On an impulse, I decided to investigate. If it was Mr. Johnson, I needed to see him. I couldn’t imagine how to formulate an apology, but I wanted to try. If it wasn’t, well, I had a few things to say to Dodger too.
“Sorry, Isis,” I secured the gate again and scratched her soft muzzle. “We’ll be right back.”
Leading Winny parallel to the fence, I tied the lead rope on both sides of her halter in makeshift reins, then hopped on her broad back. I adjusted my seat and found that special spot on Winny that was optimum for bareback riding. There was an undeniable connection between horse and human when without a saddle. It was almost like once again, I had four legs instead of two.
I pointed Winny toward the back corner of Danika’s farm and tapped my legs against her sides. She picked up a jarring working trot, eventually spilling into a smoother canter. I gripped gently with my legs to keep me centered and rolled with her rhythm.
There was no one in sight as we approached. Winny held her head high, scanning the distance and snorting the air for someone she was sure should be there. We slowed to a brisk walk and headed to the grove of trees where Dodger had been laid to rest next to Greg, Danika’s favorite old mouser.
“Hi there, buddy,” I murmured as we approached the hallowed ground. Mr. Johnson had purchased a simple headstone for his faithful steed—a granite rock with the silhouette of a horse and Dodger engraved in the center. All of a sudden, tears burned my eyes. A breeze swept across my hot face and pushed them over the edge.
I slid off Winny’s back and clapped her neck. As far as I could tell, no one was there. I let go of Winny and she dropped her head to bite off a few stems of red clover. I slumped to the ground, next to the still fresh earth covered in grass seed and straw. A few tender green blades poked through the golden stalks, promising to soon cover the grave with new life.
“Dodger,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Where do I even begin? I’m just so sorry this happened to you. It’s not fair and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t suggested the trail ride and just stuck to my training, none of this would have happened.” I sucked in a ragged breath, fully sobbing. I buried my face in my hands and let the tears flow. I cried about Dodger, my fear that Mike would never come back to me, over the stress of the upcoming Regalia. Dodger always had been a wonderful listener.
“Nadia?” a familiar voice called from afar. Mr. Johnson strolled in from the open field, shovel in one hand, flowering shrub in the other.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Johnson. I was just visiting your horse,” I said, weakly smiling.
“That’s kind of you. What’d he have to say?” he laughed lightly.
“It was more a therapy session on my part,” I said, using my gloves to soak up the tears that had tumbled down my hot cheeks.
Mr. Johnson pushed his spectacles up his nose and sighed, “He always was good at that.”
“Yeah, he was,” I said. Mr. Johnson only had a glimpse of how kindhearted his horse really was. Dodger had also gone to Gallant Meadows’ event with Isis and Winny, so when I became a horse, he taught me more than a few memorable lessons. He was the quiet, amiable confidence builder of the group. Nothing ever surprised Dodger, even when I’d swapped places with Winny.
Unable to deal with the awkward silence, I began a rambling apology to Mr. Johnson. “He was so patient and undemanding…” I mumbled. Unloading my guilt, Mr. Johnson, like his faithful steed, politely listened.
Eventually, Mr. Johnson held up his hand and I obediently fell silent. “There’s no need to apologize, Nadia,” he said. “It was one of those things that sometimes just happens with horses. With life, really. There’s so much that’s unexpected. I really don’t know how anyone is shocked when the unexpected does occur.”
I digested his words and gave him another faint smile. He was the mirror image and imparted the same type of humble wisdom that Dodger would have if he’d been with us. I helped Mr. Johnson plant his snow white fairy rose bush behind the headstone and stood, brushing the crumbling dirt off my hands. The blooms were already sweet and fragrant and in time, would be a beautiful backdrop to Dodger’s headstone “He was such a special horse,” I murmured.
“Yes,” Mr. Johnson sighed. “It’s going to be hard to find someone to fill his shoes.”
“You’re going to buy another horse? So soon?” I asked incredulously.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Mr. Johnson asked frankly, wiping his glistening bald head with a handkerchief. “I enjoy riding and without a horse, that’s difficult to do.”
