by Suzanne Weyn
Taylor smiled, happy to hear his encouraging words. “Well, I’ll do my best,” she said. “I would like to win more lessons with you.”
“You win my Most Improved in the Shortest Time Award,” Keith said with a chuckle. “You had it in you all along. You just needed a chance to let it show.”
Taylor beamed, proud he would bestow such an honor on her, even if it was just in words and not a real award. But her smile faded when Daphne strode into the arena, glossy black hair trailing behind her.
Daphne walked up to Keith, asking, “Did you want Barclay ridden in the Pelham bit or the D ring?”
“Oh, D ring, please. That would suit him best — if we can even get him bridled this time,” Keith replied.
“Yeah, he’s a bit of a handful,” Daphne remarked with a sigh. Before turning, she cast a cautious glance up toward Taylor. “Hey, Taylor.”
Taylor gave a short wave, pursed her lips, and nudged Gracie forward into a walk in the opposite direction. Taylor didn’t want to feel hurt and betrayed by Daphne, but she just wasn’t able to get over it.
Keith’s voice snapped her back to attention. “All right, Taylor. I hope I’ll see you next week. I have to go work with that new horse, Barclay.” He walked purposefully toward the gate. “Keep cooling Gracie down some more before you dismount.”
“I will. Thanks for everything — just in case I don’t see you next week.”
“Start thinking positive thoughts about that competition right now, and I bet you’ll do great,” Keith replied with a smile.
“See you!” Taylor called out after him. “Thanks again!”
As Taylor walked Gracie around the ring she returned to her thoughts about the situation at Wildwood, her daydreams occasionally floating in the direction of Eric. Although she didn’t want to read too far into it, he did seem to pay a lot of extra attention to her. Then again, wasn’t that what friends did?
After two circles around the ring, Taylor dismounted Gracie, running her stirrups up and bringing the reins forward over the horse’s mane. Still thinking about Eric, she walked out of the ring toward where the groom would be waiting to take Gracie to untack and groom her and place her back in her stall. She still marveled at the luxurious novelty of everything at Ross River Ranch.
As she turned the corner into the aisle, Taylor heard a commotion of clattering hooves on the pavement. Peeking her head around the half-open sliding door, she saw a sorrel Arabian pulling back from the cross ties, twisting his head back and forth in a panic to get free. His hooves scrapped against the floor, and Taylor could see his eyes bulging with fear.
“Whoa, boy, easy!” Keith tried to soothe the horse, moving slowly toward the animal’s head, trying to unlatch him from the cross ties. Taylor was intrigued but realized she was still holding on to Gracie’s reins.
There was no groom in attendance, and Taylor didn’t want to wait for one to arrive as she would have ordinarily done. Instead, she hurried to Gracie’s stall, untacked her, and tossed Gracie’s blanket on her before rushing back to see what progress Keith had made with the tense Arabian.
Taylor ran toward the aisle and came to a skidding stop, dirt flying up around her. The aisle was silent, and all that remained was the evidence of a battle. Buckets had been knocked over, the bridle lay in a pile, and there were skid marks on the pavement from where the horse’s shoes had scraped the floor.
Taylor’s breath caught in her throat. Where was everyone? Were they okay? She didn’t know what to do next.
Suddenly, someone shouted words she couldn’t quite understand. The voice came from the direction of the arena she had just been riding in. Dashing in that direction, she nearly tripped over the barn cat that was sleeping in a tight ball in the center of the walkway.
“Sorry, Stella!” Taylor cried to the cat as she bolted away from her thundering awakening.
Taylor’s heart pounded as she came to a stop in front of the ring. No one was in the main riding arena, but when she looked to her left, she noticed the same sorrel horse in the metal round pen nearby, bucking and rearing. Three people stood outside the ring, watching the horse flail its body in the air.
Taylor then realized that only two of the people were standing, and one was sitting. Who would be sitting near a ring with a crazy horse? she wondered. But in just a few steps more she was able to see that those standing were Keith and Daphne. And then she realized why the third person was sitting — it was Jim LeFleur, of course, in his wheelchair.
