by Lisa Wysocky
In the warm-up arena I sized up the competition as Jon and Darcy fussed over Gigi and me. The Thoroughbred and the Warmblood fillies were much taller, but possibly not as well conditioned. Zach Avery had a striking charcoal-colored Arabian filly with a silver mane and tail. She looked narrow through the chest, though, but that may be typical of the breed at that age. Hunter’s dad had a whopping bay Oldenburg filly with an intelligent eye. There was a lot of good horseflesh here, but none with Gigi’s presence and perfect build. Time would tell if the judges agreed with me.
The weanlings were coming out now. Cam held a yellow third place ribbon for his entry, and Judy Lansing’s filly had a pink fifth place ribbon. Some of the yearlings were going in, but I held back. I wanted to be last. Gigi had the attention span of a gnat, so the less time she had to stand still the better. Plus, the judges might give her a little extra attention if they knew she was the last horse to be judged in the class. My philosophy was to bury mediocrity in the middle, and put excellence either first or last into the ring.
I tried to keep my mind focused as I led Gigi in an arrow-straight line to the first judge and trotted away just as straight, but Annie, Tony, and Starmaker were in the forefront of my mind. I hadn’t admitted to myself before how worried I was about all of them, but I was. I really was. Out of necessity, I shoved my thoughts aside. I had to zone in on Gigi, or she would sense my lack of attention and start to goof off. This was an important competition, and a win here could be listed with pride in Gigi’s credits for the rest of her career.
We were standing head to tail now, and the fifteen or so entries circled the floor of the arena. I focused on the three judges, sensed when one was looking our way, and turned my body to face her. The judges were using iPads to score, so it was hard to tell when they were done judging this round. In the old days you could see when the judges handed slips of paper with their choices to the ring steward and could let your horse relax a smidge until the next round. Today, I did not let Gigi out of presentation mode until I saw the three judges troop one by one to a small gate in the arena that led to a private seating area. This was the judge’s stand, the place where judges sat between classes, or where they judged some classes, such as reining.
When the announcer read off the numbers of the eight horses who were to stay in the arena for additional judging, I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Gigi’s number was called. I trotted Gigi to the center of the arena, then toward the gate so we would be at the far end of the line. If I could keep her facing the gate, and the holding pen beyond, then she might be interested in the activity there and look even more brilliant.
The judges buzzed around the top eight like busy bees and it took all of my attention to keep track of who was looking at what. One judge, a tall, older man who I knew had a hunter/jumper background, was quite thorough and looked closely at Gigi twice.
This time when the judges relaxed I knew they had made their final choices and a computer somewhere was combining their scores. Then the placings came and I got so nervous I thought I would faint. Gigi had an undefeated record of wins that I did not want to be broken here. And, even though Mason was Darcy’s dad and a steadfast client, there was always the chance that if she didn’t win, or place high, that he would move the filly to another trainer. Gigi was a difficult horse at times, but I had grown to love her and our barn would not be the same place without her.
The show only awarded six placings, so by the time there were just four of us left, I knew we had placed either first or second, or would receive no placing at all. I thought the announcer would never broadcast the second place winner, and when he did, it was Zach’s silver filly.
There were not many spectators this early in the morning, maybe a hundred or so, but those who were in the seats were cheering and applauding so loudly for Zach that it was hard to hear the announcer. With all the noise, Gigi was beginning to dance at the end of the lead, something I tried to discourage, but she was already acting as if all the fuss was about her. And you know what? It was. Gigi jumped into the air when she was named champion yearling filly––and so did I.
Cat’s Horse Tip #7
“To assess the fit of a web, nylon, or leather halter, the top of the noseband should fall several inches below the bony protrusion on the side of the horse’s face, and only two or three of your fingers should fit between your horse and the noseband of the halter.”
15
TWO WINS IN TWO DAYS, first Sally and now Gigi. That was huge for us, but we had no time to celebrate. Darcy and Amanda both had bareback equitation classes that afternoon and it was going to take all of us to get them ready.
I took Wheeler for a walk to loosen his muscles for Amanda’s class. Even the fittest of horses got a little stiff standing in a stall all day, and to be honest, Wheeler wasn’t all that fit. He was a chunky babysitter of a horse who knew how to do his job well, and as far as he was concerned, his job required a lot of food and very little exercise.
He went with me agreeably, though, and began to walk loosely and easily in a matter of minutes. When I got back, Darcy, Amanda, Melanie, Hunter, and Bubba were all talking to Jon.
“They have news,” he said. Then he took Wheeler from me and led him back to his stall.
Bubba’s was the first voice to rise above the others. “Me an’ Hunter are part of the Youth Watch an’ we volunteered to run errands for the show office,” he said. “It was cool, we were like spies.”
“We overheard something interesting, too,” said Hunter. “Show management sent lots of samples of hay, shavings, feed, and water to be analyzed to see if any of it was poisoned.”
“They’re afraid of bein’ sued,” chimed Bubba. “They sure ’nuff want to know the supplies they sold on the grounds here ain’t tainted.”
