Road to the Regalia (Nadia and Winny Book 2)

by Rachael Eliker

  Road to the Regalia

  A Novel

  By

  Rachael Eliker

  Nadia Wells and her horse, Winny, have rocketed up the ranks of eventing and are ready to appear in their first internationally rated four star show at the Regalia Horse Park. Though Nadia has kept secret her switching places with Winny years earlier at the Gallant Meadows event, the experience is anything but a distant memory. Between competing and looking poised for the Olympic Scouts eyeing them for next year’s team, Nadia has to try to keep longtime boyfriend Mike safe from a former fling’s advances, while trying to deflect another handsome competitor herself. Focused on winning, even though Nadia and Winny are novices at the most advanced level of the sport, they’re taken by surprise when the morning after the opening gala, they wake up in each other’s bodies again. While struggling to master their reversed roles, Winny has to face her own demons once she discovers Gloria, a former abusive owner, is also competing. It’s been a long road to the Regalia for Nadia and Winny but they’re determined to take first place despite a cheater who’s willing to go to extraordinary lengths to get rid of the competition.

  Road to the Regalia

  Book 2

  Copyright 2015 by Rachael Eliker

  SR Number 1-2516531241

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Graphic design by Victorine Lieske http://www.victorinelieske.com/

  Editing by Lisa Bjornberg

  Formatting by L. Diane Wolfe http://spunkonastick.com/

  For those still cheering on Winny and Nadia.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter One

  I’d never been to a horse’s funeral before. Yet, there I was, standing at the edge of a massive hole carved into a hillside at the back of Danika’s property. Mike had used a backhoe to tear up enough earth for Dodger’s body to fit and, as gently as possible, the horse had already been laid to rest in his grave.

  I looked over at my friend, Mr. Johnson who sobbed softly into a handkerchief. Gretchen stood next to him, the corners of her mouth pulled downward and the rims of her eyes red. My older brother, Pete, had his burly arm around her shoulder, clutching her tightly. My gaze settled on the brace secured around her left forearm. A new swell of pity and guilt surged in my gut. I couldn’t help but feel responsible. After all, I was the one who had suggested the trail ride when I should have been content to stay home and train.

  Gorgeous weather had been forecast for Saturday and the horses could sense it. They’d been starting to get antsy, having had their pasture time cut due to the harsh, early spring weather and resulting pools of water atop slick clay. Mud like that promised to make any horse slip, potentially injuring itself. The winter snow had overstayed its welcome and when the howling winds and drifting snow had finally let up, it was replaced by torrential downpours.

  The horses had barely stepped foot outside in the last month, and my fiery bay mare, Headed for the Win, who was known simply as Winny, was especially jittery. Her favorite herd mate, Isis, had just returned with Gretchen from Florida, basking in the perfect late winter weather while training hard for our first four star event. She’d temporarily broken up with Pete, which wasn’t exactly out of character for her. I could barely keep up with their on-again, off-again relationship that was like a replay of the high school drama I’d tried my best to avoid. Florida was the escape she’d needed to calm down and remember that she really did love Pete. She’d almost convinced me to come with her but I couldn’t bring myself to be gone for longer than a few weeks. I barely saw my boyfriend, Mike, as it was. He was the calm in the storm that was my life of professional horse training and showing. The dimple in his left cheek when he smiled, his sparkling, vivid blue eyes, being squeezed in a close embrace with his lean, muscular arms…I couldn’t bring myself to sacrifice that happiness and stability.

  While the rain soaked the ground at Danika’s, turning it into little more than a squishy, muddy sponge, we were on the road during the week, training with top dressage and jumping coaches in the eastern half of the United States. In between the time in the arena, we schooled vigorously on the cross country course in a variety of climates and terrains. It was hard work for Winny and me, but we relished it.

  I did my best to keep the horses’ minds occupied while at home. Kally, my coach Danika’s newest working student and my groom, was charged with keeping the stalls tidy and the aisles clean. I no longer mucked stalls in exchange for lessons—since winning Gallant Meadows, things had only looked up. I graduated high school by the skin of my teeth and though my parents frowned when I told them I never really had any plans for college and that I was going to train fulltime with Danika, they didn’t seem surprised. Now my days were spent starting young, promising mounts and exercising the farm’s regulars for people who preferred to come to ride or show only when they were in the mood. I’d picked up a dozen students too, when my hectic schedule allowed. Of course, time each day was carved out for intensively training Winny.

  We were only a few months away from a show that felt like a dream: I had qualified for the Regalia Three Day Event, one of only a few internationally rated four-star shows in the entire world and I was being scouted for the short list of next year’s Olympic team. It was a fairy tale for sure, but anyone who doubted my ability better believe I’d worked my tail off and so had Winny. I’d put in as much sweat, as many hours in the saddle and kissed the boots of as many high-end trainers as anyone.