Taylor crept up toward the round pen, careful not to interrupt them.
“Thanks, Jim, we really appreciate you coming down,” Keith said. “This little Arabian has been giving us one heck of a time.”
Daphne nodded in agreement, watching the horse kick his hind legs high up into the air, doing what looked to Taylor practically like a handstand.
“Not a problem,” said Jim LeFleur, waving his hand dismissively. “I just want to see this horse start behaving.”
Keith looked pensively at the horse as it whirled in a sharp circle. “Yeah, me too,” he agreed. “A shame he’s so crazy, because he has good bloodlines. He’ll be worth a pretty penny when we can calm him down.”
The horse threw himself in the air with a violent twist.
“If we can calm him down,” Keith corrected himself.
“Should we Ace him?” Daphne suggested, looking at the two men.
Jim shook his head. “Acepromazine not needed,” he said, referring to the horse tranquilizer usually referred to as Ace. “He just needs to communicate with us.”
“He’s sure communicating that he doesn’t want us to mess with him,” Daphne said, taking a step back from the flailing horse.
“No, he’s saying that he’s angry right now but will calm down. He can’t keep this up forever,” Jim said. “He’s like a child. We just need to let him throw his tantrum and get some energy out. We can work with him when he’s through.”
Taylor crept a little closer, interested in Jim LeFleur’s calm, collected demeanor. It constantly impressed her how natural Mrs. LeFleur’s son was around horses — maybe it was genetic, because Mrs. LeFleur was the same way, even if Taylor had never seen her ride.
The horse’s bucking slowed a little. He dropped his head and licked his lips. “There, look,” Jim said. “See how he’s calming down? He’s showing signs of relaxing. Daphne, could you open the gate for me?”
Daphne nodded and reached forward, creaking the metal door open. Taylor’s body tensed as Jim wheeled himself through the opening and into the pen.
Why would he shut himself in with a wild horse? It was suicide!
Jim pressed the button on his electric wheelchair to move forward. The whirring noise and the sight of the wheelchair caused the horse to stop and stand still for a moment, deciding if this new thing was going to hurt him or not.
Ears pricked and nostrils flared, the horse stood rigid. Jim proceeded forward into the center of the ring, and with a loud “Hyah!” and a wave of his arms, sent the horse running in circles around the ring again.
Taylor watched in amazement as every time the horse would come to a stop and face him, Jim raised his arms and shouted, “Hyah!” Each shout sent the horse darting to the rail.
“I’m making it so that the horse can only rest when he is paying attention to us,” Jim explained. “Daphne, do you want to come in here and help me?”
Daphne nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, I’d love to!”
Taylor felt a light flicker of envy. It must be amazing to work with these people one-on-one. They really knew what they were doing.
The horse slowed down to a walk and then stopped, looking at Daphne and Jim.
“Now, go and try to approach him, nice and steady. Speak low and slow,” Jim advised.
Daphne nodded and made her cautious approach, lead line in hand. “Hey, there, buddy,” she said in a low, singsong voice. “You’re okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”
The horse backed up in three quick
steps.
“Now get after him. Chase him,” Jim called out. “Don’t let him rest until he is fully listening to you.”
“Hyah!” Daphne shouted, flicking the lead line out at the horse. The sorrel Arabian gave a small rear and galloped off on his previous path around the ring. Once again, after a few laps, the horse came to a stop and looked intently at Daphne. Again, Daphne approached the horse, speaking in low, soft tones.
“Now, slowly reach out and touch him with the lead rope. Show him that you won’t hurt him with it. Stroke his neck,” Jim instructed. Daphne did as he said, making her moves slow and deliberate. The horse flinched as Daphne gently stroked his neck, but he did not move.
Uh-oh, Taylor thought as she felt a tickle rise in her nose. She thrust her hands up over her mouth, trying to stifle the sneeze.
Ah-ah-AH-CHOO! Taylor couldn’t hold back. As soon as the sneeze had escaped, she quickly ducked down to try to hide herself from the Ross River trainers.
“Taylor?” Daphne inquired, turning to look at her from the ring. “What are you doing there?”
