The Tale of the Dancing Slaughter Horse

by Shade, Victoria;

  __________

  I loaded Moony and Carol loaded her horse, Verdi. Both horses walked into the trailer calmly and without any objection.

  “I guess Moony doesn’t mind getting in trailers anymore!” Carol remarked, remembering how obstinate he had been years before.

  “You did a great job teaching him to load,” she said to me as we closed up the trailer.

  I didn’t really teach him, he just started following me in.

  “Is your father coming down to watch your national debut?” Gunilla asked as she did a final check of the trailer.

  “I doubt it,” I said.

  “Hmph,” she grunted angrily, “he should! You and Moonshine have come really far.”

  Gunilla was blunt and genuine. If she felt someone was doing a terrible job, she said so. Her insults and compliments were always sincere, so I was really flattered by the compliment she had just paid me.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling broadly. I could feel the goofy grin take over my face, but I didn’t care. Gunilla’s acknowledgment of Moony’s improvement was truly satisfying, especially after her insisting for so long that riding him was a useless endeavor.

  The ride down to New Jersey was uneventful, and yet I was a nervous ball of excitement and anticipation for the whole trip. I couldn’t believe I was shipping Moonshine down to compete at the Festival of Champions at the United States Equestrian Team headquarters!

  When we finally arrived, I jumped out of the car to get the stabling arrangements from the show management.

  “Hi, I’m Victoria, do you have the stabling assignments?” I asked the show manager.

  “Horse’s name?” she asked.

  “Moonshine and Verdi,” I replied.

  “Lower barn, stalls 56 and 57,” she answered.

  “Lower barn? Not this barn?” I asked. I didn’t even know there was another barn.

  “Yep, head on out down the driveway, take it all the way down ‘til it ends at the lower barn,” she said.

  I took the paperwork from her and walked back to the trailer.

  “What’s the word, kiddo?” Gunilla shouted from the trailer.

  “We’re in the lower barn,” I said.

  “Meet you there!” she said as shifted the truck back into drive.

  The lower barn was smaller, darker, and much plainer than the magnificent main barn in which Moony had been stabled during the young rider clinic the month before. I hoped that this new barn would not throw him and once he was out in the arenas, he would be comforted by the fact that he had been here not too long ago.

  Carol unloaded Verdi and I walked with Moony off the trailer. The stalls were a lot smaller than the stalls in the main barn.

  “Why are we in this barn? Why aren’t we up there?” I asked Carol as I gestured to the main barn at the top of the hill.

  “That barn is for the bigwigs,” she said, slightly joking.

  “Well then you should be in it!” I exclaimed.

  “So should you!” she teased me, as usual.

  We unloaded our things from the trailer, and gave the horses food and water.

  “You want to ride in an hour or so?” Carol asked me.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  After letting the horses settle in, we tacked them up and headed out. I cued Moony up the hill, toward the main competition arena.

  “Where are you going?” Carol asked.

  “I want to warm up in the show ring, so he sees everything,” I said.

  “They closed it off to preserve the footing for tomorrow. Don’t worry, Moony knows where he is. Plus, it’s not like he ever gets spooked by anything. You’ll be fine tomorrow. Let’s go to the indoor and see how the boys feel,” she said.

  “OK,” I replied as I followed her to the indoor arena.

  The arena was filled with superstars. I was delighted and again in awe that I was in the same arena as them.

  I guess this will never get old, I thought, as I watched the celebrity horse and rider pairs preparing for the next day’s competition in awe.

  “Victoria!” Carol said as she snapped me out of my daydream.

  “Don’t get distracted,” she instructed. “You are not a spectator, you’re here to ride! Pick up the reins, working trot,” she instructed.

  “OK,” I said.

  “I have to school my horse too, but I’ll keep my eye on you, and help you if you need it. But practice being independent, remember to ride smart,” she instructed.

  “OK!” I exclaimed, excited to ride. She had revved me up and now I wanted to prove to everyone here that this is where Moony and I belonged.

  I rode Moony in the double bridle so he had one last chance to get used to it before the big day tomorrow. He still wasn’t totally comfortable in it, because I couldn’t find a bit small enough to fit his mouth. But I figured that if I rode more with my seat and didn’t really use the reins, he wouldn’t be in any pain, and it wouldn’t be so obvious that my horse’s bit was too big for his mouth.

  __________

  The next day, my class, the Juniors’ class, would be the first one of the day, and I was the first rider. Carol wasn’t scheduled to ride until much later, but she still got up early to help me warm up. I wasn’t relaxed in my back, and my shoulders were stiff. I was nervous. Just get over it, I told myself as I walked Moonshine down to the indoor arena to warm up. But the new show attire did not help my nerves. The shadbelly coat was a constant reminder that this was a more advanced show, and I was competing at a more advanced level. The top hat squeezing my head also reminded me that I was about to compete in an important show.

  After walking Moony around on a loose rein, as I always did for about ten minutes before beginning the work out, Carol asked me, “Where are your spurs?”

  “Spurs? I don’t have any spurs. I never ride with spurs,” I said.

  “You don’t have any spurs?” Carol asked me, her tone putting me on high alert.

