Headed for the Win (Nadia and Winny Book 1)

by Rachael Eliker

  A low riding truck had been driven out onto the course when they were setting up. I thought perhaps it was for hauling equipment. Nope. It was parked conspicuously under the fifth obstacle but out of the way enough that unless a horse were loose or completely misjudged the distance, it wouldn't be terribly damaged. It was the sort of car that looked like the owner wouldn’t be too upset it if were dinged either.

  Winny steered me toward the bed—the lowest part of the truck, justifying, “I'd hate to be the one to nick the paint.”

  I wholeheartedly agreed and leapt to the complete right side. I could see Peter and my dad in the stands, biting their nails at the thought of us totaling any kind of automobile. We spared them and cleared it.

  “Fence six! Half-way done!”

  “Good,” I moaned, “my leg's starting to kill again.”

  The frozen numbness was melting into the uncomfortable pulsation from the repetitious, brutal impact. Each landing was beginning to feel as fresh as the original blow from the idiot Friesian. Gritting my teeth around the frothy bit, I pressed on.

  “Come on!” Winny cried as I launched over a chevron no-stride. I leapt, landed and without another stride, bound again. My front leg tickled the loosely hung rails and my heart about stopped

  “No,” I pleaded and tightened my legs to my chest.

  The hum of the crowd was scandalous. They watched the inexperienced, green horse and rider challenging a veteran pair like it was a noontime soap opera.

  The rail rocked violently in the cup. “Please, please, please don't fall!”

  The rail settled back into the cups.

  “Close one,” Winny scolded. “Watch what you're doing. That wasn't even the worst of it yet.”

  She was right. Nine was a beast. Every single one of the competitors managed to obliterate it and it was the one that nearly knocked Gretchen and Isis from their standing. I was determined, as was Winny, to be vigilant and channel all my strength into mastering it, regardless of the pain.

  Breathing deeply, I counted my strides. Six, five, four… I huffed. The brick wall looked like a toddler's plaything against jump nine. It wasn't extraordinarily tall but was deceivingly wide. Isis had misjudged it and jumped long and flat. It’d been her lagging hind leg that clipped it.

  “Keep it short and light here, Nadia.”

  The fence was a stair-step of candy cane striped rails, each lined up one right after the other. To the inexperienced horse, it gave the illusion of being separate fences but I was not fooled. I'd seen a jump exactly like it in one of the Grand Prix videos Danika had lent me. The kind of jump was a power jump, meant to be boldly flown over without looking back.

  Winny sat back in the saddle and let her weight sink into me. “Nice and easy does it.”

  Three strides. Two. One. Jump! I chanted.

  With explosive power, I shot up and over. Midair, a bolt of lightning cleanly cut from the sky and booming thunder rumbled overhead. The noise was deafening but I didn't falter. I rounded the obstacle, gritting my teeth and kept my legs tucked tightly. My hooves didn’t come close to the rails.

  On the other side, I extended my legs and relaxed in the free fall. Keeping my haunches high and tight, I made it back to the ground.

  “Ow!” I shrieked sharply. The dull ache had given way to sharp pain. It felt like a blade slicing quickly through muscle fibers—each stride was cutting but I continued to clench my teeth and pushed for the finish.

  “You okay?” Winny asked, sounding worried as her body pumped along with mine. I sucked in my breath and ignored her, galloping towards the triple combination.

  In line with the jumps, I could see each was progressively bigger and more embellished. The last fence was practically a jungle, adorned with hastas and geraniums tiered over the jump standards.

  Mustering the last of my reserved strength, I closed my lips around the bit and darted to ten, directly parallel to the deathly silent crowd.

  “Come on, Nadia!” shrieked my mother as she stomped on the metal seat she should have been sitting on. Dad, his face a little flushed, gently tugged on the corner of her shirt to settle her back down.

  Without warning, Mike popped into my head and I began surveying the spectators for him. Where is he? I soberly wondered.

  I tried to focus but nagging worries swirled into my mind. The nearly unbearable pain jabbing my shoulder, my annoyance with our predicament and wondering if I’d ever be human again, the drama over Mike… Each unwelcome thought distracted me.

  “Nadia,” Winny gasped, “we've only got eight seconds to finish or we're going to be faulted.”

