“So she’s not very neat?” he said, trying to turn the conversation back to Van. It was clear he was avoiding something.
“What’s going on?” I said. “What shows are you doing this fall?” Maybe he was going to Europe for the fall, or maybe he’d decided to move there.
“I don’t quite know yet,” he said again.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I put my hand on his arm. “You need to tell me.”
He finally looked at me, and his eyes were sad. He was trying to fight it, but they were sad. “Harris is pulling his horses. This is my last show with them.”
“What? Why?” I let go of his arm.
“A lot of reasons.”
“Do you think Alexa told him to because you didn’t, you know?”
“Possibly.”
“What did he say? What reason did he give?”
Chris gave me a look that said, you don’t want to know.
“Because of the stuff online?” I said.
He nodded slowly like he didn’t want to hurt me.
“So it was because of me?” I leaned back on the couch.
“Maybe a little, but not only. I wasn’t exactly killing it with his horses.”
“Does he know where he’s taking them?”
“Of course.”
I felt dumb that I’d thought Harris would just leave Chris without a plan. This was a high-stakes business and sometimes I lost sight of that. Smart owners didn’t make hasty decisions without a thought-out plan.
“He’s giving the rides to Tommy.”
“So what are you going to do?” I hung my head. Chris had lost his rides. Even worse, the horses were going to one of Chris’s friends. “This is all because of me. I’ve ruined your reputation. How are you ever going to get grand prix horses again?”
Chris put his arm around me. “This is not all because of you, and my reputation is not ruined. Things will blow over. People forget things and this will be a blip in the road. You know Keith? He was sued for cheating his owners out of money five years ago. He had a lean year or two where everyone left him and now he’s turning clients away, his barn is so full. And remember, I wasn’t so happy with Harris anyway.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t ready to dump him. Now you have no horses.”
“I have Logan.”
“Yeah, Logan, awesome.”
“And Arkos. I’m buying Harris out.”
I felt a little hurt that this had all happened without me knowing. That Chris had gone through this alone, or rather with Dale. It felt weird, but I was jealous of Dale. His advice and counsel was more important than mine. Stop—I told myself. Dale had known Chris forever. And he knew the horse world. I had only known Chris just over a month and I didn’t know the first thing about the politics of show jumping. And Chris was also just trying to protect my feelings. Still, my jealously didn’t fade completely.
I said in a defeated tone, “Arkos and Logan.”
Chris sounded upbeat as he repeated, “Arkos and Logan. This is going to be fine. This is going to be better in the end. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.
Chapter 37
There was a classic nearly every week for the high children’s jumpers, but I hadn’t ever come close to getting around the course clean and being competitive. I thought I had a slim chance of going clean so I went to the tack store and bought a pair of white breeches. I’d always admired the white breeches girls wore around the show on classic days. Maybe admired was too weak a verb. More like coveted. I’d never thought it made much sense for me, though, and it probably still didn’t even if I had a chance of making it into the jump-off. White breeches weren’t required and who knew when I’d wear them again? It was unclear whether I’d show again after Vermont.
Yet, there was something so cool about wearing white at a horse show, the color most likely to get dirty at the place most likely to be full of dirt. I felt like my legs were glowing. I felt so entirely good about myself as I walked around the show grounds the morning of the classic that they were worth the price tag. Of course I hadn’t jumped a single jump and I wouldn’t feel so good if I was soon lying in a pile of dirt, having been dumped by Logan.
Before I got on Logan, I stood in front of the tent and surveyed the horse show. Grooms were leading horses to the rings, trainers were shooting by in their golf carts, dogs barked from their positions tied to the tents. I was going to miss all this. It was like its own little world and I’d come to know nearly everybody, from Stacy who worked at the food truck, to Janet and Hank who owned the mobile tack store, to Jeff, who delivered the feed. I knew every rider in the grand prix now, since each week many of the same riders competed. I knew how they had done the week before, whether they had placed, which horse had gone well. It was hard to imagine that in a week all this would disappear—the people, the horses, the tents. All that would be left until next year were the empty fields with dead grass from where the tents had been. And the people and the horses would go on to other shows down the road, Chris included. Without me, of course.
I spent so long learning the course I could see it with my eyes closed. It was trickier than the usual ones. You had to know where to be smart and where to risk things— I thought to myself. I was starting to sound like Chris. The main trap came on the home stretch, a large oxer in the corner. It wasn’t the height, but it was the location of the jump, only about ten strides after the triple combination. If you made it clear through the triple, you would have the oxer to contend with. I knew I would have to balance up quickly after the combination. If I let Logan pull me to the oxer, I would probably meet it strung out and have it down.
The order for the classic was drawn randomly. I was slated to go fourteenth of thirty-six. It was a good draw, early enough so I wouldn’t sit around getting nervous, but late enough to be able to watch a few ride the course.
I loved walking the course with Chris, in my white breeches no less. Chris focused on me in a way that Jamie never had. He took into consideration every turn and every jump, and we talked about how to ride everything. I could feel other people looking at us. Maybe they were thinking about A SUMMER OF HORSE SHOW FIRSTS, but I felt more like they were looking at us in awe, knowing I was Chris Kern’s girlfriend. It felt nearly unbelievable to me in a way, too. I had come to Vermont hardly knowing who Chris was and now he was my boyfriend. But for how much longer?
