by Leigh Hutton
She searched for her sticky tape, and found it just inside one of her boxes, ripped off a few pieces, and stuck the sketch to the wall, opposite her bed.
Ebony was relieved that her walls were no longer bare, and that Monster could now be with her, always. All she needed now was a sketch of Dallas Cash, and her room would be complete.
‘Why can’t you tell me where we’re going?’ Ebony asked, glancing across at Dallas, who was lounging in the driver’s seat of her Mustang, one arm on top of the steering wheel. She didn’t mind letting him drive, occasionally. He was so sexy behind the wheel.
He grinned. ‘All you need to know is, I’ve found the best spot in the city,’ he said.
Ebony smiled and shook her head. She looked back at the street in front of them. It was late afternoon and warm with yellow, summertime sun. She’d met him at the rink following his practice, now, they were headed north.
Past Chinook Centre, towards the city centre.
When Dallas turned left on Windsor Heights Drive, Ebony knew for sure where they were headed: to visit Cecile’s grave. Her shoulders relaxed, and the build up of tension from the last few weeks melted away from her muscles. This was a good idea, she thought to herself, and reached out to hold Dallas’s hand.
When they passed the parking lot for the cemetery and hung left, into a residential street Ebony had never been on, she tensed with confusion.
‘Trust me,’ Dallas said, cracking his casual, confident smile.
She took a deep breath, and rested her hands on her thighs. What is he up to?
The street swept up the ridge line, climbing, past huge homes that gained in size with every minute they drove. Higher still, the Mustang purred. Dallas took a hard right, and the houses here were massive mansions, with iron gates and rock pillars to protect them from the commoners. There was a cul de sac at the end of the street, and when Dallas parked in front of the wooden rail, they faced a commanding, easterly view of the city.
‘Come on.’ Dallas slid his tall frame from the lowered car and waited outside, arms crossed. It was windy outside, blowing his white T-shirt against his toned torso. Ebony gazed at the city for a moment, before hopping out.
The cemetery was directly to their right, but behind a long hedge, which would explain why she’d never noticed these parking spots before. They were obviously intended for a lookout, but so well positioned for her to visit Cecile. The towering Oak tree stood just beyond the hedge, sheltering the grave sites from the civilisation on the opposite side of Windsor Heights.
Ebony grabbed Dallas by the hand, and carefully eased herself on to the hood of her car. ‘Nice spot,’ she said, smiling warmly.
‘I thought you’d like it.’ Dallas took his time joining her on the hood, keeping his weight of muscle from forming any dents in the metal. They laid back, hands tucked behind their heads, looking up at the wisps of cloud in the big, blue sky. Shadows from the wide-reaching limbs of the Oak tree danced across Dallas’s body. Ebony glanced at the graves of the cemetery, and could just make out Cecile’s stone angel, off to the right of the tree. The low sun drenched the angel’s face, bringing to life every detail; of eye, of lip, so calm and serene, her hands folded in front of her, wings resting at her back.
‘It’s perfect,’ Ebony said.
‘I’ve been coming here a bit lately,’ he said. ‘To think.’
This surprised her. She looked across at him, and the way his face had softened lost its edge of seriousness and tension instantly struck her. ‘Pretty morbid place to sit and ponder, isn’t it?’ she asked.
‘It puts everything in perspective, don’t you think?’
Ebony’s eyes were drawn to the stone angel, as she replayed what Dallas had just said …
Love.
The word formed in her mind, and she instantly understood. Cecile was loved, and she loved generously, as she imagined most of the people beneath the stone and marble headstones had; the flowers, some fake, many real and wilting, laid at their bases were a testament to that. These people had loved and died, they’d lived. Ebony was struck by an intense appreciation for Cecile, for the love and kindness she had shown her, for her companionship. She was thankful for her horses, for Monster and Johnny and for their sport, and she was thankful for Dallas. The loves of her life. Her reasons to live.
‘I suppose it does,’ she said, moving into him, nuzzling his shoulder. ‘Thank you for doing jump crew at Spruce.’
‘All those chicks in tight pants?’ Dallas grinned down at her. ‘It was the best decision of my life.’
