Skylar walked into the arena with Chaos in tow and stopped to gently stroke her cheek while they waited for Gloria to show. She was such a pretty mare with dainty features and striking dapples that it was hard not to notice her among the sea of horses. I’d always considered Winny a flashy horse with her vibrant red coat, black points and white stockings but really, bays were a dime a dozen.
“Hand me my water,” Gretchen grumbled to Madeline.
“Hmm? What?”
“My water, Madeline. I’m thirsty,” she growled.
Madeline fumbled with a chilled bottle of water and accidentally dropped it in the sand.
“Perfect. Thank you,” Gretchen said sarcastically as Madeline frantically wiped off the granules of sand.
“No worries,” Pete grabbed the bottle. “I’ll go get you a new one.” He took off at a leisurely jog towards concessions.
Gretchen, still taking out her agitation and nerves on Madeline, snapped, “What’s wrong with you? You’re happy one minute then practically a mute the next.”
Madeline stole another look at Mike and mumbled something inaudibly.
“What? Don’t mumble, Maddie. I hate it when you mumble,” Gretchen said.
Madeline’s patience finally shattered and she snapped back, “I said I saw Mike kissing Gloria’s groom yesterday, okay?!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Winny swiveled in the saddle. “Is that true?” she gasped. The shock had registered on her face and she stared hard at Mike, wide-eyed and unblinking.
“Yes, but—“
Before he could explain, Winny leaned from my back and delivered a powerful slap to his cheek. Mike stumbled in reverse and Winny hopped off, whipping my reins over my head. She marched up to Mike, who was again rubbing his tender jaw, and pushed her face into his like a determined drill sergeant.
“I can’t believe you! You two-faced, cowardly, sneaky player! How could you do this to her?” Winny roared.
Mike’s beautiful blue eyes shifted in confusion. “Her who?”
“To Nadia!” Winny screamed. Remembering our predicament, she corrected, “To me!”
“Are you sure you saw what you said you saw?” Gretchen grilled Madeline. “You were always a little liar.”
“He just admitted it,” Madeline defended herself. “I think that’s pretty good evidence in my favor.”
“Let me explain,” Mike pleaded.
Winny spun on her heels, ignoring Mike and pulling me helplessly along, right to where Skylar was still babying Chaos beneath the shade of a healthy, young ash tree.
“You must enjoy punching below the belt,” Winny almost managed to say matter-of-factly, except for her lips twitching in anger and her hard glare.
“Huh?” Skylar shrugged her shoulders and cocked her head to the side. “I’m not sure to what you’re referring.”
“Making out with Mike when you know perfectly well he’s with me.”
Skylar gave a massive eye roll and sighed. “Oh. That. I was just reminding him of what he’s missing.”
“You spoiled brat!” Winny cried.
Mike had recovered from Winny’s assault and had boldly joined the conversation again, probably to prevent Winny from punching Skylar in the nose. “Like I said yesterday, Skylar, it’s over between us. In fact, there was never really anything to be over—we had a few dates and that was it. I’ve chosen Nadia and nothing you do will change my mind.”
Skylar looked down, kicking at a tuft of grass pushing its way through the arena footing. “Figures,” she shook her head and laughed slightly. “She gets every girls’ dream job, a champion horse paid for by a wealthy benefactor who’s taken a liking to her, sponsors, the whole nine yards. And I got the boot for making one little mistake. I should be the one competing, not still mucking stalls and being at someone else’s beck and call. And the cherry on top, Nadia, is that Mike is your gorgeous genius-of-a-boyfriend. Don’t bother lecturing me. I’m not the spoiled one.”
Winny was finally speechless. I could hear her breathing slow and the angry blush fade from her cheeks. She looked up at Mike who met her gaze, still trying to apologize with his striking blue eyes. Finally she said to Skylar, “So you instigated it?”
Skylar shrugged again. “A girl’s gotta take risks if she wants to come out ahead. You’ve won your fair share of shows. You should know that.”
Winny mulled over Skylar’s words a moment more and then quietly grabbed Mike’s hand and clucked to me, signaling me to circle and follow her.
“If it makes you feel any better, he practically knocked himself out on the stalls jerking away from me,” Skylar said with a bitter laugh.
Mike looked down sheepishly. “She caught me off guard. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to worry, but I was going to let you know when the show was finished. It would’ve stressed you out and made you worry.”
“Next time, just tell me,” Winny softly chided.
“Like you told me about your hickey?”
Winny clapped her hand over her neck. “It’s not a hickey!”
A grin slowly pulled at Mike’s lips. “I know. I’m just teasing. But I know that because I trust you. I wish you’d afford me the same. You’ve known me long enough, and I hope I’ve never been anything but trustworthy.”
Winny shrugged casually and smirked. “I guess. Now help me back on my horse. And no slapping.”
Mike held up his hands and promised, “I’m not trying that again for a while.” Winny bent her knee and Mike grabbed her ankle, flinging her into the saddle. “Oh, and Nadia? There’s not going to be anything to tell because there’s not going to be a next time. Promise.”
