Off Course (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 12)

by Claire Svendsen

  “What baby?” Mickey said.

  “The baby he’s having with Missy Ellison.”

  I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer so I ran off to the bathroom where I locked myself in a stall that had no toilet paper and ended up having to wipe my nose on my sleeve. When I finally came out, Mickey was standing there with her arms crossed.

  “You have got to suck it up,” she said.

  “Thanks for the support.”

  I shoved her out of the way so that I could splash some cold water on my face.

  “I’m serious,” she said. “This isn’t like a regular divorced dad coming back into your life. This is like a gift from the Gods. So he sucks. So he shacked up with someone half his age. That’s what divorced dads do. But you have to look past all that because he has something you need. He can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  I knew Mickey was right but my stupid emotions kept getting in the way. It was complicated in so many ways and I didn’t want that complication to spill over into my riding life because that was my sanctuary. My safe place. And if I didn’t have that then I didn’t have anything.

  “Come on.” She looped her arm through mine. “We’ll be late for class.”

  “You do realize that you’re becoming the sensible one and I’m turning into the nut job,” I told her.

  “I know.” She grinned. “Isn’t it great?”

  “No.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Mickey eventually agreed to come with me to the show but it didn’t make me feel any better. In fact, the closer it got, the more I felt like I was making a huge mistake. Instead of feeling excited like I usually did before a show, I just felt sick to my stomach.

  “I think I’m coming down with something,” I said on Friday night as we sat in the tack room cleaning our bridles.

  “Well stay away from me then,” Mickey said. “I don’t want to get sick, especially not this close to Thanksgiving. My mom is cooking this whole turkey dinner and I’ve been looking forward to it for months.”

  “Mom hasn’t even said what she’s doing this year.” I shrugged. “And I can’t help it if I’m sick.”

  “You’re not sick, you’re just nervous,” Mickey said.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes before she said, “Hey, maybe your dad will invite you to Thanksgiving dinner with him and Missy.”

  “That’s not funny,” I said.

  “But it might be a good way to start getting to know him again.”

  “I don’t want to get to know him,” I said. “I just want to show him what he’s been missing out on all these years.”

  “Don’t you think he already knows?” Mickey asked.

  “No, I don’t.”

  The jumper classes weren’t until the afternoon so Mickey said she’d meet me at the barn at noon so that we could ride over there. I got to the barn early so that I could groom Bluebird and braid him. Esther was flitting about like a nervous bird, wringing her hands together as she waited for the potential buyers to show up.

  “Are they late?” I asked her.

  She looked at her watch. “They said they were running behind. What if they went to look at another barn first and decided that they liked it so much that they couldn’t be bothered to come and see this one?”

  “You have to have faith.” I reached out and touched her arm.

  “So do you,” she said.

  It was so bizarre that we were both finally getting things we wanted and yet it turned out that we weren’t really sure that we wanted them after all. Like our lives had somehow gone off course and no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t get them back on track.

  “Well, your buyers aren’t the only ones missing in action,” I said. “Mickey promised she’d be here by now.” I looked at the clock and the minutes ticking away, dragging me closer to the show I didn’t really want to go to. “I’d better call her. I can’t do this without her.”

  Only Mickey didn’t answer, instead her Mom picked up the phone.

  “Mickey is sick,” she said.

  “She can’t be sick,” I cried. “I need her. She has to come. Can I talk to her? She’s probably faking.”

  “She’s in the bathroom throwing up. She’s been at it all night,” Mickey’s mom said.

  “But I was the one with the stomach ache.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Mickey’s mom said. “There is no way she is going anywhere today unless it’s to the doctors.”

  I imagined Mickey being dragged to the doctor by her overprotective mom and felt bad for her.

  “Well can you please tell her that I hope she feels better soon and that I’ll text her later?”

  “Of course. Bye dear.” Mickey’s mom hung up.

  I stood in the barn aisle looking at my braided pony. This was just another reason not to go to the show. The signs were all pointing to the fact that I should just let it go. There would be other shows. Better shows. I didn’t need to prove myself to my father right this instant. But part of me felt like if I chickened out now then my father and Missy had won.

  I finished tacking Bluebird up, feeling a swell of pride that my pony was so handsome. My show jacket was folded neatly into my backpack along with everything else I thought I might need for the show. Bluebird and I had been working hard all week. He’d been jumping better than ever. Physically, we were prepared. Mentally, I’d never felt less prepared in my whole life.

  “So I guess we’re off then,” I said to Esther.

  “Oh look, they’re here,” she said, completely ignoring me as two cars turned down the drive.

  “Well good luck,” I said.

  “Yes, you too,” she said vaguely.

  I knew she wasn’t really paying attention. She probably had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do when I got there. The minute she decided to sell Sand Hill, she’d stopped being my trainer and that was why I needed to get a new one. But the dream of riding with Missy had been crushed thanks to my father and I didn’t really want to ride with him either. Although part of me did. It was like I was being torn in two.

