by M. Garzon
“It’s nothing, it’s an old one,” I told him. I examined the ground while Seth continued to smooth the knots from my muscles.
“I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you,” he snickered, “it wasn’t exactly her brightest moment.”
“Seth.” I said warningly.
“I’d like to hear it,” Jaden said quickly. “It might help me understand what I’m dealing with.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant my shoulder or my attitude, but I wasn’t about to ask. Seth launched into the story of the day I went to my friend Maddie’s place, where they had a herd of horses turned out onto a large pasture at the back of their farm. It was a beautiful pasture, fifty acres of rolling green hills, and the horses had wandered far away. Maddie and I were on foot, and the plan was simply to shepherd them back toward the barn, which they would then willingly enter. For some reason, though, I was in a hurry, and I thought herding them on horseback would be faster. Maddie was carrying a lead rope, so we caught a little chestnut mare and I vaulted up to start playing cowgirl.
The plan seemed to work swimmingly at first, and within minutes I had the herd thundering toward the barn. We started galloping down a hill — and my mount put her head down and bucked. At the best of times, that’s a tough move to handle, but unprepared, riding bareback, with only a lead rope for control, I didn’t stand a chance. I flew off, arcing up a good ten feet from the ground, and when I came to I was face-down on the ground with my right shoulder rolled sickeningly underneath my body. It turned out my shoulder was dislocated. It healed but had never been the same since. Seth finished the story; I could see Jaden’s scandalized expression in my peripheral vision.
“Don’t you have any sense of danger at all?” he huffed.
I glared at him. “It was a long time ago. I don’t see how my childhood indiscretions are any business of yours.”
“If you think that’s bad, have you heard about the time she got caught hitchhiking?”
I spun around to turn my glare on Seth. He was grinning broadly.
“Stop it, Seth,” I hissed between my teeth.
“Hitchhiking?” Jaden sounded utterly shocked. I didn’t look at him; I smacked Seth on the arm and stomped into the house. I knew what he was doing — he was telling stories that would paint me as reckless and immature. I couldn’t believe Seth would stoop to that, though. I’d already given him my word, and I was sticking to it.
I went to my room, fuming. That hitchhiking story sounded worse than it actually was, it was more embarrassing than anything. When I was fourteen, I went to a friend’s house and we had a big argument. Her place was only about a mile from our house, but Dec wasn’t home so I didn’t have a ride. I stormed out, intending to simply walk home. After a while, though, it seemed silly not to try and catch a ride, so I stuck out my thumb... only to have a white pickup pull over. Dec’s white pickup. Needless to say, my one-time foray into hitchhiking came to a painful and immediate conclusion.
I heard the stairs creaking and peered out my door; it was Seth.
“Get in here,” I growled at him.
He sauntered in, but looked a bit wary all the same.
“What’s up?” he said with false flippancy.
“What’s going on, Seth? Since when do you try to make me look bad?” I asked angrily.
He stared at me for a minute.
“Since he’s looking at you like...like...” He bit off his retort and looked away, scowling. His hands were jammed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. I hated that we were at odds over this; we rarely fought. Sure, we argued sometimes over stupid things, but this was different. Abruptly, I felt as though Seth’s prediction was coming true already. The mere fact that I was attracted to Jaden was causing discord in our family. Discord with my own brother, my only blood relative in the world. Or the only one that I knew personally, anyway, which amounted to the same thing. I collapsed onto the bed and dropped my face into my hands.
“You were right,” I groaned.
“About?” He came and joined me.
“It’s insane for me to have feelings for Jaden,” I said vehemently, “look at what it’s doing to us.” I gave him a beseeching look. “I’m trying to stop, I swear.”
He watched me seriously for a long moment.
“It’s not just you,” he said finally. “I think he’s into you, too.”
My heart instantly ballooned at those words — I couldn’t help it — but I made a huge effort and squashed it down firmly.
“I think you’re wrong about that,” I said, frowning. “But in any case, it doesn’t matter. I gave you my word. It’s too dangerous, Seth, you said so yourself.”
He nodded. “Sorry, Sis,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that. When I saw how he’s acting around you — well, I sort of panicked.”
He patted my knee before leaving. I lay awake for a long time that night, trying very hard not to think about how I felt when Jaden looked at me, or about what Seth had said.
I developed a new strategy after that day. I went to the polo fields with Jaden a couple of times a week, when he’d coach me. He continued to be very demanding, and I determinedly kept trying, though I wasn’t playing well in front of him. I couldn’t seem to get Seth’s words out of my head, and the thought that Jaden might possibly reciprocate my feelings left me tense and confused — not an ideal state of mind for optimum performance. So as often as I could, I went to the club without him. When I practiced on my own or with other club members I played much better, and I incorporated all the new skills Jaden was teaching me.
