailer.
What did a girl have to do to get a break? If I did what Michelle wanted, Cory and Kate were annoyed. If I supported a friend, I was neglecting my horse. If I chose riding over school, my parents were angry. It’s not like I was off playing video games or something.
Besides, Michelle was supplying the funds for Windsong and me to be here at this show. Didn’t they understand that? I owed her a little consideration. If she wanted me to stand around for an hour posing like a Barbie Doll, then that’s what I would do. It’s not like the photographer made me gallop Windsong or anything. And Melinda had stood by me when I was almost thrown off the team last summer, so I needed to be there for her, too. Windsong wasn’t neglected—Cory took care of him like I knew he would. Really, weren’t they here to help me?
Dinner with Kate and Cory wasn’t as fun as the first night’s. One day down and results were in. Riders were more business-like, discussing performances and plans for the next day, or year. My little group was tense. I had fielded a call from my mother while we were walking to the small dining area. Cory gritted his teeth as he heard me blatantly lie, pretending that I was with Carly and her parents. It was one small sentence and I quickly changed the subject and ended the conversation.
When I put the phone back in my pocket, no one said anything, but the disapproval emanating from the two of them was a physical thing. I dropped back a few steps out of the force field that shimmered between them. We avoided the subject all through dinner. We actually avoided all subjects through dinner, barely speaking to each other.
I said I would check on Windsong one more
time by myself to escape the tense silence, and as soon as I finished, I jumped between the covers of my bunk and shut my eyes.
The translucent shade over the camper window was still dark when my eyes flew open. No sounds other than steady breathing came from Cory and Kate, but there was no use staying in bed. My nerves were jumping, making me unable to lie still another moment. Noiselessly, I pulled on some sweats and a hoodie and slipped out of the trailer. The show grounds were quiet in the near darkness, with only a few sleepy grooms moving groggily toward the barns. I wasn’t exactly running myself. The beauty of the early morning scene was worth the loss of a few winks of sleep.
The orange rim of the sun was just visible over the distant treetops. The arenas were empty; the sand perfectly smooth, all footprints erased as if no horse had ever stepped there.
With the lights off, I had a hard time seeing in the barn aisle. I was reluctant to flip the switch and disturb the final peace the horses would have before a hectic show day. I slowly made my way, weaving between the trunks and chairs by the light of my phone screen.
I looked in on Windsong. In the dim light, he looked like a cuddly kitten, lying down with his neck curled on his knees and his nose tucked into his belly. His sides rose and fell rhythmically with the faintest whistling breath. I rested my chin between the bars and watched, the tranquil scene washing over me and calming my anxiety.
“Good morning, Windsong,” I called softly.
His head rose and he whickered back to me. Putting his front legs out, he stretched his neck and rolled his eyes up until they disappeared and all that showed was veiny white. With a groan and a mighty shake, he pulled himself up to his feet. He shuffled over and blew hot, horsey breath gently into my face. I kissed that mushy velvety part of his nose but ducked when his tongue came out. I let him lick the palm of my hand instead.
The lights flickered on and we blinked, temporarily blinded. The bright-eyed girl with her finger on the switch tugged at her baseball cap and gave us a jaunty wave.
“Time to make the donuts,” I mumbled as horses started nickering for their breakfasts.
I slid the door open and removed the water bucket, giving Windsong a pat as I stepped out. Ever since Alison had contaminated Windsong’s water at the Junior Championships, it was the first chore I did. While the bucket was nearly empty, the water in the bottom was clear. I refilled it, lugged it back up the aisle, and hung it. Windsong looked in it and, disappointed, he pawed the shavings.
“I’m coming with your grain. Here, chew on this while I get it ready.” I tossed in a few sections of hay. I opened my trunk in front of the stall and lifted out portioned bags of grain with measured supplements already added. I dumped a whole bag into a rubber feed tub and gave it to Windsong. He took a mighty bite and looked down the aisle as he chewed.
Checking under his stable sheet, I determined that Windsong had stayed perfectly clean. I would only have to dust off the shavings and comb out his tail. I cleaned up his stall, spreading another half bag of shavings, while he ate. When I returned to the stall after dumping the manure, Cory was standing in front of it holding two steaming mugs.
I reached for one. “I love you. I love you.” Inhaling the aroma, I took a noisy sip. Sweet and creamy, just how I liked it.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I murmured. “Thanks for taking care of Windsong. I can always count on you to help me.”
Hitching one shoulder, “Sure,” he said and sipped from his cup.
Glancing at my watch, I made a quick calculation. “I don’t have to braid and get dressed until noon. Let’s go explore the attractions.” I cocked my head hopefully.
“What about your books? I thought you said you had work to do.” Cory fell into step beside me.
“I’ll do it later, or in the car on the ride home. I’m too excited to concentrate anyway.”
Another shrug. I took his warm hand, swinging it between us, smiling until he quirked his lips, too.
Chapter 15
Cory straightened my jacket collar, sliding his fingers down the lapels, smoothing out the wrinkles. He adjusted my helmet and leaned under the brim to give me a kiss on the tip of my nose.