  “It can’t be normal to feel like this,” I said to Bluebird as I tightened his girth. “I bet you don’t have all these crazy emotions all the time. I wish I was a horse.”

  After all, it seemed like a pretty good life. Three meals a day and your every whim catered to.

  “Come on,” I told him as I swung into the saddle. “Let’s go and win some blue ribbons.”

  But as we rode away from the barn and the potential new owners, a flock of crows flew overhead. They were squawking, that awful noise you hear in horror movies before someone dies and I didn’t want to believe that it was a bad omen but somehow it just felt like it was.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I figured it would take about forty five minutes to ride to the show grounds and that would be with some intense bursts of trotting but the bonus would be that by the time we got there, Bluebird would already be warmed up. We’d just have to pop over the warm up jump a few times and we’d be good to go. And Bluebird was fit, used to galloping and being ridden for hours so I knew he was up to the challenge. It was just that I knew he wouldn’t be expecting a show at the end of his trail ride and I didn’t really know what to expect when I got there either. I wished that Mickey had come. At least then I would have had someone to talk to.

  “Okay boy,” I told Bluebird as we got to the top of the ridge and slipped through the fence. “We can do this.”

  We rode down the field towards the old farm that my father now owned. Cutting across the property was the quickest way to get to the trail and it was the weekend so there wouldn’t be anyone around to yell at me. Not that they really could anymore anyway, unless it was my own father who didn’t want me riding there and not just the construction workers.

  But I was right, no one was around. The machines sat abandoned next to the dug up earth. I could see now that they had ripped up the bottom field to put in an arena and
the barn had been all but gutted, the aisle cleared and stalls were being put in. Big, roomy box stalls with new windows in the back cut out of the wall that would make the barn airy and bright. It was going to be perfect but I couldn’t get sucked into that fantasy right now because even though I could tell the place was going to be great, it wouldn’t be great if I had to share it with Missy.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and carried on. We crossed the road and walked along the grass verge for a while. It was quiet and there was no traffic but the birds were singing. There were fluffy white clouds in the sky and the breeze had a touch of cold to it that let you know that fall had arrived. I breathed it in deeply, trying to appreciate everything in my life even though it was kind of messed up right now because at least I was on the back of my own pony, riding to a show.

  A couple of cars passed us but they were considerate, slowing down and giving us a wide berth, unlike some people who used horses as an opportunity to step on the gas or honk their horn so they could make the riders fall off. Finally we got to the cut through and turned away from the road and down the start of the trail.

  At first it was a wide open track between two pastures full of cows. Bluebird snorted a couple of times but he mostly didn’t care about the big, grazing animals. I nudged him into a trot to get his focus back and because the grass was short and it was easy to see that there was nothing lurking on the ground waiting to trip us up, I even let him canter for a little bit, his chestnut ears flicking back and forth happily.

  Eventually the track grew narrow and then it turned off into the trees. We slowed to a walk, stepping into the dark, damp forest. It smelled bad, like mold and decay with the undernote of death. Probably some wild animal had died in there, a raccoon or feral cat. I tried to hold my breath and pulled my shirt up over my nose but it didn’t help much. Eventually we passed the bad smell but it still lingered in my nose and I couldn’t get it out.

  There were beer bottles now and rusty cans strewn about. I let Bluebird pick his way through, guiding him away from the worst of the trash. There were piles of burnt wood where people had put together illegal bonfires and I tightened my reins and reached for my cell phone, checking that it was still there. This was the part of the trail that I was afraid of. The part where some horrible person might jump out and grab me. I told myself that I was just being silly. That Esther had said that she used to ride to the show grounds all the time but I watched the news. I knew that what I was doing was dangerous and stupid. If Mickey had been with me it wouldn’t have been so bad. The buddy system was at least somewhat foolproof. She could have ridden for help if something bad happened or I could have. But all I could think was that I was alone in the woods and that if my mother found out then I wouldn’t be able to stop her from dragging me off to Wisconsin, all promises to help pay for Bluebird’s board long forgotten.

  I hummed the notes to a song that Mickey liked, hoping it would take my mind off the fact that I was scared but the tune just echoed around the forest and came back to me, distorted and eerie.

  “Maybe we should trot again,” I told Bluebird.

  So we started to trot and making sure that my pony didn’t step on anything bad took my mind off the other dangers that were lurking out there and it worked. I could almost see the clearing where we would come out into the open and cross the next field when I heard the rumble of a four wheeler coming up behind us and my blood ran cold.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The trail wasn’t wide enough for a pony and a four wheeler and I was under no illusion that they were going to stop or slow down or wait for me to get out of the way. I dared to look over my shoulder and saw them coming up fast behind us, two teenage boys on a bright blue four wheeler, their faces bright and flushed red as they started to shout.

  “Giddy up,” one boy cried.

  “Off to the races,” the other added.