Clearly, she had not been as well hidden as she had thought.
“Uh, well, I heard a lot of noise and came to see if everyone was all right, and, I don’t know … just kind of kept watching,” Taylor explained, cheeks flushing red at having been discovered.
“Do you want to come help, too?” Jim asked her.
Taylor’s eyes darted back and forth from Daphne to Keith to Jim. “I don’t think I know enough about horse training to really be much help,” she said as she came forward.
“Not a problem, just do as I say,” Jim said with a warm smile. “I remember you from Wildwood, don’t I? Weren’t you trying to get your horse to accept a new rider that day I was there with Aunt Devon?”
“Yes,” Taylor replied, pleased that he remembered her. “You really helped us that day.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Taylor noticed that he had a slightly crooked smile, just like Mrs. LeFleur’s. She glanced at Keith for assurance as she walked up to the gate. He nodded and made a waving motion with his hands, gesturing for her to enter the ring.
As Taylor entered the center of the ring, the Arabian began to bolt around the perimeter. In the same fashion as before, they all waited for the horse to calm down and face them, and then approached.
Daphne quietly handed the lead line to Taylor and gave her a small nudge, speaking quietly. “There, you try now. Try to pet him with the lead line on the neck. If he backs away, chase after him,” Daphne said, repeating Jim’s advice.
Taylor nodded and slowly advanced toward the horse, just as she had seen Daphne do before. The sorrel stood, rigid and aware, ready to bolt if anything scared him. Reaching a cautious hand forward, she took the lead line and stroked his neck with it, speaking slowly. “There you go, boy. Are you going to behave now for Jim, Keith, and Daphne? I bet they’d appreciate it.” Taylor gently massaged just below his mane with the navy blue cotton rope.
The three watching all looked at each other with approving smiles, and then back to Taylor, who was stroking the horse’s muzzle with her palm.
“You’re really good with him,” Daphne praised.
“Thanks!” Taylor said with a grin. “It’s so cool that you get to work here and do stuff like this.”
Daphne nodded slowly, a smile spreading across her face. “It really is,” she said. “You would love it. I’ve already learned so much.”
“I can tell. Even if I don’t win this upcoming competition, I’ll have to come visit you here more often,” Taylor said, transfixed by the increasingly calm Arabian.
“Totally!” Daphne agreed happily.
“Or you could come visit Wildwood again,” Taylor ventured, wondering if Daphne actually would.
Daphne nodded assuredly. “Of course I will. That place is my home. I could never leave it for good.”
Taylor smiled broadly, happy to hear Daphne say those words. If Wildwood was Daphne’s home, too, that made them family. And that is exactly how Taylor felt about most people there — although she might not get along with everyone all the time, they were a tight-knit group.
Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t want to beat some of them, or namely just one person, at her own English riding game.
Taylor marveled that she had been awake for almost nine hours already, and it was still before noon. Plum, Mercedes, Mrs. LeFleur, and Taylor had been up and busy getting the horses ready before the sun peeked its golden rays over Pheasant Valley. Although Taylor was not a morning person, the thrill of the upcoming competition had knocked any sleepiness out of her. All she felt was excitement.
It had been so hectic, cold, and dark at the barn that morning. They had to do all the morning chores and then groom the horses once more. Taylor was thankful that their manes had already been braided and bundled the night before. When that was finished, they loaded the horses onto Mrs. LeFleur’s old trailer and headed over to Ross River Ranch.
Mercedes hardly spoke to Taylor all morning, working in silence. Taylor felt more angry than hurt. She hadn’t done anything to Mercedes. Mercedes was jealous that Taylor was the more popular teacher, but that wasn’t Taylor’s fault. In Taylor’s opinion Mercedes was acting like a brat. In the past, Taylor had forgiven Mercedes for her bossy ways and impatient manner, but this was just too much.
Taylor was so angry at Mercedes that she was relieved when the girl announced that her mother would be driving her over to Ross River. “There’s just no room in the trailer,” she said. At another time, Taylor would have begged Mercedes and Mrs. Gonzalez for a ride. Being crammed in the front seat of the trailer with Plum was not her idea of a good time. But under the circumstances, being stuck in the car with Mercedes would have been even worse.