Good for Noah, I thought. I doubted that anything would be wrong with the samples, but at least that could be ruled out.
“And we asked Cam Clark if we could sweep his aisle,” said Melanie. “His stalls are behind Debra Dudley’s so we went around the corner and swept hers too.”
“We could tell Cam thought we wanted to do it because we had a crush on him,” added Darcy. “And we’re like, really? He’s like, yucky old, but I’m glad we let him think that because we overheard lots of stuff.”
“I heard Debra tell someone on the phone that the police think she is behind the colics because her family business is in trouble and Temptation was insured for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” said Melanie.
“I heard it, too,” said Darcy. “Then Cam told me that he’d thought from the beginning that Noah was in over his head managing the show. Oh, and Cam’s got a guard 24/7 on his yearling because he’s sure his colt will be targeted next.”
“I was there, too, Darcy. I heard what Cam said, too,” added Melanie.
The two girls shot hateful looks at each other. Before their differences escalated I suggested Darcy get ready for her class. Melanie, too. Since they were the same age, they always competed with each other.
“Thanks, all of you,” I said before the kids disbursed. “That was great work. Any of this could be important information.”
Darcy grabbed her clothes and stomped off to the bathroom to get dressed. I knew if she rode into her class in a mood like that she would set herself up to fail, so I followed.
“Here,” I said as Darcy struggled with her long, thick hair. I grabbed a brush and began twisting her locks into a bun. She looked madder than a box of frogs. “So what is it with you and Melanie? What is this love-hate thing you have going on?”
Darcy glared at me, then gave a dramatic sigh. “I crowded her into the rail once by mistake when I first started showing. I was thirteen. I didn’t mean to squeeze into her, but when I crowded her she had to drop back and she broke gait from the canter to the trot and didn’t place. My inexperience made Melanie lose the class. Now Melanie crowds me whenever she can, or cuts me off. We’re both just now realizing how immature our feud is, so w
e’re trying to be friends. Sort of.
“I know it’s important to win or lose a class on your own merits,” she continued, “but that’s hard when you don’t know if someone is gunning for you or not. It adds a lot of extra stress.”
Ah, the reason for the sigh. I now also knew why Darcy had taken a break from showing the year before. She was tired of the rivalry with Melanie.
“Well, I think Melanie wants to end the meanness as much as you do,” I said. “If you smile and wish her a good ride before the class, I think she’ll concentrate on herself and leave you alone.”
“Maybe,” Darcy answered. She looked stunning in her rust colored outfit. The uniform color from head to toe elongated her short body, perfectly matched her tack, set off her blonde hair, and provided good contrast when she was on Petey, who was dark.
I could feel Darcy’s bad mood waning, and I complimented her on how well she jumped in to help when Annie fainted. A big part of a horse trainer’s job is playing amateur counselor to his or her clients. It wasn’t something I had planned on when I started in the business, and I wasn’t all that sure how good I was at it, but I did my best. I knew if my clients did not go into a class feeling positive and focused, it was a guarantee that they would not do well.
As we walked back to our stalls I asked Darcy something that had been on my mind for a few days. “When you were sweeping Debra Dudley’s aisle, did you happen to notice what any of her stall numbers were?”
Darcy thought for a moment, then her face brightened. “The one on the end was 116. Why?”
“I thought maybe someone wanted to get to Temptation, but got a stall number mixed up and got Star instead.”
“What was Star’s stall number?”
“Two hundred.”
“Darn,” she said.
“I know. Guess that would have been too easy.”
Amanda’s class was first and she rode as well as I had ever seen her. She came out of the ring with a big smile and a pink fifth place ribbon, and I knew the placing would do a lot to build her confidence.
Darcy ended up third. She could have won the class, but she had a little swing going on with her lower leg at the canter that I hadn’t seen before. I’d ask her to stretch her lower leg down through her heel more next time and that should fix the issue. Melanie was right behind Darcy with a respectable fourth place ribbon and they rode out of the arena together, chatting like best friends. Teenagers. What else could I say?
Martin emerged from a corner outside the holding pen and began to walk with me. He was younger than I was by a few years, but had a nice, companionable silence about him. I had learned that while Martin didn’t talk much, when he did, he usually had something worth saying.
“No security to speak of here,” he said now. “Anyone can come in or out, but I ’spect you know that.”
As we walked, he told me in neat, concise, words that the campus police were cooperating well with the county cops. “But they do that all the time,” he said. “Not too many murders here on campus, but the university guys are holding their own.”
I wasn’t sure where Martin had gotten his information, but there was no doubt in my mind that it was accurate. He had also discovered that Dr. Carruthers suspected the yearlings were poisoned with a substance that was soluble in water, and had maybe been added to their feed. “She was supposed to have a tape recorded version of her notes. The tape recorder is missing, but the county cops found the written notes under the seat in her truck.”
I wasn’t sure if Noah knew all of this or not, so I added the information that the kids had given me earlier, then sent Martin in search of the show manager. As I watched him lumber away I thought that even though Martin looked like someone whose family tree didn’t have any branches, he had more knowledge about human nature than just about anyone I had ever met. I was glad he was here, even if it was just for the day.