When Pete returned from fetching Gretchen’s water, we were all laughing about the brief, live-action soap opera that’d taken place in his absence. When Winny related that Madeline had seen Mike kissing another girl, Pete’s eyes bugged out of his head and he snarled, “What?!” Fortunately for Mike, Winny was able to calm Pete before he decked Mike.
“What is going on here?” Ms. Diederich pulled up with Danika in their trusty golf cart. Hearing the story, Danika politely stifled a laugh behind her hand and Ms. Diederich said frankly, “Well, then. Back to work.”
Winny serpentined us around the warm up ring, looping through the jumps to stretch my legs and back before attempting anything other than flatwork. She asked for a brisk but sustainable trot that felt invigorating. I watched the competition, observing how much the field had been weeded out. Almost half of the teams had been withdrawn, eliminated or retired. Mercifully, most were uneventful ends to their chance at the Regalia—jumping out of the dressage arena, too many refusals in the cross country course, being unsound in a vet check. There were a few horrible accidents though, one of them being the rider who’d gone in front of me on cross country. Her horse had slipped and landed right on top of her, breaking a few ribs and her left leg. A tremor raced up my spine. Accidents like that could happen to anyone. That they were both alive and would recover was a definite silver lining.
A few roars from the crowd and copious clapping indicated that stadium jumping had commenced. The Regalia had stuck with its tradition of running the show jumping from last place to first. With only minutes between each, the warm up ring was quickly sending over competitors.
“Ms. Wells! Could I get you to come answer a few questions before your ride?” called a young female reporter in a smart pantsuit from the press area bordering the ring.
Several other riders were already jovially chatting with reporters, doing their best to hide their nerves. Noise drifting over from the stadium was a constant reminder of what was coming.
Chuck coolly sat on Boy in the corner, shielding his smoky grey eyes with the brim of his Stetson. Boy snoozed lightly, unaffected by other horses’ nerves. “Sure,” Winny called to the woman and we approached, slowing to a walk for the final few steps.
“Miss,” Boy greeted me courteously.
<
br /> “Doin’ alright, there, Nadia?” Chuck asked.
“Never better,” she said with a friendly smile. “How’s Gloria?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Actually, she’s quite pleased that she’s tied for first now. She’s pretty certain she’ll be to outmaneuver you younger girls,” he chuckled. “Reminds me a lot of my late wife, Helena.”
“And Gretchen,” Winny added.
Chuck laughed again. “True. How’s she handling it? She usually brushes off her angst with me, but I know better. If she’s not leading the pack, she’s not happy.”
Winny shrugged, “That’s the nature of the game. You can’t always win.”
“I think she’s still learning that lesson. It’s a hard one to chew.”
Winny smiled, then turned to the reporter who was already furiously scribbling on a pocket-sized notebook. She asked the superficial questions that all reporters did and Winny did her best to backfill my identity as much as she knew. It wasn’t hard to paint me a horse-crazed little girl who dreamed of competing internationally because that’s exactly who I was. I don’t suppose I was much different than anyone else here.
“What makes your story unique?” the reporter, chewing the end of her pen.
Winny thought for a minute. “Nothing.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”
“Not really. I mean, everyone’s circumstances are different. Some people have been lucky enough to be riding since before they could walk. Some have all the finances they need at their fingertips and some have to put in a little more work to get to this point. But nobody, not with any amount of money or swindling judges, could make it to this level without a lot of hard work, talent and a heaping portion of luck. In that way, I’m nothing special.”
The reporter marked a few notes and while still staring at her paper, said, “However, you’ve been praised for your unique connection with your horse. Care to elaborate?”
Winny blinked, taken aback. “I have?”
“Did you not see the article in last month’s magazine? It wasn’t front page or anything but it was a nice tribute to you and your horse.”
A slow smile crept across Winny’s lips. “Sure. I guess you could say we have a very special connection with each other that most can’t say they do.”
“How so?”
“It’s the ability to see what your horse is seeing. A plastic bag tumbling across the yard isn’t a plastic bag to them. It’s a potential threat that’s stalking them so of course they’re going to hightail it and run. Same with everything else. They’re always on the lookout for danger. Self-preservation is at the top of their priorities."
The reporter reworded her answer. “So, you’re saying you need to get into their head?”
“If that’s how you want to phrase it. But really, it’s more than just knowing what they’re thinking. It’s also anticipating how they might react, what emotions they have,” Winny answered.
“You think horses have emotions?”
Winny snorted, “I know horses have emotions. Have you ever seen these horses when they’re being tacked up to go jumping? They can barely stand still while they’re boots are strapped on their legs. Or have you seen one lose? They know what happened and they hate it just as much as any human athlete. I try to imagine what it’s like to be the other. If I’m the human, what is my horse experiencing? If I were the horse, what is the rider asking me to do? It’s really improved my riding a lot.”
“I’ll say,” I nickered lightly. Winny reached up and playfully tweaked my ear.
I watched Chuck and Boy as Winny interviewed. Both were at attention, listening intently.
“One last question,” the woman asked, flipping over a fresh page and shielding her eyes from the sun that had reappeared from behind a patch of clouds. “What do you feel when you ride?”
