by Leigh Hutton
She grinned and suddenly the ball of nerves in her gut seemed to unravel and her limbs were free, for the first time since the plane had touched down in Paris.
If Monster could be brave, Ebony decided, then so could she. This course ain’t got nothing on us!
The gate opened, and Monster broke into a trot, into the ring, like a star player to the pitch. He went just as well and smooth as he had at the National, only this time, they were more controlled, and Ebony was able to set him up better for each fence, taking their time to find a calmer rhythm and not risk injury with long distances or rushed tight spots. She only miscalculated once, into the second combination; seeing it tight but at this new, surprising pace, coming in a little under-powered and rapping the second rail of the middle oxer, after which, Monster jumped the remaining fences so high to avoid the rails, that Ebony was nearly thrown out of her tack. It was a true pleasure, finding this gear so near to perfection, with a once troubled horse, who was starting to understand his direction in life and overcome his fears. She didn’t feel afraid of the fences, not even at this colossal size, when galloping up to them on Monster.
Ebony was in heaven, and clicked her tongue as she let him gallop across the beam — praying Cecile had seen this round.
‘And a beautiful opening round for the young Ebony Scott Harris, of Canada, and her horse, Monster!’ the British, female announcer said as Ebony cantered Monster in a circle, to slow him from his reward across the line. ‘Just the one rail at fence B of the Gucci Combination, and just within the time allowed, should put the pair in a good position for the individual competition, starting after the team’s event on Friday evening.’
The crowd erupted with applause. A tear of relief and pride slid down Ebony’s cheek as she watched the Canadian flag, waving in more than a few spots in the bleachers.
‘Canada’s captain is up next …’ the announcer said. ‘This is Luther Hammerstein, and Lutweig.’
Ebony hardly noticed when the announcer welcomed Luther into the ring. She and Monster walked out casually, Monster taking his head and puffing from the big course, Ebony slapping his neck and grinning at him and then the crowd. Abia, Winnie, Clancy, Mr. Channelle and Abia’s two grooms formed a pack around them as they exited the ring and moved with them to the warm-up ring and the staging area. Ebony hopped down from Monster and went straight to his head, to kiss his face and tell him what a brilliant boy he was.
‘Oh, my GOD!’ a woman screamed from beside them.
Ebony’s band of admirers moved to the flat screen, off to the side of the staging area.
She had to squint to make out the image on the TV, but she was sure from the bright yellow rails that it was fence eleven — C element of the third combination — blown apart. A chestnut was wreathing on the ground, screaming out in pain.
She led Monster over, and Winnie let them in to the pack, so she could see what was happening.
The rider was trapped beneath the horse, beating its neck with his fist, the shiny toe of his boot sticking up and out at a most disturbing angle. The patch on the rider’s jacket became clear; a Canadian flag.
‘And now our captain has broken his leg,’ Mr. Channelle said, turning from the screen. His square face drained of colour, and his mitt of a hand clutched his forehead. ‘Ebony, you’re in.’
Abia and Samurai went brilliantly, going clear and quick in the opening round of the team competition on Tuesday and in the second round the following day at 1pm. People were starting to say that she just might pull it off; be the second Canadian ever to win the gold medal in the individuals, and the second ever woman. A female hadn’t been crowned the world champion since Canadian, Gail Greenough, did it on Mr. T in Aachen in 1987.
Nana Giebler and Anna crashed through the water jump and the wall, incurring thirteen total faults, including one for time. Trey Taylor and De Ja Vu had a refusal at the second fence and two rails in the first combination. The course was brutal.
Ebony started out shaky, after witnessing the carnage of Luther’s crash and hearing the news that he’d indeed fractured both major bones in his leg. They’d also been forced to put Lutweig down.
But Monster was either not savvy to the news or was unaffected, and charged around the towering jumps like a warhorse into battle. They made it to the second combination clean, but a miscommunication — Monster lunging when Ebony wanted to fit another stride — sent the top rail of the ‘A’ vertical crashing to the ground. Monster took two ginormous, leaping strides to get to the B element, and an almighty jump to clear the final oxer. A rail and a time fault wasn’t half bad for their first WEG attempt, and five faults were few enough to keep her team on the podium, behind the mighty Germans and the French.