‘Such a gentleman!’ She said it teasingly, but she knew it was true. ‘I love you, ya know.’
‘I know,’ Dallas said, wrapping his arm around her. The breeze brushed across her face, taking strands of her hair with it. Dallas fixed her hair behind her ear, then his hand — warm, rough from his games — swept down her neck. His fingers moved down her collarbone, across her chest, pushing down the seam of her JUMP GIRL polo shirt that she’d picked up at the Spruce Meadows Tack Shop. He hesitated just above her bra, and traced the jagged, white outline of her scar. ‘How’d you get this?’
Ebony took a deep breath, and when she closed her eyes, she could see Cecile’s angel, as clear as day. At that moment, it was as if her image made her way into Ebony’s mind, to be with her always, for help and support. Ebony smiled, and opened her eyes. ‘It happened when I was nine,’ she said, curling further into Dallas. ‘Just before I was transferred to the caretakers of Jenny Pedrosa’s barn.’
Dallas pressed his palm against her scar, giving it heat, security. She took a quick breath in, then released all of the air, until her whole body relaxed.
‘It was the worst of my foster families,’ she continued, ‘they were all unhappy, and mean. The parents were horrible, and that’s all their children learned. The eldest son was the worst. He hated anyone that got more attention and he hated me, especially, for being the new member of their family.’ She reached a hand for her scar, and rested it on top of Dallas’s. ‘We were down at an old steel yard one day, looking for scraps for his dad to use … ’ She shuddered at the memory of the big boy calling her a ‘stupid freak’, then swinging at her, and kicking her down she fell on a rusty piece of corrugated iron, slicing across her chest. She closed her eyes, and focused on the angel’s kind, loving face, still with her within her mind.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Dallas said. He pursed his lips and his body tightened. ‘I can just imagine.’
‘Made me stronger, I guess,’ Ebony said, opening her eyes. She saw stars for a moment, while she adjusted to the light. ‘It got me out of there, and into Jenny’s barn, and it all made me appreciate how good Cecile was to me.’
Dallas shook his head, and hugged her close. ‘You didn’t deserve any of that.’
‘Life isn’t fair, and I think we just need to accept that.’
‘Any luck finding the real Will?’
‘I’ve looked everywhere I could think of,’ Ebony said. ‘But I’m gonna keep trying.’
‘You are incredible, you know that?’
‘There are a lot of kids like me, Dallas. You’re one of the lucky ones. Have you spoken to your mom?’
‘Yeah,’ Dallas said, casually. ‘She’d like to meet you.’
‘Really?’ Ebony kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘And I love you.’ He propped himself up on his elbow, to look her in the face, then kissed her on the lips, again and again.
‘I’ll love you forever,’ Ebony whispered. The image of the angel was still there, in the darkness, when she closed her eyes.
Ebony dropped Dallas back at his truck and kissed him goodbye, he was off to meet some of his teammates at a sports bar on the south side to watch a big football game. He invited her along, but she had an early morning at the barn, as she and Abia were schooling in the jumper field first thing to prepare for the Rocky Mountain Classic on the weekend.
It was pitch black and the mo
on was full, casting its silver reflection across the neighbourhood, when Ebony pulled up in front of Annika’s house. She would have forgotten her phone in the cup holder, if it hadn’t rung just as she was swinging her door shut. She didn’t recognise the number. She slid back into her seat, holding her vibrating phone in her hand, debating whether or not to answer the call. Is it even a Canadian number?
On impulse, she slid her finger across the screen. If this was a telemarketer, she would promptly hang up.
‘Ebony?’ A man’s voice. ‘You there?’
‘Who is this?’
‘Dayton Channelle. Chef d’Equipe of the Canadian Show Jumping Team.’ Ebony gasped, and nearly dropped her phone. ‘Ebony? I’m short on time, love.’
‘Sorry, Mr. Channelle — I’m here!’
‘Have you heard about Marcus and Winter?’ he asked.
‘No …’
‘Geez, girl, have you been hiding under a rock?’
