The Prize

by Stacy Gregg

  Kennedy, however, was not so lucky. She had been worse than useless all day, but there was an aura about her, as if she assumed that her family connections made her immune to Blackwell’s vicious attacks. She was about to discover just how wrong she was.

  It was just before the one metre thirty class for novice horses and Dominic had instructed Kennedy to wait for him at the gates with Flair so that he could swiftly switch horses once he’d completed his first round on Banner.

  As the applause signalled the end of Dominic’s clear round he came cantering out and did a leaping dismount, throwing the appaloosa’s reins at Kennedy. Then he grabbed Flair’s reins from her, stuck his foot in the stirrup and bounced up on to the back of the grey mare.

  He was about to go into the arena when suddenly he wheeled Flair around to face Kennedy.

  “This horse has no martingale!” he said.

  Kennedy was taken aback. “But you don’t ride Flair in a martingale. I’ve never seen you use one on her at home.”

  “You brainless girl,” Dominic Blackwell snapped. “I don’t ride her in a martingale at home, but I always use one when I’m out competing.”

  “But you didn’t tell me to put one on her!” Kennedy frowned.

  “And I’m supposed to tell you everything, am I?” Blackwell said. “I suppose I should tell you to put a saddle and bridle on too, should I?”

  Kennedy should have just apologised, but she was a Kirkwood and it wasn’t in her family’s nature to know when to shut up. “If you want a martingale on your horse then you need to tell me,” she insisted.

  “Stop arguing and get out of my sight!” Dominic Blackwell dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Take the appaloosa back to the truck and send Georgie over with a martingale now!”

  Georgie hadn’t seen any of the drama at the ringside, and when Kennedy arrived at the horse truck she was bent down re-wrapping Navajo’s bandages.

  “Hey!” Kennedy stomped over to her. “Why didn’t you tell me that Flair needed a martingale?”

  Georgie stood up. “She does? Blackwell’s never ridden her in one before.”

  “Yeah well, Dominic’s having a wig-out over at the arena,” Kennedy snarled. “He wants you to take one to him straight away.”

  Dominic Blackwell’s face was a mask of rage by the time she arrived. “Forget it!” Blackwell snarled at her. “I’m due in the arena now! I don’t have time to dismount so you can put it on.”

  “It’s OK,” Georgie began hastily strapping the martingale around Flair’s neck. “I know a way of putting it on fast – just stay in the saddle.”

  As Georgie flitted about fastening buckles and straps to get the martingale intact Blackwell looked genuinely impressed. The martingale was attached in less than a minute and Blackwell’s name was now being called for the last time, requesting his presence in the arena.

  “Good work, Julie,” he said as he headed in through the arena gates. “Now go and get my next horse warmed up for me.”

  “What?” Georgie couldn’t believe it. Blackwell’s next horse was Navajo. “But Dominic, that’s Kennedy’s ride – I’ve never been on Navajo!” Georgie hadn’t been on any of Blackwell’s horses. He’d never even allowed her to hack out a horse at the yards and suddenly she was his warm-up groom?

  “You heard me!” Blackwell snapped. “I want you to ride her. I don’t have time to discuss this!”

  And with that, Dominic Blackwell rode into the arena on Flair and left Georgie on the sidelines, gaping like a stunned mullet.

  She headed back to the truck, where she found Kennedy tacking up.

  “What did he say?” Kennedy asked.

  “He wants me to ride Navajo,” Georgie said.

  Kennedy looked genuinely shocked. “You? But that’s ridiculous. You’ve never even been on her before!”

  “I know,” Georgie agreed. “I tried to tell him that – but you know what he’s like.”

  Kennedy narrowed her eyes. “You did this on purpose! You’re trying to make me look bad!”

  Georgie shook her head, “Kennedy, honestly I’m not! I’m not the one doing this – it’s Dominic’s idea!”

  “Oh, whatever!” Kennedy thrust the reins at Georgie. “Take her then! And don’t expect me to help you!”