“Right. I just thought you’d be, I don’t know, mourning.”
Mr. Johnson chuckled lightly. “I am, I am. But I don’t think I’m being disloyal to his memory by getting a new horse. Rather, I think it’s a way for Dodger to live on. He’s the one that made it so enjoyable to train with. I’m only hoping for a glimpse of that in another horse.”
I nodded, understanding his rationale. The thought of Winny not being with me forever hadn’t crossed my mind until that moment. I turned to my mare and ran my hand along her muscular neck, feeling the heat trapped between her thick, coarse mane and her velvety skin, secretly wishing she somehow could be immortal.
Swinging the shovel like a walking stick, Mr. Johnson and I wandered back to the barn. I detoured to put Winny out in the pasture with Isis and jogged up the incline to the arena entrance.
Mr. Johnson cleared his throat and without looking at me, said, “I didn’t see Mike here today. If you’re here on a Saturday, then he’s here.”
I groaned and confessed, “We had a fight last week. More like I yelled at him. We haven’t spoken since.”
Mr. Johnson tilted his nose down, like he were looking over his glasses, which were atop his head at the moment. “You and Mike are good together.”
“I know.”
“So, choke down your pride and give him a call.” Mr. Johnson never spoke so brazenly, but he said it with a jovial twinkle in his eye.
I laughed, thanking him for his fatherly advice and excused myself to wander to a secluded spot in the machine shop. I ran my fingers along the carefully arranged tools and imagined Mike on a stool, grease-covered to his elbows and tinkering with one machine or another. He still worked for Danika when he was home, though it was more as a favor to her than a need for a paycheck. While I rode or taught lessons, he was in the background, tuning up the lawn mower or shoeing horses. I could be the first to admit I missed having Mike nearby.
Drawing another deep breath, I pulled my phone from a zipper pocket in my breeches and scrolled down to Mike’s number. My knees seemed to have a mind of their own and bounced nervously while I perched on a stool. I dialed and pinched my eyes shut, listening to the humming ring and the empty silence, which were filled with a variety of scenarios bolting through my mind.
“Hello?” My heart melted at his familiar voice.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes again.
“I know. Me too, Nadia. I missed you.”
Chapter Three
“She’s not relaxing again on her left side, Nadia,” Danika coached from the center of the arena. “There’s no saliva. She’s dry as a bone.”
I carefully pulled Winny’s head around by bringing her left rein to my hip. Sure enough, Winny didn’t have a drop of white foam on her lips, a sure sign she was clenching her teeth. Jiggling the reins in a take-and-give motion and massaging my calf into her side, Winny heaved deep sigh that flapped her nostrils and loosened her grip on the bit.
“Good girl,” I murmured.
“There you go. She’s much more submissive now, Nadia. Can you feel her reaching down all the way from her back through her neck? She looks beautiful,” Danika observed, one hand on her hip, the other placed thoughtfully under her jawline. Though I’d shed all appearance of girlhood since starting my working student position as a teenager, Danika had miraculously not aged one bit. The only thing that dated her was her husband, George, who
was as soft-spoken and kind as ever but now had distinguishing salt and pepper hair.
“Let’s finish with a nice, square halt at X,” instructed Danika. “And don’t you think I won’t make you do it twenty more times if it isn’t perfect the first nineteen.”
I grinned. It wasn’t an empty threat but asking Winny to halt squarely was as easy as blinking. Winny and I had mastered as much as was required for dressage within the sport of eventing. But, as Ms. Diederich often repeated with quiet wisdom, “The win is in the details.”
Pushing Winny deep through the corner, we pranced down the centerline and with a light squeeze of my inner thigh and closing my grip on the reins, Winny quickly but comfortably halted. Without having to look, I knew she stood square.
“Perfect,” beamed Danika.
“Was there ever any doubt?” I teased.
“Not lately. You two are about as prepared as can be for your first four star Concours Complet International,” she said with a perfect French accent, “which is a good thing. We want to impress the people scouting for next year’s Olympic team, not just make it through.”
