“Sierra!”
She glanced toward the side of the field and saw Luke and Justin. Luke waved. Smiling, she circled Fiel back around and brought him to a walk near the boys. “Hi Luke. Hi Justin.”
“Hi,” Luke greeted with his usual wide grin. Justin only glanced at her. “You’re riding a different horse.”
“Yes, this is Fiel.” Sierra brought Fiel to a halt and let Luke step up and pat his neck.
“He’s nice.”
“Luke, come on,” Justin called. “Crystal’s heading up for her ride.”
“We’re going to watch Crystal ride, but I’ll be watching for you too,” Luke called over his shoulder as he started out after Justin, already walking away.
Her anxiety had subsided as she galloped Fiel and felt his obedient responses, but a different kind of nervousness crept back in as she thought of Luke watching her. She forcefully pushed those thoughts away and moved Fiel back onto the warm-up field into working trot.
“Warm him up once or twice over the cross-bar,” João called out as she trotted past him. She followed his advice, letting Fiel trot up to the rail, jump, and then canter on after landing.
“Number one-twelve,” the ring steward signaled her. “You can head up to the starting box.”
João walked alongside with a few last minute reminders about the best approaches to the trickier jumps on the course. He checked her girth, gave Fiel a pat on the rump, and said, “Off you go. I’ll meet you at the finish gate.”
“Thanks.” Sierra walked Fiel in a small circle until the steward indicated she could enter the starting box.
“You start in two minutes, twenty seconds,” the starter informed her, looking at his stopwatch.
Sierra nodded in acknowledgment and walked Fiel into the box and circled him around once.
Then the starter held up his arm holding a flag and started counting down, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…” His arm dropped down with the flag.
As soon as the flag dropped, Sierra released her holding aids, and Fiel sprang forward. Immediately she moved into two-point and let him pick up an easy canter. They were on course!
The first two jumps were easy; a rail fence and a coop, both on level ground. Then they came to the first downhill. Sierra settled back into the saddle and thrust her weight down through her heels, and Fiel galloped down without losing one stride of rhythm. At the bottom they had two strides on the level and then over the flower boxes. Sierra remembered immediately after landing, to sit back in the saddle and with a squeeze of the reins, slowed Fiel’s pace to make a sharp turn, and then over a split rail fence. After that they galloped a long stretch on the level where they could pick up speed again. Fiel sailed over a brush jump and a railroad crossing jump.
“Bounce jump coming up,” Sierra said, easing the pace again to help Fiel find his stride to negotiate the two fences set in a combination. Fiel jumped the first with a perfect landing and took off immediately to clear the second.
Next an uphill gallop with a log pile jump at the top, another stretch on level ground, and then a drop jump off a bank. Fiel took the bank faster than Sierra wanted, and she lost her balance and landed forward on his neck. He snorted but shortened his stride, giving her a chance to reposition herself in the saddle. “Good boy,” she called out and urged him forward again into a full gallop along an even stretch of ground to the water crossing. Sierra did not detect even a flicker of hesitation as her brave horse splashed through. “Half way,” she told him.
From the water they galloped to a jump of vertical stumps set upright in a row, then over a rail draped with old tires. Another easy downhill stretch brought them to a narrow ditch. Still on the level they cleared the hen house, then a combination of two green-and-white board fences.
Sierra slowed Fiel for another sharp turn and onto a stretch of road through a wooded section. They emerged from the woods into an open field and the last three obstacles. They sailed over the roll top, a stone wall, and then galloped forward on a straight line to the last jump, a thick log rail draped with a bright colored banner. Fiel flicked his ears suspiciously at the bright colors, but Sierra pressed with her legs and spoke reassuringly, “It’s nothing; let’s go.” Fiel took the jump as if it wasn’t even there.
They galloped through the flags of the finish gate; they had jumped clean and no time penalties!
Sierra brought Fiel to a walk greeted by applause and faces merged around her; Pam, João, and Luke. Strangers congratulated her. She leaned forward and hugged Fiel around his neck.
“He was fantastic!” Sierra met the eyes of João who beamed back in total agreement. She dismounted and Pam hugged her, with tears in her eyes and saying silly things like, “my baby.”
Then João hugged her, no words needed to convey his pride. “Let’s get this guy cooled out.” He threw a cooler over Fiel’s back and Sierra led him back to the stalls where she and João pampered him with treats in abundance, a bath, another massage, and finally into his stall with a mound of hay. Pam stood by and watched, after a few attempts to help that only put her in the way.
They were about to head back to the camp site when João said, “I need a few moments to rest.” He sat down on the canvas chair, his color ashen. He pulled a small brown bottle from his shirt pocket and fished out a tiny white tablet which he put in his mouth.
“João,” Pam asked, concerned. “Is that nitroglycerin?”
He laughed. “Ah yes, the nursing student. Yes, I have a bit of angina. I’ll be okay in a few minutes.” Color was already returning to his face.
“What’s going on?” Sierra asked, worried mostly by the look on her mother’s face.
