by Leigh Hutton
‘Thanks for inspiring me, Ebony,’ Jazz said, hugging her back hard. Her small shoulders were shaking and Ebony could feel tears on her cheeks.
‘You’re the one who’s helped me, Jazz.’ She held her close, then gave Odie a firm pat on the neck. ‘And you two were stars out there!’
The jumps were put up even more for the Young Riders. The course, which was again designed by renowned course builder, Sergio Andretti, was put to its full meter forty with massive spreads on the oxers, a spooky water jump and tricky distances between the combinations. Ebony and Johnny were drawn fifth for the first round, pair one for Canada.
It was the first time this season for Johnny in the huge international ring and the hype of the crowd and buzz of the atmosphere did as it always did for the big, flashy, proud-cut gelding; pumped him up and drove him to show off. But all the people, the flashing cameras, the elaborate jumps with their bright colours and props, were also distracting.
Ebony urged him into a canter and had to spur him on to get his mind on the task at hand. It didn’t help that she was shaky and sick with nerves, as she always was for her first major class of the season. She miscalculated the stride to the first fence; they got in tight and Johnny had to twist and launch himself to get airborne. He rapped it hard on the way down, and Ebony’s heart sank. Four faults at the first fence was not the way to kick off a show.
She gritted her teeth, and looked on to the Moet bottle oxer, giving Johnny a kick and wrestling him away from the outside rail where he’d spotted a bright orange hat the size of a child’s umbrella on a lady perched in an open VIP tent, which he must have mistaken for some kind of horse-eating goblin. He bounced over the oxer like a ping pong ball and came into the combination on a half stride, then spooked again at the water, baulking, his front feet planting hard into the sand. Ebony was thrown forward, like she might go for another swim, only this time not in the ocean.
She gathered him up, regained her seat, and kicked him hard, like she would have a stubborn pony jumper. By some miracle, she got Johnny airborne. His stride and jump was large enough to keep his toes from the water and away from any rails. They made it around clear, miraculously, but with all of Johnny’s bouncing and hesitating and her nervous checking, it was no surprise to her that they’d incurred one and a half time faults, their team finishing a lackluster seventh.
Ebony’s next class for the show was on Tootsie, in the $33,000 1.45m class. Ebony had feared it was too big for her mare, but Marcus had insisted, hoping that bumping her up would entice the horse to try harder and hopefully succeed at this new height, where there was also greater prize money.
Much to Ebony’s horror, Tootsie had the first massive vertical down and stopped out at the second fence. Poor Tootsie was wet with sweat, her eyes darting around the huge arena in terror, petrified that she would be expected to attempt more of the obstacles.
Ebony gave the mare her head, a few gentle pats, and rode her from the ring. Marcus was nowhere to be seen. Typical, Ebony thought, giving Tootsie another pat. Didn’t want to front up and have to admit he was wrong. Ebony assumed he was playing VIP, balancing girls on his knee and swilling from a bottle, as he’d been when she couldn’t find him before it was time to walk the course for the Young Rider.
She handed Tootsie to Winnie, giving her a few treats from the pocket of her white show breeches. ‘Thanks, Win,’ she said, accepting a bottle of water and heading back to the ring to watch the remaining riders.
As Ebony studied the rounds of the jump off, she couldn’t help but wish she’d been aboard a different mount.
Star Girl.
The horse was the spitting image of her brother, with only a finer jaw and face and a prettier, gentler eye giving her away as the feminine version. She was clearly uncomfortable under Luther, with his rigid seat and rough hands, but she still jumped beautifully, smashing the second-best time by a full second to take the win. She could go so much better, Ebony thought to herself, taking a swig of her water, jump so much higher … with me on her back.
Star Girl took her head after the finish line and walked herself from the ring, her ears forward, clearly not listening to or needing any instruction from Luther.
