Chapter Twenty-Six
“No,” Winny cupped her face in her hands and sank to the crumbling sand.
Danika rushed to her side and gave her a motherly pat on her back. “It's okay, dear. It's not the end of the world. There will be other competitions.”
It might as well have been for me. My hopes had been shattered. Who knew how long it would take me to recover? The show season was just beginning and the thought of sitting out an entire year sickened me. Dr. Calvert swabbed my skin, looking for any sign of a cut from the sharp hooves, but found none. He left with instructions to alternate walking and icing my shoulder for the next hour.
Winny unlatched her helmet and cradled it under her arm. Leading me to the water spigot just outside the arena, she didn't have anything to say.
For five atrocious minutes, frigid cold water trickled down my hot, pulsating skin. I resisted having the sand rinsed from my eye but Winny masterfully outmaneuvered me and washed the last of the grains out, leaving my eye raw. Winny turned to my shoulder and it took all the self-discipline I could muster to keep from pulling away from the torturous procedure. Slowly, my leg went numb and the pain and swelling subsided. After the rinse, she led me away toward the arena. I walked alongside Winny, urging her to go faster.
“See? I'm already feeling better.”
She ignored my pleas and slowed me with a tug of the reins.
“Too bad to see your horse looking so lame.” Chuck leaned over the fence. I’d forgotten he’d be around, watching for Gretchen. “Saw the whole thing. That was quite nasty stallion.”
Winny replied, “Yeah, it's a shame. Nothing to be done about it, though.”
Winny clucked, moving me along the soft footing. Chuck followed along.
“Oh, I beg to differ. Winny’s tough. She's already lookin' much better.”
There was an earnest look in Chuck's eyes. I could see his knuckles go white as he gripped the top railing.
“I hope so,” Winny said apathetically.
The arena began to thin out until only ten horses were left, all competitors from my class who had survived the grueling endurance day. At the main ring, the crowd's cheers swelled with each finished. I could hear the sound of falling rails as clearly as if it was a bang on a gong.
Must be a tough course, I thought to myself. There was yet to be a clear round.
Winny lead me back to the spigot and doused me with water again. Ms. Diederich had tracked down a bagful of ice and pressed it to my muscles. There was still noticeable swelling, but like Chuck had claimed, the pain was beginning to be tolerable.
“Look, Winny, I feel a lot better,” I tried shoving her to get her attention. She was too focused on the toes of her boots.
Thinking quickly, I pulled the reins from her hands and began trotting circles around her.
“Hey!” she yelled furiously. “Stop that or you'll hurt yourself!”
She dove at me but I outmaneuvered her. Holding my tail high in the air, I playfully mocked her as I galloped around the arena.
“Whoa, girl,” Ms. Diederich held her palms high in the air at me. Obediently, I stopped and let her take a hold of me. Hopefully, she'd gotten the message.
“Danika, come here,” Ms. Diederich excitedly called. She moved her hands along my muscles, feeling the swollen lump under my skin. The sharp sting of pain had been replaced by a bearable throb.
Danika felt along the contours of my chest and shoulder. Her eyes widened in amazement, her mouth dropping open.
“Ah, there you are, darling,” Danika’s husband, George, cheerily said as he jogged to our gathering. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled into his typical friendly expression. He'd no idea the drama he'd just missed. “I've just arrived and have been looking all over for you. Guess I should have checked the arena first. Duh,” he bumped his forehead like a fourteen-year-old girl.
Ms. Diederich nodded at Danika. “Get the vet.”
Danika barely remembered to say hello in passing to a befuddled George.
“B-but Danika…”
She didn't deviate on her quest to track down Dr. Calvert. Eventually, Winny made it to my side. Still sulking, she hadn't bothered running. She looked worn out, with no more energy in her than a dead battery.
George, looking rather perplexed, asked, “What's the matter Nadia?”
Winny moped, “My horse got kicked and now she's too lame to compete. We're out.”
