Riding to Win

by Bonnie Bryant

  And Callie expected no less of herself. She had become a junior endurance champion by never giving up, by always wanting to be the best, and most of all by training hard every chance she got. For the past few years she had spent every possible minute out on the trail or in the ring, conditioning and training herself and her mounts, always looking forward to the next fifty- or hundred-mile race.

  All that had changed soon after Callie’s family had moved to Willow Creek, Virginia, the previous summer to be closer to her congressman father’s office in Washington, D.C. Callie still found it hard to believe how completely her life had been transformed in a matter of seconds—as long as it took the car she was riding in to skid off the rain-slicked road in front of Pine Hollow, roll over, and tumble down a hill. The next thing Callie knew, she was in the hospital with residual brain damage, which translated into a right leg that wouldn’t do what she wanted it to. Ever since, she had been doing all she could to get her old life and her old body back—putting her famous single-mindedness to work on the task of getting better. And she was so close.…

  “I almost wish we weren’t going back to Valley Vista next week,” Callie confided to Windsor as she wedged her hoof pick under a stubborn clod of packed dirt. “I’m not sure it will do me any good to take such a long break from our therapeutic riding sessions. Especially now that I’m making some real progress.”

  That was only part of the reason she had mixed feelings about her family’s Thanksgiving plans, though she didn’t voice the other part aloud. As soon as her father had announced that the family would be returning to their hometown during the upcoming school vacation, Callie had immediately imagined what her old friends would say when they saw her. What they would think.

  Callie’s gaze wandered to the shiny metal crutches leaning against Windsor’s hayrack. She sighed as she imagined how good it would feel to throw them out the stall’s small window right then and there. It had been almost five months since the accident, and the last thing she felt like doing was discussing it over and over again. But, knowing her parents, she would encounter every person in Valley Vista by the time the week was over, and she dreaded the thought of their nosy questions. She had moved on, and she wasn’t the type of person who liked to dwell on the past.

  “What do you think, mister?” she asked Windsor, lowering his hoof to the ground. “Do you think the old gang will believe me if I tell them crutches are all the rage here in Virginia?”

  The horse’s only reply was to turn his head slightly and blink at her sleepily, swiveling his ear to dislodge a pesky fly. But Callie already knew the answer to her own question. Her friends in Valley Vista would be perfectly polite to her face, no matter what she decided to tell them about what had happened. But behind her back was another story. She had already learned how deceitful people could be when her former best friend, Sheila, had written a tell-all article for the local newspaper after a visit with Callie and her family. That had also helped Callie to realize that some of her friendships back on the West Coast had been less than what she’d thought they were. The good part of that was that it made her appreciate the true friends she’d made in Willow Creek—Stevie, Carole, Lisa, Alex, Phil, and a few others. But it also made her sad to think about all the time she’d wasted on people who were only interested in getting close to her because of her well-known name or her blond hair and slender good looks.

  I guess it’s like Scott is always telling me, she thought. I’ve just got to deal. It’s part of the territory when you belong to a well-known family. We’re in the spotlight 24/7, and that’s just the way it is. She knew her brother was right about that, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  Callie did her best to push her restless thoughts out of her mind as she continued Windsor’s grooming. Like most horses, the big bay enjoyed being fussed over, and it didn’t take long for Callie to finish picking out his feet and brush the dirt and sweat out of his chocolate-brown coat. She cleaned his face, taking extra care with his ears, rubbing them for a few extra minutes and making the horse sigh with contentment.

  Finally the big gelding was clean and comfortable. After dropping her tools in her grooming bucket, Callie gave Windsor one last pat. “There you go, mister,” she said. “I’ll see you mañana, okay?”

  She turned away from the horse, preparing to leave the stall. Her crutches were just an arm’s length away, and Callie started to reach for them automatically.

  But then she hesitated. Taking a deep breath, she turned her gaze toward the stall door, just three or four steps away. Could she do it? She didn’t know. But that only made her more determined to try.

