by Toni Mari
“He’s not just a trainer. He’s famous! I’m supposed to be this contender for the Junior Young Rider Team, and I can’t even get my horse to trot around the arena.”
“So what? That’s how it is with horses. I bet he doesn’t even care.” Cory held out his hand for me to put my knee in it. I glanced over at Robert. He was chatting with Kate, not even paying attention. I shook my head and placed my bent leg in Cory’s hand. He pushed and gave me a leg up.
When Cory walked over to the pair in the chairs, Kate introduced him.
“Oh, yes, I know you— Cory Banks. You were just selected for the Reining Team. Congratulations. Nice to meet you.”
“Yes, sir. It’s nice to meet you, too.” Cory shook his hand. I heard their distant voices as they fell easily into conversation. Even Robert had heard of Cory. I picked up a trot. Maybe they would talk the lesson away and ignore me. After all, what had I ever done to deserve their attention?
Robert stood up and walked to the center of the ring. “Neat to meet Cory Banks here,” he said with a bemused smile on his face.. “I didn’t realize this was his home barn. What a talented rider. Now let’s get started,” he said, focusing on me.
His voice carried clear and loud across the arena. He was demanding when he asked for an exercise, but quick with praise. I soon stopped thinking about who he was and focused on his accurate, on-the-mark instructions. I didn’t know how much of this I would retain, but it was working and it felt wonderful.
“Take a break. Let him walk with a loose rein.” Robert walked over to Kate and picked up his wine glass.
Cory made a drinking motion and pointed to me. I nodded. My throat was parched. He jogged out and came back quickly with a dripping bottle of water. I unscrewed the lid and drank deeply.
“What did you think? It looked great.” He eyed me from under his cowboy hat.
“The man is brilliant. Windsong has never felt so good. I hope I remember half of what he’s telling me.”
“You will in the moments you need to.” Cory took the bottle from me and patted my thigh.
When Robert walked back to the center of the ring, he called, “Okay, back to work. This horse is a ball of energy, but you get along great with him, Jane. On a horse like this, you have to loosen up, let him express that energy. If a movement isn’t perfect but he does it with expression and energy, he could still get you the points. I don’t see a need for me to get on him, everything is there. I have a few things I want you to work on, but otherwise you look great.”
“Really!” I squeaked. Robert thought I looked great. My grin reached my ears.
“So, what do you think about your flying lead changes? Do you think you could get sevens on them?” Robert asked, knowing I’d need at least sevens to win at the junior level.
“Seven? No way. I know my change to the left is decent, but to the right he goes flat, like sideways,” I explained. “Kate has me do a lot of stretching on that side so that he’s not tight, and that helps some.” I was repeating what Kate had told me.
“Are you right-handed?” Robert asked.
“Well, yeah.”
“I think your change to the left would get a seven, but to the right he’s stuck. And he’s stuck because your right side is dominant and you don’t realize you pull your right rein before signaling the change. . So, do a few more changes, but purposefully loosen your right rein,” Robert instructed.
I got organized and began to canter. I aimed Windsong across the diagonal of the arena, corner to corner. I signaled flying lead changes every two strides, and Windsong skipped, switching from using his right front leg to using his left front leg to lead the canter stride. I concentrated on my hands. The movement would be judged on straightness and a steady cadence. With Robert’s words in my head, I was amazed at how many times I had to tell my right hand to loosen the rein.
“Again!” Robert called. “Do another line of changes.”
This time I had the hang of it and kept my right rein loose at the critical moments. Windsong lightened up and did great changes. He felt like a dancer, fluid and graceful skimming across the ground. I brought him to a halt and laughed. “Wow! My right hand has a mind of its own.”
“Jane, that was great! You must stay aware of that. You’re a great student. Do you want to dump Kate and come ride with me?” Robert said the last part loud enough for Kate to hear.
“Don’t do it, Jane. He’s a monster to ride with,” Kate teased back.
