“What are you doing?” I said.
“Braiding.” She shrugged.
She had an apron on with a million pockets and was whipping out thread and scissors quicker than I’d ever seen anyone do before. Her hands were sort of a blur.
“But that’s my pony,” I said stubbornly.
“Relax,” Chloe said. “It’s just the braider, not a pony stalker or something.”
“But I do my own braiding,” I said, looking at my pony who seemed quite content to have someone other than me fussing over him.
“No one braids their own pony.” Chloe shook her head and gave me a pitying smile.
“I do,” I grumbled.
“Not at a show like this you don’t,” Frank said as he walked by. “Leave it to the expert’s kid.”
I stood in front of the stall keeping a watchful eye on the braider in case she did anything bad like stick him with a needle but she was not only quick but completely competent.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asked when she saw me hovering about.
“Purple,” I said.
“Cool, mine too.”
She pulled out a purple length of yarn and braided it into Bluebird’s forelock.
“For luck,” she said.
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
“Frank said to put it on his tab.” She patted Bluebird before slipping out and closing the stall door. “He’s cute. What class are you in?”
“Pony jumpers,” I said.
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks.”
She went into the next stall to start on Winter. Cupcake and Rolf had already been done since Mackenzie’s classes were first, a million tiny braids running down their necks, making them look all cresty and proud.
I took a picture of Bluebird’s braids and sent it to Mickey, telling her that he was just done by a professional horse show braider. Then I sat there feeling kind of lost and lonely. The show was so big and there were so many people and horses, it was hard to know what to go and watch and I didn’t know any of the people anyway. On the local circuit at least I recognized people, even if I didn’t know their names.
Mackenzie went off to warm up, scrim sheets over both ponies to keep them clean even though it was a hundred degrees out. Chloe appeared with two giant soft pretzels, handing one to me.
“Come on,” she said. “We have to cheer Kenzi on or she’ll be mad.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me after the ponies. I was so glad that she was there and Peyton and Jake were not. It would have been horrible if they had been. At least Chloe didn’t seem to care that I was a charity case.
The warm up was full of little kids with braids and ribbons, cantering around on ponies that were just as cute as Cupcake and Rolf. And not only were they cute, they were all really great movers as well. It was like all the best ponies on the planet had been scooped up and dumped in the ring. Plus the kids weren’t bad either.
While Mackenzie warmed up, Chloe pointed out her competition. Who usually won, who was most likely to fall off and who would have the biggest meltdown when they didn’t place. Just like I knew most of the kids on the local circuit, she knew most of them on the rated one. Girls kept coming up to her and asking how Freddy was or whether Winter had got over his fear of Astroturf.
“Astroturf?” I asked Chloe after the last girl left. “What did you do, ride in a football stadium?”
“It was Wellington.” She shook her head. “Every pole there was covered in the stuff and Winter was sure that they were going to eat him alive.”
“Astroturf? Really?” I said.
“It’s everywhere now. Frank went out and covered half the poles at the farm in it and he even hung some in Winter’s stall so now he couldn’t care less about it. Of course that doesn’t mean he won’t find something else to freak out about. He’s kind of sensitive like that.”
I was still thinking about the Astroturf as we followed Mackenzie over to the main ring. Who would even think of using Astroturf anyway? What was next, real live ducks in the water jumps?
We secured a shady spot and watched as the kids made their rounds. Most of them were pretty good. A few were exceptional. Mackenzie was the latter. Cupcake was fancier than Rolf and had better form over fences. When the dust cleared she ended up first and fourth and having seen her with her game face on, I hadn’t expected any less.
“Look.” Chloe pointed over to a kid who was in floods of tears. “I told you.”
And while the rated show may have had things we didn’t like Astroturf and giant pretzels and professional braiders, it sure seemed to have a lot of sore losers. I’d never seen so many kids crying after not getting a ribbon and it wasn’t just the little ones either. Although the older kids were more likely to smack their horse and then shove it into the groom’s hands like a discarded candy wrapper just as Hattie had done with Clementine at Devon.
It was like stepping into a bizarre new world where everything was brighter, bigger and better but there was an undercurrent of sour running beneath it all and I wasn’t really sure if I liked it or not.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
The pony jumper class was right after lunch, which meant I didn’t feel like eating anything but Chloe and Melanie made me. They said they’d seen so many girls faint right off their horses in the show ring because they didn’t eat that it wasn’t even funny anymore.
“And to think, I was worried about falling off because I messed up.” I reluctantly ate the tuna sandwich they gave me. “Now I have to worry about falling off from fainting too?”
“Now you don’t,” Chloe said as I took another bite.
Mackenzie was over the moon with her ribbons. She kept running from one pony’s stall to the next, kissing them and telling them both that they were her favorite.
“How can they both be your favorite?” I asked her.
“They don’t know what I’m telling the other one,” she said.
“That’s what she thinks,” I mumbled to Chloe.
