The Prize

by Stacy Gregg

  “Good boy!” Tara said giving the big bay a slappy pat on his glossy neck.

  “As you can see, the key is to let them look but keep them moving forward. Right! Mr Fraser, I think we’ll have you over it next. No jogging, no trotting and absolutely no cantering. And on no account do we ever turn them away or let them refuse!”

  One by one, the riders took their turns walking over the ditch. When the time came for Caspian’s turn he seemed quite spooked by the jump, giving guttural snorts that sounded like a steam train being channelled through his nostrils.

  “Don’t turn him away, Alice!” Tara was firm. “Back him up three strides and then push him forward again!”

  Alice did as she was told, and with much dramatic snorting and fretting Caspian took three steps and popped over the ditch.

  “Excellent! Make a fuss of him!” Tara called out.

  The water jump was next. The horses had to step off a ledge less than half a metre high and into the pond below. Again, the novice Caspian snorted and fussed on the water’s edge. “Keep him moving forward, that’s it!” Tara encouraged as Alice urged the horse with a brisk bounce of her heels against his sides.

  Surprisingly, some of the other riders with more experienced horses also had trouble at the water. When Cameron and Paddy stopped dead on the edge of the pond and the big piebald dithered on the bank Tara wasn’t very impressed

  “Come on, Mr Fraser!” she commanded. “If you can’t get your horse to walk through this little puddle then how on earth do you expect it to leap into the lake at the Burghley Horse Trials?”

  The last fence the horses had to tackle was a downhill staircase, a series of three low steps cut into a bank, each with a stride between them. Tara encouraged the riders to walk their horses down the tiers on a loose rein. When Matt Garrett’s horse, a handsome dun called Tigerland, managed to lose his footing and trip down a step, Tara praised Matt for staying still in the saddle and letting the horse find his feet again.

  “That’s right!” Tara said, “Give him a pat. Making mistakes like that is natural – that’s how they learn.”

  Georgie had thought that walking Belle over obstacles would be a bit dull, but this was a trust-building exercise and the mare seemed to blossom as she tackled the jumps with Georgie’s gentle support. Belle took it all in her stride, negotiating the ditch with a graceful leap. The mare splashed about happily in the water jump, pawing at the water so keenly that Georgie worried for a moment that she might actually try to drop down to her knees and roll for the sheer fun of it. At the staircase, the riders had only had one chance to tackle the jump when Tara called it a day.

  “We’ll have to leave it at that I’m afraid,” Tara told the class. “There’s an assembly for first-year pupils this afternoon. Can you all take your horses back to the stables and then meet me at the indoor arena in fifteen minutes, please?”

  “What’s this about?” Daisy demanded as the girls headed for the indoor arena. “We’re missing a whole hour of class.”

  “I don’t get why we’re going to the indoor arena,” Emily said. “If it’s school notices or something Tara could have just told us out on the cross-country course.”

  As they entered the arena the girls noticed other first years also arriving. Georgie spotted dressage riders Mitty Janssen and Isabel Weiss already seated with their classmates in the tiered seats facing the sawdust arena.

  “The Westerns are here too,” Alice noted as she spied Tyler McGuane and Bunny Redpath making their way up the stairs to sit with Jenner Philips and Blair Danner.

  The eventers were nearly the last ones in so they sat in the front two rows. Georgie, Alice, Daisy and Emily crammed into the end seats of the second row right behind Alex and Cam.

  Cam was looking worried. “What if they’re going to spring a test on us?” he fretted. “I haven’t studied!”

  Alice sighed. “It’s our first day back, Cam. None of us have studied.”

  The last students to arrive were Kennedy and Arden. They made a pointed display of sitting as far away as possible from Georgie and the Badminton girls.

  Suddenly the overhead lights in the rig above the arena popped and crackled into life, casting a white glare over the sand. Voices could be heard in the wings of the main entrance and a moment later Tara Kelly strode in accompanied by three other members of the Blainford teaching staff – dressage teacher Bettina Schmidt, showjumping master Trent Chase, and Hank ‘Shep’ Shepard, the head of the Western faculty.