Ebony was sure she’d never been so proud as she and Monster lined up with their team to accept the Bronze medals for their efforts in the team competition of the French World Equestrian Games.
She spent the rest of Thursday going over footage from the first three rounds and studying the course for the individual jumping, to be held on Friday evening. Abia had received a call from Marcus, who was apparently back home in Canada, congratulating them on their efforts and warning them about the course for the individuals — a last minute change would see notorious designer, Kaven Costas, from South America, step in for this phase, and there was no doubt it would be brutal. Abia said she hadn’t asked Marcus about his arrest, and Ebony wasn’t game to push the issue.
There are times in sport when everything goes your way, when your stars align and you’re in your groove, when you step onto the stage, and know that you’re going to dance that flawless routine; when you connect the ball with the sweet spot of the bat, pitch after pitch, hitting consecutive home runs; when you and your team are playing so fluidly and gelling so well, it’s as if you are one. It’s days like this that drive a sportsperson. You might be the underdog, the rookie, or even the reigning champ. But it’s that day of victory, the day of achievement, the day you win and become the very best at what you do, and all you can wonder is when will I get the chance to do it again?
Few things can beat it.
Ebony had only felt this way a few times before, when she’d cantered Gallant around the derby course at Spruce or in the Grand Prix in Argentina. They were such an incredible team, that Ebony had known each time she rode Gallant into the ring, that the only way they wouldn’t win was if she made a mistake. Gallant was so solid, and would look after her. She had no fear.
Riding Monster in Florida, unfortunately, there had been fear of his nerves. These were early days — he was still finding his feet and fighting his demons. Ebony then became his protector, and enjoyed taking a more mature role in the partnership, which she reaped the benefits from when they got to Spruce and Monster excelled in the Summer Series. But at no time in her journey with this explosive horse, not from the moment she found him — near dead and starving in the padded stall at Marcus’s — to the day Monster braved the rain to take their first win at the ‘June Monsoon’, not in a single moment did Ebony ever expect to feel as solid on Monster as she had on Gallant. She loved Monster with all of her heart and she knew he was exceptional, but he just wasn’t solid. He hadn’t been the type, and neither had she.
Could this little horse and his angry girl prove everyone wrong?
The brutal course took many prisoners, including Abia and Samurai, who had the first two fences down, and Nana and Anna, when Natasha lost her glasses after the first combination, forcing them to retire, then Trey was nearly knocked unconscious by one of his horse’s shoes when De Ja Vu threw it and it flung up into the air and smacked him on the helmet. Much to the horror, then the ecstasy of the crowd, Andre Dufour had to finish the course clinging to his reins and holding his horse’s bit in his mouth after his bridle broke. Nearly as loud a cheer was heard for Australia’s top female rider, a stunning blonde who was a regular on the European circuit, who rode a brilliant round on her gleaming chestnut, Outback Rosie, only to miss out on the
final four by one time fault.
Monster remained tow-ey and hard to handle throughout his warm-ups. He only seemed to settle when he got into the stadium, in front of his crowd and near to his obstacles. With the force of the lights shining down on them and a crowd lovingly cheering his name, Monster chose to have his day. They’d found their perfect rhythm and he decided that they would win.
Ebony missed a stride after forgetting, for a split second, which way she was turning after the fourth fence. She was just too stunned by the transformed horse beneath her — it was taking her a few moments to catch up. But it didn’t matter. He rocked back onto his heels and leapt into the air like the vertical before them was an eight-foot puissance wall.
All she had to do was steer and keep their pace. Like she was aboard Poseidon, or Gallant. There was no way Monster was touching any of the towering, 1.60-metre fences. Against all the odds and expectations, not tonight. This was their night. They were on. And they made it into the final four.