  If that wasn’t fantastic enough, Gretchen had also qualified. The animosity I had allowed to simmer when we first met had dissipated, and we had nurtured our unusual friendship after I learned about Gretchen’s broken family. A dead mother, an alcoholic father and living with a stern, German grandmother who had incredibly high expectations would be hard on anyone. It probably helped that while our friendship was still young, Gretchen spent the majority of her summer over at my house courting Pete.

  Our fateful day had started like any other. I was up at the crack of dawn training Temperance, a mare new to the barn. She was a lovely, fine-boned thoroughbred that was sure the whole world was out to get her. Though she bolted and spooked every five minutes, my seat stuck in the saddle like I was glued to it. After years of riding at least eight hours a day, six days a week, it took more than that to get me off. We ended after I could get her to trot through all four corners of the arena without cocking he
r head and snorting.

  Kally fed the horses and turned them out one at a time, only getting her feet stepped on once or twice. As much as that girl loved horses, she didn’t quite have the knack for everything. Gretchen’s grandmother, Ms. Diederich, was the white-haired saint who’d felt charitable when I was just starting out with Danika and had purchased Winny for me. In her rich German accent, she’d said that Kally’s talent for understanding horsespeak was still budding, a gift that she mentioned I’d had in full force when we met. Really, she had no idea just how well I knew what was going through a horse’s mind. Nobody did.

  Winny, Isis, Dodger and Calypso remained in their stalls, slowly grinding their sweet-smelling hay. Mike would be riding Danika’s retired show horse, Calypso, who was so motherly she was always the first one we put newcomers on. Mike was back for one of his usual weekend trips home from college. Those precious visits were always too short. School was only two hours away but neither of us could escape research or teaching or training during the week to see each other. It was especially rare that I got to combine my two great loves: Mike and riding. I was ecstatic.

  “It’s not so, uh, comfortable for a guy to ride,” he answered when I’d asked why he never wanted to go riding.

  I nodded and hid a smirk behind my hand.

  The horses were receiving a much needed break for a day of fun on the trail. They loaded easily and answered back a few neighs to the horses staying behind. It was only a half hour drive down the interstate to the Buck Springs trails and we navigated along the winding state park roads to the trailhead, near a quiet, secluded lake.

  We had the horses tacked up in record time and Gretchen, atop her sleek, black mare, Isis, led the rest of the horse and rider pairs. The second we walked into the forest, the atmosphere became still and serene. Bushy tailed squirrels chided us from the safety of the trees and fat robins thrust out their chests as they hopped along the path, only to lose confidence and flit away as we approached. Winny gave a great sigh and weeks of pent up tension melted away.

  The trail was a good fifteen mile loop around the lake, and though we mostly plodded along in silence, Gretchen occasionally urged Isis into an even-tempoed trot. We all followed without complaint.

  “You doing alright, Mike?” I said, swiveling in my saddle.

  “Sure,” he answered, wincing slightly as Calypso buoyantly trotted.

  Halfway around, the trees thinned out and the sun blazed unseasonably warm in the sky. Spotting a secluded beach, Gretchen challenged with a devilish smirk, “Race you to the lake?”

  “You know it!” Urging Winny into a gallop, my mare lunged forward and tore up the ground beneath her.

  Isis and Winny raced neck and neck, reaching the sandy beach and plunging in without hesitation while Dodger and Calypso stayed back and couldn’t be bothered to join the gallop. The tepid water soaked through my breeches but I didn’t care. Gretchen and I both giggled uncontrollably while our mares plodded in the crystalline lake.

  After a few minutes of goofing around, we resumed our trek. Mr. Johnson entertained us with stories about his youth, growing up in the heart of St. Louis and eventually making his millions when he sold a programming company he’d been running from his garage. Mike took a turn, telling us about a complex project manipulating amino acids that he was working on in grad school. The summer after I’d competed at Gallant Meadows, he’d unexpectedly received a full ride scholarship, which he’d accepted, deciding to focus on biochemistry. He’d finished his bachelor’s in three and a half years and though our distance relationship was working fine, I secretly hoped he’d be done with school after that. I always knew Mike was brilliant but who would’ve guessed a poor farm boy would have a knack for glycolysis and polymers? I was happy for him but had many griping sessions where Winny calmly listened to me complain about him being so far away.

  We made good time, the horses huffing but steadily covering ground under the spotty canopy. I veered off the trail a couple times to jump Winny over fallen logs and occasionally led the group in a canter.

  The last mile we slowed to a walk to let the horses catch their breath and cool off. Over the quiet chatter of the forest, I heard an ominous buzzing of a hungry and determined deerfly. Everything happened so fast. Winny kicked and spun while I clung to her and the next thing I knew, I watched the life drain out of Dodger, who’d leaped out of the way of the commotion, only to impale himself on a branch.