  “You have to ride with spurs at the FEI levels! I thought you knew that!” she said, now panic came through.

  “No, I didn’t know!” I said in a full panic.

  “OK,” she said, regaining her composure, “Just warm up, I’ll get you my spurs,” she said as she ran out of the ring and back to the barn.

  Oh my God, this is bad, this is really bad. I’ve never ridden with spurs before! I hope Moony will be OK with spurs! I panicked.

  Then Carol arrived back in the arena.

  “Victoria, come over here!” she called.

  I headed over and she quickly fastened the spurs over my ankles.

  “Carol, I’ve never ridden Moony with spurs,” I said.

  “It’s OK, just try to squeeze him with your calf if you have to squeeze but really just ride with your seat. If you need to go more forward, ask only with your seat—no legs, no hands, just like in the lunge lessons,” she said.

  “Right,” I said, my voice quivering.

  “You’ll be fine. You can do this,” she coached.

  I was not convinced.

  I spent the warm up focusing on keeping the spurs off of Moony’s belly and not taking much contact with the reins. I was trying to ride completely with my seat, but I was tense and nervous, so my back frequently froze. I focused on sinking my heels down in the stirrups to elongate my legs and open up my seat. Then, my number was called.

  I walked Moony up the hill to the show ring. It was still early, but I saw several Oakwood boarders and trainers in the bleachers. I couldn’t believe they had driven all the way to New Jersey so early just to watch me ride. I was touched. Gunilla stood by the entrance. As Carol, Moony, and I approached, she said, “Go show your stuff, kiddo!”

  “Good luck,” Carol said as Moony stepped into the ring.

  The announcer introduced Moonshine and me. As I made my way aroun
d the outer part of the arena, waiting for the judges to ring the bell so that I could start my test, my confidence grew. This is what you’ve wanted for so long. You’re here now, don’t let it go. Show everyone how great Moony really is, I told myself.

  Then the bell rang.

  I urged Moonshine forward into the ring, with my seat. I halted and saluted. Moony was a little tense, his short strides were choppier than usual. So, I pushed harder with my seat to get him moving forward and stretching to open up his strides, as he had done in the clinic. I rode forcefully, and in my fervor to make him look spectacular, my left hand accidentally jolted the rein. He flipped his head up.

  Holy crap, OK, just push him forward, forget it, let it go, I told myself.

  Then my spur must have touched him because he suddenly bucked.

  Damn it, Moony! Just be good! I was getting angry that he was being so obstinate the one time he should have been at his best.

  I decided I would make up for the mistakes with one fantastic trot extension at the end of the test. Carol and I had trained Moony to do a competitive trot extension, so I knew that if this extension was great, we could possibly make up the points we had thrown away earlier.

  I urged him forward with my seat, but just as he started the movement, in my excitement and determination to make up the points, I bumped him with my legs. I had forgotten that I had Carol’s long spurs tied to my ankles! Moony grabbed the bit in his teeth, threw his head high up and took off in a bucking gallop to the end of the ring, thrashing his head. When he got to the corner, he slammed on the brakes—he did a sliding stop, but luckily I didn’t come out of the saddle. Although I couldn’t believe this was happening, I was still riding the test and had to finish it, or else get eliminated. So, I pointed him down the center line, in a canter-trot mix and managed to wrangle him to a stop in the middle, and salute the judge, to end the test.

  My ears were ringing, the lump in my throat swelled, and tears pooled in my eyes. I really didn’t want to cry but it had been the worst ride of my life. And the most important. This was my first time competing in front of international judges, and that was my first impression. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

  I heard weak, pity applause from the audience. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the Oakwood supporters; I had let them down.

  I walked to the entrance of the ring. Gunilla and my mother simply stared at me, with gaping mouths.

  Carol came to me, and grabbed Moonshine’s reins to stop him. She looked directly at me and ordered, “Victoria, breathe.” I was in a fog; it was like hearing her while underwater. She said something else that I didn’t hear. Then, she released Moonshine and I walked him back to the barn alone.

  Once I was by myself, the hot tears poured down my face. I took the long route, around the open field. I was tempted to punish him for his antics, but I knew if I reprimanded him now, it wouldn’t turn back time and erase that horrible ride. I tried to make sense of it. How could he be OK with the double in training and now, the only time that it mattered, he totally freaked out? How could he jump and buck and toss his head like that when I can’t even remember the last time he did that in training? What happened? I knew deep down that it was my fault for riding him with poor fitting equipment, which made the sting even sharper—I had no one to blame but myself. Still, I had hoped that his love for me would overcome anything, and he would shine when I wanted him to.

  When I got back to the barn, Gunilla, Carol, and my mother were there. I also saw my father, unexpectedly. Carol saw my tear-soaked face. I didn’t say anything. She came to me, took the reins out of my hand and gave them to Tracy, Gunilla’s assistant.

  “Here, sit down,” she directed, as she shuffled me to a bale of hay.

  “Fafa! Nice to see you, thanks for inviting me!” my father began sarcastically. I didn’t invite him because I knew he wouldn’t want to come to this show, so I was surprised to see him here.