My stomach did a backflip in my gut. I would be so proud to represent the country I loved competing in a sport I adored. And maybe a tiny bit happy that I’d be able to rub it in anyone’s face who had ever doubted me.
“Go ahead and cool her off. You need to make sure everything’s packed, especially from your sponsors. None of them are going to be very pleased if you aren’t wearing their gloves or their breeches or using their saddle pads. We’ll be leaving fairly early tomorrow to get down to the Regalia at a reasonable hour.”
“Already done,” I assured Danika. “I’ll double check though.”
After a few minutes plodding around the arena, watching the steam rise from Winny who’d worked hard enough to perspire despite the coolness of the air, I took her to the cross ties. Her eyes closed and she cocked her leg, resting on the tip of her hoof to nap while I untacked her.
“I can take care of her,” Kally offered, clipping Isis in the opposite cross-ties. “I’m just going to get Isis tacked up for Gretchen.”
“It’s alright,” I shrugged. “I think I need something mindless to do to keep me from daydreaming about the Regalia.” Every time I thought about the event—which seemed like it was constantly—my heart began to race and my whole body perspired.
“Okay,” Kally said brightly. “I’m going to start loading the trailer afterwards. Let me know if there’s anything extra you want me to put in.”
I nodded and grabbed a towel, leaning into Winny’s muscles to rub away the sweat. Satisfied with my work, I threw her wool cooler over her and tied it off.
Without warning, a pair of warm hands covered my eyes. “Gretchen?”
“I sure hope Gretchen doesn’t have manly hands like mine.”
I squealed and spun around. “Mike!” I pounced at him, nearly tackling him with a fierce hug. “I didn’t know you’d be coming back today!”
“Of course I would,” Mike reached out and patted Winny’s forehead. “One last chance to see you before the big event starts. You won’t have time to miss me while you’re down there. You’ll be too busy training and mingling with your horse people.”
“Horse people, huh?” I chortled.
“Yeah, all the other riders and trainers and your fans,” he emphasized. “Then I’ll be down there for the gala the night before it starts and will be at your beck and call the entire show.”
“And today? Don’t you have a class or research or something?”
“I may or may not have bribed someone else to sub for my biochem lab. Undergrads don’t care who’s watching them in the lab,” Mike gave me his signature boyish grin. He leaned in and pushed my hair aside, whispering, “Besides, I needed to wish you good luck before you headed out.”
My heart fluttered.
Grabbing my hand, Mike led me down the aisle to Winny’s empty stall. Kally had tidied it up nicely while we were out riding. I loved the combination of pine shavings and Mike’s cologne. Without hesitation, Mike wrapped his arms under mine and squeezed me close to him. I responded by locking my hands behind his neck. We pressed our lips together in a gesture of final forgiveness, healing, love.
I thought of our first real kiss. Sure, I’d planted one right on Mike immediately following my win at Gallant Meadows, but it was out of excitement and there was nothing private about it—I’d done it right in front of a cheering crowd. Our first real kiss had been a week and a half later. Mike had helped me finish my chores so we could catch a movie. Finding ourselves together in Winny’s stall, we had shyly exchanged a touch of the lips—the kind that unhinges the knees and makes the heart drum. We were about twenty minutes late for the movie.
“Get a room,” Gretchen laughed and flipped her plaited blond hair behind her back as she waltzed down the walkway to Isis, tacked up and ready for her workout. Ms. Diederich followed behind with a knowing smirk on her wrinkled face.
Mike unapologetically called after her, “Just wishing Nadia good luck!”
Winny clomped eagerly up the trailer ramp, hurried by Isis’ anxious nicker. The mares settled in and contently ate from their nets of sweet hay once they were both on Danika’s newest luxury trailer. I loved the padded sides and the thick matting on the floor that made it easy on the horses’ legs. Of course, the spacious living area at the front of the trailer was an added bonus. No more napping, slumped over in a foldout chair in front of Winny’s stall.