Wow, Ebony was liking this little mare more and more. She thought of Tootsie, with her slight, curved neck and cute little face, who’d sighed with relief when she was out of the big ring, happy as larry if she never had to set foot in another major class again, and a plan formulated in Ebony’s brain. If she could convince Tootsie’s owners, Sleek Chick Clothing, to sell to an amateur rider to do the smaller stuff (where she was more comfortable anyway) then maybe she could raise the funds needed to buy Star Girl? She was a mare that needed saving from Luther, a horse Ebony could forge a powerful partnership with to really go places. She knew that the sale of Tootsie wouldn’t come near enough to affording the well-bred Selle Francais, but she could at least try. She decided to try and set up a meeting with Elaine Proste, the company’s General Manager. The trick would be keeping it from Annika’s radar.
Monster unfortunately did not follow in his sister’s calm and controlled hoof prints and kicked off his show with a spinning fit in one of the minor sand rings and disqualification from the 1.20m class. Ebony had been hoping that all the walks she’d taken him on around the show grounds, his flatting in the warm-up rings and time grazing at lush patches of grass near their barn in the sun had helped the horse get accustomed to the loud, busy atmosphere of the show. But the second she rode him into the enclosed ring, and Monster sensed all of the faces watching him, and the bell went, his body tensed with nerves, but it wasn’t just from fear; a horse that was scared would want to bolt, flee from the fences and the ring. But not Monster. He still listened to Ebony, his ears flickering for her instructions and his eyes darting from one spooky thing to the next, as he let her guide him to the first fence. He grunted with the effort of getting his stiff body over it, and took off super long to get the second fence over and done with, rapping the top rail hard.
The height was no problem, he was scope-y enough to jump the moon, Ebony was sure. And he so wanted to be here. His heart was yearning to please her and to win. Ebony could sense the battle within his mind, heavens knew she’d had many of the same before, was still having them, probably. She’d done all she could to help his confidence, but she could sense Monster’s dark, horrible memories, of what could be lurking in the shadows, waiting to hurt him.
His shoulders were white with a lather of sweat and every noise was like a tick in the time bomb that was Monster’s first class.
Ebony couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it all got too much and Monster exploded at the second fence of the two-stride combination along the rail, stopping out at the gape-y, red oxer then rearing and spinning in terror. She patted his neck and let him leave the ring.
‘He’ll be better with the first round under his belt,’ Marcus said, reaching out from beside the exit gate to give Monster a quick pat on his shoulder. ‘He’ll come good.’
Ebony, wrestling to keep Monster from plunging off and flattening an immaculate flower bed, looked down at her trainer, who was walking with them back to the barn. She’d never heard sentiment creep into his tone before.
Marcus grinned up at her. ‘You’re doing a great job with him,’ he said. ‘He’s close to coming back to us. I can feel it.’
Ebony could have cried, from the pride that swelled within her chest. ‘Thanks, Marcus,’ she said, pulling hard on Monster’s head to keep him from running over a small child that had escaped his father’s grasp and dashed across the road. Monster tossed his head and came to a halt when he spotted the boy, his eyes flaring. He was back to a near trot as soon as the child was safely on the footpath and heading off towards the Ferris wheel.
Ebony laughed and looked back down at Marcus. ‘You think so?’ She wanted to burst with tears and laugh like a crazy woman all at the same time. Monster had been going so well at home, tearing around courses of 1.50m l
ike a fireball in the indoor arena, but they never had any spectators, except for Marcus. It was so different at a show, away from his home turf, where he’d grown to be comfortable. And feel safe.
She tried not to ask herself the question, it was too painful for her to even think … but had she made a mistake taking this horse on? She’d come to love him with everything she had and she knew she had to make it work — if he didn’t start winning prize money, there was no way she could keep him going. Marcus had made good on the training and stabling fees and most of his feed bills, but there were still so many other expenses from rugs and tack to vitamins and special supplements to entry fees, as well as the exorbitant stabling at away shows, like this one. Ebony was too proud to ask Marcus to pay for any more, he’d already done enough, and there was no way Annika was going to let Ebony keep a horse around that wasn’t winning, not even a dime.