We watched the first few horses to see how the course rode. Chris was right about the oxer taking its toll. A few other riders had parts of the triple down. Logan warmed up well and I felt as good as I could when I stood at the in-gate waiting for the horse before me to finish up. I didn’t know why, but something made me look down the side of the ring. I wished I hadn’t because I saw Jamie standing there, watching. She didn’t have any reason to be at the ring. I had been her only children’s jumper rider. She was clearly there to watch me. To make me feel uncomfortable, to put the pressure on. She would want nothing more than to see me fail. That would be the ultimate revenge for her.
I decided not to tell Chris I saw her. I didn’t want to make a bigger deal of it than it already felt like it was. I wouldn’t give her the power she wanted. I rode into the ring at a trot. I halted Logan when I was halfway down the long side and backed him a few steps to make him pay attention. When the signal sounded, I picked up a canter. The first three jumps were singles. I rode them accurately. The first round of the classic was comparable to the first round of a regular class. The idea was to have no jumping faults and stay within the time-allowed. Then, in the jump-off, speed as well as fallen rails would determine the winner. But I wasn’t even thinking about the jump-off. All I was thinking about was riding my best over this course. I would be thrilled if I rode well, even if I ended up having a rail or two. Chris had told me not to worry about the time-allowed. He said it wasn’t particularly tight and he’d rather have me leave the jumps up and have a time fault at this point. He also said Logan was a n
aturally quick horse so it probably wouldn’t be an issue for him anyway.
I rode through a bending line across the diagonal and then to the triple combination. The triple worked out well, Logan jumping up high, yet remaining calm. When I landed off the last effort of the triple, I sat back in the saddle. The oxer was next. I had actually been clean so far. Suddenly my brain switched from just wanting to survive and get around the course to wanting to go clear. My competitive side kicked in and I began thinking about making it into the jump-off. What would Jamie think if I went clean and made it into the jump-off? I wasn’t sure how my time was, but I couldn’t worry about that now. Even going clean with time faults would feel like a big win, although now I wanted to go totally clean.
For three strides I steadied Logan. I could feel him tugging on the bit, wanting to surge forward toward the next jump. I half-halted him hard—once and once again. When I felt him respond and slow down, I loosened my arms. The jump was only a few strides away. I relaxed my back and legged Logan lightly. He sailed over the jump perfectly.
Only one jump left, I said to myself as I landed from the oxer. It was a plain vertical with a panel that said EQUIFIT across it. I steadied Logan once more, and softly said, “whoa.” We met the jump at what seemed like a perfect distance. I got up into jumping position, releasing with my hands to give Logan his head. As I was halfway over the fence, I heard Logan hit it with his back hooves. The pole rattled in the cups. Had it come down?
I waited for the announcer to say, “Four faults.” And what about my time?
Before I could look behind me to see if the jump was still up, the announcer said, “And that’s a clear round for Personal Best and Hannah Waer. No faults and a time of 71.64 seconds, well within the time-allowed.”
I looked back at the jump and felt a surge of gratefulness to the show jumping gods above. I couldn’t believe it had stayed up. I patted Logan on the neck and exited the ring.
“I got a little lucky,” I said to Chris. I leaned forward onto Logan’s neck, so I was at Chris’s eye level. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was clear. I was clear! I was going into the jump-off and the cherry on top was that Jamie had seen it all.
Chris said, “You need to watch your back in the air. You snapped open too early from your release. It caught Logan off guard, made him nab it with his back shoes. Let the horse worry about the front rails, the rider’s job is to worry about the back rails.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that your horse’s job is to jump up well enough with his front end and clear the jump coming in; your job is to make sure he gets over the fence well enough to not have the rail down behind.”
I nodded. “And I didn’t do my job. He did his, but I caught him in the air.”
“It was a great ride, Hannah,” Chris said. “You’re thinking about landing and regrouping, which is super.”
“So I just need to stay forward more on landing?”
“Not really stay forward per se, you just can’t snap back like this—” Chris showed me from the ground, how I popped open too quickly with my upper body on landing. “You need to be slower, like this—”
“Okay,” I said.
“Do you know your jump-off?”
We had walked the jump-off, but at that point I had been concentrating on the first round.
“I better go learn it again,” I said.
Chapter 38
Only six horses were clear, so going into the jump-off I knew I would at least be guaranteed a green ribbon. But shooting for sixth seemed like a pathetic thing to do. What did I have to lose? I was going to ride the best I could and hopefully I would come away with a primary colored ribbon.