“It is my heart,” João explained. “Nothing to worry about; I have an appointment next week for some studies.” He stood up. “Much better, but I will take a little nap after all this excitement.”
*****
“Just hold him,” Tess cried out as her adult student, who had come to watch the show and help out, tried to keep Moose standing by the mounting block. The thoroughbred had flung his head high and shied at every other object as he was led from his stall to the warm-up field for cross country, and his coat already gleamed with the dampness of his nerves. “Make him stand.”
“I’m trying,” the student answered. “He’s very excited.” She held tight to the bridle reins near the bit, struggling to hold his front end in place as he swung his hind end to the side.
Tess had one foot in the stirrup and leapt into the saddle. She quickly picked up the reins and shortened them into a tight hold. “You can let him go,” she said needlessly for her student had already ducked away defensively as Moose half reared. “Settle down,” Tess shouted at him as she dug her spurred heels into his sides to push him forward out of rearing. Moose dropped down to all four legs and bolted for the open field where other horses were warming up. Tess jerked hard left to turn him in a tight circle to regain control, and managed to bring him to a walk. Blowing loud through his nose and tossing his head, Moose fought every step.
Tess hadn’t believed River when he told her that Moose was a different horse outside of a railed arena, but realized the truth when she had ridden the thoroughbred in his first horse trial early in the season. He performed well in his dressage test and in stadium jumping, so it had been a shock to find him wild with excitement when she rode the cross country course. It had been a terrifying ride but she had managed to get him around the course and they had actually placed third and qualified for the championship. His owner, a long-time client who sent Tess horses every year to train, had been thrilled that Moose had placed his first time out and qualified, and she had pushed Tess to continue to show him. Tess could not afford to disappoint her. She had River concentrate on Moose’s manners out on the trail after that, and at the next two shows, he had been manageable. But Moose had thrown a shoe just a week before the championship and she had not been able to get the farrier out until the day before the show. River had not ri
dden him at all last week; and now she had a fight on her hands.
She wondered if she should scratch; she knew that was the sensible thing to do. She could explain to the owner that it was unfortunate he had lost a shoe so missed a week of work, and was not ready for today. It was amazing the difference in Moose when River rode him consistently. Tess truly believed it was because River was stronger than her, and therefore better able to control the thoroughbred. She didn’t understand that River got along with Moose because he rode with light and more tactful hands.
Her number was called and Tess determined to stick it out, hoping that once on course Moose would settle into his work. She headed him up the slope to the starting box, grateful it was uphill which made it easier to keep Moose under control. Inside the box, Tess kept him in a tight circle at a walk, although it was really more of a jig. The starter began the countdown. Tess waited until he reached three before turning Moose to face the exit out of the box. As the flag went down, Moose reared again and bolted madly forward at the touch of Tess’s spurs.
They cleared the first three jumps too fast. Tess realized she had lost control and the best she could do was to keep him on course and stay in the saddle. She had no hope of slowing him down for he ran now as if in a race, ignoring all the pressure she exerted on the bit.
Dare I even try to finish? she considered, for the next jump was at the bottom of a downhill and at this pace…terror filled her heart.
They crested the hill and Moose careened down the descent with his ears flat and knowing only to run and run and run. The rails of the jump loomed in front of him. He was going too fast; he could not see a way over so he slid his back legs into a sudden skid and spun away.
Tess screamed as the shift in velocity and change of direction flung her from the saddle and she crashed to the ground.
*****
“No…no.” River leaned against the stall door with his arms folded tight and his mouth set in a firm line. It had taken him over an hour to cool down Moose, then bathe and groom him before finally settling the thoroughbred in his stall. Moose now munched on his hay in perfect calmness, oblivious to the havoc he had caused.
Tess sat on a bale of hay opposite the stall, her students hovering around. She had a bruise on her cheek, a wrenched shoulder and back, and she looked miserable. “River, this is extremely important. A good demonstration ride does so much for the reputation of Pegasus. You have to.” Tess had been pleading with River to ride Gunsmoke in her place for the evening’s performance. She had convinced the paramedics after her fall that she was not seriously injured; but the truth was her back went into a spasm if she moved suddenly or tried to stand up straight. She could barely walk, much less ride.
“I do not.” River glowered back at her. He smoldered inside with anger at what he considered abuse of Moose; pushing him too early in his career. He was sorry Tess was hurt, but more than any concern for her, he was relieved that Moose was not.
“I’m willing to ride him, Tess,” Crystal stepped forward to offer. “I know him well enough from the lessons you’ve given me on him, and I have time to learn the routine. I could do it.”
Tess barely shifted her glance to Crystal. “You cannot.” Her frustration was too much; she leaned forward, covering her face with her hands and burst into tears.
River’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. Tess never lost control; never showed any sign of weakness. It disturbed him to see her sobbing into her hands and struggling to hold back the sounds of her misery. “Okay,” he reluctantly agreed, the only thing he could think of to end the scene in front of him.
“Thank you,” Tess choked out, keeping her face buried.