  She took a deep breath. Left foot first, she told herself.

  Clenching her teeth, she focused on keeping her weaker right leg steady as she stepped off with her good leg. She wobbled slightly but stayed upright as her left foot hit the floor. Now came the hard part. Callie leaned farther forward, putting more of her weight on her left leg. Then she willed her right leg to move, swinging it slowly forward, bringing it even with the other leg and then past.

  So far, so good, she thought with a burst of elation as her foot touched the floor.

  But her joy was short-lived. As she shifted her weight forward again, she felt her weak leg buckle under the pressure and give way, the muscles refusing to move as she desperately tried to adjust her balance. She pitched forward, throwing out her hands just in time to avoid bumping her head on the front wall of the stall.

  “Damn!” she cried, feeling hot tears of frustration spring to her eyes as she pulled herself up on the crossbeam of the stall door. “Damn, damn, damn!”

  “Watch your language, sis,” a familiar voice came from just outside the stall. “Windsor’s at that impressionable age, you know.”

  Startled, Callie glanced up and saw her brother watching her over the stall’s half door. Feeling embarrassed, she blinked back her tears and frowned at him. “What are you doing here already?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t guessed what she was up to. “I thought you weren’t coming to pick me up for like another half hour.”

  Scott shrugged, a slightly sheepish expression on his handsome face. “Really?” he said, running a hand through his close-cropped brown hair. “I guess I must’ve spaced on the time. Sorry, don’t mean to rush you. I can go wander around if you’re not ready.”

  Callie was barely listening. Grabbing her crutches, she swung open the stall door and maneuvered herself into the stable aisle. Scott stepped aside to get out of her way, then reached over to latch the stall door, giving Windsor a pat as he did so.

  “Forget it, I’m ready,” Callie said, feeling rather out-of-sorts. She didn’t like failing at something she set out to do, and she liked being caught failing even less, even by her own brother. “As long as you’re here early, we might as well take off. I’ve got a ton of homework to do for tomorrow.”

  Scott nodded agreeably and kept pace with her as she headed down the aisle. “Me too,” he said. “I wonder why teachers always feel the need to pile it on right before a holiday?”

  “Who knows?” Callie said distractedly. “Maybe you should start up a task force or something to study the problem.”

  Scott chuckled. He had recently been elected student body president of Fenton Hall. “Maybe I will,” he said. “I think that’s an issue the whole school could go for.”

  Callie didn’t bother to answer. She paused to put her grooming bucket away, then resumed thinking about her failed experiment. She hadn’t really tried walking without her crutches for the past week or so, and she was disappointed to discover that she still seemed to have a way to go before she would be ready to toss them for good.

  But I still have almost a week before we leave for Valley Vista, she told herself, feeling her old determination creep back and take over again. I can do a lot in the next week. She glanced down at her crutches. A whole lot.

  “Mayday, mayday,” Scott muttered suddenly, nudging her shoulder and startling her out of her though
ts. He nodded slightly at the aisle ahead of them. “Desperate wannabe love slave at twelve o’clock.”

  Callie followed his gaze and saw a slightly pudgy, moon-faced guy hurrying toward them. She groaned under her breath. “Oh, man,” she said. “Just what I don’t need right now.”

  She felt slightly guilty for saying it. George Wheeler had been nothing but nice to her since they’d met. But she had never been quite comfortable with him since realizing that he had a major case of the hots for her. After she’d told him that she didn’t see him that way, he’d agreed that they would just be friends, and at first Callie had tried to believe him. But lately she had to admit that she’d been kidding herself. George might say they were nothing but good buddies now, but it was painfully obvious that his feelings for her hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Callie!” George called eagerly, lifting one hand to wave. “Hi!”

  “Hi,” Callie called back weakly. She felt her hands clenching more tightly on the grips of her crutches. Sometimes she was tempted just to tell him to take a hike, to leave her alone and stop trying so hard to pretend to be Mr. Platonic. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d had to blow off a too-persistent suitor.

