by Toni Mari
Afterward, I untacked Windsong in the aisle by his stall. Brandon jogged into the barn, took off his hat, and banged it on his knee. “Whew! It is really coming down out there,” he commented.
I grinned. “Hi!” I looked over his shoulder, waiting for Cory to come in.
Brandon saw me look, and his face became grim. “He’s not here.”
“Oh, sorry. I just thought you guys would still be together. I’ll catch him later,” I apologized. “So, how was it? How did you do?”
“No, Jane. I mean he’s not here. He stayed in Nevada. He’s not coming back.” Brandon moved closer as he said this.
My mouth fell open. “What do you mean, he stayed? For a few more days, weeks, what?”
“I mean he took a job on a cattle ranch. He’s staying out there indefinitely,” Brandon said.
“But we . . . What about . . .? I don’t understand,” I sputtered.
“Me neither,” Brandon said as he pulled me into his arms. My tears soaked his shirt, and he stroked my back, whispering, “Shhh. It’ll be okay.”
Not coming back. It was over. I gritted my teeth and pushed away from Brandon. Swiping at my eyes with my hands, I mumbled, “Thanks.”
“Hey,” Brandon lifted my chin with his finger. “Why don’t you put your horse away and come get something to eat with me. I’ll tell you about Vegas.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just go home. I’ll catch up with you later, ’kay?” I put my hand to my head; it was pounding. I turned and walked slowly back to Windsong.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Brandon promised. He stood for another minute, and then left.
Kate stepped out of the tack room. “I heard,” she said. “Jane, I’m so sorry. I don’t understand it either.” She reached over and hugged me close.
Chapter 3 7
Brandon asked if he could come along to my regional competition. He was very nice, and maybe under different circumstances I could have liked him. But nothing and no one was interesting to me. He would walk into the barn, hat tipped low, and my heart would flip. Then he would lift his head and I would hear his voice and my heart would drop with a leaden thud. I tried to hide my disappointment, but I wondered if Brandon ever noticed before I quickly put on a happy face. He hadn’t tried to kiss me again, and for that I was grateful.
At the show grounds, Kate held Windsong while I finished putting my show clothes on. “How do you feel, Jane? Are you excited about this?” she asked. After all, this was the first time I was competing at Regionals. Although I was supposed to be hoping to win, I was numb.
“Oh, yeah. It’s gonna be great.” I struggled to sound excited. Did I pull it off? I had gotten out of bed that morning only because I had made a commitment to Kate, who worked hard training me, and my mom, who had already paid the entry fees and Windsong, who was born for this. But I could not find that motivation, that drive that had made me aim for this in the first place.
“That sounded convincing,” Kate said sarcastically. “Listen, it’s just one test. You have worked so hard this year. You have turned this horse around. Please, just let go of everything else for this little bit of time. Try to just be in this moment. It’s hard to do that, but try.”
“I will,” I mumbled. Not.
We left the warm-up area. Trotting around the outside of the show ring, I waited to hear the judge’s whistle. From the far end of the ring, I glanced toward my people. Kate watched me intensely, my mom was calm and confident, and then there was the cowboy hat. My heart did that stupid little flip-flop, and then I remembered it was Brandon. He wasn’t even watching. My mind flashed back to the first show that Cory attended. How great he was with me—“Just you and Windsong,” he had said. I smiled at the memory.
I refocused on Windsong and saw Kate waving her arms frantically. “Go in! Go in!” she mouthed. I had completely missed the shrill sound of the judge’s whistle, so I hustled into the arena, halted, and saluted the judge. As I began the movements of the test, my mind wandered to that rodeo when Cory kissed me. He was so intense and powerful, and hot. Distantly, a whistle blew and I jumped a little. “Off course!” the ring steward yelled. Wow, I had really lost it there for a second.
“Miss Mitchell?” the judge called. “Please restart with the canter at C.”
I started back up, but I was playing catch up. Windsong was a powerhouse and my disinterested mind was one step behind him on every move. The test was mediocre at best. Well, that settled it: I wasn’t winning Regionals. I would be lucky if the judges gave me a score in the fifties. I rode Windsong out of the arena. Funny thing, nobody seemed surprised at my lousy riding.