  Walking alongside them wearing stiff brown tweed was Mrs Dickins-Thomson, Blainford’s headmistress.

  If she were a horse, Mrs Dickins-Thomson would have been a rangy Thoroughbred. Her long face was dominated by a Roman nose and a mane of chestnut hair. Formidable and stern, the headmistress possessed a commanding presence – and the first-year students fell respectfully silent as she cleared her throat to speak.

  “For many years now Blainford Academy has built a reputation as the premier equestrian institute in the world. Our pupils go on to become world champions in every field. But to maintain that status we must move with the times and adapt. We have to ensure that the skills that you are learning at the school are directly applicable to the workforce.”

  Mrs Dickins-Thomson paused. “And that is why, for the first time, we are introducing the new first-year apprentice programme.”

  The bewildered faces of the young riders stared back at her.

  “Hey, does she mean like that TV show with Alan Sugar?” Cameron whispered.

  Alice kicked his seat to make him shut up.

  “The Blainford apprenticeship programme utilises the resource of former pupils, alumni of the Academy, who have kindly agreed to take a current pupil under their wing,” Mrs Dickens-Thomson explained. “You will spend one term as their apprentice and your performance will be assessed as your final exam for the year.”

  Alice boldly raised her hand. “Do you mean that they’re going to be, like, our private instructors?”

  Mrs Dickins-Thomson shook her head. “No, Alice, not your instructors. They are your employers. This is not a classroom situation we’re putting you into – this is real life. You’ll be working as professional grooms. They will treat you exactly as they would their own employees. They have the power to hire or fire you and, since this is the real world, there will be no makeup test and no reprieves…”

  Georgie felt as if Mrs Dickins-Thomson was referring specifically to her.

  The headmistress clapped her hands briskly together. “Starting from next week you are apprenticed to your new masters. We haven’t been able to place all of you within your unique disciplines. However, your apprenticeships will provide you with valuable experience and skills. So no complaints please because there will be no transfers. It goes without saying that I expect all of you to represent your school in the appropriate manner and show our former pupils that Blainford remains the best equestrian academy in the United States.”

  “For most of you the routine of normal morning classes here at the school will not alter,” the headmistress told them. “All afternoon classes will be cancelled so that you can attend your apprenticeships from next week onward. Also, when required, you may be given additional weekend leave to perform your duties as many of these riders will require you on weekends for competitions.”

  The first-years began chattering excitedly and Mrs Dickins-Thomson raised her hand to demand silence before she spoke again.

  “It gives me great pleasure now to introduce you to your new employers.” The headmistress turned to face the entrance to the arena. “Former pupils of the Academy, would you please come out into the arena and join us?”

  Through the doorway a group of men and women appeared, some of them dressed in jodhpurs, others in jeans, T-shirts and baseball caps, walking in unison towards the headmistress across the sand.

  “That woman at the front looks really familiar,” Alice frowned as she stared at the woman in the beige jods and yellow jersey.
<
br />   “Ohmygod!” Emily clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. “It’s Tina Dixon! I just saw a photo of her in Horsing Around Magazine.”

  Blonde and tanned, Tina Dixon was engrossed in conversation with a hard-faced woman with short cropped brown hair.

  “That’s Allegra Hickman talking to her,” Alex Chang said. “She’s the only American to ever be ranked in the top ten dressage riders in the world.”

  Beside Allegra, a tall man with honey-coloured hair and a matching tan cast a supercilious glance across the arena.

  “Dominic Blackwell,” Alice hissed in Georgie’s ear. “Cherry has a poster of him on her wall at home. He’s a showjumper – he’s in the national team.”

  It was strange, to see these famous riders right here in front of them, talking and laughing with each other. It was becoming clear that every one of the men and women in the arena was an equestrian superstar.

  “Right!” Mrs Dickins-Thomson continued. “We’re going to do this class by class, beginning with Tara Kelly’s eventing pupils.”