Brent treated me to lunch off the show grounds. This was a bigger thrill for me than you might imagine, because between the hot dogs, hamburgers, and nachos offered in the coliseum, I had already become tired of the choices. Jon made sure we always had healthy snacks in the tack room––fruit, and the gluten-free granola bars that I usually ate for lunch––but it was a real treat to have a sit-down meal in the middle of the day.
I could not have asked for better company. There was something about Brent that made me smile, and my heart lifted every time I saw him. We ended up at The Apple Tree, and in the midst of baked apple chicken, green beans, and corn bread with apple butter, Brent made his feelings very clear. He had two things he needed to get off his chest, and their names were Noah and Cam.
Brent always spoke quietly and this made his words more impactful to me than if he had shouted. As he had today, Brent had met up with me several times when I was on the road with the horses. And during those times he had met both Noah and Cam. We’d already had the talk about previous relationships, and I thought I had made it very clear that Noah was a friend and that Cam was as useless to me as a back pocket on a shirt.
Brent never mentioned the two unless we were at a horse show. I don’t know if seeing them up close and in person made his jealousy rise to the surface, or if it was always bubbling close by, but this was a side of Honeycakes I knew we’d have to deal with together sooner rather than later, or our budding relationship would not survive.
“I am concerned because it is obvious that they both have strong feelings for you, and also because I get mixed signals from you about your commitment to our relationship,” Brent said in a reasonable tone of voice.
I had a feeling we were in the middle of our first fight and I didn’t have a clue how we got there. Maybe it had something to do with how the planets were aligned because there sure was a heap of tension surrounding this horse show. Darcy and Melanie, Jon and Tony, and to be honest, Cam and me. But that was all Cam. I felt like I was trapped between a dog and a fire hydrant.
I reminded Brent that we had both agreed to take our relationship slowly. My commitment to him on the level we were on now was not unwavering. Did I want to make it permanent? It was far too soon for me to tell. We’d been dating for less than five months. I tried, but my words to him were not nearly as calm as his words to me. Plus, he ignored my important words about us, and jumped straight to Noah and Cam.
“I don’t see how you can be friends with someone you used to love, because some small part of you will always care about them in that way,” Brent said.
“Do not put words in my mouth or feelings in my head,” I hissed. By this time we were walking out the door of the restaurant, so only the people sitting at the table nearest the exit turned to stare at us. “Cam Clark is as helpful as a milk bucket under a bull. And Noah has become like a brother to me.
“You know what I do for a living. I haul horses all over the country. I travel a lot. I see the same people show after show, year after year. You knew that going in. There has to be some trust here and if you can’t find it, then I don’t know if we have a future together.”
Brent looked as if he was going to reply, but instead he kicked the bumper of his truck and then slammed his fist into the fender. Only then did I burst into tears.
Cat’s Horse Tip #8
“Horses do not look upon emotional people as competent leaders. Same probably goes for people.”
16
THE TWO OF US PROBABLY looked like Darcy did when she was in a snit as we stomped around to our respective sides of the truck and got in. It occurred to me that this entire show was turning into a soap opera. All I wanted to do was advance my horses and riders through lessons learned from competition, but the enormity of the personal and professional drama that surrounded the event was getting in the way.
Three things were for sure. One, I needed to get a handle on my rolling emotions. Two, I needed the people around me to understand that they had to get along––at least in my presence. Three, I needed to feel safe in my environment and I sure did not feel safe at this ho
rse show. There was a murderer floating around, for goodness sake, and people and horses were being hurt.
Then I looked at Brent. He was a good, kind, and very attractive man. I barely even noticed his protruding ears or Jay Leno-esque chin. In my mind, his features had long since melded together to make him my safe, dependable, huggable Honeycakes. That meant something, didn’t it? I reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, then gave me the barest of smiles. “Did we survive our first fight?” he asked.
“You know, I think we did.”
There was a knee-deep group of people hanging around our stalls when we got back, and poor Ambrose looked overwhelmed trying to keep an eye on all of them. Not that anyone here would harm my horses or me. Agnes and Lars were there, Jon and Darcy, Martin and Tony, and the two dogs, Hank and Mickey.
I sent Brent off with Agnes and Lars to watch some of the reining preliminaries. Reining is a western discipline where horse and rider execute a series of fast runs, sliding stops, and mind-boggling spins. Brent actually liked Agnes, and I never saw a more unlikely friendship. Kooky out-there Agnes and staid, responsible Brent. Two of my favorite people and I was glad that they, at least, got along.
Darcy went back to the hotel for a little R&R, which left Jon and Tony. I gave the older man a hug and Mickey wagged his tail, happy to be reunited with his dad.
“How is Annie?”
“Better,” he said. “She’s much better. I think they’ll release her tomorrow.”
“Did they find out what was wrong?” Jon asked. Jon and Tony may have their differences, but Jon had always liked Annie.
Tony gave Jon a wary glance. I watched his face as he decided there was no hidden agenda in Jon’s question. “Her blood pressure was unusually low, which they think caused both the fainting and the heart irregularity.”