Before George could begin to apologize, Ms. Diederich corrected, “We will have to see. I've asked Danika to bring the vet.”
Dr. Calvert and Danika came back, side by side. The urgency was gone from the vet's face, sure this was just the result of two overzealous women obsessed with their student winning.
Like his last examination, he put his hands all over my aching body. Rather unimpressed, he asked, “Trot her down and back for me please.”
Winny glared at me for my obstinacy, running away from her like that. The two of us had to be the laughingstocks of the entire show by now and she, more than I, had been bearing the brunt of it.
“Feeling better?” sarcastically she hissed.
“Just trying to get us our shot at that blue ribbon,” I nickered.
Holding my breath, I stepped lightly and lifted my legs, prancing away from Dr. Calvert. He was notably astonished at my remarkable improvement. The throb was still there but the slicing pain from hoof impact had vanished.
Removing his wool cabbie to rub his forehead, he said, “I don't quite understand. With an injury like that, she should be practically three-legged.”
I laughed internally, remembering how before I'd laid eyes on Winny, I would have been satisfied with a one-eyed, three-legged horse. And now, here I was, as close to one-eyed and three-legged as I cared to be.
“I don't know what to tell you,” Dr. Calvert said, perplexed. “She's certainly not acting lame. I will warn you that she may have permanent damage if you do choose to compete.”
The silence was penetrating. Permanently damaged? The very words solidified the seriousness of the situation. Our potential victory would be pointless, especially if it resulted in irreparable harm. A cheap blue ribbon hardly seemed like enough justification for rendering a horse forever useless. Would I be stuck a lame horse for all eternity or worse, return Winny to her body, crippled and unusable?
“You know your horse best,” Danika offered, breaking the hush.
Winny turned and pulled my head down to her level. “If I were a horse,” Winny started, “I'd go for it. You up for it girl?”
“Of course I am.” I punched her in the shoulder with the tip of my nose.
Winny's smile pulled from ear to ear. I loved looking at Winny grinning through my face.
“You heard the mare. Let's get her ready!” commanded Winny.
“Number one-ten! You're in the hole!” the steward announced. The megaphone magnified the pinch in her voice.
“Crap,” Winny cursed under her breath. “There's not enough time!”
The mass of people in the stands suddenly gasped and the sickening sound of a tumbling horse knocking down an entire spread split the air. The rider held control as best as he could but the sheer momentum of a thousand pound animal couldn't be stopped.
We all turned our attention to the arena and watched, horrified, as the slender sorrel with exaggerated white socks leapt to his feet and sprinted away, dragging his rider by his foot wedged in the stirrup iron.
The horse darted in and around jumps, knocking down entire obstacles with his frantic attempts to escape. He evaded the show stewards grabbing at his loose reins, sharply whipping his rider about.
Somehow, the rider slid his foot out of his boot and lay face down in the sand for a moment. No one uttered a syllable, afraid they'd just witnessed someone's death.
The horse, seeing his rider limply in the arena, turned and raced to his side. “Charlie, are you okay?” he nudged the young man.
The rider's coat was tattered to shreds on hi
s back. He gingerly rolled over and delicately rubbed his horse's muzzle. “Socks, you're so spastic, you know that?”
With the help of his horse, he lifted himself up and waved to the crowd. He was obviously bruised and battered but it was minor compared to the coma he should have been in.
A hearty applause broke out over the crowd as Socks and Charlie limped from the stadium.
“Well, here is your extra time,” Ms. Diederich pointed out unsympathetically.
Surveying the ring, six of the twelve fences were completely obliterated. The crew were already busier than bees putting them back together but it had bought us at least ten minutes before Gretchen would start her round in front of us.
Danika practically flung Winny into the saddle and raced me to the water spigot, still trickling with water. She doused my shoulder with the bitingly cold water while Ms. Diederich vigorously scrubbed at Winny's scuffed boots and double-checked my tack.
Danika held the water over my skin as long as I could stand it. The show announcer’s voice crackled over the intercom and he jovially reported, “Looks like we’re back on track, folks, and down to our last two riders!”