‘He’s nearly there, Ebony,’ Marcus said, walking casually beside them. ‘I’ve gotta hand it to you! I never thought this horse would be back in the ring.’
He isn’t yet, Ebony thought, giving Monster a pat, but quickly collecting her reins as, sensing the opportunity, he reared and shot sideways.
Monster was still flinchey and spooked in his subsequent classes, but seemed increasingly determined to get the job done. He wanted to tear around at everything, to get the courses finished before someone, or something, could come and get him. But the rectangular rings were restricting and the courses too technical for his flat out style.
In their final class of the show, the day before the grand finale and $500,000 Grand Prix, Ebony managed to wrestle Monster around an entire course without any explosions. Fried, however, from his nerves and still way too hyped up, they had the last two fences down. Annika appeared in the barn afterwards, to point out that Monster’s best performance in a show that had cost her thousands for him to attend was eight faults and a 10th place ribbon.
Oh God, Ebony thought. Please get off your butt and help me save poor Monster!
She was on her way to the International ring to sit and listen to music, as she always did to get centred and pump herself up before a major class, when she ran into Abia in the barn. She hadn’t seen much of her as Abia had been flat out with all her horses, getting them sorted at her first major show of the year, but she made time for a quick chat with Ebony. Afterwards, Ebony headed to the ring and found a quiet spot at the top of the grand stand, looking out over the jumps, which were being set huge for the night’s grand finale.
She would normally listen to punk for such an occasion, but Abia had suggested something a little calmer, and pointed her in the direction of the soulful pop music of Birdy.
With a few taps of her finger, Ebony downloaded the UK singer’s debut album onto her phone. She flicked through the first few songs. It was the kind of music that she would have rolled her eyes at a year ago; quite mellow with soft, lilting sounds and emotion-charged lyrics. But she found herself enjoying it, and even relating to the particular songstress and her beautiful melodies. Damn, I am going soft, Ebony thought, as her body swayed with the warm breeze and the rhythm of People Help the People. Then she remembered that it had been three days since she’d messaged Dallas; she’d only found time for a few short, late night phone calls and the odd text to let him know how she was getting on.
I miss you.
She cringed at her choice of words, but hit Send anyway.
Throughout the Winter Equestrian Festival, Mantina had grown more and more greedy with her winning and by the fourth week of the show, against all advice from Marcus, had Poseidon entered in every major class. She even dropped Crown Jewel back to one class a week, to allow for her insane schedule with her new, rock-solid mount. But by the finale and the $500,000 Grand Prix, even the great Dutch Warmblood stallion had had enough.
The pair made it to fence five of nineteen; the solid, black and pale pink oxer with the huge Moet bottles set on either side, when Mantina brought him in much too close and with a collective gasp from the 9000-strong crowd, Poseidon tossed his head into the chilled night air, and with a whoosh of sand from his thundering hooves, refused, grunting with disgust at the position his pilot had put him in.
Mantina kicked him hard in the sides, repeatedly, like a spoilt little girl in a Thelwell cartoon, and jerked his head around. Ebony, who was watching with horror aboard Johnny on the huge screen to the side of the warm-up ring, could practically hear George Morris scolding the move from his soft chair in the VIP area; ‘stop kicking him, we do not kick our horses!’
Mantina managed to get Poseidon into a canter and pointed him at the fence, no longer in her full-perched position, but kicking with her legs and flapping her arms like a chicken.
Poseidon seemed to give in, taking his head and galloping to the fence. His protest had clearly been ignored. He was dull and flat for the first time Ebony could recall and needed riding for the rest of the round. He had two fences down, his first rails of the show, because even he was unable to clear the fences from such terrible spots.
Mantina didn’t wait to be out the gate and into the staging area before scowling, shaking her head and punching the air. Ebony burst out laughing, but stopped when she felt sadness for Poseidon. Horses who refused to perform for spoilt princesses like Mantina or foul riders like Luther were never met with anything nice. He deserved better.