But both Cupcake and Rolf seemed perfectly happy to share in the love. And at least she actually cared about them, although I had to wonder how different the scene would have been if she hadn’t placed at all.
We sat there talking and eating and watching Winter stick his head in his water bucket until Frank came and told me it was almost time to warm up.
Melanie offered to get Bluebird tacked up but I said that I’d rather do it myself. I whispered in his ear as I ran a soft brush over him for the last time.
“You have to do your best,” I told him. “I don’t care if we win or not but just don’t mess up and I’ll try not to mess up too. It’s just another jump course, no big deal.”
But as I walked Bluebird to the warm up ring and we passed the show ring where they were setting up the jumps, it didn’t look like just another course. There were flowers over everything, blossoming under the brightly colored poles like a psychedelic garden. The standards were made to resemble surf boards, towering buildings and Chinese dragons. The liverpool actually extended the whole length of the jump with real water in it instead of an empty kiddie pool like we usually had at our shows because by the time one horse stepped in it, they couldn’t be bothered to fill it up again.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said weakly.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
“Too late to change your mind now,” Frank said, obviously sensing my hesitation.
He threw me up into the saddle before I even had a chance to protest and shoved us in the warm up ring. I rode around girls who were galloping hell bent for leather over the warm up jumps, which was actually exactly what happened in the pony jumpers at our local shows. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
I found a place on the rail and worked Bluebird at the trot and canter. His ears were pricked as he took in the surroundings with just as much trepidation as I had but he soon settled into a comfortable rhythm and eventually Frank called us over to the warm up j
umps.
“Your turn,” he said.
I cantered Bluebird over them. I knew he didn’t need to gallop flat out before the first round. He knew his job. Steady and clean first. Then let it all out in the jump off.
“Looks like you don’t need me after all.” Frank patted Bluebird on the neck.
“Wait, what?” I said. “I do need you. Tell me what to do.”
“You already know what to do,” he said. “Telling you things now would only mess with your head.”
“No it wouldn’t,” I cried but he laughed.
“Come on,” he said. “Give your pony to Melanie and we’ll walk the course.”
I walked between jumps so bright that it looked like a rainbow had thrown up on them, counting strides in my head. People kept coming up to Frank and talking to him, asking about horses for sale or students he trained. It was kind of distracting so I tried to tune it all out and just concentrate on my lines.
“You all set?” Frank asked after we’d walked the jump off course.
“I think so,” I said. “But the in and out. Should I …?”
“Leg, leg and more leg,” he interrupted me. “It’s long so you are going to need a lot of impulsion coming in.”
“Got it.” I nodded.
The course was long and winding and I was so afraid that I was going to forget it and go off course, getting eliminated, that I kept going over and over it in my head.
“What do you think?” Chloe asked.
“The jumps look bigger,” I gulped.
“That’s probably because they are,” Melanie said. “They like to set the pony jumpers at the maximum height to weed out the crazies who go all out of control if the jumps are nothing more than speed bumps.”
“Great,” I gulped.
“Don’t worry,” Melanie said. “Everyone does badly at their first rated show.”
“They do?” I said.
“It’s the pressure.” Mackenzie nodded seriously.
“So no pressure then, if I’m actually expected to fail,” I said, feeling a little relieved.
“Frank won’t expect you to fail.” Melanie shook her head.
And just like that, the pressure was back on.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
My hands were all sweaty inside my gloves. I stood at the in gate on Bluebird, Frank’s last minute instructions ringing in my head. After watching a few of the other ponies go, he’d been able to see how the course rode and had given me the necessary adjustments. A line that walked long wasn’t, the in and out needed even more leg than he’d thought and the trouble spot on course was the black and red fence with the Chinese dragons. Apparently all the ponies thought the dragons might possibly eat them and either refused or were so distracted that they got over it but had a rail down. So far only two other girls had gone double clean and their jump off rounds had been fast.
“This is it, boy,” I patted Bluebird.
A girl on a pinto pony came out of the ring. She’d had three rails down and almost fell off. I gave her what I hoped was a commiseration smile but she just ignored me as she trotted by.
I closed my legs around Bluebird’s sides and we trotted into the ring. People were three deep on the rail to watch since the pony jumpers was one of the few classes where there were usually both spills and thrills.
“Just ignore them,” I told Bluebird as he spooked at a girl with a big straw hat. “Pretend like we are at home.”
Only it was nothing like jumping at home and Bluebird knew that as well as I did. But as the bell rang and we cantered towards the first jump, I felt his body relax beneath me. The only thing Bluebird liked better than jumping was jumping in front of a big crowd of people who would cheer him on and congratulate him when he won.
He pricked his ears, threw his head up and jumped over the first fence like it was a cross rail. I forgot all about counting strides or making sure I didn’t dive into my changes. I just looked for the distance, pointed my pony and he jumped like he had wings. He couldn’t have cared less about the horse eating dragon jump or the in and out that needed a strong ride and when we finished clear, the crowd cheered and he kicked up his heels, showing off.
