by Suzanne Weyn
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” Inspector Carter said, leaning in toward Taylor. Taylor’s eyes cut from Prince Albert’s blanket to the officers and back again.
“Um, yeah, some guy came around our barn selling stuff out of his trunk. He was selling it really cheap, and I didn’t have a lot of money, so I didn’t ask where he got it from,” Taylor said, feeling the blood drain from her face as she lied to the officers.
Inspector McCarey raised his eyebrows. “And did you get a good look at this man?” he asked.
“No,” Taylor said slowly. “He was … uh … taller than me and had … brown hair.”
The officer shot Taylor an incredulous look, pen paused and hovering over his notepad. “Taller than you and had brown hair. That all?”
Taylor nodded vigorously, lips pursed together. The officer stared at her, clearly suspecting that she was being intentionally vague.
“Are you sure?” he asked slowly.
Taylor nodded quickly again.
“Right. Well” — Inspector McCarey and Inspector Carter looked dubiously at each other — “would you mind if we exchanged information? You know, just in case you would like to let us know anything.”
“Sure, yeah, that’s fine,” Taylor squeaked. With a trembling hand, Taylor wrote out her name, address, and phone number for the police officer.
“Thank you for your help,” Inspector Carter said. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”
Taylor gulped and stared as the two men departed, walking back down the hill. He was sure? What did that mean? She was hoping it was just a turn of phrase, but couldn’t be certain.
Glancing down at her watch, Taylor jumped. It was almost time for her division! Quickly, she finished grooming Albert and threw his tack on with lightning speed. She grabbed Albert’s reins and jogged down the hill toward the show ring, panting as she reached the group of people watching an equitation class.
Looking around to see where the rest of her group was, Taylor spotted only Plum, who was sitting under a tree, polishing her tall boots again. Shafir grazed next to her, fully tacked, reins dragging on the ground. Taylor huffed over to the duo, clutching at a stitch in her side.
“Shouldn’t you pick up Shafir’s reins?” Taylor said, massaging the stitch of pain that had come into her side from running. “You don’t want her stepping into them; that could be really dangerous.”
Plum shrugged, ignoring Taylor, looking far more interested in getting the perfect shine on her boots. “She’ll be fine,” Plum said, holding the boots at arm’s length to better view her work.
Not wanting an argument, Taylor reached down and tossed the reins over Shafir’s neck, glowering at Plum.
“C’mon, we’re next,” Taylor said. “And what bridle is this?” She knew she’d never seen Shafir’s gleaming new bridle at the stable. “Is it new?”
“Yeah, Eric got it for me from one of his friends. Trying a new bit, too. Maybe it’ll make this brat listen better.” Plum said, standing and thumping Shafir on the neck.
Taylor wondered about Eric’s friend and all of these new items springing up. Was it coincidence, or were all of these new things really stolen goods?
Static rumbled from the loudspeaker, making Prince Albert and Shafir lift their heads high into the air, alert to any coming noise. “Class 12B, beginner-novice over fences, equitation class can mount up,” a man’s voice boomed.
“That’s us,” Taylor said, taking a deep breath. She turned and began to walk toward the gate. A wave of stress swept over her when she realized she would be in the show pen within five minutes. As she hurried toward the in gate, Prince Albert trotting along next to her, a voice to her right made her jump.
“Good luck, Taylor,” said Keith Hobbes, who was standing next to Mrs. LeFleur and Plum’s mother, leaning on the white fence that lined the show ring.
Beverly Mason nodded primly toward Taylor, not saying a word. Taylor smiled with tight politeness in reply, taking a deep breath.
Keith scanned Prince Albert’s face and frowned. “You’re really going to need luck if you go into the show ring like that,” Keith stated, reaching forward and tucking Prince Albert’s noseband in and tightening it. Then he reached over and buckled the horse’s throatlatch.
