The Tale of the Dancing Slaughter Horse

by Shade, Victoria;

  “Congrats, Carol!” I said, meeting her back in the barn.

  “Thanks!” she said.

  “Want some help?” I said, unfastening Verdi’s bridle straps.

  “Sure,” she said as she unbuttoned her shadbelly coat.

  “I’ll hose him off,” I said as I slipped off the horse’s bridle and replaced it with his halter.

  “Thanks, I’ll go get our score sheets,” she replied.

  Don’t bother with mine, I thought, I know what it will say. “You are a lost cause; you are making a mockery of this sport.”

  Within a half hour, she was back with ribbons and score sheets.

  “You got a ribbon!” she declared.

  “What place did I get?” I asked.

  “Oh who cares, you got a ribbon!” she repeated as she pinned it to Moonshine’s stall door.

  I knew that meant I got last place, and there just happened to be such few competitors in my class that I would get a ribbon.

  “Do you want to look at your score sheet?” she asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Get over here,” she said playfully.

  “Wow, forty-three, I think that’s my lowest score, ever.”

  “What did they give you on your position?” she asked, as she held the score sheet in front of me.

  “It says seven,” I replied.

  “Great! That means they thought you’re a good rider! Now, what do the final comments say?” she asked.

  “Nice pair, unfortunate disobedience at end of test,” I read from the score sheet.

  “See? They thought you were good!” she encouraged.

  “Right,” I said pessimistically.

  Just then Gunilla came back in.

  “Good job, girls! I am very proud of both of you,” she declared.

  __________

  My mother did not come to the show the last day. She called to let me know that my grandfather had passed away that morning and she couldn’t make it to New Jersey.

  “Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” I said.

  “It’s OK. Can you drive back by yourself?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  “Of course,” I said, grateful that I had driven myself down to the show and wasn’t dependent on her to drive me back home.

  “I know you will be alright driving, you are such a good driver,” she said through her sobs.

  “Mom, I can come home now, if you want,” I said.

  “No, no, there’s nothing to do now, it’s all over. Just stay with Moony and get him in the trailer and back to the farm. You can come home when you are all done,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I love you, see you later,” she said, and then hung up the phone.

  I was stunned; my grandfather hadn’t been sick for years like my grandmother, so at least he didn’t suffer like she did. I was grateful for that. But I knew my mother was devastated. I wished I knew the right thing to say.

  Carol competed and won fourth place in her class. I was relieved that we got to go home so quickly.

  40

  In my first lesson back, Carol said the United States Dressage Federation was going to create a national competition, just for Junior riders, ages fourteen to eighteen. Since I was seventeen, I was eligible to try and qualify for that show.

  “I don’t know,” I said, hesitantly, not wanting to ever repeat the disaster from the Festival of Champions show.

  “If you want to make it as badly as you say you do, one little show wouldn’t change your mind,” she said.

  “It wasn’t one little show—it was the biggest show of my life!” I declared.

  “How are you ever going to get anywhere if you give up?” she said.

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “Exactly, you won’t give up,” she clarified for me.

  “We’ll do the Oakwood shows and then some little local shows over the summer. If you don’t have the scores you need by September, we’ll go to Connecticut, where they have some more shows. The Juniors show is in October, so at least that buys us some time,” she strategized.

  “One thing we really need to do though, is to find Moony the right bit, and you need to get a set of spurs, and ride in them every day,” she instructed.

  “OK,” I said.

  I had discovered a company that specialized in tack of all sizes. I ordered the smallest bit and spurs they sold, and crossed my fingers.

  __________

  When the bit arrived, I found Carol and asked for her opinion on how it fit. She slid it into Moonshine’s mouth. “Hmm . . . looks like I can put in one finger on each side. The port doesn’t look too high or low. It’s not hitting his bars . . . looks like we have a winner!” she said.

  “Really?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Go get your bridle, take off your bit and put this one on, let’s see how he likes it,” she instructed.

  I ran to the tack room, unfastened the buckles of the old bit and attached the new bit to the bridle. I hurried back to Moony’s stall, where Carol stood waiting. I handed her the bridle.

  “OK, let’s see if this fits,” she said as she slid the bridle on Moonshine’s head.

  “Looks good to me,” she said as she checked it on both sides, and lifted the corners of his mouth to see how the bit looked inside.

  “Tack up, I’ll meet you in the indoor,” she said.

  I tacked him up quickly, got on, and we walked to the indoor, where she waited with Gunilla by the office.

  “Pick up the contact,” Carol called to me.

  I picked up the reins, shortening them gradually. Moonshine did not object. He simply chewed softly on the bit, a sign that he accepted it.

  “Super!” I heard Carol say from the office. “Warm him up as usual, I’ll be right back,” she said. I warmed up. Moonshine felt soft in the contact, and light off of my legs, but still reaching for the bit. This was the feeling I had been reading about for years in all of the dressage books and magazines I read.

  “Wow,” Gunilla said as she came out of the office with Carol. “Looks like we finally have a bit!”