★
Marcus Frank and his grooms huddled around the huge flat screen TV in the lounge, to watch the live coverage of the WEG final. A new, svelte auburn-haired groom touched his thigh as he got up to pace the room. He didn’t bother to smile, and raised a hand to his mouth. He’d started biting his nails while he was in prison and on the entire flight home. Now, there wasn’t much left to chew.
He cursed his lawyer and his mother for sending him home like a naughty schoolboy; wasn’t his bloody fault that Trip had left his baggie of powder in Marcus’s suitcase after the wrap party of Hickstead. Although, he supposed he did need to take some of the blame for the ‘absurd’ number of outstanding fines he had accumulated in Great Britain. He never thought speeding and parking tickets would catch up with him, or how annoyed the judge would be by his ‘lack of remorse and respect for this great country and its laws’. He needed to be there, helping the girls. The coverage had just shown Ebony in the collecting ring, and she looked stunning — she’d taken all of the metal out of her face and was hardly wearing make-up. Her expression was set, as serious and determined as little Monster, who’d been standing at her side, looking down towards the stadium. Marcus couldn’t believe they’d made it so far. He should be there.
Marcus paused from his brooding, behind a white leather lounge overflowing with girl grooms, to listen to the presenters, who’d just appeared on screen. ‘In the ultimate test of horsemanship,’ the stern-faced blonde woman said from behind a desk high up in the stadium. ‘The final four competitors will ride each of the four horses over the course to decide the individual medals, and the title of World Champion.’
The top-four in the world rode into the ring, to an eruption from the crowd.
Monster and Ebony were a foot shorter than the others: the very best and most accomplished riders in the world.
‘She looks hot,’ one busty groom said.
Marcus’s eyes were glued to Ebony, who was sitting tall and proud aboard Monster, her black hair tucked neatly into her helmet, pink lips set in a curvaceous line, green eyes flashing, studying the course. She wasn’t Agony anymore.
‘Yeah …’ Marcus said. He was incredibly proud of Ebony at that moment, and also very scared. He turned to the groom and growled, ‘she might look gorgeous,’ he said. ‘But that’s not why she’s there is it?’
★
Ebony had removed her lightening bolt earring before her warm-up and tucked it safely into the inner pocket of her jacket.
She raised a gloved hand to it now, resting her palm against her chest, as if she was holding her hand to her heart. She sat at the end of the row of four riders, facing the lights, the 20,000-strong crowd, the flashing cameras, the chanting fans.
A strand of stubborn hair escaped her hair net, tickling her cheek. She held the reins in one hand, tucking it back in, willing her hands to stop shaking. She’d been sick in the bathrooms before mounting up. This was the big time; the toughest show jumping challenge on the planet.
Ebony and Monster were up first, as they’d finished fourth in the opening rounds. The course was smaller and shorter than they’d been jumping, and Monster was firing. The crowd let out a mighty cheer to welcome the pair; they’d become one of the favourites of the show.
The bell went, and a calm transcended Ebony’s mind, and she was able to focus, clearly, on the task at hand.
Into a trot, then a canter, and she swung Monster around once, before cantering down to the first fence. The crowd fell silent, and the swoosh of wind past her helmet and the thundering of Monster’s hooves eating up the perfect grass beat a tune with her pounding heart.
Three … Two … One. Ebony saw the stride, and counted down within her mind. Monster yanked for his head, and a stride and a half out, she gave it to him — half, one, take off! There was nothing like the thrill of launching into the air over a fence taller than your horse’s ears. She moved with him in the air, lifting her butt from the saddle, her hands and chin up near his forelock, eyes already locking on the fence two planks.
The rush of landing, and she was back in the seat, checking him to set them up; there was no rush. The freedom and happiness pumped through her veins, and she could see the course, the strides, the angles and lines all without thinking; locked in her mind, calling her and Monster and promising a perfect round.
A huge leap across the water, then sweeping turn to the castle-like oxer of the Mont Saint Michel. The sweet smell of sweat and anticipation; her sport, her passion.
