by Toni Mari
I stopped abruptly, smacking myself in the head. “I’m an idiot.”
Cory spun on his heel, the gravel crunching under his foot. “What?”
“I don’t know the right thing to say to you. I can’t think of a clever way to tell you that I was wrong and I acted stupid. I don’t know what words to use to tell you that I missed you so much that it made me weak. How should I say that you coming all the way here for me is the most amazing, incredible . . . ?” My voice cracked and tears streamed down my cheeks. “Cory, I don’t know how to say I’m sorry!”
He pushed his hat back and chewed his lip. His blazing blue eyes enveloped me in heat. He used his thumb to gently wipe the tears from my skin. His chiseled jaw relaxed, and he cupped my face in the palms of his hands. “Darling, you just did.” He kissed me. And it was like coming home. I pressed myself as close as I could, wrapping my arms tightly around him.
We sank to the ground right there on the edge of the path, facing the sunset. Cory pulled my back up against his chest and closed his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. And we talked.
Not only had he come all the way to Kentucky but he had quit his job. It wasn’t worth working there if it meant he wasn’t with me. He laughed when I told him what I thought he meant, that I wasn’t worth the trouble. He had borrowed the truck and trailer to load up Lakota and Queenie to take them back to our farm. Then, he had had to return the rig, including that gorgeous truck, and somehow get home. Even though I didn’t answer his calls, he had come to Kentucky anyway.
“I told you Shawn was going to try to steal you away from me. I couldn’t let that happen without a fight. If you told me you had fallen for him and he was what you wanted, I don’t think I would have been surprised, just heartbroken.”
I punched him in the arm. “Just heartbroken, he says casually.” I twisted around and pushed him down. “There’s only one guy I’ve fallen for.” I kissed him. “But I have to go talk to Shawn because I let him think the wrong thing.”
That was not a conversation I was looking forward to. I almost wished that Cory had waited one more day so that I didn’t have to tell Shawn before his last ride. In reality, I had only known Shawn a couple of months. Did I really think he liked me so much that he would blow his test over me?
Chapter Fifty
I found Shawn standing in front of Windsong’s stall, staring in at the horse. I stopped a few feet away. “Hi.”
Without turning, he said, “Hi.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He stepped back, looked at me, and leaned on the wall with his arms crossed. He said, mimicking my girly voice, “‘I’m sorry I lead you on, Shawn, but now Cowboy America is back and I’m dumping you.’”
I put my head in my hands. Sounded pretty bad when he laid it out like that. “We weren’t officially together,” I mumbled.
“It felt pretty official when your lips locked onto mine and your arms went around me.”
“Shawn, you’re my friend. . . .”
He shoved himself off the wall. “Don’t give me the ‘we’ll be friends’ speech. I told you how I felt, and you lied about it.”
“I didn’t lie!”
“Close enough.” He stormed out of the barn.
I didn’t see him again until the next morning. At the crack of dawn, I was sitting on a chair at the trailer tying my shoes. Cory was waiting patiently for me to be ready to go feed Windsong and get some breakfast.
Bleary-eyed, rumpled, and wearing the same clothes from the night before, Shawn came casually strolling up carrying a cup holder with four cups of coffee.
I stood slowly.
“Help yourself, cowboy.” He slid the drink tray onto the table. He looked at me and swallowed. “Can I speak to you in private for a minute?”
I darted a look at Cory, but he was pointedly looking at the sunrise. “Of course.”
I followed him to the other side of Kate’s rental car. He lounged against it in that way he had of looking like he was lazing on the beach.
I stood stiffly, with my arms across my chest, staring at my thumb as I rubbed it back and forth on my sleeve.
“I always knew there was the risk of you choosing Cory instead of me. But I also knew that if I won, it would have been so worth it. You would never lie, and I’m sorry I said that.”
At his words, the tension left my neck. “I’m sorry, Shawn. I really am. You’re hard to resist and with everything going on, I couldn’t think straight.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you when you were an emotional mess. I’ll figure out how to stop wanting you, I promise.” His eyes were so bleak, his tone self-mocking.