It was a good ten hour drive down to the Regalia show grounds and it was going to be a tight squeeze. Five of us squished into Danika’s truck on top of purses, snacks and reading material. I suggested hiring a professional trailering service but Danika declined.
“One time, you’ll get a luxury trailer, the next, you’ll get a hunk of junk that looks like they’ll break through the floorboards. I prefer to keep a close eye on my own horses when I can.” I couldn’t disagree with her rationale.
Kally would be grooming for Gretchen and me, and though we’d planned to hire another helper, she’d repeatedly reassured us that she felt up for the challenge. She wouldn’t be at it entirely by herself either. Mike and Pete would be lending a hand where they could.
In the middle of Danika’s truck, I shifted in my seat and fanned myself. It was getting uncomfortable sitting between two other warm bodies, especially once the sun had shifted in the sky and sent in a steady stream of golden sunlight. We all napped on and off and stopped frequently to check the horses and equipment. During one stop, jokingly, I offered Winny a taste of my blue slushie. She used her lips to grab the straw, sucking in a gulp. She swallowed and smacked her lips and shook her head. Kally, Gretchen and I laughed as she stuck out her blue-stained tongue and tried to take another sip of the frosty beverage.
“My butt is so sore,” Gretchen complained, shifting in her spot. “I hope it’s not permanently damaged. It’ll be hard to ride tomorrow between a bruised hind end and my aching wrist.”
“Is it still bothering you?” I asked, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. I’d apologized to her for feeling responsible for causing the mess with our trail ride but she always swung her hand dismissively and reassured me she didn’t blame me. Still, I hadn’t quite forgiven myself and any mention of Dodger or anyone’s injuries made me suddenly feel apprehensive again.
“Just occasionally. Thank goodness I don’t have to wear this brace while riding anymore. Really limited my mobility,” she said, poking her finger under the scratchy material to reach an itch.
I stole a glance at Ms. Diederich, who had settled her small frame in the front passenger seat, speaking very little except when asked a question. Age had finally began to catch up with her. Her narrow shoulders had slowly hunched and she carried a cane though she waved it more at people than actually used it for walking. Her face was as wrinkled as it’d always been, having spent decades in the sun but her silver hair color had been replaced by a
crown of white. Even though her body betrayed her mortality, her mind and wit were as sharp as ever. She was still a force of nature.
“There it is, girls!” Danika blurted out, breaking through my quiet reverie. “They’ve done some major improvements since the last time I visited.”
We turned into the enormous horse park and gawked as we drove past endless green fields and various sizes of outdoor arenas, a horse and rider museum and rows and rows of vendors setting up shop. At a roadblock, Danika flashed a badge to the attendant who waved us on through.
“Welcome to the Regalia Three-Day Event!” a little sprite of a lady greeted us as we all poured out of the truck. “Name of competitors and horses, please?”
Danika answered for us. “Nadia Wells on Headed for the Win and Gretchen Fitzgerald on Isis.”
The woman typed the information quickly into her tablet and with a few clicks and swipes, asked us to sign as she handed over our competitor packets.
Winny let out a shrill neigh and stomped loudly, shaking the entire gooseneck trailer. “Let’s get those crazy mares off before they bust themselves out,” Gretchen said with a laugh and an eye roll.
“You two are right next to each other in the third barn to the left. A few other competitors’ horses have already arrived so hopefully everyone can get settled quickly,” said the show steward. “Best of luck to you all!”
Our group thanked her and got to work. Kally began unloading the trailer. Gretchen and I grabbed our anxious mares and Danika and Ms. Diederich mingled among other trainers and competitors, several of whom were longtime friends.
“Says we’re in stalls three hundred and three hundred and one,” I read our sheets. “Hey! Good luck sign! Those are the stalls we were in at Gallant Meadows.”
Gretchen snorted. “I can’t believe you remember crap like that.”
I shoved her playfully and led Winny around the corner. On her stall, a gorgeous brass plaque had been etched with our names. “Just this is worth it,” I ran my hand across the cool metal. “Think we get to keep it?”
Road to the Regalia (Nadia and Winny Book 2) Page 2