  And in that moment I knew I had made a horrible mistake. The signs had pointed to the fact that something bad was going to happen and I’d ignored them all. Not being able to get a ride to the show. Mickey being sick. Those stupid crows squawking at me. They’d all tried to warm me and I’d blithely ignored them and now I was going to pay the price but not only was I going to pay, my poor pony was as well. Bluebird was tense beneath me and I did the only thing I could, I kicked him into a canter in an effort to escape our awful fate.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  We’d started at a canter but now we were galloping, the four wheeler loud and rumbling behind us. The boys were shouting again but this time I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The only things I heard were the pounding of my pony’s hooves and the blood rushing in my ears. We galloped down the narrow path, Bluebird jumping over fallen logs and bits of trash and then we burst out into the sunlight, the open field ahead of us.

  We galloped across it but they didn’t stop. They were getting closer, nipping at our heels like an angry, mechanical beast. I didn’t know what to do. I circled Bluebird but they followed. Wherever we turned, they were there. The trail continued on out of the field and across a road. You had to go along the grass verge for a while until you picked it back up and it cut through some more woods but the woods were dark and dangerous. I didn’t want to go in there with them behind us. I had to find help. If I found people, a house, anyone then the boys couldn’t hurt us.

  I looked for a way out and saw a wooden gate that connected this field to the next. It was about four feet high. I knew Bluebird could jump it but what I didn’t know was what the take-off and landing was like. What if there was a muddy ditch on the other side? What if there was broken glass? What if Bluebird didn’t make it and hung a leg, tumbling over the gate and taking me with him?

  I thought about just stopping. If we weren’t trying to get away then they wouldn’t need to chase us but I looked behind at the two boys and suddenly saw that one had a gun. He was waving it in the air and then he fired off a shot. Bluebird panicked and so did I.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  We were galloping for the gate. I tried to steady Bluebird and set him up for the jump but it was clear that he was almost out of control. The shot had gone off like a firecracker and scared both of us and now the boys were laughing. Would they really shoot us? I didn’t know but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

  Bluebird launched over the gate and we were clear. I was so proud of my pony but I couldn’t stop to tell him. We galloped away across the second field and as I stole a glance over my shoulder, I saw the boys were opening the gate. There were still coming and nothing was going to stop them.

  The four wheeler belched and coughed as they got back on and floored it. They were gaining on us but we were ahead and this field had an open gate that led out onto the road. We had no choice but to head for it and hope that there was someone out there who would help us.

  We galloped through a low spot in the field, water splashing up around my pony’s legs and then behind us I heard the four wheeler grind to a halt. They’d followed us through the swampy patch and been bogged down. I heard them yelling, calling each other stupid for getting stuck and then there was another shot and this time Bluebird freaked out. He galloped out of control, through the gate and along the road. I couldn’t turn him or stop him. I couldn’t do anything. He clattered across the asphalt and headed down the trail into the woods. I clutched his mane and held on for dear life, tears streaming down my face. I’d felt him flinch when the shot went off and I was pretty sure it hit him. They’d shot my pony and now he was running for his life and taking me with him.

  My legs were jelly. My arms wet noodles. I slumped on his neck and let him take me. Watched as trees and shrubs flew past us and then suddenly we were bursting out into the open. We’d made it to the show grounds. There were the rings and the trailers and the people riding their horses in a calm and controlled manner. Bluebird galloped past all of them, letting out a shrieking whinny until finally coming to a shuddering halt in front of the judge’s stand.
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  “Please, help us,” I cried, slithering to the ground on legs that wouldn’t hold me.

  People crowded around us and asked questions that I couldn’t answer. What was wrong? What had happened? I didn’t have the breath to answer them and then there he was, my father brushing people out of the way.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  If my father hadn’t been at the show to rescue me, I don’t know what I would have done. Then again, if he hadn’t been there then I wouldn’t have bothered to go in the first place but none of that mattered now. He took charge, calling a vet for Bluebird who had been shot in the rump by a pellet gun. I could see the small, silver ball lodged in the bleeding wound and was horrified that someone would do such a thing.

  “Do you think he’s going to be okay?” I asked as we led him to one of the stalls filled with fresh shavings.

  “He looks like a resilient pony,” Dad said. “And it’s barely more than a flesh wound but we have to document this.”

  He took pictures of Bluebird’s butt and then he called the police.

  “Can’t we just forget about it?” I asked.

  I was sitting on a folding chair with a horse blanket wrapped around me and a steaming mug of hot coffee that someone had given me, waiting for the vet.

  “Forget it?” Dad said. “Those boys could have killed you. No, of course I’m not going to forget it.”

  “But I’m fine,” I said. “And Bluebird is fine too.”

  Despite the pellet in his rear end, he was eating hay, wearing another pony’s fancy monogrammed cooler and pretty much over the whole ordeal already.

  “Look,” Dad said, standing in front of me with his breeches and boots, looking nothing like my Dad and every bit like a horse trainer. “Those boys are using pellet guns now but if they aren’t stopped, who’s to say that they won’t move on to real guns in the future and then what?”