  I kept Moonshine working, but a smile took over my face. I had to try again, I couldn’t quit now.

  “OK, Victoria, take a break,” Carol called.

  As I brought Moonshine back to a walk, I looked over to Carol and asked, “So when is our first show?”

  __________

  That summer, both trainers were determined to help me and Moonshine reach our highest potential. I was allowed to work as Carol’s working student again, so that I could practice on other horses, and improve my seat. Sometimes Carol gave me mini-lessons on those horses, but I still got my hour-long lessons on Moonshine. When I wasn’t riding Moony in a lesson and Carol wasn’t around, Gunilla appeared to give me tips and pointers. Gunilla also had me ride the sale horses she hadn’t sold yet. There was no more pressure to buy; now the focus was to feel the movements on trained horses and translate that to Moonshine.

  That show season, Moonshine and I consistently earned respectable scores, never getting scores lower than 60%. I knew we had a chance to qualify for the National Juniors Championships that fall.

  Then, one day, at the end of the summer, I tacked Moony up for a lesson with Carol. I walked him for ten minutes, like I always did, before I asked him to pick up the trot to warm up. But as soon as he started trotting, I felt him limping. I sat back in the saddle to stop him, “Whoa, Moon.”

  But he grabbed the bit in his teeth and wouldn’t stop—he actually sped up. At the higher speed, the limp was more obvious.

  “Hey, Victoria! Your horse is lame!” Gunilla shouted from the barn.

  “I know! He won’t stop, though!” I yelled back, hoping people wouldn’t think I was asking him to keep trotting.


  “Just stop him!” she yelled back, more forcefully.

  I understood the concern, if he kept trotting on a bad leg, he could do more damage, possibly career-ending damage. But Moony was so stubborn, he wouldn’t stop. I had to pull back with all my weight, and steer him into a corner to stop him.

  Jean saw the spectacle, as she was hand-grazing her horse just outside of the ring, and said, “Poor guy, he still wants to go! What a heart!”

  “I know,” I said, touched that my horse still wanted to do his job, even though he was in pain.

  “Well, there goes that pipe dream,” I said to Moonshine as I slipped off the bridle, sure that this lameness ended any possibility of us going to the Juniors’ Nationals.

  Just then Carol appeared in the barn.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “He’s lame,” I replied.

  “The Navicular must be acting up. Alright, we’ll just give him a few days off, but get him out of the stall and walk him as much as you can. We’ll give him some meds, and see how he feels on Thursday. I’ll tell Kim about the meds,” she offered.

  “OK, thanks, Carol,” I replied, grateful that she was always around.

  “Why don’t you walk him for a little bit, wrap his legs for the night, and when you’re done, come to the office,” she said.

  I had done as Carol instructed and when I finished with Moonshine, I headed to the office. Carol was chatting with Gunilla. I went over to them.

  “How’s the horse?” Gunilla asked.

  “Lame, vet’s coming tomorrow.”

  Carol started,“The plan is for you to ride Moony in the Junior’s Nationals. Since you got a bunch of qualifying scores, we’ll stop competing him. I think you got enough scores to earn a spot on one of the teams, but we’ll have to wait and see the scores that the other Juniors get, since there are only twelve spots. So, he’ll get a week off, and we’ll see how he is after that.”

  “But you need to keep riding. So I’m lending you Gerry until Moony is back on track.” Gunilla interrupted.

  “Gerry?” I repeated, unsure if I heard her correctly.

  Gerry was Geronimo’s barn name. He was one of Gunilla’s highly trained warmbloods. I was shocked that she volunteered him for me to ride.

  I was afflicted by a mixture of gratitude and concern. I was struck by Gunilla’s generosity in lending me her horse. But I was also concerned about Moony—would this lameness end it all, right now? Would we never get the chance to redeem ourselves? Would I ever be able to prove that Moony was just as good as a warmblood?

  I was grateful for the back up horse that Gunilla offered, but I wanted more than anything to make it with Moonshine.

  “Thank you so much,” I said.

  With that, summer ended and I began my final year of high school.

  41

  I couldn’t believe I was finally a senior. It was time to apply to colleges. My school’s college advisor drew up a list of colleges to which I should apply—Brown, Dartmouth, and UPenn. I told her I couldn’t go away, that I had to stay in New York, because this is where my horse and trainer were.

  “You can take your horse with you, Victoria. A lot of these schools are in rural areas, and have stables on their properties,” Ms. Frost said.

  “Yeah, but I can’t take my trainer with me,” I replied.

  “I hope you understand what’s at stake here. You have had an excellent GPA all through high school. You also have a respectable SAT score. These are prestigious colleges and I’m confident they would accept you, if you apply. Do you know what you are giving up?”

  “There are good schools in New York, too, Ms. Frost,” I replied.

