“A couple of Olympic hopefuls are in the class. I imagine that’s what everybody’s here to see.” She hands me a program and points to the section that lists the upcoming class. Then she holds out her hand. “I’m Tallie.” She has a faint European accent I can’t place. Definitely not British, but too fleeting to pinpoint. French, maybe?
“Lauren.” I’m relieved she only wants to swap first names, cursing for the millionth time my lack of foresight in not using a pen name on the books I write. Sometimes I love being recognized, but mostly I just want to be me, not Lauren Everhart the author. “Thanks for the seat.”
“Not a problem. I’m pleased to meet you, Lauren. Do you know somebody showing in the next class?”
“Yes. Jules—” I don’t know Jules’s last name. “Sorry. Friend of a friend. I don’t know her last name.”
“Ah. Jules Ransom. She’s a rising star on the circuit. I understand she’s Marsh Langston’s protégé.”
“You know Marsh?” I hadn’t realized I have a jealous streak, but this woman is an attractive brunette with hazel eyes. Older than I’d picture Marsh with, but judging by the women who’ve been popping up all day to purr in her ear, Marsh doesn’t discriminate on the basis of age. And Tallie has the commanding aura of a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it—just the thing I imagine would attract Marsh.
Tallie shrugs. “The equestrian world is rather small. At the upper level, you keep competing against the same people at different shows, so it’s hard not to at least be acquainted with almost everyone.” She makes a show of looking me over with an appreciative gaze. Oddly, it reminds me of Marsh’s. “But I don’t believe I’ve seen you around. I would have remembered.”
I wave a dismissive hand in front of me. “I’m just a spectator. My niece stayed with me this past summer while her parents were out of the country, and I enrolled her in one of Langston Farms’ pony camps. She loved it so much, I decided to take a few lessons myself.”
She nods knowingly. “It sort of sucks you in, doesn’t it? I think females are most attracted to it for a lot of reasons. There’s nothing like a thousand pounds of beautiful horse under your control to make you feel powerful.”
“Yes.” My answer is an afterthought because the first rider is being announced. Like a professional golf tournament, etiquette requires that all conversations pause so neither horse nor rider is distracted. Several of the jumps seem dangerously high, and I hold my breath as a young man navigates the course astride a dappled gray mare. He takes down two of the rails on the higher jumps, and the audience seems to let out a collective breath when he exits the ring.
“Still rushing the jumps,” Tallie observes. “He’s never going to be a top-tier rider. He tries to muscle his horse over the course.” She scoffed. “Men are so heavy-handed. They like to be in control but have no idea how to do it correctly.”
I don’t respond to her gross generalization of male equestrians. “You’re a rider, too?”
She shakes her head, her eyes still on the horse as the rider exits the rear of the arena. “Not for many years. I teach some but mostly breed, buy, and sell top-tier eventing horses.” Her eyes and jaw harden in a way that scares me a little. “The gray that just knocked down two poles is mine. Looks like I need to hire a different rider if I want to show her real potential and make a profit when I sell her.”
“Why don’t you still ride?” I catch myself. It’s so hard not to slip into interview mode to mine information for future novels. “You don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal. Occupational hazard. I ask too many questions.” Damn. I didn’t mean to bring up occupations.
She looks at me and, with a smile and tilt of her head, answers. “I was never a top rider. Too big to be a jockey and too short to really get a good leg on the larger breeds preferred for eventing. So, rather than be one of the chess pieces, I decided to be a chess master—someone who moves the pieces around the board.”
I open my mouth to respond, but another rider is announced, and we turn our attention to the ring where a young, slender blonde is mounted on a dark-gray roan with a black mane and tail. They are a gorgeous pair.
Even three rows back, I feel like we’re ringside. The smell of dust and hay fills my nose as the horse and rider circle so close to the rail near our seats, I have to resist the urge to lean back away from them.
The pair completes the course flawlessly, and we join the rest of the audience in politely clapping our approval when their time and score flash on an electronic board hung on the wall near where the riders enter and leave.
The rider pauses the dancing stallion at the arena’s entrance to speak to a tall woman carrying a child, probably about three years old, on her shoulders. The kid holds her fist out, and the rider leans down to bump it with hers. It’s cute.
“I thought so.” Tallie’s checking the program. “That’s Skyler Reese’s protégé, Jaime Maddox.” Tallie nods her approval. “I don’t know why I didn’t recognize it before. She definitely rides like Skyler.”
That’s the second time the name has come up, so I google her on my phone. “Skyler Parker-Reese?”
“Yes. I believe she married the Parker heiress, Jessica Black. That’s a sad story.”
Wikipedia has a long entry on Skyler. Gold-medal Olympian, rider turned trainer, and now co-owner of Cherokee Falls Equestrian Center with her wife, Jessica Black Parker-Reese.
“Sad? Them getting married?”
“No. Jessica was a brilliant rider and had the horse who would easily get her to the Olympics, but a bad knee injury ended her professional riding career.”
There’s got to be a good story in all that. I tuck the information away for further exploration, because the announcer is introducing Jules as the next contestant.
“Ah, Marsh’s girl,” Tallie says.