I laughed as I sat on top of the world. A superstar was teasing me, but I think he really liked my riding.
After we wrapped up the lesson, Cory walked back to Windsong’s stall with me and helped me untack and take care of Windsong. When we were done, Cory grabbed my hand. “They are expecting us to do dinner with them.”
“Will you be able to stand an entire dinner with another one of your fans?” I teased.
“Who? You mean Robert Peterson. He’s not my fan,” Cory said shaking his head.
“He knew who you were.”
“He knows my name and that I made the team, that’s all. The bigwig riders keep an eye on all the teams, maybe even discuss choices.” Cory brushed it off.
At dinner, the conversation was lively. Between Cory and Robert, there were nonstop stories. Cory told of the time that Jet bucked him off at the end of a class when the crowd’s cheering spooked him.
Robert shook his head with a smile. “I hate when that type of thing happens. My first time in a qualifying class for the World Cup, I was so excited that I never double-checked my horse’s tack and just hopped on. Since I forgot to tighten the noseband, Jupiter got his tongue over the bit and tossed his head during the whole test trying to fix it. To this day, I don’t get on a horse without checking all its tack.”
I laughed loudly, “Oh no, did you qualify anyway?”
“No, of course not. But I did at the next show. You have to look at things like that as a lesson learned and move on. Horses are unpredictable, but if you pay attention to the basics, you can have more successes than disasters. There will always be a few disasters, though.”
As Cory drove me home from the restaurant, I jiggled my leg and tapped my fingers on the seat of the truck. I wouldn’t mind dinner with a celebrity like Robert all the time.
“Robert liked me as a rider,” I gushed. “That should be enough to get me on the team, don’t you think! Even if Windsong is a jerk. Sevens on my flying lead changes! I don’t think Paddy ever got a seven. If I don’t get sevens at this next show, Robert’s gonna think I’m an idiot. I gotta get a qualifying score. If Windsong pulls stunts at the show like he did today, I am totally screwed. I don’t want to look bad in front of Melinda Kratz again either. If I don’t qualify, all this work will have been for nothing.”
“Enough, already. Could you just shut up?” Cory cut in, his tone sharp.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“Who cares what Robert thought of you today? Who cares what Melinda’s gonna think? What did Windsong think of you today?” Cory asked, looking very unimpressed.
“What do you mean by that? Windsong loves me,” I shot back. “He’s lucky I’m willing to put up with his asinine behavior.” I had forgotten about this mean side of Cory. I didn’t miss it, that’s for sure.
“You need to get your priorities straight,” Cory said derisively. “You weren’t there for your horse today. You were lucky he did as much as he did.”
“Do you even know what you’re talking about? These are dressage movements. You don’t know any of them!” I sputtered.
“I know Windsong didn’t feel comfortable with you today, and his nerves were back. All because Robert was there,” Cory said in a singsong sarcastic voice.
“You are just jealous that you weren’t the one signing autographs today. Just lay off!”
Cory’s mouth fell open. “That’s what you think? After spending all this time together, you think I’m about the fame? Is that why you go out with me? You like the recognit
ion?”
“No, it’s just that you have no idea what this means.”
“Oh, I think I do.” He didn’t say another word the rest of the way home. I didn’t say a thing to him either. Priorities. Not there for my horse. Who else would put up with a lunatic like Windsong? I turned to stare out the window.
When Cory stopped in front of my house, I threw the door open and jumped out. “You don’t have to walk me up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before I slammed the door shut, he mumbled, “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Chapter 2 8
My anger didn’t last long. I couldn’t fall asleep, remembering that I accused Cory of being in it for the fame. He was the last person to care about being in a magazine. He always seemed embarrassed when he was asked for an autograph. At his horseshow, he risked pissing off Janet Beeker and not getting interviewed to make sure Jet was taken care of. I was wrong to say that to him. But it was different for me. I was trying to make the team, and if someone like Robert backed me, it would go a long way toward getting me on it. A lot was riding on tonight’s lesson and the next show, and I needed to get qualifying scores.