“Good luck. Focus on the moment and enjoy your ride.”
“Thanks, coach.” I smiled rubbing on some tinted lip gloss. With a deep breath, I took the reins from Cory and led Windsong to the mounting block at the end of the barn. As I pulled down my stirrups and passed the reins over his head, Windsong nickered and jigged away from the steps. I slid off the block and tugged the reins to still him. That’s when I noticed the unusually large number of people milling about. I wondered what they were waiting for.
Cory stepped up to Windsong’s head as I heard Michelle’s voice. “Hi, Jane. Nice crowd you’ve got here.” An EMA baseball cap rested on her fluffy brown curls, and she wore sleek designer breeches with a stylish polo shirt also sporting the EMA logo.
“Good afternoon, Michelle. I don’t know what all these people are waiting for, but they’re making Windsong a nervous wreck.” As I spoke, Windsong swung his hind end away from me again. Cory went on his other side and pushed him back into position. I stepped aboard and lowered myself gracefully into the saddle before he could move again.
“You, Jane. They’re here to see you and Windsong.”
“What are you talking about?” I checked Windsong back as he did a little Fred Astaire dance step to the side, heading right for a woman holding the hand of a toddler. Cory put a hand on Windsong’s neck and slipped him a treat. I nodded, and we moved Windsong forward, hoping the crowd would back off.
I gritted my teeth in irritation, encouraging a jittery Windsong to walk through the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Michelle’s huge smile and wave for the crowd.
She turned to me and nodded. “Social media is amazing! I posted your ride time and when you planned on beginning your warm-up. These are your fans. They’ve come to watch.”
I looked back over my shoulder. They were following us, but Kate had arrived and was walking backward with her arms out, asking people to keep their distance. Windsong pranced and blasted air through his nose every few steps.
My fans? A slender little girl, about twelve or thirteen years old, who walked next to an adult caught my eye, and I automatically smiled. She grinned and tugged her mother’s arm. The woman also smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up. The girl reminded me of Mandy, and my mind darkened for a minute.
I faced forward, but I was seeing twelve-year-old Mandy, not the path in front of me. Mandy was sitting on the top rail of the fence with Shawn beside her, holding her steady. She used her fingers to push the corners of her mouth up, telling me to smile, just like her mother, Erica, had.
I missed them.
I swallowed the hollow ball clogging my throat and let my gaze fall on Cory’s cowboy hat as it bobbed along next to Windsong’s head. As if he felt my gaze, Cory turned, and his calm, confident blue eyes latched on to mine.
If he heard my thoughts, he would say, “Just you and Windsong. None of the rest matters.”
I stroked my nervous horse’s neck, sure that this time the rest did matter. EMA expected me to shine, to get noticed. They would be comparing my results with Erica’s, and I couldn’t disappoint them. I needed to do well to prove to my parents that this was a viable career option for me—and to make it worth being so deceptive. And somehow I needed to compete with Robert and his international horse.
No pressure, I thought, as I bounced on Windsong, doing my best to keep him from dancing into anyone on the path to the warm-up.
In the warm-up ring, there were more land mines than usual. We dodged left and right as people crowded the fence. Flapping arms and surging bodies startled Windsong, and he wouldn’t concentrate on my aids. I kept to the middle but didn’t make much progress toward relaxing him.
We made our way from the warm-up to the show ring with Cory right next to Windsong’s head again. When we stopped, I nodded, and C
ory listened to Windsong’s heart. “Fifty-eight.”
That was a bit high. The crowd was making him more nervous than usual. I could only hope that when we entered the show ring and got away from the people he would calm. I closed my eyes and leaned down over his neck. “Easy, boy. Just doing our thing. Such a good boy,” I crooned, wondering if my shaky voice was soothing in any way.
Robert passed us to enter the ring. “Good luck!” Kate called.
I groaned, not sure I wanted to watch him and discourage myself. Melinda jogged up and leaned on the fence next to Cory. “That horse is magnificent,” she breathed, sending me a wry look.
An older couple, the man in a three-piece suit and the woman wearing a floppy, fashionable hat, stopped next to Kate. “Do you know Robert?” the woman asked. “He’s riding our baby.” The pride in her voice was obvious.
“Your horse is beautiful. I trained with Robert when I was younger. I train Jane and Windsong now.” She patted Windsong’s neck. “They’re in next.”
The women’s eyes clouded. “In the same class?”
Kate nodded.
“Oh, well, good luck.” Her tone clearly implied that she thought I had no chance of beating her precious baby. She probably was right.
I couldn’t look away from Robert. His back was straight and shoulders square, but he still exuded suppleness and an elegance I hoped I would one day achieve. Their transitions between movements were so oily smooth I imagined that the horse’s hooves didn’t leave marks on the sand. Despite my trepidation in competing against him, I had to smile. That was the way this freestyle should be ridden, and we were all lucky enough to witness it.
The crowd enthusiastically roared and applauded as he donned his top hat and saluted the judge.
The phrase from grade school when we were square dancing in gym class, Bow to your partner, drifted through my mind as I rode a stiff, tense Windsong past Robert and into the arena. He inclined his head and I returned the nod.