The steward wasted no time. “One-ten! You're on deck!”
My heart pounded faster with each passing second. Gretchen was taking the last few moments before trying her hand at the challenging stadium jumps. If Gretchen and I could go clear, it'd come down to a jump-off.
“Here,” Danika thrust the hose into Ms. Diederich's hands. “I've got to go coach Gretchen before she goes in.” Without another word, she sprinted towards Gretchen, George following her like a lost puppy.
“She'll be fine,” Ms. Diederich huffed, not really intending on anyone hearing. Looking up at Winny, she said, “I know my granddaughter can be a real pain.”
Winny patiently listened without judgment while I couldn’t help but think, That's a gross understatement. A twinge of regret hit me. I’d not been particularly nice either.
“I think it would be good for her to lose once in a while.”
“We'd have to have a clean round,” protested Winny.
Ms. Diederich's watery gray-blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “So far, no one has gone without either time or rail faults. If Gretchen knocks a rail down and you go clean, you will win. If you're both clear, a jump-off will be in order. It's unlikely, yes, but doable.”
Winny seriously considered the odds. She was as competitive as anyone here but we were basing our chance at winning on Gretchen and Isis messing up. Mistakes were few and far between with them.
“Now go warm up. There's not much time left.”
Without having to be asked twice, I took control of the situation. My hooves rhythmically beat the ground, circling the warm up ring like a buzzard over the African plains. Aligning myself with the oxer, I sailed over it. Jumping was nearly as thrilling as a soft kiss on the cheek from Mike. Both sent my heart racing and gave me the urge for a good buck.
The landing was less than pleasant but my left side was nearly deadened from the cold water. Giving myself a pep talk, I was convinced that I could bear it a little longer. That blue ribbon was going to be worth it.
With my heart rate returning to normal and my muscles feeling loose and relaxed, Winny, Ms. Diederich and I stood in a row, carefully observing Isis and Gretchen as they approached the first fence.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Watching Isis jump was like watching an incredible ballet. Her powerful haunches propelled her and Gretchen through the air while her body perfectly arched over the rails, not unlike a prima ballerina leaping across a stage.
At number three, she nicked the top rail, sending a thrilled gasp through the crowd. If I hadn't have been watching Isis' expression, I would have missed the subtle twinkle in her eye. She was just giving the crowd a good show.
As they pulled a sharp right after seven, a rumble of thunder hammered through gathering clouds. Gretchen and Isis were intently focused, but the electricity in the atmosphere was undeniable.
A flit of lightening illuminated the darkening sky, passing along a gentle murmur in stands. People had turned their attention to the brewing horizon, wondering, with one horse and rider—Winny and me—to finish, if the gathering storm could be beat.
Ms. Diederich read my mind. “They won't wait. You're the last to go and there is still time before the rains will come.”
Then, I heard it. That beautiful noise that might give Winny and me a shot. It felt like the entire world gasped, especially Gretchen and Isis. “No,” Gretchen mouthed as she looked behind her to the rail that teetered dangerously in the cups. Isis had taken the rails too long, leaving her left hind leg trailing. The delicate contact with the rail was all it needed to fall.
Gretchen's face clouded with intense resolve. She smacked Isis with her crop as a warning. She wanted to provide a good show for the crowd but without any real risk of losing.
Luck was with her. The rail settled back into the cup.
Everyone held their breath for the last combination. The three fences were paced on a one stride, two stride length, easily conquered by the pair. With a happy flick of her tail, Isis galloped across the finish line under time and without faults.
“Gretchen Fitzgerald and Isis, completing the course with no time faults and only a few close rails. That ties her for now in first place with Nadia Wells and Headed for the Win,” the announcer cheerily called.
“There you are,” said Ms. Diederich. “You must have a clear round. Keep your head about you and take your time. Your horse's stride is big enough that you don't need to rush. Speed will be reserved for the jump-off.”
