Instead she was at Fox Run, teaching our clients and riding our horses and living our life. The one she had stolen from us. I still couldn’t believe that she had betrayed us like that. It wasn’t fair. She was the one who had encouraged me to follow my dreams and then there she was, snatching them away from me as fast as she could. She knew I’d never get to the Olympics if I was stuffed out here in the wilderness on a farm that had nothing. But I was going to prove her wrong. I was going to prove everyone wrong. I was going to make one of my horses good enough for the Junior Olympic team and I was going to nail the first show and prove to everyone that just because I’d been kicked out of my own home, that didn’t mean that I couldn’t still be a star. I could train anywhere. You could send me to the end of the earth and I’d still find a horse to ride and train and show up ready to win.
“I brought you some food,” Cat whispered after she’d knocked gently on the door.
“Thanks,” I said, opening it.
Before I would have ignored her but now I felt like she was the only ally I had left.
“Hey,” I said as we sat on my bed. “You want me to give you a riding lesson tomorrow?”
“Alright,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
I stood there the next morning, looking at our motley crew and wondering which one of them would be less likely to toss my stepsister into the bushes.
“I like that one,” Cat said, pointing at Arion.
“No,” I said. “Not that one.”
“Well that one then?” she said, looking at Hashtag.
“Maybe.” I shrugged.
Really I needed a Popcorn to put her on. A horse that wouldn't care when she accidentally tugged at the reins or lost her balance and half fell off. My horses weren’t used to teaching beginners and I wasn’t sure how any of them would react when Cat fell on their neck or even worse, fell off.
“Well do you want to teach me or not?” Cat said, sounding fed up.
She was wearing an old pair of my breeches and boots and I’d found a helmet that fit her. Poor Mom had gone ballistic, just like I knew she would. She didn’t want anyone else in the family riding. I didn’t like to remind her that Cat wasn’t really family anyway.
“But we’d planned to cook a soufflé,” Mom said. “You said you were going to help.”
“I’ll help later,” Cat said. “This riding thing isn’t going to take long, right Emily?”
“Right,” I said.
Mom looked like she was going to burst into tears and I had to admit that it gave me a surge of satisfaction after the night before when she’d basically told me to sell all my horses.
“I think you’d better ride Bluebird,” I finally said.
He was the best behaved of all my horses and I knew he would take care of Cat. He wouldn't purposefully toss her off or be sneaky and mean. He’d try and put up with her bad riding because he’d put up with mine when I first got him. Besides, it was less distance for her to fall because I was pretty sure that at some point she was going to fall off. Everyone did. It was just a fact of learning to ride.
“But he is just a little kids pony,” Cat said.
“He is not,” I said indignantly. “He’s one of the best pony jumpers in the area. Probably in the country. You should feel lucky that I am even going to let you ride him.”
“Well I’d still rather ride the gray one,” she said.
“The gray one would rather toss you across the field,” I said.
“Great,” she said. “You know, you are not making riding sound very fun.”
“Learning to ride isn’t fun,” I said. “Until you get the hang of it anyway. Now come on, help me get him and I’ll show you how to tack up.”
“More manual labor?” Cat said. “You know, you are the worst teacher ever.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll try and make it more fun. Plus if you don’t fall off, I’ll give you a candy bar.”
“I said make it more fun not treat me like I’m five,” she said.
“Got it,” I replied.
I guess I wasn’t that good at teaching after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Bluebird stood there quietly as I showed Cat how to brush him and pick out his feet.
“It smells,” she said as the hoof pick knocked the poop out of his hooves.
“Well that’s life with horses,” I said. “You get used to it. In fact I kind of like the smell.”
“You like the smell of poo?” she said. “That’s just gross.”
“Well not exactly that smell,” I said as I pressed my face against Bluebird's coat and breathed in deeply. “This one.”
“Your mom is right.” Cat shook her head. “You are weird.”
“I know,” I said. “And if you fall in love with horses then maybe you’ll be weird too.”
“Maybe,” she said. “If I don’t have to do this hoof picking thing too much.”
“You have to do it every day,” I said.
“Every day?” she said.
“Every day,” I replied.
“Fine, whatever, what is next?” she said.
I showed her how to curry Bluebird's coat and then brush it and how to get the tangles out of his tail without breaking any of his hairs. We placed the saddle pad on his back making sure that the hair was flat beneath it and I let her put the saddle on and then corrected it when she put it too far back. When we tightened the girth, Cat made a face.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” she said.
“No,” I replied.
“But why do you have to do it so tight?”
“It’s not that tight,” I said, slipping my hand beneath it. “But if it’s too loose then it's not going to hold the saddle in place once you get up in it and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to end up swinging under his belly, do you?”
“Definitely not,” Cat said.
I put the bridle on and showed her how to put four fingers in the throatlatch to make sure it wasn’t too tight and how to do the noseband so that it was snug enough so he couldn’t open his mouth and get his tongue over the bit.