  But George was different from most of the guys who pursued Callie. He was so sensitive, so nerdy and vulnerable. She just couldn’t bring herself to nuke him that way. It would be like kicking a puppy.

  George skidded to a stop in front of Callie, an eager grin revealing the deep dimples on his round, pink cheeks. “Callie,” he said. “I thought you might be here. Did you finish your session?”

  Callie opened her mouth to answer, but her mind was a blank. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she could do it anymore—she had no idea what to say to him to maintain their ridiculous charade. What was more, she didn’t have the energy to try, not on top of her other worries. She blinked helplessly and glanced at her brother, sending him a mental plea for help. Fortunately, Scott caught her look. Shooting her a quick wink, he turned to the other guy with his most charming, most sincere friend-to-the-world smile.

  “Yo, George, my man,” he said breezily, reaching out to give him a hearty clap on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”

  “Hi, Scott,” George said automatically, though his eyes never left Callie’s face. “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “In a hurry, unfortunately,” Scott said in the smooth, pleasant tone that had won him the friendship of just about every person he’d ever met. “Wish we could stay and catch up, but Callie and I have to bail. Mom wants us home five minutes ago.”

  “Oh.” The disappointment was plain on George’s face, but he nodded politely. “Well, too bad. See you soon.”

  Callie breathed a sigh of relief, avoiding George’s adoring gaze as her brother hustled her toward the exit.

  “I hate to say it, big guy,” Carole whispered to the black horse, running her hands down his sleek, muscular neck, “but I think I’d better get going. Dad will strangle me if I’m late.”

  She felt her tears rising again as she stepped back and looked at Samson. She blinked hard, willing herself not to start bawling. She would have plenty of time to cry over everything that had happened. Now she just wanted to get through the next few minutes without totally losing it.

  She wasn’t sure that was possible. Until the day before, she’d hoped that someday soon, Samson might belong to her for real. In some ways he had always belonged to her—he had held a special place in her heart since the day Carole and her friends had assisted with his foaling right there at Pine Hollow. From the moment she had first set eyes on the gangly black foal with the spirited expression in his dark eyes, Carole had known that he was something special.

  Samson had done everything to prove her right. “You’re a real champ, you know,” she said softly, reaching forward to touch his black-velvet nose with her fingertips. “Yesterday, when the judge pinned the blue ribbon to your bridle? That was the best moment of my whole life.” She paused for a moment, savoring the memory. Even tinged as it was with the pain of everything else that had happened that day, she knew it was one she would always treasure.

  Especially since it was just about all she would have left of Samson. From now on, someone else would be smiling proudly for the cameras as judges clipped ribbon after ribbon to the spirited gelding’s bridle. After all, wasn’t that why a famous Canadian rider had bought him from Max? Because he wanted a horse capable of winning at the highest levels? For a moment Carole found herself wishing that Samson wasn’t the incredible athlete he was. That he didn’t have an amazing talent for jumping, combined with the speed and fire and will to win that made him stand out even in a crowd of equine superstars.

  But she couldn’t quite make herself mean it. Samson wouldn’t be Samson without those qualities. And she wouldn’t change a hair on his hide, no matter what had happened.

  “You’re one of a kind, Samson,” she told the horse softly, slipping her arms around his glossy neck for one last hug. “No matter how hard it is to say good-bye, I wouldn’t trade one second of our time together. Knowing you—loving you—has taught me so much.…” Her voice drifted off as she closed her eyes and hugged him tight.

  Samson stood quietly for a moment under her embrace. Then, restless, he snorted and tossed his head, dislodging her arms. Carole stepped back, knowing it was getting late. It was time to go.

  I can’t believe I’m never going to ride him again, she thought, drinking in the sight of the big black horse as she slowly backed toward the stall door. I can’t believe yesterday was the last time, and I didn’t even know it. It’s just so unfair.…

  Carole turned her back on the horse and reached for the latch. She heard him let out a curious snort behind her, but she couldn’t bear to look back.