I had plenty of time to learn the jump-off course. I went over it in my head again and again, and Chris talked it through with me. It was only seven fences. It started over a broken line where Chris said I should go forward and do five strides, not the conservative six. Then came two tight roll-back turns to a vertical and then an oxer. Another fairly tight turn to a combination, and a long gallop home to a vertical. Chris said the few tight turns in the middle of the course would help me regroup Logan and that I should just worry about making neat turns, not trying to go fast there. He also said I shouldn’t race through the combination. He explained that not all parts of a jump-off were meant to be ridden at break-neck speed; you had to be smart and figure out where you could make up some time and where you had to concentrate on clearing the jumps. He said that sometimes since the jumps were so low in the children’s jumpers people got away with bad riding where they tore around all the parts of the jump-off and the horses managed to leave the jumps up. But he said they weren’t learning how to ride a jump-off the right way and that at the bigger heights they wouldn’t get away with that. He also said that kind of riding was plain dangerous at any height. He’d rather have me ride smart and finish lower in the ribbons.
“You can’t get away with that kind of riding when you’re doing the 1.30 meter classes,” he said.
“Like I’d ever be doing 1.30 meters.”
“Never say never. And just because you’re galloping you don’t throw your horse away,” Chris said. “Keep a feel on his mouth the whole time, just like I taught you when we first started working together.”
We came back in the order we had gone in the first round. Three riders went before me and all had gone clear. I entered the ring at the trot. I halted Logan on the far side and waited for the signal to begin. When I heard the tone, I departed into a canter. I had planned my entrance so I would have practically one whole lap around the ring to build up a little speed for the first jump. As I turned the corner to the fence, Chris yelled, “Go! More pace!”
I had thought I was going fast—but apparently it just felt that way. I pushed Logan forward. There was a certain freedom that came with galloping faster than I ever had voluntarily. Instead of feeling wary of letting go anymore, worried about going any faster than I could handle, I felt exhilarated.
I kept contact with his mouth, though, as I galloped the first fence in stride. I did the five strides as planned. In the air over the second fence, I turned my head to look at the next jump. I would need to make a complete U-turn, but angling the turn back so my next turn would be even sharper. I felt Logan slip out on the bend of the turn. I used my outside leg to guide him over the next jump, and back to the oxer. After the oxer, I pressed Logan forward again as I cut across the ring to the combination on the far side. I approached the combination on a bit of an angle and had to try to ride straight through it and then turn, so Logan would know where he was going. I landed from the combination and kicked.
“Go!” Chris shouted again.
I once again felt the thrill of pressing Logan forward. I saw a long distance and decided to go for it, hoping I wasn’t asking Logan for too much. I prayed he didn’t chip, or worse, stop. Even if he just jumped too flat and had the rail down that would be okay. I used my leg and put all my trust in Logan to jump from what was a really long distance. He took off and I could see his front legs splayed out in front like he was Superman. Somehow, maybe because of all the scope Chris said he had, he cleared the jump.
I kept pressing him since the timers were still a few strides away. Then I brought Logan to a walk, leaning over to pat his neck, and huffing loudly myself.
“Our third clear round and right to the top of the class for Personal Best and Hannah Waer with a time of 38.14. That’s our fastest so far with two more to go.”
I came out of the ring beaming. I had ridden well. I had gone clear. And I had actually been relatively fast!
Taylor Lentz went after me. She was only twelve, and she was a really good rider. She was finishing up on ponies and was definitely going to be one of the top junior riders in the coming years. This would likely be her last year in the children’s. She went clear with a time of 37.97, moving into first place. The last to go was Vivian Martin. She was also a consistent winner in the children’s jumpers, but unlike Tayl
or she rode too fast. She was the poster child for what Chris had warned me against—going dangerously all out over every part of the course, not paying attention to how each test of the course was supposed to be ridden. She had a small horse, maybe he was only 15.2 or 15.3, but he was fast and usually jumped clean no matter what distance she got him to.
Today was no different as she attacked the first jump at a mad-gallop, her trainer yelling at her from the in-gate to go even faster. She tore around over the fences, flapping in the saddle, and herking and jerking, kicking her little horse. She found a flyer into the combination and any other horse would have crashed through the second element but her horse somehow managed to pop in a little stride and clear the oxer. As she rode to the last jump, I wished she’d have a rail so badly. It didn’t seem fair that this kind of riding would win the class. But that was the thing about the horse shows—like life, they weren’t always fair. Sometimes the good riders won. Sometimes the riders who worked the hardest got the blue ribbon and those were the days that felt the best. But sometimes the person who could buy the best horse, or who cared more about winning than the horse’s welfare, came home with the top prize. There was no changing that.
Vivian galloped the last jump and cleared it. She was four whole seconds faster than Taylor. No matter what Taylor or I could have done, we wouldn’t have beaten her. And that was fine with me. I imagined it was fine with Taylor too.
Back in the ring for the presentation, I thought of how I had once asked Chris what winning a big class was like. Even though I hadn’t won, I thought I might feel a little bit of what it was like. Waiting in line as they announced the winner, I replayed my jump-off course in my head, feeling the rhythm of Logan’s stride as we jumped.
“And third place in our $15,000 Children’s/Adult Jumper Classic is Personal Best, ridden today by Hannah Waer of Hingham, Massachusetts.”
The yellow ribbon looked pretty against Logan’s bay coat. I also got a check that I slipped into my coat pocket.
Summer Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 1) Page 20