“There’s always next year, Jane. It’s okay,” Kate said soothingly.
“Sweetie, you made it here. That is a great accomplishment in itself,” my mom reassured me. “Things happen. It’ll be better next year.”
“I thought you looked great,” Brandon said. “So pretty in those clothes, and the horse with his hair all done up fancy. Good job!”
I smirked; he was so clueless. “Thanks, Brandon.”
We packed up the horse and equipment, no one really talking. No need to hang around for the awards ceremony, we were going home with nothing. I had a momentary pang of guilt that all Kate’s work added up to nothing, but it faded quickly.
That night, when I was settled in bed, my bedroom door swung open. Mom came in and sat next to me.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said softly.
Her gentleness alone was enough to start the tears flowing down my cheeks. “I feel so empty. Everything seems gray,” I sobbed.
“I know, sweetie. What happened between you and Cory? Can you tell me?” She picked up my hand, stroking it between her own.
“I’m not sure. He said he thought Jet was his fault and that he wasn’t good enough for me. He said he was partying when Jet was dying and that he was a bad person. Mom, he just won a medal. Anyone would party. Why does he feel so bad, and why did he have to leave me?”
“I don’t know, honey. He’s just a young guy. He couldn’t handle all of the ups and downs. I think he ran away because it was all too crazy. He’s running from the hurt.”
“But what about me, Mom? I . . . I told him I loved him,” I whispered.
“Oh, sweetie, he seemed older, but he still is just a young boy. He really cares about you, but too much happened to him at once. It wasn’t you he was running away from, but the memories.” She laid her hand on my cheek. “I love you, Jane.” She kissed my forehead. Then, “Brandon’s pretty cute,” she teased.
“Puhleasse, Mom!” I rolled my eyes. It was going to be a while before anyone could get past the rock in my chest. After my mom left the room, I clutched my cell phone and dialed Cory’s number. It wasn’t bedtime in Nevada. No answer. I didn’t leave a message. I had stopped leaving messages after the third day.
Chapter 3 8
That’s it! It’s over for me too.
I smashed the end button on my cell phone. I didn’t know why I tortured myself calling Cory’s cell phone. I knew he wasn’t going to pick up. He hadn’t for weeks. If he could just walk away without another word, not a phone call, not a text message, or even a damn postcard, he was a complete asshole. I was done. I had other things to do. I tossed my phone into my tack trunk and strode out of the tack room to Windsong’s stall, determined not to dial that number ever again.
I had a lesson scheduled with Kate in a half hour, and I was going to get back into the groove. Moping time was over. Windsong needed me. Although I hadn’t scored well at Regionals, I did have two qualifying scores from the previous shows: one from the show when Cory was there, and one from a show I did while he was in France. I needed one more to qualify for the team. But I needed to be brilliant if I wanted to be selected for the team—qualifying wasn’t enough. Only four riders made the team, and I was going to be one of them. My work started that day.
At the end of my lesson, Kate grinned. “I’m so happy to see you back in the swing, girl!
That was a really good lesson.”
“I know,” I agreed. “It’s like a door opened in my brain and I finally heard what you have been riding my ass about for months.” I threw my head back and whooped. “That was great!” I rubbed Windsong’s neck. “You are the best boy ever,” I murmured in his ear.
“I have to tell you that you made my day!” Kate exclaimed. “I am leaving tomorrow for a couple weeks for the holidays. And I feel like we really accomplished something here. Go easy while I’m away, and work on some of this stuff. But if you get stuck on something , just let it go until I come back. We have plenty of time before the first show in March,” Kate instructed.
I sighed. “I’ll miss you. Have a great time.” I dismounted in the indoor and led Windsong back to his stall. I was secretly looking forward to the holidays. I held a furtive hope that Cory would realize he loved me and come home to surprise me on Christmas Day.
Christmas came and went. I had built up my little fantasy of Cory knocking on my door on Christmas morning and crashed hard when it didn’t happen. I could hardly stir myself to open my presents.