“Alright,” Winny gulped. “Thank you, Ms. Diederich.”
Ms. Diederich nobly bowed her head and inspected us one more time. Massaging my shoulder, she worked out the knot that had begun settling underneath my skin.
“Wells, Nadia and Headed for the Win, you're up!” cried the steward. She looked relieved that we were the last team of the day. Her windswept hair was barely contained by her hat and her baggy, calf-length shorts were smeared with grass-colored horse saliva and mud.
“Go,” Ms. Diederich commanded sternly.
“C’mon, horse. We can do it.” Almost inaudibly, she added, “I think.”
Cantering to the arena, Gretchen breathlessly wished, “Good luck. You're going to need it.” She had unbuckled her helmet to reveal sweat-matted hair.
“We're going to give you a run for your money,” I teased Isis.
“Bring it,” she ruefully chortled, swinging her inky black tail at me.
Winny steered me to the gate and slowed me back to a walk. Over the intercom, the announcer repeated, “And finally, folks, we've got Nadia Wells on Headed for the Win.” A bolt of lightning shot through the clouds and burst forth in a crash of thunder. “The show manager’s given the go ahead to try and beat this storm and let the final pair compete. She's tied now in first with the last competitor, Gretchen Fitzgerald on Isis. We’ll see if she can maintain that with this difficult course.”
Winny took the opportunity to wave to the crowd, inciting a few whistles and catcalls from my family.
“Now, if she can go clean this round, we'll have a jump-off between the two to determine the winner.”
The judge blew long and loud into his metal whistle. Even from a distance, I could see the deep pockmarks on his face and the mischievous little-boy look in his eye. He seemed an addicted thrill-seeker that, when he wasn't doing some daredevil stunt himself, took pleasure in watching others do the same. Sitting next to the announcer above the stands, he could see everything with the clarity of an eagle eye.
Raring to go, I chomped at the bit and anticipated Winny's kick to send me into an energetic canter.
She leaned over my side and said, “Headed for the Win, that's what we're here for today. To win. They didn't name me that for no reason.” She laughed heartily at her own compliment.
I nodded and pranced about, eager to go. With a bo
w to the judge, we circled and headed straight towards the first fence.
“Here we go!” cried Winny, maneuvering through the starting poles. My adrenalin was pumping hard enough to nearly drown her out, but I battled to listen to her every command.
I jumped the first obstacle—a tall, narrow plank that forced me to tuck my legs tightly under my belly. Drawing a sigh of relief, I landed safely on the other side.
“Yes!” Whinny screamed and I kicked up my heels in return. The crowd laughed at my over-exuberance and it was hard for Winny not to join in. My mom looked like she was about to faint at the prospect of her daughter toppling off her horse again.
Keep focused, I coached myself. The last thing we need is for me to goof around and accidentally buck Winny off.
Jumps two and three were a combination with a tree theme. The standards looked like miniature redwoods, holding raw logs as the rails. They were straight-forward and simple to scale because they were a good six inches shorter than the first. The easiness of two and three, though, was to throw off horse and rider for the awful challenge of the fourth fence.
“Careful here, girl. This is where almost everyone knocked down a rail.”
Underneath a plain, wooded rail, a massive brick wall had been assembled. It was hard to tell if they were real, but I didn't want to find out. The rails were the highest yet.
Winny could sense my hesitation as we approached. “Easy. I promise there is somewhere to land on the other side.”
“I sure hope so,” I muttered. My muscles tensed as we bounded closer and closer. All I could see before I launched myself into the air was solid wall.
Winny expertly gave me my head and balanced her weight forward so she neither impeded me nor fell from my massive effort. I squeezed my eyes shut while in the air and flew with complete trust in Winny's skills. We rocketed upwards, reached a peak and plummeted back to the earth.
“Yes!” Winny hissed, glancing behind us to see we passed the brick wall without even coming close to touching it. I landed with great jubilation and looked to my next target.
Headed for the Win (Nadia and Winny Book 1) Page 16