  As she led Navajo over to the practice arena Georgie felt her stomach knotting with nerves. She had to get on this unknown mare in the tense environment of the warm-up arena and get her going nicely. Now that she had been given the chance to impress Dominic Blackwell she didn’t want to blow it.

  Georgie stuck her foot into the stirrup and bounced up on to the mare’s back. Navajo was sixteen-two hands high and solidly built and it felt a little bit like sitting on a mountain. The mare’s neck seemed to stretch out ahead of Georgie forever, and the barrel of her ribcage and belly felt broad between her legs. Georgie adjusted her stirrups, tightened the girth and then moved the mare on into a walk and then a trot. Her strides felt massive and it took a moment for Georgie to find her centre of balance.

  Looking out for the other riders, Georgie found a clear space and started to work the mare around in a circle at the trot, but it was impossible to do a full circle without the other competitors cutting in on her space and getting in her way.

  “Sorry!” Georgie pulled Navajo up to a sudden stop to let another rider past. The rider on a big grey glared back at her.

  “Oops!” she winced as yet another rider on a black horse cut right in front of her this time, riding at a canter, leaving Georgie with no choice but to abruptly change direction to avoid a collision.

  Trying to find a quieter space, Georgie tried moving around to different corners of the arena until finally she recognised the truth. There was nowhere to go. The whole warm-up arena was a nightmare. Riders kept hogging her space and no one seemed to care about being polite! They were all fighting for every scrap of arena that they could find, and Georgie was being pushed around. She needed to harden up if she was going to stand a chance of getting her warm-up done.

  Pushing Navajo into a trot, Georgie put her mental blinkers on and traced out a circle on the mare, riding her in a twenty-metre loop on the sand. She kept circling and this time, when other riders ducked or weaved in front of her she just kept going and ignored them. Let them get out of the way!

  “Hey!” one woman growled at her as they almost had a head-to-head collision. But Georgie didn’t even acknowledge her. She stayed in the bubble of her own world, pressing Navajo into a canter and eyeing up the practice jumps. The mare was ready to pop over a fence and Georgie was starting to get a feel for her. It was always strange to be on a new horse for the first time, figuring out their quirks and kinks. Navajo was a surprisingly sluggish mare to ride and Georgie remembered now that Dominic always rode her in spurs. Without them, Georgie had to really push the mare into her transitions from walk to trot to canter. Over the jumps though, Navajo was a wonderfully schooled ride, with a steady, rhythmic stride and a huge bascule as she curved exquisitely over the poles. Georgie popped the mare over the practice jump, a parallel bar set at about a metre, four times back and forth and then hacked the mare at a walk to the arena.

  She arrived just as Dominic Blackwell turned up at the gate to look for her.

  “Julie!” he said. “How did the warm-up go?”

  “She’s feeling great.” Georgie sounded confident and professional. “She’s tracking up nicely and we’ve been over the practice fence a few times. She’s ready.”

  Dominic Blackwell arched a brow. “We’ll see…” he said.

  Georgie dismounted and Dominic bounced up onboard.

  As he entered the arena, Georgie could hardly bear to watch. She knew that if Navajo put a hoof out of line then Dominic would consider it Georgie’s fault!

  But Navajo didn’t make any mistakes. Dominic Blackwell rode her perfectly and when they left the arena with a clear round he had a smile on his face as he waved to the crowd.

  “She went very nicely indeed,
” he said as he pulled up alongside Georgie.

  He tossed the reins to her as he walked away. “Get the next one for me and warm him up,” he said. “I need to go and chat to Navajo’s owner in the patron’s lounge.”

  “But Dominic…” Georgie said. “Ummm… doesn’t the head girl usually warm up the horses?”

  “Exactly,” Dominic said. “You’re doing a good job… Georgie, isn’t it? Now go and get The Optimist and take him over the practice jumps, will you? Kennedy can cool down Navajo and then polish my tack.”

  And with that one sentence, the tables were turned. Kennedy was no longer Dominic Blackwell’s head girl. The job had just gone to Georgie.

  Chapter Ten

  “So you’re head girl?” Alice grinned. “I wish I’d seen Kennedy’s face when Blackwell told her.”