The next day I thanked my mom for the ride and swung the car door closed. I dumped my stuff down in front of Windsong’s stall and jogged down the aisle, thinking I’d find Cory first and then check in with Kate. As I jogged up the path to the western barn, I saw Kate heading down at a run.
I stopped. “What’s up?”
“Oh! When I saw you running this way, I thought you knew. Jet is colicking. The vet’s up there, and Cory. I’m going to grab some supplies.”
“What? Shit! I didn’t know.” I ran the rest of the way up the hill. Did he have a little stomach cramp or was it something much worse? I was out of breath and my heart was racing from more than the exercise.
When I arrived at Jet’s stall. Cory held Jet’s lead rope as the vet pumped medicine into a tube that ran up Jet’s nose and down to his stomach. I caught Cory’s eye. His expression was bleak. I gave him an encouraging little smile, but his face was stony and he didn’t respond, just looked away.
When Kate got back she went in the stall and spoke quietly with the vet. At that moment, Chase walked up.
“I just got here. What’s the word, Cory?” Chase asked with concern.
“Dr. Peroni doesn’t feel an impaction. So, he thinks it could be gas pains. He’s had a few other colics in the last couple days that were gas colics and he’s blaming the change in the weather,” Cory explained.
Dr. Peroni gently pulled the tube out of Jet’s nose. “No food for twenty-four hours. And watch for manure. It seems like he’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Thank you, sir.” Cory shook his hand.
I waited outside Jet’s stall while the vet packed up his equipment and finished talking with Kate and Chase. They all left. I stayed and helped Cory straighten up Jet’s stall and fill his bucket with fresh water. Jet stood droopily in the corner. He didn’t even watch what we were doing.
“Poor Jet.” I patted his neck gently and kissed his nose. “Get better, buddy,” I whispered.
We walked out and closed the stall door.
“I am so glad he’s going to be okay, Cory,” I said sympathetically.
“I know. I thought I was going to throw up when I found him on the ground, groaning in pain.” Cory looked tired.
“I’m glad it happened early enough that it won’t interfere with the World Games.” I heaved a sigh of relief. Jet would have to pass a drug test before going to the World Games. He would fail the test with all the medicine in his blood from his colic treatment, but he had a few weeks for it to clear.
Cory stopped abruptly, his mouth open. “You still don’t get it, do you? What is it with you and these horseshows? The Games don’t mean anything. Jet is everything!” he said. “My first impression of you was right. Spoiled brat!” He turned away, stalked to his truck, got in and left.
I just stood there, staring after him. What did I say wrong this time?
“He’s upset. He found Jet on the ground moaning in pain,” Kate said from behind me.
I turned toward her. “What did I say that was so wrong?”
“Do you know the story of how Cory got Jet?” Kate asked.
“Yeah, he took him off some rough cowboy. So?”
“That’s not the whole thing,” Kate said as she motioned me to follow her back to the dressage barn. “Jet was ruined by that guy—all he would do when Cory rode him was buck and whirl and run. Cory hit the dirt more often than he did when he rode broncs.”
“Yeah, but now Jet’s a world-class show horse. It was all worth it.” I shrugged.
“Cory didn’t plan on competing. Chase saw him struggling with Jet, and despite being retired, stepped in to help. It was clear Jet was too good to be a rodeo horse, but Cory still needed money so he would be able to keep him. Chase suggested competing in reining.”
I put my hand on Kate’s arm to stop her. “I still don’t understand. If Cory didn’t want to compete, why did he qualify for the World Games? How come he kept showing?”
Kate laughed. “He needed the money. Cory became a crowd favorite at the shows. Jet was still unpredictable. If he didn’t like something, he did his best to toss Cory in the dirt. People would line the arena fence when those two entered the ring. You never knew if you would see a fabulous performance or Cory get his ass kicked. One time, Jet lay down in the middle of the arena, refusing to finish the class.” Kate shook her head, eyes wide.