  The timer showed on an oversized, electric billboard, the numbers frantically racing higher. Winny hadn't told me beforehand how much time we'd have, but I believed her. With powerful impulsion, I bolted.

  Jump ten I begged myself to continue. I galloped with as little weight on my left front leg as possible. Silently, I prayed Dr. Calvert couldn't see me from his vantage point. He'd run out onto the course and stopped me clean in my tracks if he knew what pain I was in.

  At the tangled, plant-adorned obstacles, the greenery undulated in the fierce wind. Their leaves looked like hooked claws, trying to snatch me out of midair. Suddenly I noticed the untamed feel of the air, my tired, sweat-soaked body and the hundreds of eager eyes on me from the stands. My more primal equine instincts surfaced. It battled my human logic and I eventually succumbed to reason. I was going to tackle the daunting fences if it was as terrifying as running into a wolf‘s mouth.

  Clearing ten successfully, I crashed down to overwhelming pain. Sparks of bright white light danced in my vision. Unable to see, I startled myself and pulled back.

  “What is it?” Winny frantically questioned. “Are you alright?”

  The blotches of light faded and the final two jumps reappeared. Shaking off my fright, I measured my footfall. Two collected strides to eleven. Jump!

  Contact with the loose sand on the other side of caused the same effect. I was as blind as if I had stared at the sun for an hour.

  Shaking my head, I tried to clear my sight but the disco ball lights kept flashing. I was about as useful as a blind horse. Taking a shaky stride I felt the clear pinch of Winny's legs on my sides and a smack from her crop across my flank. “Now!” she screamed shrilly

  Still unable to see, I pushed off with all my effort, tucked my legs and prayed for a miracle.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The auras of light in my vision began fading and I could see patches of the ground. Beneath my smartly tucked legs, green foliage, gritty sand and rails passed. Winny and I weren't just scraping by it, we were sailing well above it.

  “Yeah!” my mom shouted from the stands, rattling the benches with her stomping feet.

  “To the finish!” Winny yelled loud enough for the crowd to hear. Descending on the other side, I closed my eyes and waited for the rippling pain. As it registered, I began regretting my decision to jump in the first place. The takeoffs were simple enough. It was the landings I dreaded.

  With a heavy thud, I moaned as the full weight of my body made contact with the ground. My groan of pain was masked by another rumble of thunder, powerful enough to vibrate through my chest and send shivers down my spine.

  Ruthlessly, Winny struck my hindquarters again. “Go!” she eagerly cheered. There was nothing left to do but sprint the last few strides to the finish.

  The cheering crowd drowned out my headache as we dashed. As soon as the clock stopped, I skidded to a walk and worked on catching my breath. “Are you okay?” Winny leaned over to massage my shoulder.

  “I only got pummeled by the wrong end of a horse. Or did you forget?” I sarcastically pointed out. “I think I've got welts from your whip too.”

  Winny pursed her lips as if she'd comprehended. She dismounted and muttered an apology, leading me to the nearest hose to ice my shoulder again.

  “That was a close one, folks. Nadia Wells on Headed for the Win brought it home jus
t in time,” cried the enthusiastic announcer, his voice scratchy from hours of shouting excitedly over the microphone. “You know what that means. Our show manager, has determined it’s still safe enough to finish up ahead of the storm. We're having a jump-off after the crew gets the course set.”

  The crowd eagerly roared, obviously enjoying the drama of the day and forgetting all about the tumultuous clouds above. I glanced into the stands and rolled my eyes at my near-hysterical mother. This was the first sport I'd competed in since softball when I was seven and even then, she didn't take my competitions well.

  “Good grief,” Winny rubbed her gloves across her perspiring forehead. “The manager would probably make us ride in a hurricane if he thought it’d be entertaining.

  “Come, come. We need to get her leg numbed again.” Ms. Diederich rushed us along. “It will not take long for them to set up.”

  I hung my head below Winny's. We both panted, every inch of skin drenched in dust and sweat. Winny unsnapped her black velvet helmet, swinging it from the straps. Under a cobweb thin hairnet, her hair was plastered to her skull.

  “Got a good workout, eh?” Winny slapped my shoulder jokingly.