  “I don’t know if he’s told her exactly,” Georgie said. “He just swapped our duties over and that was that!”

  Since the mid-grade tournament Dominic Blackwell had entrusted Georgie with the schooling of his second-string showjumpers. Georgie had expected them to be a world apart from Belle, but she had quickly come to realise that anything they could do, her mare could do too. She suspected that Belle could even handle a Grand Prix level course, if she was given the chance.

  The girls had been religiously working their way through all Reiner Klimke’s exercises in their morning jumping sessions. They had reached the stage where they were stacking cavaletti one on top of the other to form substantial fences and were setting up complex bounce combinations in quick succession. Belle handled anything that was put in front of her with total ease and Georgie felt like the mare needed more of a challenge.

  “I’d love to put the jumps right up,” Georgie admitted over dinner to the Badminton girls, “and see what she can really do.”

  “What’s the highest you’ve ever jumped her?” Alice asked.

  “We got over the school fence that time Conrad locked us out,” Georgie said, remembering that she and Belle had jumped a school gate too not so long ago, “but I think she could go even higher.”

  “Caspian is ready to deal with some bigger fences too,” Alice agreed. “I say let’s put up some real jumps and see what they’ve got.”

  “What’s this? What jumps?” Alex asked as he joined the girls.

  Emily looked at the other girls. “Can I let him in on it?”

  Daisy sighed, “Well, you’ll have to now, won’t you?”

  Emily turned to Alex. “You know how I’ve been doing jumping sessions in the indoor arena before school each morning? Well tomorrow we’re going to crank the jumps up.”

  “Cool!” replied Alex. “Can I bring Tatou?”

  “I thought you couldn’t be bothered getting up early to jump with me?” Emily teased her boyfriend. “You told me that you weren’t getting out of bed to go over some poxy trotting poles that a Shetland pony could tackle.”

  “Well, yeah,” Alex admitted, “but if you’re doing proper jumps you can count me in.”

  “What about Cameron?” Alice asked.

  “He’s got trackwork most mornings,” Alex said. “I hardly ever see him.”

  “Why isn’t he at dinner?” Daisy looked around. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in the dining hall in ages.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t eat!” Alex said as he tucked into his dinner of steak and chips. “He’s been told by Frank Carsey that if he wants to be a jockey then he’ll have to keep his weight down. No more chips and no more desserts.” Alex forked up another mouthful. “It’s not worth it if you ask me. Anyway, Cam can’t come tomorrow morning.”

  “What’s this about tomorrow morning?” Matt Garrett said as he joined the table too.

  “We’re having a training session with the girls in the indoor arena,” Alex told him. “It’s a pre-breakfast jump-off!”

  “A jump-off?” Georgie protested. “Who said anything about—”

  “Excellent!” Matt Garrett said. “I’m in.”

  “Does anyone want to explain to me how Alex and Matt Garrett have managed to hijack our schooling session?” Daisy grumbled as they tacked up their horses the next morning.

  “It’ll be OK,” Emily reassured Daisy, clearly feeling bad about inviting her boyfriend along. “They won’t take over. This is still our thing.”

  Emily wasn’t so confident when she arrived at the arena with the other Badminton girls and found the boys already striding out the spaces and erecting a course of jumps. They had built a short course of eight fences including a treble and a final jump that was a wide spread.

  “We’ll start out at a metre-twenty so that you girls stand a fighting chance,” Matt said, full of bravado.

  “Don’t do us any favours!” Alice replied sarcastically. “Put them up to a metre thirty.”

  “Serious?” Matt squeaked.

  “Totally,” Georgie backed her up. “Let’s make this a proper challenge.”

  As Matt and Alex went around every jump on the course raising the back poles by an extra ten centimetres the girls mounted up.

  Georgie began trotting Belle around to loosen her up as the riders took turns to pop over the practice jump in the middle of the arena. Matt went first on Tigerland and jumped it cleanly.

  Alex circled and followed after him. Then it was Georgie’s turn. She focused on her line and rode in on a perfect forward stride. Belle jumped neatly and Georgie asked her to come back to a halt to let the mare know that she mustn’t bolt away after the fences.