  Now I was living in a nightmare. I remember Danika calling around to see who could bring Dodger’s body home, the somber mood of the barn and the epic argument I’d had with Mike. What was it even about? We’d yelled in unrestrained anger for everyone to hear. Once he tore away in his truck, I had hidden in Winny’s stall and finally allowed the tears to come. The rest of the day had been a blur as I tried to numb myself to the horror of the afternoon.

  And now, I’m staring at a crying man whose horse just died, a friend whose wrist is sprained and swollen and may not heal in time for our appearance at the Regalia and a boyfriend who, instead of holding my hand, is standing across the circle from me, stone-faced.

  This is all my fault.

  Chapter Two

  “Kally!” I growled from Winny’s stall. I waited for her to come jogging in from the feed room so I could look her in the eye when I yelled. “How many times do I have to tell you to check the horses’ waterers? Winny pooped in hers again!”

  Kally began mumbling apologies and backed out from the stall to go get a bucket and a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves. When she was out of earshot, Winny pushed me from behind. Hard. I looked at my mare, who cocked her head at me.

  “What?” I snapped.

  There were no words exchanged between us, but I knew what she was thinking. Winny and I had a secret. Competing at Gallant Meadows was more than a milestone for us as a horse and rider combo. Through a series of miraculous events, we had switched places and I’d spent the week at Gallant Meadows in her spot as a horse and she in my place as a human. Ever since then, we’d shared an inseparable connection. I’d never told anyone about it—I was going to tell Mike on the drive back home from Gallant Meadows but chickened out. I didn’t want him thinking I was a lunatic before we’d even had our first official date. I’d almost slipped a few times with Gretchen too, but I’d managed to steer clear of that conversation. It’d been years since that incredible and enlightening out-of-body experience but it was still like I could read her thoughts. Right now, she was letting me know I was being unfair with Kally.

  I exhaled harshly through my teeth and conceded. “You’re right. I’m being a jerk.”

  When Kally returned with the bucket, gloves and a scrub brush, still muttering how sorry she was she hadn’t seen the mess, I swallowed my pride and apologized.

  “I’m sorry, Kally. I was just taking out my frustrations on you. I know there’s a lot to keep on top of here.”

  “There’s just so much to do,” Kally said, her chin looking pinched. “I always thought I was organized and efficient but coming to work here, I realize I’m pretty novice.”

  “I felt the same way too,” I said, trying to smile but still feeling awkward. “This facility isn’t just any old barn either. Danika demands perfection. Any world-class training center would.”

  Kally wiped a few tears from her thick black lashes. “Tell me about it. Last week, Danika had me elbow deep in the shower stall drain pulling out horse hair so it would flow better. I thought I was going to puke. I hate slimy stuff.”

  “I know the routine,” I laughed. “If you’re lucky and you stick with your training, you won’t have to do it forever. It’s just a step on the ladder for everyone who isn’t born into money. I don’t miss cleaning for Danika though.”

  Kally disassembled the waterer and gagged slightly as she dumped out the soiled water into the bucket.

  “You gonna be okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she sniffled and playfully mock saluted me.
“It’s all part of the job.”

  I smirked at her antics and snapped a lead line on Winny’s freshly oiled leather halter, leading my blood red bay down the aisle and outside through the stretching indoor arena. Tomorrow was going to be a week since Dodger’s demise. Mike hadn’t called, and I, matching his stubbornness, refused to pick up the phone. The wound was still too raw. If I was honest with myself though, I was solely to blame for the rift with Mike. I think I just had felt guilty for suggesting the trail ride in the first place and lashed out. I wanted to express my sympathy to Mr. Johnson too but he was nowhere to be seen. Without a horse to visit at the barn, he hadn’t been out.

  I’d had a decent ride on Winny first thing in the morning. Danika had left me with strict instructions to hone Winny’s counter canter, which Winny resisted with a graceful flying change. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy her athletic switch in leads but I had the hunch that Winny was doing them to be a stinker. Not having to balance herself in the opposite lead through the deep serpentines snaking around the arena was easier. Winny always did have a mind of her own.

  I stopped Winny at the pasture gate and called for her friend. “Isis!” I sang. “Come here, girl!” Gretchen’s gorgeous mare threw up her head and pricked her ears at me, a few blades of grass stuck out from her whiskered lips.

  Isis left the herd and galloped to the gate, arriving with a few puffs of hot air that curled and disappearing in the crisp morning air. “You two ready to play?” I asked the mares. Winny answered with a gentle, throaty whicker.

  I unlatched the gate and was about to maneuver it open when Winny swung her head up and gave a long, rattling snort in the direction of Dodger’s gravesite. I followed her line of sight and spotted a distant shadow. “Mr. Johnson?” I shouted. I squinted to see better but I couldn’t make out if it was a person’s figure or a swaying sapling twisting in the breeze.