Blue Ribbons

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  Jane shook her head. “But he reared when he saw the lunge whip. A vaulting pony wouldn’t be scared of a lunge whip.”

  “Unless the trainer was cruel to him,” Hailey said. “Then he might be. I bet the trainer wore a baseball hat.”

  We all nodded, our eyes growing wide. Even Jane, who hadn’t really cared about where Frankie came from, other than with the hope of getting rid of him, seemed excited.

  I said, “Has he been lunged much? If he’s a vaulting pony, he would be really good on the lunge line, right?”

  “A circus would travel by tractor-trailer . . .” Hailey said to herself. She looked at me. “Oh my god, I think you could be right.”

  “Let’s go ask Hektor whether he’s lunged him,” I said.

  Hektor was tacking up Katie Whitt’s horse. We slowed to a walk once inside the barn.

  “Have you ever lunged Frankie?” I said.

  “Ever?” Hektor asked.

  “Ever. We’re just wondering if he’s good about being lunged.”

  Hektor shrugged. “He was okay.”

  “Just okay?” Jane asked.

  “Did he listen to voice commands? Like when you told him to walk and trot?” It seemed like that would be a must for a horse used for vaulting.

  Hektor shook his head.

  I felt my body deflate. It had finally seemed like we had figured it out but now it wasn’t making sense.

  “Did you use a lunge whip?” Hailey asked.

  “He didn’t like the lunge whip.” Hektor looked sheepishly at me. I guess he worried I might be mad after what happened when I fell off.

  We thanked Hektor and walked back toward the front of the barn. Susie’s voice carried from the ring from where she was still teaching the eq kids: “Again! When you see the distance don’t shake and bake to get there! Smooth it out.”

  “So there goes that theory,” Jane said.

  I let out a half-sigh, half-groan. If he wasn’t good at lungeing and didn’t know voice commands, he certainly couldn’t be a vaulting pony. Which meant we were back to knowing essentially nothing.

  “Let’s go watch the end of the lesson,” Jane said.

  Chapter 38

  * * *

  I couldn’t give up on the idea of Frankie being a circus vaulting pony. It was the only thing that made any sense. I watched videos of circus acts with horses on YouTube and on circus websites. The horses were always jet-black or white. A white pony with a blue eye would excite an audience. I could imagine Frankie with a lady in a glittery leotard doing handstands on his back and then afterward he would take a bow. In the videos of vaulters in circus acts, they did amazing things like jumps and flips. I also checked out the website of the American Vaulting Association and learned about what made a good vaulting horse. Attitude and temperament were the most important things and in that way Frankie wouldn’t have been a very good candidate since he was nervous and unpredictable at times. But I still wondered if that was because of a mean circus trainer. According to Janette he’d been a great first pony for her daughter—calm and reliable—and at times Frankie did still seem sweet and kind. He seemed like he wanted to be a good pony, but had forgotten how.

  On the American Vaulting Association website there was also a section on how to train a vaulting horse. When I got to the part about voice commands, I leaned closer to the screen. It emphasized the importance of working by voice command since a vaulting horse essentially had to be “remote control.” My shoulders slumped as I half-heartedly read on. How could Frankie be a circus pony if he didn’t know voice commands? Hektor had said he didn’t respond to walk or trot. But a few lines later I read something that made me sit up straight:

  The verbal commands you will need to teach are: A tongue click to start the horse out or to move him on faster in the same gait;

  “Brrr” (a raspberry sound) or “whoa” for stop; “brrr” is preferred as it is not used in conversation, and you don’t want to confuse the horse by using something the vaulter might say.

  “Walk” and “trot” with a specific intonation.

  “Hup” for canter.

  Could Frankie not have been good lungeing for Hektor because Hektor hadn’t used the right voice commands? It was possible. I called Hailey and Jane and told them what I’d found.

  “We need to lunge him,” I said. “Then we’ll know for sure one way or another.”