  “Good girl,” Georgie gave her a slappy pat. They were ready.

  Matt had appointed himself the first to go so the other riders sat and watched. He circled Tigerland in front of the first jump and then rode the dun gelding hard at a fast canter as if he were charging down the straight in the Grand National. A couple of strides out from the jump it became clear that Matt was coming in too fast and had judged the striding wrong. The gelding made a gallant effort but swiped the top rail down. Matt had Tigerland revved up, and he was fighting for his head and resisting Matt’s hands all the way into the second fence. He took a rail down there too and Matt tried in vain to get him under control as they swept around the corner to take the third fence. Another rail fell.

  By the time Tigerland was coming into the fourth fence his canter was totally bonkers and out of control, and it was all Matt could do to steer him. They virtually ploughed straight through the fence, scattering rails in their wake. Tigerland gave a deranged snort and reared up, and Matt had to throw himself forward on to his gelding’s neck to stay onboard. They hadn’t even finished the round and there were rails scattered everywhere.

  “Cool,” Alex said clapping slowly and sarcastically. “A demolition derby instead of a hunt derby.”

  “Hey, Matt,” Alice called out, “leave some fences up for the rest of us, will you?”

  Matt clearly didn’t think this was funny. He vaulted off his horse and began to pick up the rails.

  “A little help here?” he groaned.

  “Sorry, man,” Alex grinned. “You knock ’em down, you pick ’em up again. That’s the rules.”

  As Matt rebuilt the fences, Georgie began to circle Belle, ready to take her turn. As soon as the last pole was back in its metal cup she pushed the mare into a canter and trained her eyes on the first jump.

  As she came in on the approach to fence number one, Georgie felt her heart pounding. She sat up in the saddle, her legs against the mare’s sides as Belle came cantering in.

  “Go, Georgie!” Alice called out from the sidelines.

  As Georgie turned, Belle pricked her ears and surged forward. Reacting against the sudden burst of speed, Georgie held the mare back so that Belle was almost cantering on the spot, her head high.

  They were two strides out when Georgie finally let Belle go and the mare bounded forward like a gazelle, gave a grunt and flung herself into the air. They were clear and over the first fence! Belle landed on the other side. Her blood was up, and
Georgie had to repeat the routine, holding her tight into the approach and only letting go at the last minute when she saw a stride. As they bore down on the third fence the mare was waving her nose in the air until right before the jump when, in a heart-stopping second, Georgie managed to get Belle back under control and over the rails.

  At fence four they took three frenzied strides and Belle grazed the rails with her hind legs. The top rail dropped and the jolt was enough to spook her so that she powered forward on the other side as soon as her hooves struck the ground. The mare charged madly at the treble fence, clearing the first two elements then dropping the final rail. Georgie was nearly unseated over the penultimate jump and lost a stirrup coming into the big spread. She managed to get it back just in time and released Belle once more so that the mare flew the final jump cleanly to finish with three rails down and twelve faults.

  “Way to go, Georgie!” Alice hooted.

  There was a smattering of clapping and cheering from the girls and then a voice, crystal clear echoed through the indoor arena. “Well, that was total chaos!”

  Georgie turned around and saw Tara Kelly. She was standing in the middle of the arena beside the other riders. She had her arms folded across her chest and she did not look pleased.

  “You were barely in control for the majority of that round,” Tara said. “Speeding up and slowing down all the time! What did you think you were doing letting her prance on the spot like that in front of the jumps?”

  Georgie swallowed her embarrassment. “I was trying to see a stride.”

  Tara shook her head. “Seeing a stride is a bit like seeing a unicorn, Georgie. You can’t force one to magically appear. If you keep holding your horse like that and waiting for the moment to let go you’re going to drive her mad.”

  Matt sniggered at this and Tara turned on him.

  “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Mr Garrett – your attempt was an even worse debacle!”

  Tara looked at the assembled riders. “You’ve forgotten about your ribs.”

  Georgie frowned. She put a hand to her ribcage, prodding at them.