The jump off course was short, with long galloping spaces between jumps. I knew the other girls had been fast but they left room for improvement. If we went clear, I knew we’d beat them.
Bluebird was ready. He knew what was coming next. He fought the bit and practically galloped away with me as the bell rang. We raced down the lines and I didn’t check him once. Some ponies had to be balanced to jump. You had to take back control a few strides out from a fence but not Bluebird. He galloped and jumped and galloped and jumped. And then there was just the last fence. The dragons.
I crouched on his neck like a jockey, egging him on. We were going for broke. We weren’t going to slow down and if he had a rail, then at least I’d know that I’d given it my all. That we’d tried our best and hadn’t played it safe.
I saw the distance and so did he, launching into the air over the fence. His hoof clipped the top rail and the crowd gasped. I held my breath, waiting for the deadening thud but it never came. We galloped through the finish line clear.
The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping. Frank whistled loudly from the in gate and Chloe and Mackenzie were jumping up and down. I dropped my reins and hugged my pony’s neck because I knew without a doubt that he was the best pony in the whole world.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Everyone crowded around Bluebird, patting his neck and rubbing his face.
“That was amazing,” Chloe gushed. “You really can ride.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, blinking back tears as I hid my face under the saddle flap, loosening the girth. I’d been through so many emotions before the show that it was a relief just to have it over and done with.
“Nice job.” Frank slapped me on the back. “And those changes were spot on.” He grinned.
I hadn’t even been thinking about the changes so I just nodded and smiled, glad that he was pleased and that I hadn’t let him down. I walked Bluebird around, waiting for the class to be over to find out if we placed or not. And it turned out that not only did we place, we actually won. When they called my number, I started to cry again.
“You’d better stop that.” Chloe handed me a tissue.
“I can’t help it,” I said. “It’s Bluebird, he’s just the best pony ever.”
“So go and get his ribbon then.” She grinned and shoved me towards the ring.
At the schooling shows we usually just went and collected our ribbons from the steward. Or sometimes, if we were lucky, we were called back to the ring and had them shoved in our pony’s face. But here it was a big deal. There were pictures to be taken with the sponsors, two lovely old ladies with big hats that Bluebird thought might be fun to eat.
“I’m so sorry,” I said as he tried to take a bite out of a fake flower.
“Don’t worry dear.” The old lady smiled. “He can eat my hat if he likes.”
The biggest blue ribbon I’d ever seen was hung on Bluebird’s bridle and there was a silver cup and more tears. When everyone had claimed their prize, we led the others in a victory gallop and Bluebird, ever the showman, let out several little bucks that made the crowd laugh and cheer louder.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Back at the stalls, I was ready to spoil my pony with carrots and cookies and a million hugs and kisses but Melanie had a grim look on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“Viper.” She shook her head. “She must have managed to kick herself in the trailer. Her fetlock is the size of an orange.”
“Oh no,” I said.
But inside I was nothing but relieved. I’d already proven myself on Bluebird. I didn’t need a chance to mess it all up on a horse I barely knew who could be temperamental and a little crazy. Not to mention the fact that if I did well, Jake would kill me.
I untacked Bluebird and took him to the en
d of the barn where hoses had been set up in temporary wash racks. As I rinsed the sweat off his back, girls kept coming up and congratulating me, telling me that I’d ridden really well and that my pony was the best.
“He must have cost a fortune,” one girl said. “Where did you get him? Did he come from Europe?”
“Not exactly.” I just smiled.
I put Bluebird back in his stall and hung his giant ribbon on the front. Frank was just coming out of Viper’s stall with a worried look on his face.
“I think she’s fine,” he said to Melanie. “But we’d better scratch her just to be on the safe side.” He saw me standing there eavesdropping and I looked away, pretending that I hadn’t heard. “Sorry kid.” He came over and stood next to me. “You won’t be riding again today.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I did what I came to do.”
“You sure did.” He grinned. “I’ve had people coming up to me asking if the pony is for sale and where I’ve been hiding you.”
My face flushed red. It was embarrassing to think that people were talking about me behind my back but at least this time they were saying nice things.
Frank looked at my pony, who was once again stuffing his face.
“You’re sure he’s not for sale?” he said, sounding hopeful. “Because I’ve got a lot of kids back home whose parents would pay an absolute fortune for a jumper pony their child can win on and not get killed by in the process.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged. “But I’ll never sell him. Not ever.”
“I don’t blame you,” he said. “But if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” I said firmly.
“I get it,” he said. “I do. But you know you’ll probably outgrow him one day. Call me then. Give me first right of refusal?”
“I won’t outgrow him,” I said stubbornly. “I’ve stopped growing.”
“If you say so.” He just laughed.
But I pushed the thought of outgrowing Bluebird from my mind because today was a good day and I didn’t want to ruin it.
Turf Wars (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 8) Page 11