Taylor’s face burned with embarrassment as she realized that she had completely forgotten to do anything else besides actually putting the bridle on. Keith looked at the saddle. “And are your stirrups even? Looks like you’re going to be riding a bit cockeyed there.”
Taylor turned around and looked at her stirrups. One was on the smallest hole, while the other was about halfway down. “Oh, yeah, I should fix that,” Taylor said absently, reaching forward and adjusting her stirrups.
How embarrassing! She couldn’t believe she’d been so thoughtless. Those police officers had really shaken her concentration.
Keith put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to look at her. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked kindly.
“Of course I am!” Taylor almost shouted. “Today has just been … weird. I’ll be fine, thank you.”
Keith pursed his lips together, seeming to assess Taylor with his gaze. He nodded and stood up. “Well, go get ’em. Remember, stay relaxed, keep your shoulders back, chin up, heels down, but most importantly” — he paused for dramatic effect and grinned as he added — “have fun with it.”
His encouraging words and good spirits made Taylor smile. She was already feeling a little less nervous and a bit more confident. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “I will.”
“Now entering the ring, rider number 582. On deck is rider number 194,” the voice behind the speakers boomed forth.
Taylor looked over to the gate where Plum, number 194, was mounting Shafir. Grabbing hold of the reins, she yanked Shafir’s head down. The Arabian tossed her head in the air and backpedaled, trying to move away from Plum’s harsh handling.
Taylor winced and turned away to watch the other rider finish. She wanted to concentrate on the course, but her mind wandered back to her experience with the police. Would she have to give Prince Albert’s blanket back if it turned out that it was one of the stolen ones? If so, how would she afford a new one? Would she get into trouble? Would the police think she had anything to do with the theft?
Taylor couldn’t believe Eric would have anything to do with buying stolen goods. How well did she really know him, though? Was it possible?
“Now entering the ring is rider number 194, on deck is number 845,” the announcer called out as the rider who had just competed exited the ring, petting her horse on the neck as she left. Taylor looked toward his voice booming from the public address speaker. Plum was number 194 and Taylor was 845. They were up next.
Plum straightened up and kicked Shafir into a trot to enter the ring for her courtesy circle. As soon as it was over, she kicked Shafir up into a canter, heading toward the first jump.
Shafir pranced, head held high, eyes wide. The lovely young mare was ready to jump. In fact, Shafir seemed almost elated by the attention.
Taylor stuck her left foot in the stirrup and swung herself up and into the saddle. Her glance flickered to the rail, where Daphne and Mercedes were sitting. She noticed that the girls were talking heatedly to each other and pointing to Shafir.
Daphne nodded and got up, walking over to where Mrs. LeFleur and Keith Hobbes were standing, and gestured toward Shafir again. Mrs. LeFleur peered over her glasses and squinted, while Keith turned and asked Daphne a question, and upon receiving the response, he arched his eyebrows and crossed his arms.
Daphne rejoined Mercedes, who was now sitting talking to Eric. All three of them were immediately caught up in more animated conversation. What was going on? They were clearly discussing Shafir, but why?
Taylor shifted her attention back to the competition ring, where Plum was about to jump. Plum reached back and cracked Shafir behind her heel with the black riding crop she was holding. Shafir launched herself over
the jump, a low cross-rail. The force of the motion pushed Plum back and almost out of her tack. Taylor let out a small gasp, and the crowd watched the scene intently.
Upon landing, Shafir gave a small buck. Plum tightened her grip on the reins in response, making Shafir buck again.
Taylor leaned forward, wondering what was going on with the high-spirited Arabian. Something wasn’t right.
Plum pushed the sleek horse toward the next jump, a vertical. She suddenly looked rigid and tense.
Right before the jump, Shafir shied away, refusing. Plum wound up with the crop, preparing to strike.
The sudden motion caused Shafir to veer off course and gallop toward a different jump. In a panic, Shafir launched herself over first that jump, and then over another one, leaving Plum clinging to the reins. Plum pushed Shafir over one last fence and then pulled Shafir back into a trot to exit the ring.