  They both agreed and the next day Tommy begrudgingly said we could lunge Frankie. Jane told him we thought he might have been a circus pony and he rolled his eyes and said, “Just don’t get hurt.”

  We took Frankie out to the back ring. Jane led him and Hailey and I walked beside her. We didn’t bring the lunge whip because that was what had freaked him out in the first place. Hailey and I stood by the rail as Jane took Frankie into the ring. She stood in the middle of the end of the ring closest to us and gave Frankie some slack on the lunge line.

  “Okay, what do I do?”

  I looked down at my notes. “Cluck to get him to move out.”

  Hailey and I waited, pressed against the fence, as Jane clucked to Frankie. I wondered if Hailey was as nervous as I was. If this didn’t work, I didn’t know how we’d ever figure out what had happened to Frankie after Janette had sold him.

  Jane clucked quietly and Frankie didn’t move. My heart sank. She did it again, louder, and he moved off onto the circle.

  “Now tell him to trot but like we talked about. Make it two syllables.”

  Jane called out, “Tr-ot.”

  And off Frankie went into a trot. Jane shot us a look—it was working! To make him halt the site had said either to use ‘whoa’ or ‘brrr’ but had suggested ‘brrr’ since it was not likely to be used in conversation. After the vaulter did a big flip maybe the ringmaster would say something like, “Whoa, hold on there! Don’t fall off.” I told Jane what to say. She made a funny face as she did the “brrr” since it did sound silly. The moment it was out of her mouth, Frankie came to a perfect, square halt. He turned his head and glanced at us with what I swear was a smug look on his face—like, finally you guys figure out what I can do.

  “Oh my god!” Hailey said. “You were right.”

  To confirm it Jane asked him to canter with a “hup!” Off Frankie went into a perfect canter departure. He looked happy and relaxed, like he was thrilled we’d figured out his language. Jane put him through a few more paces—it was pretty cool to be able to utter sounds and have him respond perfectly. I think it was one of the first times I’d seen her enjoying working with him. She brought him to a halt and came toward him. I almost couldn’t believe when I saw her actually pat him on the neck.

  She rolled up the lunge line and led him toward us. “I guess that explains a lot.”

  Hailey cocked her head. “Except for a few minor details like what happened at the circus and how he got to Vi’s.”

  “One thing at a time,” I said.

  Chapter 39

  * * *

  In the last week of June, Susie and Tommy took a group of riders to a smaller show in Massachusetts. It was Hailey’s last chance to qualify for Pony Finals.

  I wanted to go along, but it was crazy for me to show my ponies, who were already qualified, at such a small show. I wouldn’t have minded going along just to watch and cheer on Hailey. But with Mom’s surgery scheduled for three weeks out and me leaving for Shaftsbury to show the following week, I figured I better not ask and just stay home.

  Since everyone was at the show, the barn was quiet. I was supposed to just hack my ponies. After I rode Tyler in the ring, I decided to take him for a walk around the ring. I wasn’t supposed to but no one was watching, and what could happen, really? On the other side of the ring we came to the trail into the woods. Tyler swung his head to look down the path and it was like he was asking me to take it. I thought about how he looked so happy covered in mud that day in the field. Since his bruise, he was only allowed to go out in the tiny turnout again. He never got to do what he wanted. B
efore I could think more about all the reasons why I shouldn’t, I turned off onto the trail. I immediately started telling myself I would turn around really soon. We’d only just take a quick look to see what the trail was like. But I kept going, wanting to see what was around the next bend and the next. The trail was just wide enough for one horse, single file, and it was surrounded by trees. The ground was safe and even—no jutting rocks or roots. The trail headed up a little hill and I got up into half-seat. Tyler’s ears were glued forward and his walk felt very different than his ring walk. He looked with interest at the trees and at a big boulder we passed but he didn’t spook at them. The trail leveled out again and I decided to trot. He carried his head higher than in the ring but I didn’t mind. He felt alert and alive, like a different pony. He was clearly having fun. He put up with what he was asked to do in the ring but this was what he liked.