  “Good-bye, Samson,” she whispered, closing her eyes tight for a moment and clinging to the door for balance. She could almost feel her heart breaking.

  As she let herself out of the stall, she automatically glanced up and down the stable aisle, keeping a lookout for Ben Marlow. Ben had worked full time at Pine Hollow since graduating from high school the year before. Among all the confusing things that had happened the previous day, perhaps most confusing of all was what had happened between Carole and Ben. After hearing that Max had sold Samson, Carole had needed some time to herself. She had retreated to a secluded patch of woods, with only the big black horse for company. A little while later, when she was almost cried out, Ben had found her hiding place. She had been grateful for his awkward attempts at offering comfort, especially since she knew that he was one of the few people who might truly understand how devastated she was to be losing Samson. The first thing she had ever noticed about Ben was the special rapport he had with horses. It was clear that he felt as strongly about his favorite creatures as she did, and they had formed a tentative friendship based on that. It wasn’t anything like the kind of relationship Carole had with her other friends—Ben rarely confided anything personal about himself, and it was an unusual event when he seemed interested in hearing anything personal about anyone else, including Carole.

  Then something had happened. As Carole had clung to Ben, taking strength from his understanding silence, he had looked down at her with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. She had looked back at him. And somehow, Carole had found their faces moving closer almost imperceptibly. Before she quite realized what was happening, she had felt his lips meet hers, softly at first, then more insistently. She hadn’t resisted—partly out of surprise, but mostly because she didn’t want to resist. Suddenly all her grief-stricken thoughts about Samson had faded into the background, and her mind was filled with the moment, with kissing Ben. It felt so right somehow, as though it was meant to happen.…

  But Ben had pulled away. Carole had been too startled and confused by what had happened to hear what he said as he hurried away, and she hadn’t known quite what to think of the kiss, or her own feelings about it. With all the other distractions, she had managed to put the whole in
cident out of her mind—mostly.

  Then, back at the stable, she and Ben had encountered each other in the aisle. That had brought back their moment together full force, and Carole had suddenly turned shy, wondering if Ben was feeling any of the same tentative, confused but hopeful emotions she was.

  He hadn’t left her in suspense for long. Instead of stopping to talk to her, he had brushed past with barely a grunt of greeting. His eyes had been cool and dismissive as they swept over her, and Carole had felt the one bright spot in the day, her one flicker of hope that her life wasn’t completely in ruins, sputter and die.

  Now all she could do was hope that she wouldn’t have to face him today. She couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else that was going on, and she could only pray that he would stay at home. Sunday was Ben’s official day off, but more often than not he showed up at Pine Hollow anyway. The first few times, Max had tried to shoo him away. But apparently he had finally realized that his taciturn young employee was happiest being at the stable whether he was getting paid for it or not. Since then, Max had accepted Ben’s presence on Sunday without complaint, though Carole had noticed that it wasn’t long after that when Max announced he was so pleased with Ben’s work that he was giving him a raise.

  Maybe Ben won’t show today, for once, she thought as she walked down the aisle toward Starlight’s stall, not sure whether that would make her feel better or worse.

  When she reached the stall and looked in, she saw that Starlight wasn’t alone.

  “Oh!” exclaimed the girl who was standing inside, feeding the gelding a bit of carrot. She blinked at Carole with wide, startled eyes. “Carole! Um, sorry, I hope you don’t mind, I—”

  “It’s okay, Rachel.” Carole hastened to reassure the younger girl. “I don’t mind you stopping in to say hi to Starlight. I’m sure he appreciates the attention, too.” Seventh-grader Rachel Hart was a member of Pine Hollow’s intermediate riding class. Recently, when Carole had decided she wanted to sell Starlight and buy Samson, Rachel was one of the people she’d approached. Rachel had been thrilled at the idea of owning the talented bay gelding. But her parents weren’t convinced that she was ready for her own horse, so she had been forced to tell Carole that she was out of the running.