“Shawn.” I threw my arms around him. “I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I think you are fantastic, you know that. I’m sorry.”
He pushed me away. “Yeah, well we have a show to do. I’m going to get dressed.” He gave Cory a stiff, cool nod as he stepped into the trailer.
Shawn and I were scheduled in the same ring for this class, and our ride times were pretty close together. Melinda had ridden earlier in the morning, and she did just as well on her freestyle as she had the day before on her individual test.
Cory held Windsong for me as I mounted, and it was comforting to see his cowboy hat in its usual position next to Windsong’s head as we walked.
“Hopefully, there will be no fake snakes and I could at least have a chance to get a decent score today.”
“One can always hope for smooth sailing.” Cory held up crossed fingers.
Despite Shawn’s drawn expression, I was feeling really good. My secret weapon was with me. This was going to be a good day. The smile dropped off my face when I spotted Alison steaming up the path toward us, her eyes blazing and her arms chugging like a locomotive. “Shawn,” I warned.
He stopped Donner when he saw her. “What is she still doing here?”
She grabbed Donner’s bridle and he threw his head up, stepping back. She pointed her finger at each of us. “Enjoy your victory this time, jerks. Your careers are over. I will make sure of that,” she hissed.
Shawn said, “Alison, give it up. You did some rotten things, but you’re a good rider. Just get back to the business of riding.”
Her aggression zeroed in on him. “Shut up. You’re done now that Erica’s dead. You won’t have anyone to coddle you like she did.” She spun on her heel and stalked off.
Shawn remained motionless. “What? That can’t be true. She’s lying! Someone give me their phone.”
Cory tossed his up to Shawn. Shawn stabbed at the screen. “Mark? It’s Shawn.” Seconds later, he gagged and dropped it in the dirt. Stricken, desolate eyes turned to me. “Jane. He said she never woke up and died yesterday on the operating table. Her brain was bleeding or something. She’s dead.”
* * * * *
“No. It can’t be.” I wiped my eyes with the napkin Kate had handed me and looked at the black smears left from my mascara. “Poor Mandy. Poor Mark. Shawn, I’m so sorry.” I stifled another sob.
“I have to get back there. I have to talk to Mark.” He began to turn Donner around.
“Wait, what about your last class? You have one more ride.”
“I don’t care about that. I can’t ride.” He kept going.
“Me neither.” I started to turn Windsong, but Kate stopped me.
“You came all this way, and Erica would want you to finish,” Kate reasoned.
I watched Shawn’s retreating back. Michelle was walking beside him. “No, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just a ribbon.”
Cory took the napkin and reached up to gently dab my cheeks and dry my tears. “It’s not the ribbon you would be riding for. It would be to honor her. She believed in you, and she wanted this for you. She thought you could win it all. So, you can quit and cry, and no one would say anything. Or you can suck it in, be a pro, and do what Erica knew you could.” His intense blue eyes didn’t waver. They held me mesmerized.
“Someday you are
going to look back and know that you had the strength to carry on. Someday, you are going to know that you resisted the easy path.” Cory’s voice became strong with conviction. “And today, darling, you are going to know that you did this out of love for Erica.”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to bury my head in a pillow. Riding Windsong was the last thing I wanted to do. Windsong shifted and turned to look at me. He nudged my toe. I stared into the deep, liquid depths of his eye, recognizing the tiny, sophisticated rider reflected back at me. She was a professional, a fierce competitor. She was strong and talented. Windsong straightened up and waited for me to be ready.
Robert met us outside the arena gate. “Hey, I heard the news,” he said softly.
I nodded. “I didn’t get to warm up. Shawn scratched, it was too much for him.”
“Poor kid. Listen, Jane.” Robert stepped closer and put a hand on my leg. “I know it’s hard, but you can do this. I’m impressed and proud of all you have done this week. This is certainly not going to be the last competition you do, but it will be one of the most memorable.”