Megan was the only one who understood. I laid on her bed, my head on my arms. “What am I going to do, Megs? He’s not coming back, I can’t believe it.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t think he is. I wish I could give him a piece of my mind. He could have at least talked to you, or just let you yell at him. Jerk!”
“Right, like I would ever yell. I knew he was too good to be true. I was so stupid to fall for him.”
Megan sat beside me on the bed, rubbing my back, “No, no sweetie. You weren’t stupid. He was great for a while. It was everything that happened. You just need time to get over him. You will. Look.” She held out a small, exquisitely wrapped box. “My present for you.”
I shook my head, “I don’t feel like presents, or Christmas.”
“Please, just open it. For me, I can’t wait for you to see it.” She wiggled the box in front of my face.
“All right.” I pushed myself up from the bed. I took the box and tore off the wrapping. I opened the velvet jewelry box. A sparkling, diamond encrusted silver show ribbon rested on a tiny silken pillow. It was attached to a delicate silver chain. With the tip on my finger, I softly stroked the tails of the ribbon.
Megan grinned. “You know, because you are always a winner to me. You’re my bestie.” Her cheeks reddened.
I couldn’t speak. I rolled my eyes. “Oh my god!” I threw my arms around her. “Thanks, bestie.” I whispered.
During the time off from school, I was able to ride during the daylight hours. I even arranged to meet Brandon a couple of times and to go on a trail ride because the weather was nice.
Brandon rode a gray quarter horse named Shooter who didn’t think much of Windsong. He got cranky, pinning his ears and threatening to bite, if Windsong walked too close. When Windsong got nervous and spooked forward onto Shooter’s tail, Shooter would swing his butt in Windsong’s face and kick a leg out at him. The trail ride was not very relaxing because Shooter’s attitude made Windsong edgy.
I no longer worried about Windsong running off with me. I rode on a loose rein, more focused on Shooter’s rump than on the trail. So, I wasn’t prepared when a pair of turkeys startled out of the woods. They ran across the trail, one in front of Shooter and one in front of Windsong. Shooter ran backward away from the ugly bird, which made the second turkey spring into the air with a flap of her wings.
It was too much for Windsong, who was already in reverse. He reared and spun around, trying to race back to the barn. I held onto him and kept him under control as he landed. But Brandon couldn’t stop Shooter in his backward flight. Shooter’s butt slammed into Windsong’s hind end. Shooter, already on edge, began double barreling, slamming both back hooves with unerring accuracy into Windsong. Windsong grunted with the repeated impact, but he couldn’t get his feet under him to escape. Each of Shooter’s kicks jerked my body as they landed hard on Windsong’s flanks. I winced with each thud and leaned forward, letting the reins go, kicking and clucking to Windsong to get him to move. Finally, he surged forward and I let him run down the trail a few yards.
My heart hammered and my hands shook as I tugged Windsong to a stop and then leapt off. He kept spinning around to follow me as I tried to see his back end.
“What does it look like? Is he bleeding? Did Shooter get him in the legs?” I couldn’t tell if Windsong was hurting because he wouldn’t stand still.
Brandon rode closer. “I don’t see any blood. Just get back on him. He’ll be fine.”
“I can’t get back on him! He just got the shit kicked out of him by your horse! He could be really hurt.”
“He did not. There was hardly any contact. Just get back on, Jane. Let’s keep going,” Brandon said impatiently.
“I am not getting back on him.” I glared at Brandon’s face. “I am going to walk him back to the barn and at least have someone check him out to see if I should call the vet.” I pulled the reins over Windsong’s head and started marching back to the barn. I didn’t look back to see what Brandon did. No contact. Hah! I had felt those kicks thudding into Windsong’s body. Damn mean horse! My cheeks were damp with tears. Not once had anything like that happened when I rode out there with Cory. It brought it home how truly special those two, Cory and Jet, were. Damn, why did I have to think of him again?