“What do I feel?” Winny repeated, then answered slowly. “I feel stronger than myself. I feel powerful. I feel fear and anxiety and discouragement. I feel triumphant. I feel graceful. I feel trust.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Mostly, I feel alive.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I was effortlessly sailing over a simple but tall vertical. Winny was poised perfectly on my back, her contact on the reins firm yet giving, her weight distributed evenly. After the cross country course, bounding up and down hills and leaping massive objects, a small warm up jump on even ground was a breeze. We were fully capable of functioning in our reversed roles, and though I was antsy for the pending stadium round, it wasn’t because I lacked faith in our abilities.
Several times the audience groaned when a rail fell. I could hear the distinct ping of hoof-on-wood coming from the main arena and swallowed hard. Still, it was better than a horse planting its feet or worse, flinging a rider over its head in outright refusal. It’d already happened twice and after a brief interlude in the competition to collect a runaway horse and make sure the riders were alright, the games continued. I was determined not to be one of those horses. I’d rather die of shame.
My heart skipped a beat when I thought about the fact that I hadn’t actually seen the course, but at the same time, I had confidence in Winny’s abilities. If I had to be riding into the stadium blind, there was no one better than a horse-turned-human who could count the distances between jumps and figure out how to approach the tough combinations. We’d done it at Gallant Meadows and after years of additional practice together, we could pull it off here.
“Break a leg,” I whickered to Isis as she and Gretchen were directed into the main arena for their run.
“What?” Isis grunted.
“Sorry. It’s a way of wishing luck.”
Isis wagged her head, “You humans are weird. That’s about the worst thing that could happen to a horse.”
“True,” I sniggered. “Good luck then.”
Winny bid Gretchen the same well-wishes before they trotted to Pete for a brief kiss. Gretchen ran one finger between her chin and helmet strap, relieving the sensation of being choked by a suddenly too-tight helmet. She nodded solemnly as Ms. Diederich and Danika offered final instructions.
As it stood, they were in sixteenth place. It wasn’t a terrible standing, but riding half a cross country course with one stirrup and acquiring penalty points had cost them, driving them down valuable spots. After a few hours to simmer and a good night’s rest, she had recovered enough to conceal her frustration and at least pretend to be professional.
We couldn’t see them from the warm up ring, but we cheered and shouted with the crowd when their names were broadcast by the announcer in his deep, stately voice. A hush fell over the audience as the judge pressed the buzzer, signaling the start of Gretchen and Isis’ test.
When the audience gasped after Isis’ hooves clipped a rail, I pursed my lips and listened for the dull thud of the pole falling into the sand. It never came. Either Gretchen was giving them a good show or her luck had returned.
The crowd roared with rapturous applause and Gretchen appeared a few minutes later, smirking smugly in her signature way. “I might not be poised for first, but if that run doesn’t get me up a few spots, I’ll be highly surprised.”
A few moments later, the crowd groaned as an entire spread was obliterated by the rider following Gretchen.
“Make that a half dozen spots,” Gretchen smirked.
Kally appeared and took Isis from Gretchen to walk her out before sending her back to her stall. All too soon, the competition was down to the final few pairs. We circled each other nervously, though everyone put on a good show. My nerves put me on edge, making my muscles feel like they couldn’t stop jittering. Winny was doing alright masking her fear but even with her superhuman self-control, my sensitive sides could feel her slightly pinching knees and the tremor in her hands.
“You rotten, no-good horse,” I heard Gloria grumbling under her breath. She had a tight grip on the reins and dug her spurs into Cha
os’ sides when she missed a stride to an oxer, but her mare never uttered a complaint. She was the most submissive horse I’d ever known. I found myself fantasizing of bucking Gloria off the way Winny had done all those years ago. I’m sure it was satisfying to fling Gloria off during one of her tantrums.
I brought my thoughts back to the competition and could still barely believe that I was so close to first place. There were so many things that could’ve gone wrong but hadn’t. Three day eventing is full of challenges and though there certainly is skill required, a good portion of any competition came down to whether or not luck was on a horse and rider’s side. With a bit more of it, we just might be able to beat out Gloria and Katie.
“You’ve been randomly assigned spots and you’re last,” Danika said with a pleased smile. “It’s ideal because you’ll know what, if any, faults Katie and Gloria have and what time you’ve got to pull off to win.”
Winny slid from the saddle and studied the jumping course on paper again. Nodding, she concurred, “I know what I’m up against. They’re both fast, accurate horses.”
“If they down rails or have refusals, you will need to go clean but will not need to rush for the best time,” Ms. Diederich pointed out.
If only I could have a peek at the course beforehand, I wished, looking over Winny’s shoulder at the paper. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Winny’s abilities to guide us successfully around the course, but every bit of knowledge would be an advantage.
“Katie Welsh! You’re up!” the steward called over the megaphone. Katie and Bullet had been lazily cantering around the spacious ring, taking a jump every once in a while. There was no pressing hurry in their behavior. They were saving their energy for the competition.
Road to the Regalia (Nadia and Winny Book 2) Page 16