“One is tight, one is loose. How am I supposed to keep it all straight?” Cat said.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” I said. “Come on, now it's the fun part.”
“Are you sure?” she said. “Because so far it just seems like a lot of hard work.”
“It is a lot of hard work,” I replied. “But it is totally worth it.”
“It had better be,” Cat said grumpily.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Cat was on the lunge line when Faith showed up to ride Macaroni.
“What are you doing?” she called out.
“I’m teaching,” I said.
“She’s not doing a very good job,” Cat shouted from the saddle.
So far I’d spent most of my time making sure that her heels were down, her shoulders were back and that her hands were soft. Every time that Bluebird made a move, she kept yanking on his mouth until I finally tied a knot in the reins and told her to hold them there and not to pull at any costs. My long suffering pony looked at me with a face that said rescue me but he was fine. It wasn’t like Cat was hurting him or anything.
“This is boring,” Cat said. “Why do I have to keep walking around in a circle. When do I get to gallop?”
“Is she serious?” Faith said.
“She’s serious all right,” I replied.
I flicked the lunge line a little to get Bluebird to wake up and his half dead walk turned into a faster one. Cat lost her balance and fell forward.
“You have to hold your position,” I said. “But go with him at the same time.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Cat said.
Faith laughed.
“Grab hold of the strap on the front of the saddle,” I said. “I’m going to ask him to trot now and when he does you are going to get bounced around a lot.”
“Well that doesn’t sound like fun at all,” Cat said.
“When he trots,” I carried on. “You’ll notice that his pace has a one, two beat to it and eventually you learn to rise and fall to the beat. That will make it more comfortable for both you and him. You ready?”
“Of course I’m ready,” Cat said like she was really sick of me treating her like a baby.
I flicked the lunge whip and Bluebird ambled into a lazy trot. Cat bounced around on his back like a sack of potatoes.
“Keep your back straight,” I called out. “Try posting. Up. Down. Up. Down.”
“You go up and down,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Are you torturing her on purpose?” Faith said. “Was she mean to you or something?”
“No,” I replied. “She wanted to learn.”
“She doesn’t look like she wants to learn,” Faith said as Cat gave up her attempt to post, flopped on Bluebird’s neck and held on for dear life.
“Whoa,” I called out and Bluebird stopped.
I walked up to Cat, who was still clutching hold of Bluebird’s neck like her life depended on it.
“You have to sit up,” I told her gently. “You can’t ride around like that.”
“Why not?” She sat back in the saddle. “And what is with all this bumpy stuff anyway. The cowboys don’t do any of that stuff. They just get on their horses looking all hot and sexy and gallop off into the sunset.”
“Well first of all that is western and yes western riders don’t post at the trot. Secondly, even they had to learn to do all this other stuff before they galloped off into the sunset.”
“I suppose,” Cat said. “But I didn’t think it would be this hard. You make it look so easy.”
“Maybe you could tell my mother that,” I said. “I think she thinks all I do all day is sit up there looking pretty.”
“There is nothing pretty about it,” Cat said, slithering to the ground. “And my legs are killing me.”
“Same time again tomorrow?” I called out after her as she limped back to the house.
“Well she’ll never ride again,” Faith said.
“I really wasn’t trying to put her off,” I said. “I want to teach her but learning to ride does kind of suck until you get the hang of it. Don’t you remember how hard it was until you learned to post?”
“No,” Faith said, sticking her nose in the air. “I never had to learn. I was born knowing how to ride.”
“Sure you were,” I said, pulling one of her pigtails. “Now go and get your pony ready so we can go for a proper ride.”
“Okay.” She grinned.
I adjusted my stirrups and rode Bluebird around while I waited for Faith. He seemed none the worse for wear for having had a beginner on his back. Maybe that was his destiny now, to teach people instead of winning blue ribbons. I just couldn’t see that he would enjoy a life like that. He lived for the spotlight, just like I did. Just like all my horses did. Hashtag had lit up when all those people watched his bone demonstration. Arion puffed up and jumped higher at shows than he ever did at home. The show life was where the adrenaline was. It was the high we chased and the glory we craved. And I was never going to take that away from my horses unless I knew that I didn’t have any other choice.
“Where are we going to ride?” Faith asked. “Here in the fake ring again?”
“I think I’ve had enough of the fake ring for one day,” I said. “How about a gallop up the hill?”
“Really?” she said, her eyes lighting up.
“Well it's no Fox Run trail but it used to be good enough for us when we boarded at Sand Hill and I think it's time we found out what has become of our old farm, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Faith said. “What if they’ve bulldozed it or turned it into something horrible?”
“Or what if it's become some amazing little farm where the people are kind and nice and will let us use their ring and jumps?” I said with a sneaky wink.