I nodded listlessly. He was right, it was hard. I couldn’t remember why it was so important anymore. I was numb as I rode through the gate into the show arena. Windsong shied at the flower box near the entrance, and I listed sideways. Tugging on my limp hands, he turned and nibbled my boot. I righted myself and laid a hand on his neck, and his warm, soft fur was familiar and comforting. I leaned down and buried my nose in his mane.
The metallic voice of the announcer quieted the crowd. The largest group of spectators we had had all week surrounded the ring. The musical freestyles were the favorite of dressage fans. “Our next rider in the ring is Jane Mitchell, riding the Swedish warmblood gelding, Windsong. Jane trained with Erica Flame for this competition, and as you know . . .” Abruptly, I sat up. I knew what he was going to say and I wanted to slam my hands over my ears. Instead, I shut out that loud voice and closed my eyes. I can’t do this. I forced my body to remain erect, but all I wanted to do was collapse on Windsong’s neck. Erica’s face floated in front of me, her voice was clear in my head, “You are talented, Jane. I am excited to teach you. You can go all the way.” Did you really believe that, Erica? Me, the girl who cries at the drop of a hat, who never can think of the right thing to say? The girl who turns into a bumbling klutz when she is nervous? Could I, Jane Mitchell, ride a smoking test under these circumstances? Windsong pulled against the reins. When I held tight, not yet ready to move, he gave a little bunny hop in protest of his forced immobility.
The pounding of blood in my ears drowned out the crowd’s response to the announcement. I scanned the blurry faces, and my gaze hitched on a cowboy hat. Penetrating blue eyes captured mine. He pointed to Windsong, then me, then made a fist. Be strong. Melinda nodded, holding both thumbs up.
My friends. They all did so much for me. I had to do this for them, and for Erica. I was strong, or at least I would act like I was for the next eight or nine minutes. I wouldn’t let them down. I straightened, took a deep breath, and held up a shaky arm to signal the start of my music. Windsong puffed up and began to trot when the familiar notes rang across the ring. And I remembered another reason why I had to finish this—for Windsong, who was a talented, hard-working performer, and he deserved the glory. I let the music fill me, let the world outside the ring fade away. With one last vision of Erica’s expectant face, I turned down the centerline. Windsong’s trot fell into time with the music. I picked up the rhythm and let my seat bump the saddle with it. All I let myself see was the dark gray sand, the marker in front of the judge’s box, and Windsong’s ears. All I let myself hear was the music and the rhythmic thud of Windsong’s hooves. All I let myself feel was Windsong tugging lightly against the reins and swaying between my legs. My bruised and broken heart healed as, with my horse, I became the dance.
At last, we turned down the centerline and braced for a final square and balanced halt. In slow motion, I dropped my numb arm and nodded at the judge, tears streaming down my face. She rose, eyes glistening, and with exaggerated respect, she nodded back.
It was done, and as usual, I couldn’t tell if it was fine or fantastic, but I knew it didn’t suck. Noise started to penetrate my relief, and I looked around. Everyone was standing and clapping, staring at us. My vision blurred as I realized they were really applauding for Erica. I raised my arm in acknowledgment as Windsong swung out of the ring and the applause still hadn’t ended.
I slumped off of Windsong into Cory’s arms, exhausted. Kate took Windsong’s reins and started him toward the barn. No one said a word. Cory held one hand, and Melinda took the other, and we followed Windsong and Kate.
We sat under the awning by the trailer. Melinda and I were dressed for the awards ceremony. We had fifteen minutes before we were expected at the arena. None of us had gone to check the scoreboard.
Melinda spoke the first words since before my ride. “I think you won.”
“I’m not sure I care,” I said.
Cory was leaning against the trailer, one leg bent, boot resting on the running board. “Right now, you don’t. But it will mean something later. However it turns out, it will mean something that you finished it.”
“The way they all clapped for me, as if I was her. It was amazing. I almost didn’t make it out of the ring my eyes were so blurry. Thank God for Windsong. He was solid today.”