  A pair of angry sparrows squabbled over pretzel crumbs scattered on the cement wash stall slab. They fought and screeched until they noticed they were entirely too close to a pair of approaching human feet. Looking up at Mike, they fluttered away, leaving the buffet of food for another time.

  Mike fidgeted next to the water spigot, his vividly blue eyes flashing at us, then back to the ground. A cold bottle of water dripped from his hands, leaving a trail of droplets on the concrete.

  Pointing Winny to him with a nudge, she jutted out her chin and looked down at him. “Yes?” she haughtily inquired. Humbly, Mike muttered an apology and offered her the water.

  “I’m here to help. Go sit in the shade for a few minutes.” Winny looked skeptical. “I'll hold your horse while Ms. Diederich hoses her off. Go rest.”

  She stared a moment more then snatched the bottle from his hands. Half chugged in a single gulp, she left without a word of gratitude. Unconcerned about her white breeches, she plopped herself on an unoccupied bench beneath a well-shaded maple canopy within view but not within hearing.

  “She's still mad at me, huh?” Mike pulled my reins so I was facing him and rubbed his hand up and down my face.

  “Well, I'm not,” I breathed lightly into his neck. Mike continued to stroke my head while Ms. Diederich got to work.

  “How bad is it?”

  “You were here to see it? I thought you were doing some farrier work for another.”

  “It didn't see it happen but it doesn't take much for word to travel.”

  “Gossip in the horse world is like a spark on dry tinder,” Ms. Diederich rolled her eyes. “Worse than grade school children.” Sighing heavily, she massaged her brow and answered, “Honestly, this mare should be much lamer than she is. I knew she had a competitive drive in her, but this is incredible.”

  Mike nodded, watching the stream of water pour down my skin. The chill sent a quiver down my back but the sharp pain again began to regress. With my mind freed from the agony of my injury, my stomach twisted and gurgled noisily.

  “Don't worry,” Mike chuckled with a pat on my neck, “once this is over, we'll get you dinner right away.” He pulled out a sugar cube and slipped it to me.

  “Thanks,” I shyly nickered. It was almost embarrassing how often I thought of food now.

  Winny stomped back to us and rudely wedged herself between Mike and me with a swing of her hip. Filling up her water bottle from the hose, she guzzled another sixteen ounces of water with a satisfied, Ahhh.

  “Are you two ready?” Danika panted as she sprinted to us, kicking up gravel in her wake. “Gretchen's about to walk the course. You'd better come along too, Nadia. Mike, can you watch Winny? Chuck's got Isis. Ms. Diederich? Could you look Isis over too when you‘re finished with Winny?”

  Ms. Diederich handed the hose to Mike and Danika tugged Winny away towards the course, leaving Mike and me alone. “Definitely still mad,” Mike muttered in a low, defeated murmur.

  He didn't have much else to say to me so I took the chance to nibble some grass at the edge of the concrete slab, the water still gushing down my leg. Within minutes, Whinny dashed back to us and wrenched my head up to her level. Her eyes were wildly excited, almost animalistic how they darted back and forth.

  “I forgot to tell you how we're going to beat Gretchen!” she burst out. I glanced at Mike who didn't seem at all surprised to see her talking to me. Surely, he'd met stranger owners as he made his rounds through the show circuit. I did notice a miniscule smile turning up the corners of his perfect mouth.

  Winny shook me to get back my attention. “How?” I snorted incredulously. “Take a bat to Isis' leg to even out the competition?” No horses were around to appreciate my dry humor.

  “Just trust me out on the course. The jump-off is all about time and if we cut the corner after the fifth fence and avoid knocking down any rails, we'll do it. I just hope Gretchen has to go first so she doesn‘t see our sneak maneuver…”

  “Right, then,” my cynicism continued. “We just need a perfect, faster round than that pair,” I threw my head at Isis and Gretchen who were stretching out their muscles over a jump, “and we'll be the champions of it all.”

  Winny seemed to understand and poked me in the side. “Just trust me.” She breathed in deeply and exhaled, “I love a good contest.”

  Throwing my reins over my head, she climbed on my back and turned me away from Mike. Stubbornly, I halted. Winny knew why. Not turning to fully face him, Winny said, “Thank you for your help, Mike.” It was terse but genuine.