‘No, sir. I’ve been riding—’
‘Well, I’m glad for that,’ he cleared his throat, before continuing, ‘all of Winter’s horses are suspected to have contracted equine influenza — her barn has been quarantined and most of her horses have fallen ill. All it took was one client bringing in a horse that wasn’t vaccinated and now even the ones who have been vaccinated are showing symptoms, which means no go for them. I told her parents to send Winter to Hickstead with Trey and the others, but the silly girl insisted she stay for her university. I just can’t believe this, her mother is simply irate.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Oh, it gets better. Then I find out this morning that goddamn Marcus has gotten himself arrested. He’s been detained by Scotland Yard and we don’t know if he’ll make it out of custody in time for the World’s.’
‘Oh, my God!’
‘You can say that again! My biggest event in my career as Chef d’Equipe is just a few weeks away and my two best riders are out. I still can’t believe that I’ve found myself in this situation.’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘You shouldn’t be. You’re going to Normandy, as our travelling reserve, but at this rate, I’ll probably have to call on you. Fancy taking a crack at becoming the best in the world?’
Ebony was shaking as she hung up the phone. She gripped the steering wheel of her Mustang to steady her hands, wringing the cool leather and watching her knuckles go white. Normandy … The World’s. She replayed her conversation with Mr. Channelle over and over in her mind until she was sure it had all been a dream. When her phone rang again, she gasped, her hand shooting for her phone, off the dashboard. It took three tries for her to answer.
‘Hello, teammate!’ It was Abia. Ebony opened her mouth to say thanks, but expelled just a squeak of air. ‘Get your butt over to my place, girl,’ Abia said. She rented a small, timber cottage off Marcus, just down the road from his barn. ‘Bring a bag so you can stay. Did Dayton tell you that we leave in three days?’
‘You’re kidding me?!’
‘’Fraid not, my young friend, and we’ve got an awful lot to cover before releasing you and Monster into the world.’
Ebony dashed to her room, and chucked all of her clothes, shoes, clean riding gear and her sketchpad — which she’d accidentally left open on her bed — into her purple leather suitcase, the one Cecile had bought her for their trip to Argentina.
She picked Winnie up from Marcus’s on the way. Winnie screamed with excitement when she saw her, jumping up and down and grabbing her for a hug. Apparently, Annika had rung Winnie from Rome — she’d heard the news and was shouting Winnie an airfare, so she could attend. ‘She tell me to get hair cut and buy new clothes, too,’ Winnie explained on the car ride to Abia’s.
Ebony laughed and slapped Winnie on the thigh. ‘I suppose she’ll have me bleach my hair and wear blue contacts, so her friends see us both as suitable reflections of Her Heinous!’
‘You look good blonde, Señorita Ebony.’
‘About as much as you would, Win!’
The pair were in hysterics as they piled out of the Mustang and made their way inside. Abia was waiting in the kitchen with a sparkling apple wine to celebrate, and a photo album from her first World Equestrian Games. She did go quiet, though, when Winnie started filling them in on all the rumours of why Marcus had been arrested, with theories swirling the barn from drug smuggling to links to a terrorist organisation — all of which were ridiculous, the girls were sure. Ebony assured Abia that there must be a reasonable explanation, and that he’d surely be released soon, but the truth was, she had no idea what had happened or when Marcus was going to be home. She was confused and angry with him for letting her down, but incredibly grateful for Abia’s presence and too excited to dwell on him.
The girls were inseparable and slept only about four hours a night as they readied Monster and Ebony for the plane and the ten hour flight to France. Jasmine joined in when she wasn’t at school, or riding Odie, and even made Ebony a beautiful black beaded bracelet and Monster a matching brow band, to wear for luck.
Ebony called in to give her notice for leave at work, and boss, Cindy, insisted she come in for one last shift, the following afternoon. Ebony arrived right on time at four pm, to find all of the staff waiting out front, with customers and a TV camera crew and photographers gathered round and clapping on her arrival.