Monster jumped huge and powered through the combination, to a roar of the crowd. On rhythm, they rocked around the stadium. She kicked him on and gave him his head before the final vertical — having so much fun.
He rocked back on his haunches and launched without fear, without question, soaring over the towering fence like a wild brumby on the run.
Ebony was crying before they crossed the finish line, and she punched the air to the ecstasy of the crowd. It was the best round she’d ever ridden, and on the world stage, her ultimate achievement. The huge crowd was cheering and chanting their names long after they trotted from the ring. It was a sound Ebony knew she would remember, always.
Next up was Hans JÄger and the incredible Oldenburg stallion, Schönheit Z. He was a young horse for the show, at ten years of age, and had only been with Hans for the season, but already the towering, star-faced Chestnut had established himself as one of the best, and he knew it. He was going to be one of the toughest to ride, Ebony thought to herself, as she watched the huge, powerful horse take charge from the leggy, experienced, German and world number one rider. She’d discussed this horse at length with Abia, and determined that extra leg and a bit of spur might be required, as he could be sticky off the ground, if he was uncomfortable with the spot he’d been put in. He’d grown arrogant, in his success with Hans, and would need a stern ride. Abia said that the best way to ride such a horse was to make him think it was his idea to do things her way.
The crowd, with the exception of the dense group of German supporters, were more reserved with their applause for the pair’s clear round.
Third to go was the Saudi Arabian, Hakim Al Shammari, and the stunning thirteen year old, white Warmblood stallion, Taja, purchased as a rising five-year-old from Hans’s stable and breeding facility in Hamburg. Ebony could not wait to ride this one; watching him was like living out a fantasy from her childhood. It was as if the light in the stadium went soft and birds began to chirp, when Taja bounded about the ring, his long, white mane and tail blowing and glistening. He was tranquil, like no show jumper she’d ever seen. Calm, patient, with such incredible movement, it was like his hooves never touched the ground. His jump was glorious, huge, effortless. Hakim always had a wide smile on his handsome face. The pair were a joy to watch.
And another clear round. The competition was going to be tough, impossible, to beat.
French and European number one, Andre Dufour, rode his own, Paris, last, as the pair had finished first in the opening rounds,
even despite the mishap with his bridle. It was as if the entire stadium froze when the black haired beauties saluted the ringmaster and dignitaries, broke into a canter and circled at the end of the ring before the bell went and Andre steered the sleek Selle Francais towards the first vertical. The hope and anticipation was as thick as butter in the huge stadium, as if the entire nation of France was there with Andre, on the back of Paris, helping them to take the win for their country.
Andre and Paris rounded it out with a fourth clear round. The sound from the crowd was as loud as a thousand fireworks erupting in to a clear night sky. Then silence, as every Frenchman and woman held their breath, hoping that their hero would be able to replicate his round on the other three horses.
The riders only had three minutes to school each horse before having to jump them around the 1.55-meter course. She’d never done anything of the sort before, and she expected it to be quite terrifying. She longed to be as calm and cool about it as the other riders seemed to be.
Hakim was the first rider to ride a different horse: Monster.
Ebony stood at the side of the ring with Winnie and Abia, watching as Hakim was legged up by his groom on to her horse. She fought an urge to run over to him, to let Hakim know some of Monster’s idiosyncrasies, like how he hated the warm-up and would likely pull his arms out of his sockets until he was in the ring, but she didn’t. Hakim was natural, gentle, and Monster seemed to like him. His ears were pinned back and she could see by the whites of his eyes that he had them on this strange man who was now on his back. But he didn’t bite at him, and when Hakim reached forward, and ran a hand down Monster’s ear, around his eye and down his neck, his ears flopped to the side, and then pricked forward. His body relaxed, and Hakim happily trotted him over to the purpose-built enclosure to pop over a few fences. All very civilised. Nothing like the first time Ebony rode monster and he bucked her into the boards of Marcus’s indoor arena. Her body shuddered with emotion and she had to lean back against the boards of the pitch. Tears welled in her eyes. Winnie put her arm around her.