  Gretchen looked right through us as we entered the warm up ring. My leg muscle had gone back to numb but it was so frozen that it was tight and stiff. I followed Winny's cues and cantered over a few rails.

  “Well, folks, it's come time for these young ladies to duke it out right here. First to go will be Gretchen Fitzgerald on her lovely mare, Isis.”

  Gretchen and Isis trotted confidently into the ring. No sooner than they had that a ray of sun burned through the heavy clouds, spotlighting the two as they nodded to the judge.

  “I'm not taking that as a sign,” Winny said. Gretchen and Isis worked flawlessly together, over jumps, around tight turns, galloping between obstacles. I swallowed a tight knot in my throat and Winny did the same.

  The crowd was ravenous, hungry for some action. Gretchen pumped her fist triumphantly in the air as they sped across the finish, sending the spectators into an earsplitting applause.

  “That's us, then.” Winny gave me three light taps with her calves and sent me into a working trot. “Nicely done,” she complimented Gretchen as they passed.

  Gretchen smiled, “Good luck.”

  There was no ray of sunshine for us as we saluted to the judge after the bell rang. Ominous clouds began spitting drops of rain out of the eclipsed sky.

  “Now or never.” Winny spurred me on into a full gallop.

  Even if we didn't win, we were going to give the crowd a wild ride. Saving time, I scraped over the top of the jumps and hit the ground running. Gretchen hadn’t taken the tight turn at the fifth. The risk of not being able to line up with the last pair of fences and accruing faults for a rail wasn’t worth the few seconds she might have saved en route. I jumped the fifth diagonally—one of the wild jungle fences—landed and practically bent my long body in half to make the turn. The crowd loved it and shouted with excitement.

  At the last two jumps, I could see we were three seconds ahead of Isis and Gretchen. With reckless speed, I galloped on.

  Leap. Hang in midair. Land. Run.

  The last obstacle was only fifteen feet from the finish line. Winny encouraged a dramatic final jump for the audience and I delivered.

  Halfway over, a bolt of lightning dove unexpectedly from the clouds and shattered the atmosphere around us. Faster t
han I could comprehend, the blinding light enveloped us and vanished, leaving only darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Let me go! That's my daughter! Nadia? Nadia!” I could hear my mom shouting through the ringing in my ears.

  I cautiously opened my eyes to see a small crowd of people hovering overhead. Was I downed? Did my leg finally give way?

  “Oh, thank goodness! She's awake!” My mother grabbed my shoulders and clenched me in her bosom. I felt so small. So weak.

  “You should really leave her still, ma'am. Make sure she doesn't have any injuries.”

  Injuries? Other than a slight headache and a mild bruise on my knee, I felt fine. Bringing my hand up to my face, what had been a hoof just a moment ago was now five wiggling fingers inside a leather riding glove. “I'm back,” I half laughed.

  “Where'd you go?” Peter tried to joke though he looked as pale as a ghost.

  “What happened?” I moaned.

  Selma stood nearby and let Rooney lick my face with his hot, slobbery tongue. I tried to push him away but he wouldn't relent. Selma said matter-of-factly, “You got electrocuted.”

  “Well, it's hard to say,” Dad interjected. “None of us could see with that bolt of lightning. It certainly was close by but we don't see an entry or exit point. Most of the singe marks are on the jump. I don't think you got struck…”

  I unhooked my helmet and it sloughed off, cracked exactly in half and landed with a thud in the sand. My mom smiled through her tears and said, “Glad you were wearing that.”

  “Me too.” I stood up gingerly, to the protest of the medics. Promising them I'd go with them after I found my horse, I looked around for Winny.

  There she was. Mike gripped her reins while he grinned at me. Winny offered a low nicker and I understood her perfectly. She was glad I was okay. Thanking Mike for taking care of her, he looked down. “It was nothing. I'm just glad you're okay. That was quite the finish.”

  “Finish? We crossed the finish line?”

  “Yep,” he gave me his adorable crooked smile. “You were hanging on to her neck as she darted for the end. You didn't fall off though until you'd completed the course. It counts, no matter how you're on the horse as long as you're on.”