Cindy presented her with a cheque for $5000; an official sponsorship, to help towards her overseas efforts and so she could buy Monster new boots, bonnets, bridle and new white breeches and show shirts for herself, to wear at the World’s. They even gave her a gorgeous new riding jacket — a top of the line, red Grand Prix, with the finest silk lining that Cindy said the girls at the Spruce Meadows Tack Shop had ordered in especially for her. Tim Horton’s was embroidered on the top of the right pocket in gold stitch, and on the side of Monster’s new black rug, which they also presented to her. There was the perfect space for the Canadian flag patch to be fastened by her Chef d’Equipe, on the opposite arm of her jacket.
Dallas was there, too, and was waved over by the camera crew for their first interview. Ebony blew him a kiss, and blushed wildly when he winked and nodded back.
She slipped on her jacket, and draped the rug over her arm, to have her photo taken with Cindy by a photographer from the Calgary Chronicle. She couldn’t have been more proud for her and for Monster to sport their new items at their first ever World’s; the very first sponsor she’d secured herself.
The horses of the Canadian Show Jumping Team were scheduled to leave the Calgary International Airport at 11pm that Saturday night. All of the horses from the west, including Monster, Samurai, Luther’s Lutweig, and Natasha’s Anna, would leave from Calgary, with Trey Taylor and De Ja Vu to meet them in France.
Monster was frantic, tossing his head and pawing at the ground, when Ebony and Abia unloaded him from the Poplar Ridge Farms trailer on the tarmac, next to a sprawling 747-8 aircraft. It was loud and hectic at the airport; planes came and went in the darkness — their lights flashing red, orange and yellow — a huge loader that would be lifting the containers into the plane ran loudly to their left, Walkie Talkies fitted to the persons of air traffic controllers and representatives from the freight company beeped and squawked crackly orders from beyond.
Ebony coaxed Monster with a carrot to get him into the shipping container that he would be sharing with Samurai and Lutweig. Thankfully, she’d managed to persuade Mr. Channelle to allow her and Abia to arrive fifteen minutes early, to ensure Monster was loaded and settled before Luther could arrive. There were three horses to a container, and Nana Giebler had insisted that she have one all to herself. She was paying for Lucky Irish to go as a back up horse and, as he and Anna were best of friends, didn’t want any other horses in ‘her container’ disrupting the pair’s blissful harmony.
Monster, on the other hand, wasn’t much settled by the company of other horses; quite the opposite. But he did seem to be tolerating Samurai’s presence, m
uch to Ebony’s pleasure she would love it if Monster made a friend. He only let out one kick at the wall when Samurai whinnied for more hay. When Luther marched up into the cramped container, however, yelling at the vet —who was with Nana and her horses in the other — Monster promptly lost it.
‘Back off, Luther!’ Ebony said, pushing past him in the shoulder-wide corridor in front of the stalls. Luther lingered in front of a horrified Monster, and rested his arm on the stall door. The poor horse pushed his hind end hard up against the back wall and was shaking, his eyes rolling and head held so high his nose was nearly touching the ceiling.
‘Certainly had to scrape the bottom of the barrel this time,’ Luther said, eyeing Monster with disgust.
‘You only say that,’ Ebony spat, ‘because you failed with him.’ She wanted to claw the evil right out of this slimy man’s eyes.
Luther threw back his head and laughed. Then he stepped away from the stall door, and wiped his hands on his long leather coat, as if he’d been touching manure.
‘Keep away from us,’ Ebony said, moving in front of Monster’s stall.
Luther chuckled and shook his head. Then he turned on his heel, yelled again for the vet, and stepped down from the container.
Ebony’s hands were shaking as she watched the man leave. Her stomach, already reeling with nerves for Monster’s long journey, now ached like she hadn’t eaten in a week. What was it with people like Luther? Why did they have to be so … mean? She was contemplating how she was going to survive the biggest event of her life being on the same team as the most horrible person she’d ever met when Monster’s deep breathing pulled her attention back to him.
‘Hey, it’s okay buddy,’ she said, pulling the latch on his door and moving carefully into the tight stall.
Monster’s neck was wet with sweat, his rug pulling at his neck and slipping to the side. He was pawing hard at the rubber-matted floor, trying to escape. ‘Whoa — Monster?’ Ebony had to jump back to avoid a hoof to the thigh.