I giggled at the picture of cool, collected Cory straddling a snoozing Jet while a crowd looked on. “Poor Cory.”
“Oh no,” Kate said shaking her head again. “Cory learned to listen to Jet, and they became an incredible team. Jet is devoted to Cory, heart and soul. He’ll do anything for Cory. Cory knows fame, big shows, they don’t mean anything. The horse is what matters.”
“I didn’t realize. That’s an amazing story.” I said slowly. My heart sunk. He called me a spoiled brat. I was, wasn’t I?
I called my mom for a ride home because I was too upset to ride. He is way out of my league. What did he see in me? I slid to the ground against Windsong’s stall wall and put my head in my hands while I waited. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I was an idiot. I had focused on the ribbons and how great Windsong was going to make me look and got so caught up in the glory: Robert telling me I was good. Kate telling me I was going to make the team, maybe win. Even picturing Melinda turning green as she watched me and Windsong beat her. No wonder Cory thought I was a jerk.
My mom pulled up, tires crunching on the gravel. I levered myself up and walked dejectedly to the car.
“Hey, sweetie. You and Cory didn’t make up?” Mom asked as soon as she caught sight of my face.
“Oh, Mom. I made it worse,” I wailed. I told her everything between hiccups and sobs. “What should I do? He hates me now.”
She stopped the car in our driveway and turned to face me. “Jane, when people get mad and upset, they say things they don’t mean. Cory’s horse is sick. He is probably out of his mind with worry. That’s what he is mad about. Feelings for someone don’t disappear that quickly unless they weren’t real to begin with,” Mom tried to reassure me.
“Maybe his feelings weren’t real. I am so out of his league.”
“That’s a bunch of bull, and you know it. There’s only one way to find out,” Mom suggested. “I think you should slide over here, take the car, go to his house, and say you’re sorry.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. What’s the point in waiting and wasting time?” Mom smiled. “Go!”
I lunged over and hugged her. “You are so smart. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Mom said as she slipped out of the car.
I had never been to Cory’s house because he always dropped me off or picked me up at my house. In all the time we had hung out, he hadn’t invited me over to his place. I hadn’t ever met his mom either. Although this didn’t occur
to me before, I wondered why. But I knew his mailing address from when I helped him fill out paperwork for the Games, so I typed it into the GPS.
I followed the yellow arrow on the GPS screen and found myself in a trailer park, a nice trailer park, but could this be right?
When I spotted Cory’s truck in a driveway, I knew I had the right place and pulled in. After I knocked on the front door of the trailer, a woman in a waitress’s outfit opened the door.
Must be his mom, right? “Hi, Mrs. Banks. Is Cory here?” I ventured.
“May I say who’s calling?” she asked a puzzled expression on her face.
“My name is Jane Mitchell.”
Recognition registered in her face. She silently took in my designer riding pants and jacket. She looked over my shoulder at my mom’s sedan. With exaggerated politeness, she said, “He’s here somewhere, come on in.” She stepped aside to let me in, and Cory was standing right there, staring at me coldly.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can I talk to you?” He didn’t smile or say anything. “Please?”
“Outside,” was all he said.
Mrs. Banks looked irritated. “Cory, where are your manners? Bring her in, offer her a drink.”
Cory’s shoulders tensed, but he continued walking toward the chairs arranged on the small patch of lawn.
Mrs. Banks glared at his back for a second. She turned a warm smile on me. “Can I get you a pop or something?”
“No, thank you. Nice to meet you.”
“Such lovely manners, this one,” she said in a loud voice meant for Cory to hear.
I followed Cory to the chairs in the grass. He slumped into one and still didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at me. He wasn’t wearing his hat, but he kept his face tipped down. His eyes were narrow slits and his jaw was working.
I didn’t sit but waited for him to say something. Finally, he looked up. “Why would you come here?”
“I wanted to apologize,” I said shakily.
“You could have called me. I would have come to your house. I didn’t want you to see this.”
“Your house?”