We quiet as the timer buzzes when Jules enters the ring. She’s riding a bay stallion with a black mane, tail, and leggings. He sports a thin white blaze from forehead to nose. Very flashy. They navigate the course of jumps with such casual ease they could have been on a Sunday joy ride. The stallion jumps big, clearing even the tallest obstacle by several inches. Their relaxed demeanor, however, is deceptive. They exit the ring almost two full seconds quicker than Jamie and her mount. While Jamie’s and Jules’s scores are identical, the faster time puts Jules in first place.
“A brilliant ride. She’s almost as good as Marsh.”
We chat and watch the rest of the field, only three more riders, before Tallie abruptly stands. “I need to go speak to someone before they leave about a new rider for my mare.” She holds out her hand again, but this time it contains a card. “Tallie Bouling” is printed on one side and a cell-phone number and email on the other. “Please don’t share this because it’s my personal information, not my business card. I’ve very much enjoyed our conversation. I’m also a fan of your books.”
My face heats, but I take the card and tuck it in my pocket. “Sorry. I always feel like a snob if I announce that before the other person brings it up. I don’t normally get recognized, a lot of time, even after I tell someone my name.”
“Totally understandable.” She glances at something behind me, then picks up her shoulder bag. “Call me and we’ll do lunch. I think we could become friends.”
I smile up at her. “I’ll do that.” And I mean it. Since I’m afraid to let Marsh know the subject of the manuscript I’m currently working, Tallie could be a great source. She might even have some inside information on what happened to Marsh.
“What did she want?”
I swing around from watching Tallie depart and face a scowling Jules. “Who?”
“That bitch who was sitting next to you. Was she asking questions about Marsh?”
I scrunch up my brow, quickly reviewing our conversation. “If you mean Tallie, she did mention that she knows you’re training with M
arsh, but that’s all.” I hold up my hand. “No, wait. She also said your ride was brilliant and that you’re almost as good as Marsh.” I expect that to reset Jules’s attitude toward my new friend, but she’s still frowning as she plops down in the seat Tallie vacated.
“Just be careful if you run into her again. She’s not a nice person and likes to use people.”
“She was perfectly nice to me, but I’m always careful. I’m not going to give away any of your or Marsh’s secrets.” I feign surprise, my finger on my lips. “Wait. I don’t know any secrets.” I grin cheekily at her. “So, no worries.”
Jules looks down and shakes her head, but I still see her smile. “Marsh said you’re a handful. I can see she isn’t exaggerating.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Now who’s talking about people?”
Jules chuckles and grabs my arm to pull me back down when I try to stand and leave. “Wait. Sit. You don’t want to miss this.”
I check my program. The show-jumping we just watched is the last class listed. I’m about to ask what she’s referring to when the arena announcer erases the questions in my head.
“Ladies and gents, don’t leave yet. We have an unscheduled treat for you to wrap up a very successful event today. I’d like to remind you that all proceeds from today will be used to provide equestrian opportunities for financially underprivileged children and underserved minorities. The Parker Foundation, one of our most respected nonprofits in the equestrian community, has offered to oversee the distribution of the money. I have Jessica Parker-Reese’s personal guarantee there will be no administrative charges. Every penny will go to the intended purpose. I’m reminding you of this because we’ll have two tables set up outside the arena where we encourage you to make an extra donation by emptying your wallet of any cash into their bucket, swipe your charge card, or write a check for a little something extra in exchange for this big something extra you’re about to see.”
While he talks, a handful of people run into the ring and begin raising the jumps to what I think are impossible heights. Rumors have been circulating all day that something was going to happen, but nobody seems to know what. This has to be it.
“Jules?”
“Just wait.”
We both whisper but still get shut-up looks from the people around us.
“Drumroll, please.” The lights dim with the announcer’s deep rumble, and then a video is projected from some place I can’t discern onto a white wall at one end of the arena. We see and hear a closeup of gloved hands rolling out an intro on a snare drum, and then the voice-over begins.
“Cherokee Falls Equestrian Center presents the duel of Olympians. Two former Olympians competing against each other in a best two-out-of-three contest on a five-star course. Introducing gold medalist Skyler Parker-Reese…”
Images flash of Skyler on the Olympic podium, jumping a tall, black horse in the Olympics and other prestigious five-star events, then Skyler as a trainer coaching rider Jessica Black, who is riding a big stallion named Rampage, and finally, a segment on Skyler’s work with the Young Equestrian Program targeting troubled children or ones living in troubled homes like she and her twin brother had. Wow. What an accomplished woman.
The drumroll shows again.
“And challenging Ms. Parker-Reese is former US Equestrian team member Marsh Langston, owner of Langston Farms, one of the sponsors of today’s show. Despite injury and personal circumstances twice preventing her from actually competing at the Olympics, Ms. Langston was a familiar face on the winner’s podium while competing with the team at many international five-star shows leading to the Olympics. Today she…”
I’m mesmerized by the scenes edited into the video of Marsh clearing impossibly high jumps, riding a cross-country course that looks very dangerous, and winning accolades in the dressage arena.