As River turned away from Tess, anxious to escape from the emotional group, he caught sight of Crystal staring at him icily, hatred emanating from her murderous glare.
*****
When the scores were posted at the end of the day Crystal remained in first place. Katrina, with a clean cross country go, moved up into fourth place; the two entries previously ahead of her each had refusals on course, including Gloria. Gloria dropped into fifth place. Sierra remained in second place.
*****
29 Evening Show
There is nothing more beautiful than a horse reacting to nearly invisible aids and both horse and rider feeling as if their two bodies and souls have melted into one. – Walter Zeittl
*****
After dinner, Pam, João, and Sierra headed over to the indoor pavilion for the evening’s entertainment. They arrived early enough to procure seats in one of the front row bleachers, bringing reading material to pass the time until the show began. Sierra worked on the required reading for her history class, Pam studied her notes for an upcoming test, and João had his Wall Street Journal.
The seats gradually filled up around them, and finally a microphone squeaked. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer began the program. He welcomed everyone to the facility and to the regional championship. He announced the current team standings and then a few other announcements.
“Now, please sit back and enjoy the evening’s entertainment.” A trumpet blared over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Sunnyside Vaulting Club!”
Rousing music followed the trumpet blare as a group of ten riders on horses entered the pavilion and picked up the canter as they circled around. The riders looked to be all teenagers or younger, including one small girl riding a pony at the end of the line. They were dressed in identical red gymnastic tights with gold trim. Their horses had matching gold-trimmed red saddle pads, red track bandages on their legs, and red and gold ribbons in their manes. Instead of saddles they wore vaulting surcingles.
The riders performed a series of synchronized gymnastic moves; each rider first turning on the horse’s back to face backwards, then back around and standing on the horse’s back, then handstands, flips, and other feats. Then the group cantered back out of the pavilion, except for two dark bay horses. Their riders dismounted, led the horses in a small circle until eight kids on foot jogged back into the pavilion two-by-two, then split apart and formed two groups around each bay horse. The two kids who had remained with the horses now put them onto a circle at the end of a lunge line, one lunging to the right and one to the left. Then the other kids vaulted on and off the horses’ backs in a series of gymnastics; forming pyramids and other formations. The two groups performed as mirror images of each other.
Their routine came to an end, and the vaulting team left the pavilion to the sound of enthusiastic applause.
“The Sunnyside Vaulting Team,” the announcer called out again, and then gave a little speech about the history of the club and its members while a ground crew moved into the pavilion and within minutes, set up a dressage arena of moveable low white rails and white cones with black dressage letters.
Then the announcer introduced a series of riders performing kurs, or dressage musical freestyle routines; one riding fourth level, and one riding Prix St. George. Next, two riders on matching chestnuts performed a third level pas de deux. As these were demonstration rides, horses and riders were attired informally, in costumes to match their selected music.
João made whispered comments to Sierra throughout the demonstrations, pointing out when a rider was using too much hand, or an improperly executed movement, but also complimenting when movements were done well. He opened Sierra’s eyes to flaws that she would never have noticed, so intrigued by the overall pageantry and beauty of the performances.
“Ladies and gentlemen, for the final demonstration of the evening, we present a grand prix musical freestyle; Gunsmoke, owned by Pegasus Equestrian Center, a twenty-two year old Hanoverian and retired grand prix champion.”
“Here comes Tess,” Sierra informed Pam and João.
“Please note the change in your program. Teresa Holmes will not be riding tonight. Many of you are probably aware she had an unfortunate fall riding cross country today, but she is not seriously injured,” the announcer quick
ly assured as sounds of commiseration wafted from the stands. “However, she is unable to ride tonight. In her place, Gunsmoke will be ridden by one of Ms. Holmes’ students, River Girard.”
“What?” Sierra cried out in surprise. She looked toward the entrance into the pavilion and sure enough, there sat River astride Gunsmoke. How did Tess ever convince him to ride? River wore a long-sleeved white shirt tucked into black breeches, black boots and his black helmet with his long hair tied back. Gunsmoke, a very dark gray, almost black in color, wore a black bridle with a white-edged browband set with sparkling clear stones, a white saddle pad, and white track bandages on his legs. They were a striking pair, all in black, gray, and white.
“Is that River?” João asked in surprise.
River nodded toward the announcer’s stand, and music poured forth from the speakers, a dramatic flamenco-style guitar piece. The music fit the appearance of the black-and-white duo; they looked as if they could have ridden out of a swashbuckling tale.
Suddenly, Gunsmoke half reared with his ears back, and then he whirled, kicking out with his hind legs. What just happened? Sierra had never seen Gunsmoke act like that. There was a universal ohh, throughout the stands as the audience watched, expecting to see the rider thrown and a loose horse. A few people stood up.
With held breath, Sierra watched anxiously, her eyes on Gunsmoke. Then, among the throng of people at the entrance, she glimpsed the back of a boy ducking low and moving quickly away. She let her breath out slowly, wondering, Justin?
“Something spooked him,” someone in the stands declared.
The Girl Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series) Page 22