  “Not now!” my mother commanded as she stepped in front of him, breaking his path to me.

  “Outside, NOW!” Gunilla commanded.

  I was surprised to hear Gunilla get involved. I didn’t think she cared about me or my love for the sport. But here she was, joining forces with my mother to keep my father from upsetting me further, if that was possible.

  Carol sat on the bale of hay with me. She put her arm around my back. I cupped my face in my hands, and propped my elbows on my knees. I just wanted to disappear.

  “It’s OK, calm down,” she said softly.

  But I couldn’t calm down. That was it, this was my last show with Moonshine. The vet said we couldn’t show anymore after this year because of Moonshine’s Navicular disease. And that performance was the impression we would leave. Everyone was right, we really didn’t belong.

  My mother and Gunilla forced my father out of the barn. While they spoke outside, I confided in my coach.

  “I can’t do this anymore. I am so sick of always crying, always losing. I just . . .” I trailed off.

  “I know, it’ll be OK,” she began, but then we heard Gunilla shouting outside.

  “You see that girl in there? She is your daughter! And she is crying because of you!” she reprimanded loudly.

  “Me?” I heard my father say in his playful, innocent voice.

  “Oh cut the shit! None of this would have happened if you had listened to me and just bought her a decent horse! She can’t do anything with that ridiculous little horse she rides, you know that! Don’t you love your daughter?” she said.

  “Of course I do!” he said, now sounding offended.

  “Doesn’t it hurt you to see her crying her eyes out time and again, trying to get somewhere with a horse that is clearly incapable? Do you like to see her like this—crying on a bale of hay? She should be on top of a podium, not crying in the barn!” Gunilla lectured loudly.

  “Well, I just don’t think it’s worth it to invest so much money in this,” my father said seriously.

  “Not worth it? You don’t think she is worth it? What is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you that she is worth it! She has the talent, the drive, and now the training. The only thing she doesn’t have is the horse! With the right horse, she could be a champion—try and get that through your thick skull!” she declared as she stormed off.

  My father and mother were left outside, stunned. My father looked at me and then turned his back. He and my mother walked away from the barn in conversation.

  After a while, I calmed down, my breathing was regular again. My mother came back, and Carol got up to give her the free spot on the bale of hay.

  “Aren’t you hot, honey? Let’s take off the coat and boots and everything, huh?” my mother said.

  I had forgotten that I was still in my full show attire: shadbelly, white breeches, boots, and the top hat. “Why don’t you go change into a T-shirt and some jeans?” she said, knowing it was always best to distract me when I was upset. I sighed heavily as I got up. I passed Moonshine in his stall as I went to get a new set of clothes. He was wet, someone had hosed him off. I was grateful that someone had done that for me and I wouldn’t have to deal with him for a while; I knew my anger and distress would not subside quickly.

  __________

  When I came back in clean, dry clothes, my mother was alone in the barn. Carol and Verdi were gone, so I assumed she had taken him out to warm up before her ride.

  “I can’t believe Gunilla yelled at him like that,” I said to my mother.

  “I know, she was really mad,” my mother replied.

  “I didn’t think she cared,” I said.

  “Oh, she does,” my mother answered.

  “He went home?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “I’m going to go see if Carol needs anything,” I said, grabbing a water bottle for her in case she was thirsty.
>
  “I’m right behind you,” she said, still putting things away.

  I walked to the indoor. Carol saw me. I held up a water bottle, she shook her head no. I headed up toward the stands, lowering my baseball cap over my eyes so people wouldn’t recognize me.

  “Victoria! Come here, sit with us!” my heart sank when I heard familiar voices calling.

  Damn it, I cursed to myself. I just wanted to be alone to watch Carol’s ride.

  “Hey kiddo!” Jean exclaimed. I was relieved Jean was here, she supported us no matter what, and was always happy to see me.

  “Hey Jean,” I said weakly.

  “Sit down, right over here,” she said, gesturing to the free spot next to her.

  As I sat down, she put her arm around me, “You’ll get ‘em next time,” she whispered.

  “Did you get your score?” Edith asked me.

  “No, I never want to see that score sheet, Edith,” I said.

  “Well, then I’ll get it for you,” she said as she stood up.

  “Edith, sit down!” Jean snarled.

  “How else is she going to learn?” Edith asked her.

  “She’s learned plenty today, leave it alone,” Jean commanded.

  “So, what happened out there?” Beth asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, defeated. I was done talking about it.

  “Look, here comes Carol!” Jean interrupted.

  Carol put in a precise and accurate test, as we all expected. She placed sixth, in the top ten of today’s preliminary round, which meant she qualified for the finals tomorrow. I excused myself to help Carol with Verdi when she got back to the barn.

  “Guys, I’m going to go help Carol untack and cool out, see you tomorrow,” I said.

  “You got it!” Jean replied through her wide smile.

  I was struck by her unending kindness and support. I couldn’t understand why she believed so much in Moonshine and me, especially after today. We never won anything; it was like she got a kick out of rooting for the loser. Whatever it was, I was grateful for her and her ability to always know what to say, or not say.