The lights come back up when the video concludes to reveal both riders mounted at one end of the arena.
The arena announcer takes over where the video stops. “Ms. Parker-Reese will be riding Rampage, owned by Kate Parker and Jessica Parker-Reese.”
The tall woman who’d been carrying the child around on her shoulders earlier is mounted on a huge bay that prances restlessly. They step forward as the announcer introduces them.
“This horse scored triple individual gold medals for the United States team in the last Olympics, his high scores enabling the US to take home a silver medal in team competition,” the announcer says.
Skyler gives the stallion rein, and they circle the ring in a ground-eating canter, drawing applause from the audience that now is standing room only.
The applause cuts off as Marsh guides her mount, a fiery chestnut stallion that seems to glimmer under the arena lights, into the spotlight.
“Our challenger is Marsh Langston of Langston Farms, riding Crescendo. Imported from Germany, this is his debut in the United States.”
Murmurs of exclamation accompany the applause as Marsh and Crescendo wheel in a showy circle, then take their turn around the arena. When they return to stand next to Skyler and Rampage, the older stallion pins his ears back and tries to take a nip out of the chestnut. Skyler tightens the reins to restrain him as the announcer injects a little fun into the show.
“Ho, ho. Looks like Rampage doesn’t like sharing the spotlight. How about his rider? Ms. Parker-Reese, anything to say before we start?”
A helper hands up a wireless microphone to Skyler.
“First, I want to thank everybody for coming out today and contributing to a very worthy program. Kate Parker and her horses saved me when I was a troubled teen, and my life’s mission is to pay that forward.”
A small voice rings out when Skyler pauses. “Hey, Mom!” Skyler waves at the kid, and the audience titters with amusement before Skyler continues.
“Anyway, my friend Marsh shows up today bragging about this new stallion she’s imported. She says he’s the best she’s ever jumped. Well, I couldn’t let that go unanswered. Rampage is still the top horse on this farm, even though he’s only lounging around the barn and servicing mares these days. So, I figured Rampage and I could knock the dust off and show these two youngsters a thing or two.”
“Ms. Langston, do you want to answer that? Is Skyler Reese talking trash?”
The audience hoots and cheers, then quickly quiets to hear Marsh’s reply.
“I bow to Ms. Parker-Reese’s long list of admirable accomplishments and undisputed skills. But maybe it’s time she should put the old man out to pasture and relax in her front-porch rocking chair while we youngsters break their records.”
The crowd, buying into the hype, hoot and cheer again, calling out the name of the horse they favor. Shouts of “Rampage” are met by shouts of “Shen-doe,” an apparent shortening of Crescendo.
I turn to Jules. “I think I like that. Shendoe.”
“It is kind of cool.” Her eyes are bright, never leaving the flame-colored stallion.
I find it amusing that this polite equestrian crowd has turned into a raucous mob. I could close my eyes and visualize a rock concert or two I attended in my younger years. Not that I’m old now, but old enough I don’t enjoy freezing my ass off in an outdoor amphitheater or stadium to hear someone sing.
The crowd quiets when Marsh exits the arena to give Skyler and Rampage room to settle before crossing the beam to trigger the timer. Only an occasional cough breaks the silence as Skyler turns her mount in a few small circles until he settles facing the gate to the ring. They hold stock-still for a long second, and then Rampage leaps forward.
It takes a few strides, but Skyler settles him into a rhythmic canter as they approach the first jump. Up and over. Up and over. It looks like he’s going to turn in a clean run, but his hind hoof grazes a pole on the highest jump. It wobbles and falls. The crowd groans as they break the timer beam and exit out to the connected warm-up ring.
Their score and time beat Skyler and Rampage’s first round.
They’ve barely exited when Rampage lopes into the arena for his second attempt. He appears more settled and gets down to business. Skyler guides him over the course with the precision of an exceptional equestrian.
“See her hands and legs talking to him?” Jules’s whispered question is more of an awe-filled observation. “She’s an amazing rider.”
This time, Rampage clears the highest jump by several inches. The audience’s polite applause is punctuated by restrained whispers of “he’s still got it” and “that’s what I’m talking about.”
I want to stand and clap and cheer. I have no idea how these people can hold it in. But they’re horse people and well-schooled about making sudden loud noises while the horses are performing. I wonder why the earlier cheering didn’t spook the stallions, but I stay quiet, too, because I’ve watched too many videos in the past weeks of mishaps that broke bones, necks, and even killed horses and riders. I shudder and push that thought out of my head.
Skyler’s second round is clean and her time better than either of theirs in the first round.
Marsh is back, gliding her shimmering mount fast and clean over the course and matching Skyler’s second-round score. That leaves Marsh with a small lead.
Rampage charges into the arena for his third try, sweaty and snorting. Skyler fights to rein him in, but the big stallion shakes his head and takes the first two jumps at a fast pace. He shakes his head again, and Skyler lets him have it. His bay hide is dark and gleaming as he practically gallops the rest of the course, clearing the jumps like they’re anthills and he has wings.
I grab my phone and type out my question to Google. “Jesus. Her time is only a second off that horse’s Olympic time.”
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