Windsong was so freaked out that he couldn’t walk calmly beside me. He jigged and danced sideways, and I couldn’t tell whether he was limping because he wouldn’t just walk. Shooter’s presence was so unsettling to Windsong that I wouldn’t let Brandon ride up beside us, so they followed us a few paces back. When we arrived at the barn, I asked Brandon, “Can you go find someone to look at Windsong? Kate’s not around and I don’t know who else is here right now.”
“Why don’t you just turn him out and we’ll look at him tomorrow?” Brandon asked.
“Besides the fact that those kicks were hard and Windsong is probably hurting right now, he is my competition horse. I won’t let even a small injury go uncared for. Go find someone!” I commanded between my teeth. I wanted to throw something at him.
Didn’t he realize that Windsong could be injured? Cory would have known exactly what to do. And he probably wouldn’t have let me walk all the way back to the barn; he would have pulled me up behind him on Jet and led Windsong carefully beside us.
I pulled the tack off Windsong and latched the crossties onto his halter. Then I was finally able to go around and inspect his rump closely. The hoof marks all were on the soft, muscled parts of his butt, and none had landed on his delicate legs as far as I could tell.
Brandon came back in the farm utility vehicle with Chase.
“What happened, Jane?” Chase asked. “Brandon said Windsong got kicked.”
“Yeah, in the butt. I don’t see any marks on his legs, but there are three or four clear hoof prints on his butt.” I pointed them out to Chase.
“Oooh, I see them. Let me just feel his legs to be sure,” Chase said as he bent down and ran his hand slowly up and down Windsong’s hind legs. “You’re right. I don’t feel anything on his legs, but jog him down the aisle so I can see if he limps at all.”
I unhooked Windsong and slowly jogged him down the aisle. The smooth, hard surface would show any uneven steps if Windsong was limping. I was relieved that Chase took me seriously instead of blowing off the incident like Brandon did. At least I could rest assured that Chase’s experienced eyes had checked out my horse.
“Okay, that’s good,” Chase called me back. “He’s not limping, but I am thinking that the marks are going to swell and maybe get sore. So, although I don’t think we need a vet, give him pain medication with his dinner tonight. And be sure to turn him out because keeping him inside might make him stiff. I’ll look at him again tomorrow to see what develops, and then we’ll decide if he’s okay or needs the vet. When will you be here tomorrow, Jane?”
We arranged a time to
meet. “Thank you. You eased my mind. See you tomorrow.” I finished taking care of Windsong, gave my boy a few treats, and turned him out with his dinner.
Brandon was still hanging around as I finished up. I didn’t say a word to him.
“You wanna go grab something to eat?” he asked.
I looked at him closely. Clueless. “No, I’m just going to head home. I’m tired from all that walking.”
“I could give you a ride home.”
“No, I already called my mom.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow?” I didn’t respond, and he turned and walked out.
Chapter 3 9
The next day was cold and the sky threatened snow.
“Good morning, little lady,” Chase said cheerily as he strode into the barn.
I had only been waiting a few minutes and I already had Windsong out of his stall on crossties and his blanket off. Chase leaned down and ran his hand up and down Windsong’s legs. He poked and squeezed the kick marks, which had swollen into welts.
“Nothing looks bad at all, but go ahead and jog him for me just to be sure,” Chase instructed.
I jogged Windsong down the aisle and was happy to hear Chase call out, “He looks great. He’s good to go.”
I walked Windsong back to the crossties and was hooking him up when Chase said conversationally, “I heard from Cory about a week ago.”
“Good to know that he’s still alive. I haven’t heard one word from him,” I said bitterly.
“I know. I know. He’s down there riding bulls, for Pete’s sakes. Says he hasn’t gotten on a horse, and isn’t interested to,” Chase said, shaking his head. “I still feel so bad about what happened in France. I should have spotted Jet getting sick. I am—or was—his coach after all. Then the damn reporters. I couldn’t seem to keep them away from Cory. They kept yelling, ‘How does it feel to kill your horse to win a medal?’ I told Cory over and over that that’s not what happened. But, really, if we never went over there, maybe Jet would still be here, and so would Cory.”