Kate chimed in, “You both were breathtaking. I am so proud of you.”
Shawn straggled behind as we filed into the stands. He didn’t want to be there anymore, that much was obvious. Whether it was because of Erica or me was not so clear.
I was going through the motions as well. Politely clapping as each name was announced, barely watching the ribbon winners line up beside the podiums. Smiling mechanically, I tried to recall whether I had seen the bronze medal winner’s ride, because she looked familiar. I waited impassively to hear the next name called.
“In second place and winning the silver medal for the individual freestyle is Melinda Kratz riding Belvedere!”
I leaped up and crushed her in a hug. “Congratulations! I am so happy for you.” I clapped louder and longer than anyone else as Melinda climbed the podium. I buzzed with pride, staring at her perfect red bun and her flushed cheeks. Her breeches were designer and fit her to perfection. Usually, she was every inch the heiress, part of why she couldn’t understand my simple tastes. But at this moment—and I smiled at this—she was just a kid thrilled to be a winner.
Cory hopped up, dragging me with him, and enveloped me in his arms.
“What?” I mumbled into his shirt.
“Jane, you nut! They just called your name. You won the gold medal!”
My parents and Kate all hugged me too, and I was jogging down the bleachers before it actually hit me. I just won the North American Junior Rider Individual Freestyle Championship. Won my dream and my goal for over a year. I climbed up on the podium, giving Melinda a brief hug. Bending down, I tipped my head so the lovely lady in the crazy-patterned dress could slip the ribbon around my neck.
I straightened and gazed into the mass of people. So this is what it felt like. As the applause continued, I wished that Erica was here seeing this. Standing up here didn’t feel the way I had expected it to. I thought I would be ecstatic, just jumping with joy, that people would see the gold medal and know that I was a good rider, the best one. But as I looked at the faces of horse lovers, dressage fans, and fellow competitors, it seemed so much more complicated than that. Much more internal. Pride that I did it, but humility that I had so many people supporting me who deserved as much credit as I did. Joy, sure, but bittersweet because it was tinged with grief. Glory? No. I was just lucky that I had a great moment in the ring that day. Each of my competitors deserved respect and admiration too.
My cheeks ached and my throat closed up as I thought of Windsong, my dance partner. With a thrill I remembered how he had powered down the centerline, giving me his best. Throughout th
is journey, he had faced his fears, risked his health, and never once wavered in his love for me. This award was his just as much as it was mine.
The medal, which I fingered as it lay on my chest, represented so much more than getting the highest score on one test on one day. I had entered the ranks of accomplished equestrians, who, through hard work and persistence, achieved the dream. I had joined the dance.
Dance from the Heart
There is one more book in the series, Dancing with Horses. Jane’s talent has developed, she is poised to enter the international arena and become a professional. She has learned to focus and leave the personal side of her life outside the arena. She has matured and recognized what is important and what is not. But, can Windsong handle the stresses of travel and high level competition? And will Cory be onboard with the demands and publicity if Jane succeeds? Did someone say “Olympics”? Find out in:
Dance from the Heart
###
About the Author
I was born in May, so my Chinese zodiac sign is, wait for it, the horse. My connection to horses goes deeper than just training them. I think like a horse. I crave company. I like routine. I’m easily bored and use my imagination to create my own excitement. I could eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And I need the outdoors, especially grassy land. When I’m driving, I find myself studying grassy lawns and highway medians, assessing the quality of forage and imagining fencing it in for my beasts to feast on. “Boy,” I think to myself, “Valentin would enjoy sticking his nose in that grass.” I worked in Philadelphia for a few years, and became miserable. Too much cement!
My horses live in my backyard. The window next to my desk looks out on my pastures. When I need inspiration, I simply pull back the curtain and gaze at my horses. I absorb their tranquility and joy. They are, of course, grazing. If the door is open, I call their names. They will obligingly lift their heads, and with a flick of their tails, tell me to get back to work. I do, because they eat an awful lot and somebody has to earn a living. Trust me, it’s not them.