  The trail spilled out into a grassy field, woods surrounding it on all sides. I had no idea places like this existed. I wanted so badly to canter through the field but I knew I had already pushed my luck and needed to get back. I came back to the barn and slid off Tyler. Before I handed him to Martha he gave me a conspiratorial look that I swear was his saying, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  Hailey texted me nonstop from the show. The smalls and mediums were combined with only six total. Even with those stacked odds, Hailey was freaking out and most of my texts were telling her how awesome she and Donald were. The first day Hailey chipped badly in the first class, caving under all the pressure. She still ended up fourth. She won the second class and placed fourth again in the hack. The next day Hailey rode awesome and won both classes. She was champion and qualified for Pony Finals. Jane took Coco even though she was already qualified and was reserve to Hailey. The other big news was that Jane was champion in the greens with Frankie and now he was qualified for Pony Finals, too.

  That week Mom said she wanted us to do something fun together. Sometimes we used to drive to upstate New York and go hiking, but that was out of the question. Mom asked me if I wanted to go shopping and go out to lunch, get our nails done, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do. We couldn’t settle on anything that didn’t feel like a forced-bonding-with-your-dying-mother moment and I began to feel badly that the week just might slip by and we wouldn’t do anything together. I was even going to relent to the tired lunch/ nails/ shopping excursion when a few days later Mom said, “I have an idea I think you’re going to like. You know how I feel about dogs . . . but there’s a Pause for Paws walk-a-thon on Saturday and I thought we could volunteer together. I already called and offered that ProduX have a booth with give-aways for the walkers. They were pretty excited and I won’t have to touch a dog.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe Mom had come up with this idea on her own. It was just the kind of thing I liked to do. It made me feel sick to my stomach that I’d taken Tyler into the woods. What if he’d gotten hurt, or someone had found out? Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about the trail and the field and how different Tyler had seemed.

  “Does it sound like something you’d want to do together? Man, or woman rather, the booth?” Mom asked.

  “Absolutely!”

  Mom and I got to the park early on Saturday. Volunteers wearing PAUSE FOR PAWS shirts were flagging the walk-a-thon route, putting up posters, and setting up water stations. Mom found Tania, the event organizer, who thanked her profusely for participating. She led us to a spot near a water station where two other volunteers were setting up a table. Dad drove up a little while later with the boxes of supplies Mom had ordered from the warehouse. He carried the boxes over to the table. Then Mom whispered something to him, which must have been telling him not to stick around so we could have our time together. He snapped a photo of us with his phone and then waved good-bye.

  We unloaded the samples of facial cleanser, moisturizers, and sunscreen. We set them up on the table and Tania came over with PAUSE FOR PAWS shirts for us to wear.

  An hour later the first walkers showed up, most with dogs. I loved seeing all the different types of dogs, tiny to huge, purebred to mixed breeds. Some walkers carried babies in backpacks or pushed strollers. The weather couldn’t have been better, clear skies, but not overly hot. In addition to the walk, there was a diva doggie costume contest and a looks-most-like-its-owner contest. A radio station had a booth and played music, and there were other tables with companies giving away energy bars and doggie treats.

  Mom was wrong about not having to touch a dog. Most everyone who came to the booth had at least one dog with them. I’d always bend down and pat the dogs and ask their names. Mom tried to stay behind the booth, handing out samples. I wondered if anyone would guess that Mom was the founder and former CEO of ProduX. They probably just thought she was some salesclerk who had the job of handing out samples at events. Mom was wearing her wig, and if you didn’t know her, you probably wouldn’t notice it was a wig. But I still wasn’t used to it, or her drawn-on eyebrows.

  All the dogs were on leashes, but at one point a medium-sized fuzzy bear of a dog got loose and tore across the park. It was heading straight for our booth, its owner running after it. It darted under the table and it must have been instinct overriding her fear because Mom reached out and grabbed its leash. She seemed to surprise even herself. The dog leaped around by her feet as she tried to remain calm, holding the leash with shaky hands. I was going to take the dog from her, but she looked like she was almost enjoying being forced to confront her fear. The dog sat down and looked up at her and she leaned down to pat his head. His owner came huffing up to the table, apologizing. “She just bolted away.”