  Tara stepped forward and opened the manila folder in her hands.

  “I’m going to call you out one by one to come down to the arena to be introduced to your new employer.”

  Tara read the first name on her list.

  “Emily Tait?”

  Emily looked extremely nervous as she stood up and walked down between the seats to the arena. Painfully shy at the best of times, she was almost shaking as she stood in front of the elite riders that were assembled behind Tara Kelly.

  “Emily is from New Zealand and she’s consistently at the top of my class rankings,” Tara did the introductions. “Emily, I am pairing you with Tina Dixon. Tina, as you are all no doubt aware, recently came third at the Lexington Four-star event and has made the US eventing development squad.”

  Tina Dixon stepped forward, waved to the class and thrust out a tanned and sinewy arm to shake hands with Emily. “I’ve already got a New Zealander grooming for me so you’ll fit right in with my team,” she informed her. “Welcome aboard.”

  “Alice Dupree?” Tara called the next name on the list.

  Alice looked more excited than daunted as she took her turn to join the superstars in the arena.

  “Alice is from Maryland where her family breeds eventers and showjumpers,” Tara told the assembled riders. “Jumping is her strength, but her dressage needs work so that’s why I’m assigning her to you, Allegra.”

  The excited smile on Alice’s face slipped. She was being assigned to Allegra Hickman – a dressage rider!

  If Tara noticed the look of disappointment on Alice’s face she didn’t acknowledge it.

  “Allegra’s achievements include a gold medal at the games in Saumur for her musical dressage performance in the kur,” she read the notes in her folder to the class. “She currently has two Grand Prix mounts and four horses in her stables at Prix St Georges level and is a great supporter of the modern dressage method.”

  Allegra stepped forward and gave a stiff wave to the students, then shook Alice’s hand and stepped back into the ranks of the riders, taking Alice with her.

  “Cameron Fraser?” Tara called out.

  Tara consulted her notes. “Cameron, I am pairing you up with Frank Carsey. Frank, where are you?”

  There was a general murmur as everyone looked around expectantly for Frank Carsey. Then a small hand appeared, poking up from behind the riders and waving to make its presence known.

  “Make way! Coming through.”

  Frank was lithe and wiry with pointy features and slicked-back brown hair. But the truly notable thing about his appearance was his height – or rather lack of it. Frank Carsey was a jockey and he was tiny. When Cam stepped forward to shake his hand he towered over him by a whole head.

  “Last year Frank Carsey won more division one races than any other jockey in the state of Kentucky,” Tara said. “He has a reputation for turning horses around and if you want to learn how to condition a horse and get it into peak galloping performance for eventing then Frank is your man.”

  “You’re a bit taller than I’d hoped,” the diminutive jockey told his new apprentice, “but you’re light enough to ride trackwork. See you at the yards at four am on Monday.”

  “Four am?” Cam squeaked.

  Tara confirmed this. “Some of you will be working early mornings as well as afternoons to keep to the timetables of your employers.”

  “Daisy King?” Tara called out the next name on her list and Daisy rose from her seat. “Here!”

  Daisy and Georgie had known each other back in the UK, but they were never friends back then. Daisy had always been far too competitive to make friends. At Blainford, however, the girls had been thrust together in the same boarding house and Georgie had developed a grudging admiration for Daisy’s single-minded will to win. While that made it hard sometimes to be her friend, it also meant that Daisy was someone you wanted on your team.

  “Daisy King has been eventing since she was eleven,” Tara introduced her. “She won the national UK secondary schools ODE finals last year.”

  Tara paused. “Last term Daisy was on the girls’ polo team that won the low-goal award at the Bluegrass Cup. And I think her natural abilities as an all-round rider could further benefit from more polo training which is why I have assigned her to you, Sebastian.”

  A man stepped forward from the ranks of the elite trainers. He was devastatingly handsome, in a broad-shouldered and unshaven way. He had jet black hair and startling blue eyes and he wore the number three jersey for his polo team, along with the regulation uniform of polo whites and long brown boots.