“That would be super cool,” Faith said. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
We trotted away from our little farm and up the hill. It wasn’t a steep hill really, we didn’t have those in Florida. But it was enough of a slope that it would be a good conditioning exercise for all my horses. We passed the wooded patch and the fallen down logs and when we got to the top of the hill, our ponies tossed their heads and pranced back to a walk.
“That was fun,” Faith said.
“Told you.” I grinned back.
From the top of the hill you could see Jess’s farm. I could see her down there like an ant, riding in the ring. Someone was out there giving her a lesson and it wasn’t her father either. It was a woman. I wondered who it was.
“Do you think we’ll get in trouble if we ride through here?” Faith asked as I got off Bluebird and slipped the fence boards out like we used to do when we boarded at Sand Hill.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I said with a shrug.
I didn’t really care. If there were new people there what were they going to do? Yell at us to get off their property? If they did then we’d leave and that would be that. But I had this fantastic image of the place all fixed up and shiny and new again with owners who would be more than happy to let us ride in their ring whenever we wanted. I knew it was a long shot but I still had my fingers crossed anyway.
The little trail was overgrown. Esther had kept it trimmed back when she ran the farm so that we could give the horses a break from the ring and ride through the trees and we’d placed jumps off to the side so that we could canter through and jump like a miniature cross country course if we’d wanted to. It was nothing like the fantastic cross country course at Fox Run but we’d thought it was pretty cool, until we got all spoiled. But now nature had overtaken those jumps just like the ones in the woods. Creeping vines covered them and the wood was wet and rotten.
“It doesn’t look like anyone has ridden through here in a while,” Faith said as Macaroni got his leg tangled in a bush.
He freaked out and gave a half rear, half buck before freeing himself.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
“Fine,” she said, gathering her reins back up. “But they haven’t kept the place very clean, have they?”
“No,” I said. “They haven’t.”
And as we came out of the woods and into the farm, any dreams I’d had of rich people owning Sand Hill and letting us ride there were finally crushed. The place had been shabby back when Esther ran it but it was completely dilapidated now. The jumps that we had lovingly painted on long weekends were nowhere to be seen but three bright red barrels stood in the ring that was so uneven and lumpy that I wouldn’t have wanted to ride my horses in there even if I could. The paddocks had boards that had fallen down and were now half strung up with bailing twine and the gates were lopsided and crooked. I didn’t even want to look in the barn. It seemed like the kind of place that some big old guy would come out of with a shotgun and shoot first, then ask questions later.
“I don’t like it here,” Faith said as a scrawny looking chicken pecked at Macaroni’s hoof and the pony scuttled backwards. “Let’s go back.”
I looked around at the farm we had once called home. Or at least our home away from home. It hadn’t been much and it certainly hadn’t been fancy but back then it had been enough for us. Now it just stunk of manure and decay.
“I really hope there aren’t any horses here,” I said. “Maybe I should go and check.”
“No Emily, let's go back,” Faith said as I got off and handed her my reins. “What if we get in trouble?”
“I thought you didn’t care about stuff like that,” I said.
“I don’t,” she said. “But I have a bad feeling about this place.”
“I do too,” I said. “That is why I have to go and look. What if there are starving horses in the barn and we did nothing to save them?”
“And what if the person who owns those starving horses decides to call the cops on us?” Faith said.
“You worry
too much,” I said.
But I didn’t like to admit that my heart was pounding in my chest as I left Faith and walked over to the barn. Just because the place was a wreck, that didn’t mean that I was going to find horses in really bad shape. I just had to be sure because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I didn’t at least look. And if there was a starving horse then despite the fact that I’d want to steal it away, I knew that the only thing I’d be able to do would be to call animal control. Stealing it away would do nothing but get me into trouble and besides, we didn’t have room for any more horses. We barely had room for the ones we did have. Ones like Chantilly and Phoenix and Bandit, who didn’t pull their weight and couldn’t even be ridden. What would I do with a starving horse?
But as I stepped into the dark barn I think I thought that if I found a starving horse in there with its ribs showing and coat all full of fungus and I rescued it then I’d be the hero. I wouldn’t be the girl who got kicked out of Fox Run when her father lost his job. I wouldn’t be the girl who had to move to a tumbledown farm with her tail between her legs, her Junior Olympic horse taken from her. I’d be a savior instead. Someone who did something good. And I needed to do good. I needed it more than anything.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The barn was dark and musty. The skylights had been boarded up with plywood and the only light was that which spilled in through the dirty windows in the back of the stalls, most of which had been smashed. The local vandals had been through, spray painting their gang logos and profanity on the front of the stalls that once used to house our horses. Esther would have had a heart attack. Her office had been trashed. The desk lay on its side and papers were all over the floor. A pipe in the ceiling had sprung a leak and since no one had bothered to turn the water off, it dripped endlessly onto a smashed computer monitor.
Boot Camp (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 24) Page 6