Ebony, thankfully, had learned from a similar mistake the year previous and taken Marcus’s advice to keep Johnny’s schedule light and build him up, to peak for the Grand Prix. Last year, she’d had Johnny showing in most of the major classes, to build his experience, but come the finale he was tired and sloppy, and had two rails and a time fault as a result. Johnny was the only one displeased with this new plan, however, and would call out from his stall every time Monster or Tootsie was led out to compete. Where was his applause? Where was his chance to shine? This was exactly the response Marcus and Ebony were after; they needed him to be bursting to do his best in the biggest and most lucrative class of the show.
Johnny didn’t love the sport for the jumping and the competition, as Monster, and Ebony, did. He lived for the adulation of his fans; the little kids who came to visit him in his stall or to get their picture taken with him after a big win, the ones who clapped and cheered him on from the grandstands. Johnny loved the buzz of the show, and the recognition of his beauty and success. He was brilliant when he wanted to be and his arrogance got him out of places many other horses were not brave enough to jump out of. He was a pleasure to ride when his attention was on the task at hand and for the finale of the WEF, the colossal, challenging course had Johnny’s full attention.
The jumps were bright, colourful and flamboyant — just like Johnny. The fact the class was at night helped a lot, too, with the force of all the lights trained on the obstacles, leaving many of the distractions that had plagued him in his first round of the show hidden in the shadows.
It was show time.
Johnny powered around the first round, jumping his heart out and leaving every fence, even the wide water jump, untouched. He seemed to swell when the applause roared from the grandstands, even before he’d galloped, tail in the air, across the finish line. He still managed to prance about the ring, while gasping for breath after his incredible effort, relishing his performance.
Ebony knew he was in peak form for the jump off full of strength and speed and ready to win. She pushed harder than she would normally have on him, and found he enjoyed the chance to shine even brighter. He jumped huge across the second oxer, even from a sharp turn and angle from the vertical before …
The pair from Canada raced across the finish line in a good time with no rails or faults. Ebony screamed and punched the air with joy, cantering Johnny around in a circle at the end of the ring. It was incredible, the feeling of accomplishment. They hadn’t touched a fence and by the scoreboard she knew their time was fast, not fast enough to win, but they were still in the prize money. It would be the best result
she’d ever had with Johnny and the clear at a main qualifying show would move her one step closer to being selected to represent her country at the World Equestrian Games.
There were four more horses to go in the jump off. Ebony watched ringside, her hands over her face, heart pounding, sneaking looks through her fingers. Two riders beat her time.
‘Alessandro, you’re in first!’ The cute, feminine voice of the ring announcer chimed out over the staging area. A roar from the spectators at the rail and the team from Brazil cut across the ring. Alessandro de Bravo had taken the top prize, beating the world number one, Hans JÄger, and would lead the string of horses and riders to collect their prizes. The victory gallop was Johnny’s favourite part of show jumping.
‘Hans, you’re in second!’
Top German and number one in the world, Hans JÄger, was second aboard a new mount, an incredible eight-year-old Oldenburg stallion, Schönheit Z.
‘CeCe, in THIRD!’ A huge applause for the young black girl from Palm Beach, CeCe Williams.
Ebony clapped and whistled her congratulations. CeCe, who was waiting with her team just across from Ebony in the staging area, winked and smiled at her as she joined the line to enter the ring. Ebony had run into CeCe a few times over the course of the WEF and CeCe had made a point of saying hello, and introducing herself. They’d even sat and had lunch together once, swapping stories from the ring. CeCe had confessed she was heading to Spruce for the Summer Series for the first time this year. Ebony looked forward to seeing her again.
When the next name was called out, Ebony froze with shock, nearly sliding off of Johnny’s back.
‘Ebony, in fourth!’
She was the highest placing Canadian and second in North America, beating out several world-ranked riders.
Abia was the second-placed Canadian, in sixth. Marcus and Saudi Sahara had had a rare rail in the first round, coming 11th from the forty starters.