  “Seb Upton-Baker is an eight-goal player,” Tara smiled at him. “We’ve been friends since school – and we’re very lucky that he divides his time between his polo ranch in Argentina, his polo club in London and his small holding here in Kentucky. Seb will be playing this season on a patron team and Daisy is grooming for him.”

  Daisy didn’t notice the envious looks that she was getting from Kennedy and Arden. In fact, she was a bit miffed about being lumbered with the hunky polo player when all she’d really wanted was to work on Tina Dixon’s yard.

  Georgie, meanwhile, was on the edge of her seat. With all of her friends already allocated their apprenticeships, she was expecting Tara to call her name next. But instead, Tara worked her way through allocating apprenticeships to every other member of the class. Georgie watched as both Alex and Matt were placed in well-respected Kentucky eventing stables and Arden was put in the hands of a woman named Frisky Newton who ran a famous breaking-in facility for green horses. Even Nicholas Laurent was given a placement at the Bloodstock association offices which ran the Thoroughbred breeding programme.

  In the end, only Kennedy and Georgie were left.

  “Kennedy Kirkwood and Georgina Parker,” Tara called both their names at once. Georgie had to walk down the stairs with Kennedy so that they were both standing with their eventing teacher in the arena.

  “Kennedy comes from the famous Kirkwood showjumping family, and was a showjumper herself before she swapped codes to join the eventing class,” Tara told the assembled riders.

  “And Georgie was in the House Team that won the showjumping cup earlier this year…” Tara said.

  “So it seemed logical that you should both be placed with Dominic Blackwell. Dominic, as you all know, is a member of the US showjumping team. He has been kind enough to offer to take two apprentices at his stables.”

  Instead of shaking hands with his new apprentices like the other riders had done Dominic Blackwell walked over to Georgie and stuck his palm up in mid-air.

  “Hey! Team Blackwell! High-five!”

  Georgie stared back blankly, leaving Dominic Blackwell holding his hand aloft.

  “C’mon!” Dominic Blackwell was undeterred. His enthusiasm amped up even higher. “You’ll be working at the best showjumping stables in the whole of the Southern States! Can I get a high-five?”

  “W
oo! Yeah!” It was Kennedy, doing a peppy little cheerleader skip and barging roughly past Georgie. She made a lunge at Dominic Blackwell and slapped a high-five on his open palm. Then she gave him a perky grin. “Go Team Blackwell!” she cheered brightly.

  “Yess!” Dominic grinned like a maniac. He turned to Georgie once more. “C’mon, Julie,” he said, getting Georgie’s name wrong. “Give me some skin!”

  Georgie rolled her eyes but clearly Dominic was not giving up. She stepped forward and slapped the palm of her hand hard against Dominic Blackwell’s.

  “Woo! Welcome aboard, Julie! Go Team Blackwell!”

  And Georgie knew that she was about to spend the next term in hell.

  Chapter Four

  The track at Keeneland Park was shrouded in fog at five in the morning. Georgie stood at the railing and watched Riley and Marco galloping into the mist, until they disappeared completely at the third furlong. She peered into the gloom, listening to the rhythmic pounding of Marco’s hooves, the beat growing ever more distant and then coming closer as Riley and the horse emerged once more.

  Georgie marvelled at the feline grace of the golden Thoroughbred and the skill of the boy on his back. As they turned the corner of the track and came down the home straight in front of the grandstand Riley began to urge the gelding on, pumping his arms above the horse’s neck and suddenly the hoof beats began to quicken.

  The chestnut gelding was responding to his jockey, extending his stride so that his body seemed to flatten out and devour the ground as he thundered down the track.

  She was so lost in the beauty of the spectacle that Georgie almost forgot to press the stopwatch as the gelding’s nose reached the line.

  With an emphatic click, she hit the button. Then she checked the time, popped it back in her pocket and waited for Riley. He had eased Marco down to a canter and then a trot and had carried on around the track to cool the Thoroughbred down before he came over to the railing to join her.

  “So?” Riley looked at her expectantly. “How did he do?”