  “No problem,” Mom said, handing over the leash. “She’s cute.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said.

  Mom gave me an infinitely pleased look like this day was working out even better than she’d imagined.

  “Mom?” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I know I shouldn’t even ask, but what about us getting a dog? You did so well with that one.”

  Mom sighed. “I don’t think now’s the right time, honey.”

  “Maybe this is a good time. Dogs can be therapeutic, you know.”

  “You’ll get a dog . . . someday,” she said.

  I mumbled, “Like when I’m thirty.”

  “Before then,” Mom said with a faraway look in her eyes.

  When most of the dogs and walkers had gone home, we helped pick up the discarded water cups and energy bar wrappers. I could tell Mom was tired. Still, she wouldn’t stop helping. Tania came over to thank us again before we left. “You are so great to do this. I don’t know many CEOs who take time out to actually do the work.”

  Mom put her arm around me. “It’s all my daughter . . . she’s very inspiring.” Mom looked sideways at me, again, the way she had a lot that day, smiling in a kind of strange detached-yet-happy way. I had a weird feeling she knew something about her cancer I didn’t know. Like this was the last meaningful thing we’d do together. That feeling of absolute panic I usually only felt at night in bed in the dark rushed over me. It made me feel like I couldn’t get enough air. It was a powerful physical kind of scared I’d never felt before Mom got sick.

  I tried to shake off the feeling, telling myself I was just tired, too. It was easier to shake it off in the daylight. Mom was having surgery soon. Yes, like Dad said, her recovery would be hard but she’d do just that—recover. She had to.

  Chapter 40

  * * *

  The next week I left for Shaftsbury, Vermont for two weeks of the six-week circuit. It was the first show Mom didn’t come to. I would stay with the Mullins, which I knew would be so much fun. The show was near several ski resorts so it had cute shops and good restaurants that were happy to have summer customers. It was crazy humid in the city before we left, but in Vermont the mountain air was refreshingly cool.

  Now that Hailey was qualified, the pressure was off. Jane was super busy showing lots of ponies for people an
d Tommy had also gotten her some rides in the children’s jumpers and hunters. She was getting tall for medium ponies and Tommy wanted to get her started on horses. Next year he wanted her mostly doing the large ponies, and getting her feet wet in the junior hunters and big eq. The sooner he could get her making up project horses instead of ponies the better, since a big-time eq horse or junior hunter sold for even more money than a top pony.

  I felt bad because Vermont was super fun in part because Mom wasn’t there. I could almost forget about infusions, debulking, and central lines—terminology most kids never had to learn.

  We rented a two-bedroom ski condo with a loft. Owen was spending the week with his dad. Hailey and I shared a room and talked forever before falling asleep so I was less likely to have those overwhelming attacks of fear. A few times I woke up in the middle of the night, thinking about death, and things in the room would start to look sinister. I knew that would sound crazy if I told anyone, but that’s what it felt like. But I could look over at Hailey and it made me feel better and get back to sleep easier.

  Since I felt guilty about how much fun I was having with Hailey and her mom, I texted and called Mom a lot. Mrs. Mullins was so different than Mom. A lot of what she said and did embarrassed Hailey, like how she’d leave the door open when she went to the bathroom.

  Mrs. Mullins also came into the kitchen in the morning to get her coffee in only a bra and underwear. Hailey would shield her eyes and moan, “Mom!” According to Hailey she also slurped her coffee too loudly and popped her gum. Nearly everything about her drove Hailey crazy. Sometimes Mrs. Mullins and I would share a sympathetic look behind Hailey’s back and one time, when Hailey was in the shower, Mrs. Mullins asked me whether I was so hard on my mother. “Sometimes it’s like I can’t do anything she doesn’t hate me for,” she confided.