  I had anticipated this lecture, and had come prepared with everything that I had learned about New York University. I had even visited the campus once with my parents. I loved the culture and diversity I saw, and I knew I would learn and grow there. But most importantly, I felt free there. Nobody seemed to care how others looked or what people wore. From my short visit, I even felt slightly liberated myself, a welcome change from what felt like a lifetime of wearing a uniform and following rules. I knew this school would be a perfect fit.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

  “Well, I visited NYU and really liked it,” I replied.

  “Oh, well sure, you can apply there too,” she said.

  “Actually, that’s really the only school that I want to go to,” I said.

  “Oh, really? Why is that?” she asked.

  “Because I visited once and I know it’s the right fit for me,” I said conclusively.

  Ms. Frost had known me for years, as we had discussed the college path all through high school. She must have recalled how stubborn I could be, been tired of arguing, or actually agreed with my decision, because she simply said, “Well then, you will have to do early admission and submit your application before everyone else. But remember, that means you cannot apply to any other colleges until after you get a response from NYU. So, if NYU rejects you, that might also hurt your chances with other schools, as it would delay your ability to apply to any other school. Is that a chance you are willing to take?”

  “Yes,” I said confidently.

  Then she told me what to do, where to find an application, and how to fill it out. It wasn’t as a bad as I thought it would be—I finished it the following weekend, and brought it back to her the next week.

  “Good girl, now I know you’ve been riding forever, but what is your biggest riding achievement? You should put that down here,” she said.

  “Well, I hope it will happen in October,” I said.

  “Why? What happens in October?” she asked.

  “Well, there’s this show—the National Junior Championships . . .”

  “Why, that’s marvelous!” she lit up. “You must put that down!”

  “But I don’t know if I qualified to compete in it yet,” I said.

  “Well, we can always send them an addendum, but if your mind is set on NYU, we should send the application in as soon as they open the early admissions application process,” she advised.

  “That sounds good,” I agreed.

  __________

  Moonshine benefited tremendously from his time off. He was sound again! Even when I started riding him again, I was easy on him. As much as I wanted to go to the Junior Championships with him, it was more important for him to make a full recovery and have a long, happy retirement. I owed him at least that much, since he had given me so much, taught me more than I could learn in any classroom, and made me happier than anyone had ever made me. Nothing and no one could compare to my prickly, obstinate little horse. He was the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Now that I had my driver’s license, and had applied to NYU, I was at the farm at least three days a week after school, and on the weekends, as usual. I was over the moon. But every time I drove home, I was anxious about what would be in the mail. Would it be a big or small envelope from NYU? Would I get any envelope at all from the United States Dressage Federation?

  __________

  I was eating lunch with my friends in the senior lounge, when suddenly, the door flew open. It was Mr. Conners, the principal. His face was bright red, and his eyes frantically scanned the room.

  “Turn off the radio, Mike!” he commanded. “Where is Victoria?”

  Oh, God, my father did something big this time, I thought immediately, remembering the numerous times that he tried to take my sister and me out of school whenever he lost a custody battle.

  He rushed to me, with a piece of paper in his hand. I was scared.

  “Kiddo, you did it! You did it! You’re going to the Olympics!” he jumped, crumpling the paper in his right hand as he threw up his arms in jubilation.

  I stifled a laugh, but knew what he was too excited to say.


  “You mean the Junior Nationals?” I asked.

  “Yes! Yes! You did it! I am so proud of you! You did it! Everyone—she did it! Victoria is going to the Junior Olympics!” he shrieked, as he handed me the paper he had crumpled and skipped out of the room.

  I had never seen our principal so animated before. It was amusing to see a man I had known for the last six years lose it like that. He had always been so composed, to the point where he often looked somber. Plus, he looked really old, and it was strange to see such an old-looking person bounding around a room with the energy of a teenager.

  I was more affected by the delivery of the news than the news itself. Then I looked down to read the paper. It was a fax from my mother to the school. I realized she had received the package in the mail and wanted me to see it as soon as possible.

  “So, what’s going on?” some of my classmates gathered around me on the sofa.

  “Oh, just this show I got into,” I said, having learned to contain my enthusiasm for dressage at school.

  “Victoria, you got into the Nationals! Congratulations!” my friend Michelle declared, hugging me.

  __________

  I couldn’t wait for the day to end so I could hop in the car and drive to the farm. I thoroughly enjoyed that drive. I rolled all the windows down, blasted the radio, and sang to the music on the radio at the top of my lungs.

  When I finally got to the farm, I ran to the office.

  “Hi Jane, where’s Carol?” I asked the farm’s secretary, sitting at the computer.

  “In the back,” she said.

  When Carol heard my voice, she came out.

  “Carol, I got in! I’m going to the Juniors!” I said.

  “Congratulations! I knew you would do it!” she said as she hugged me.

  After we hugged, I ran to the barn to hug Moonshine for making it all possible.

  42

  I had still only received one response in the mail, so now I really wanted to know if I got accepted to NYU. I kept myself busy with school during the day and riding at night. This rigorous schedule made the time fly. Before I knew it, the leaves were changing into bright yellow, vibrant orange, and deep red. The weather was perfect. It was the best time of year: colorful with perfect temperatures for riding.