“Rider number 194: disqualified. Off pattern,” the announcer said. “Rider number 845 now entering the ring.”
Taylor looked over to Plum, who had dismounted and was yelling at Shafir, thumping the horse repeatedly on the head with the palm of her hand.
Turning her attention to the task at hand, Taylor took a deep breath and clucked Prince Albert forward into the ring. She focused all she had on getting into the correct position, just as Keith had shown her. She lifted her chin, looking toward the first jump. Taylor could almost hear Keith’s voice in her head saying, “Relax! A tense rider equals a tense horse!”
Pushing Prince Albert into a canter, she approached the first jump, readying herself by moving into the jockey-like two-point, the jumping position that required her to push out of the saddle and lean closer to the horse. She placed her hands up his neck to allow Prince Albert a full range of motion as he sailed over the jump.
The thrill of jumping swept over her in an exciting wave.
Taylor couldn’t hold back her joyful smile as she guided Prince Albert toward the next jump. Together they leaped over, easily clearing it. Doubling back to the next jump, a low oxer, Albert sped up with excitement. Keith had told her that a horse that was running too fast might jump lower, since the horse would straighten its neck out to go faster.
Was Prince going too fast now? Yes. Taylor began to think he was. As she tried to rein him back, she realized her efforts might be too late.
The dull clang and thud of poles being knocked over beneath them made Taylor’s heart drop. Poles knocked over would result in points off, which meant no first place was possible.
Taylor rounded Prince Albert over the next few jumps, trying her hardest to remember the pattern and to keep Prince Albert under control. She couldn’t let the downed poles throw her completely off. Taylor finished her pattern and exited the ring, breathing heavily from the effort. She patted Prince Albert on the neck, telling him that although it wasn’t perfect, he had done a good job. She dismounted just as Daphne and Mercedes came jogging over to her.
“You did a great job!” Daphne cried, hugging Taylor.
“You, too, Prince Albert!” Mercedes chimed in, patting the black horse on the rump.
Taylor smiled gratefully. “Except for knocking down those poles on the oxer,” she said, jerking her thumb back toward the ring.
Daphne waved a dismissive hand in front of her. “It was fine. Sure, you’ll get a few points taken off, but you had a totally clean ride other than that.” She smiled proudly at Taylor.
Taylor nodded and grinned. Suddenly remembering, she asked, “What the heck happened with Plum and Shafir? Why was she acting up so badly?”
Mercedes’ expression changed from a happy smile to one of extreme exasperation. “That fool was using a double twisted wire snaffle on Shafir. That kind of bit is very severe and should only be used on very large, strong horses, like draft horses, or by very experienced riders,” Mercedes explained. “It’s definitely not for using on a mostly green, flighty Arabian. That’s why Shafir was acting so weird — because Plum was yanking on her face with a tough bit. She thought that just because it had the word snaffle in it, it was fine.”
Taylor’s jaw hung open. “Really? Poor Shafir! Is she okay?”
Daphne shrugged but then gave a small nod. “She’ll be fine eventually. But Shafir’s mouth was bleeding.”
Taylor gasped.
“Don’t worry, though,” Daphne added. “Keith Hobbes gave her a very stern talking to about choosing the correct bit. She won’t be making any more mistakes like that, I’m sure.”
“Good to hear it,” Taylor said. “I think that —” Taylor was cut off by a pat on the back from behind her. She whirled around and came face-to-face with Eric.
“Great work!” Eric said, smiling broadly. “You looked awesome! Did you see what happened to Plum out there? I couldn’t tell what was going wrong.”
Normally, this sort of attention from Eric would have made her heart melt. Now, she didn’t know how to feel. Had he lied to her about where his friend was getting all of this stuff? She didn’t know what she would do if she found out that his friend and he had been lying and stealing. It would totally change her view of Eric forever.
“Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Plum didn’t have that new bit in his mouth. The one from your friend,” she said starkly, and turned away from him, marching toward the trailer.