As Mrs. LeFleur drove up Wildwood Lane and out onto Quail Ridge Road, Plum held her body tight, folding her arms so that no part of her would touch Taylor, who sat beside her. That was completely fine with Taylor. All the way across Pheasant Valley, Plum complained about being embarrassed by the rust stains on the outside of the trailer. Mrs. LeFleur seemed too focused on the upcoming competition, or maybe she was just too sleepy, to pay much attention to her. Taylor did her best to tune Plum out, too. When they finally pulled up the drive to Ross River Ranch and parked, Taylor nearly leaped from the front seat, unable to get away from Plum quickly enough.
The indoor ring at Ross River Ranch had been transformed; it had been cut in half with movable plywood borders. A gleaming white jump course decorated the right half, while the left half was clear and open for equitation classes and schooling.
Taylor enjoyed the ranch’s holiday spirit as she walked her course pattern with Plum and Mercedes, noting how each jump had a different seasonal theme. A line of tiny plastic snowmen waved from beneath a vertical, and two small evergreens frosted with fake snow stood proudly on either side of an oxer.
In keeping with the luxurious details at Ross River, each participating horse got its own indoor stall. The horse’s name was printed on a small certificate and posted upon the door. Taylor was thankful that Prince Albert would get to be warm and toasty, just like she was, and not out in the cold trailer.
“Hey, big Jacques,” Taylor greeted the Percheron as she led Prince Albert past in search of the stable assigned to him. “Hi, Serafina!” she called when she went by her stall.
At the sound of Taylor’s voice, Prince Albert whinnied. As always, Taylor pretended he’d actually said something. “Oh, don’t be jealous,” she scolded with a smile. “These are my new friends, but I still love you the most.”
Taylor sat outside Prince Albert’s stall, picking nervously at a thumbnail. She thought of how Plum had entered an equitation class earlier that morning and had placed second. Mercedes and Taylor were still waiting for their class to come up. It had cost too much for either of them to enter more than one class.
Taylor’s stomach knotted up every time she realized that she had only one cha
nce to perform perfectly, and that she would be competing against a slew of much more experienced riders. But even if she didn’t win, it had been a lot of fun trying the new, harder jumps during practice. The higher level of difficulty pushed her to try new things, which was a plus.
“Hey, what’re you doing there?” asked a familiar voice. Taylor gave a small jump of surprise and looked up to see Daphne standing above her. She looked elegant in polished tall black boots, tan breeches, and a red turtleneck sweater.
“Oh, you scared me!” Taylor cried, but she smiled, too. “I’m just thinking about the jump class I’m in. When do you ride?” she asked Daphne, standing up and brushing the dust off of her slightly stained breeches.
“I’m not competing today,” Daphne explained. “I’m working. My job is just to help the judge out. Run point cards, walkie-talkie who places to the announcer, give out ribbons, stuff like that.”
Taylor chuckled grimly. “Want to put in a good word for me? I could use the help.”
“Oh, stop. You’ll be great, you always are. Just relax and have a good time. Remember, that’s what you’re here for: to have fun!”
Taylor nodded in thoughtful agreement. “True. And to win some more lessons!”
“That, too,” Daphne agreed. “You’d better start getting Prince Albert ready and warmed up. Advanced Over Fences will be going in three classes. I think Mercedes and Plum are already in the schooling ring.”
“That soon? Yeah, I’d better get going,” Taylor said, picking up her pad and saddle from the ground where she had been sitting, “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“No problem,” Daphne replied with a smile. “Keith and I will be watching from the sidelines. See you out there!”
Taylor waved with her free hand and turned to Prince Albert. “You ready to go do some jumps, boy?” she asked as she pulled the door open and started tacking up.
Time flew by as Taylor tacked and brought Prince Albert out to the schooling ring, where the riders were practicing their jumps. Though intimidated, she got on and rode over a few, trying her best to imagine it was the real thing.