A moment later Taylor heard Eric hurrying after her and then felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Whoa, wait, what’s wrong with you? What are you so mad about?” he asked, brows furrowed with concern. She whirled around to look him in the eyes.
“Nothing,” she snapped.
“Come on, tell me,” Eric urged her. “Something’s bugging you.”
“Eric, you didn’t … I mean, you wouldn’t …” How could she ask this question? She couldn’t just blurt out that she thought he might be a thief. It was so insulting!
“I wouldn’t what?” Eric questioned.
“Those things we got from your friend,” Taylor began.
“Yeah, what about them?”
She just couldn’t bring herself to ask him. “It’s nothing. We’ll talk about this later, okay?”
Desperate to get away from this awkward and unhappy confrontation, Taylor walked off, leading Prince Albert. She headed toward the trailer and began to untack the gelding, not daring to look back to where Eric stood.
Taylor had taken off Prince Albert’s saddle and was undoing his girth when Eric came alongside her again. Prince Albert shifted uncomfortably but stayed put. As long as Eric didn’t touch him, Taylor hoped her horse wouldn’t act up.
“Why didn’t you wait for the results?” Eric asked.
“They announced them already?” Taylor asked, surprised.
“Yeah, they just did. You won third place!”
Taylor gasped. “Really? Third place!”
He smiled at her. “Yeah!”
Taylor’s jaw dropped as his words sank in. Third place was not bad at all — especially considering that she was a new jumper.
“Way to go!” Eric cheered. He hugged her happily. “Now will you tell me why you’re so mad?”
“All right,” Taylor agreed. “I don’t want you to be insulted, but I’m just going to come out and ask you a question. Are the horse things you gave me stolen?”
Eric took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise. “What?”
Taylor told him about the detectives and what they’d said.
“No, I swear! I believed the guy’s story. I thought he was selling me stuff the store was throwing out anyway,” Eric insisted. “I’m not kidding. I would never do something like that.”
Did she believe him? He seemed to be sincerely shocked by her news. But could she be sure?
“Taylor, you don’t believe me, do you?” Eric said, looking hurt. “I can see it on your face.”
“I just don’t know, Eric,” Taylor admitted. “I mean … you said the guy was a friend of yours. How could you not realize what he was doing? If he was you
r friend, wouldn’t he tell you?”
“He’s not really a friend. He’s just a guy I know from around town.”
Taylor so wanted to believe him. But if she did, would she just be fooling herself? Would she be making excuses for Eric?
“I don’t know what I should think,” Taylor admitted to him. “I’m so confused.”
“Did you tell the police you got the things from me?” Eric asked.
“No.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
Taylor shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”
Eric’s brows knit into an unhappy V. “Then you do think I’m guilty,” he said, turning away from her.
“I just didn’t know for cert —”
Taylor cut her words short as Eric walked away angrily.
Taylor closed her eyes and laid her head back against the front seat of the horse trailer, with her third-place ribbon in her lap, thinking about the day’s events. She was glad for the quiet — Plum was silent in the backseat, and everyone else had gotten other rides back — but she couldn’t stop picturing Eric’s hurt expression when they’d talked. The look on his face had been sincere. In her heart and in her gut, she thought he was innocent. Everything she knew about him told her that Eric would never steal or lie.
And besides, Prince Albert had allowed Eric to ride him. Taylor trusted her horse’s instincts — maybe even more than she trusted her own. It didn’t matter if Eric had been wearing her scarf. Taylor believed that if there was something essentially dishonest in Eric’s nature, Prince Albert would never have allowed him to ride.
Plum scowled out the window into the darkness while Mrs. LeFleur drove. Taylor wondered if she’d learned anything at all from what had happened that day. Would she treat Shafir more gently now? Had she learned to be more careful when she groomed and tacked up the lively mare? Or would she only ride Shafir harder than ever and treat her even more harshly because she was angry about the horse’s performance in the ring? Taylor really hoped not.