* * *
It was mid-June, and the show season was in full swing. I tried not to think about what I’d been doing at this time last year; that weekend I was going to a show with Cameo, her first big, official competition. She was performing wonderfully at home, and you couldn’t help but love her, with her little grey ears always pricked forward and her kind, willing attitude. She was a dream pony. I couldn’t believe that someone had willingly parted from her. Teri was going to the show too, and competing in the same division. It was the first time in years that we’d ride against each other, and we were looking forward to it.
We arrived at the showgrounds Friday evening, got the horses settled in their temporary stabling, and got all the gear unpacked before heading to the motel. The usual party atmosphere reigned as we got junk food and sat on the beds talking until Karen yelled at us to go to bed. I felt myself slowly unwinding. I hadn’t realized just how tense I was becoming, with Jaden always around. It felt good to be with the girls, and even better to be showing again, although I couldn’t watch the jumpers. That was still too painful.
Emma and her parents arrived on Saturday morning. In many ways, they were ideal horse show parents — they wanted Cameo to do well, but they didn’t pressure Emma or me in any way. They trusted me to get their daughter and her pony ready to compete together, and I appreciated it. It made me even more determined to do well with their child’s pony.
Unfortunately, despite an auspicious beginning, I made a foolish mistake in the second class and we were eliminated. I was embarrassed beyond description and felt terrible that I’d let the Tremblays down, although they were very gracious about it.
We got home late on Sunday, and I dallied in the tackroom after everyone left. Everything was put away, but I was in no hurry to go into the house and explain my disgrace, so I paced back and forth, getting madder and madder, though I couldn’t have said why.
“Aargh!” My frustration erupted, and I spun, aiming a blow at the nearest wall. But instead of the hard surface I expected, my fist smacked into a hand — a familiar hand. Dual jolts shot through me: one from my captive fist and one that speared right through my heart. I wrenched my hand free without looking at him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” There was an undertone of strain in his voice; I wondered what this exchange was costing him.
I shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. It makes me feel better.”
“Hitting something makes you feel better? That sounds dangerously familiar.” The strain in his voice was gone, replaced by a sharp edge.
I looked at him then. His expression was carefully controlled, but his eyes were judging me.
“The difference being, only inanimate objects will suffer from my wrath,” I threw at him without thinking.
A flicker crossed his face and I bit my lip, hard. I had wanted to lash out, but not at him. I never wanted to hurt Jaden. I dropped my eyes and was about to apologize when he spoke quietly.
“You’re not an inanimate object, Téa. I don’t want to see you hurt.” The last words were fervent. He wasn’t just referring to this.
My eyes flashed to his face. It was more open than it had been for a long time — I could see the confusion and worry there. I tried in vain to swallow the ball in my throat and felt moisture prick the corners of my eyes. Even if he didn’t care the way I did, he did care, and I’d been cold and distant toward him. I just hadn’t realized how much it was hurting him, too.
“Sorry.” I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for, exactly. I sank down onto a bench. “There was a journalist at the show yesterday,” I admitted. “She wrote a magazine article about Blaze and me last year.” I really didn’t know what it was about Jaden that made me confess these things to him. Things I didn’t want to talk about.
He sat next to me, not close, but near enough for my entire body to feel electrified.
“That’s why you forgot your course,” he said, understanding. I glanced over; his face was sympathetic.
“Word travels fast. Yes, that’s why. It’s still no excuse, though.”
“You’re way too hard on yourself, Téa. Even great athletes make mistakes.”
I shrugged.
“Did you keep a copy of the article? I’d like to read it if you don’t mind.”
I nodded. “It was entitled ‘A Blaze in the Jumper Ring: Hot New Talent Setting Courses on Fire’.” I smiled a bit at the memory.
We sat for a minute; I could feel his eyes on me.
“What else is going on?” he asked finally.
I was instantly tense. Was he asking what I thought he was asking? I looked up cautiously; I was far from ready to address this. His lovely eyes were also wary. I couldn’t introduce any more tension now. Not when we were actually talking, really communicating, for the first time in weeks. For the moment, I was incredibly happy just to be near him, so I brought up another issue — one that undoubtedly troubled me, but which was nothing compared to the dilemma Jaden presented.
“This is my last year as a junior.” I sighed. “Last year I had two jumpers on the circuit, and I was attracting a lot of attention. The good kind. And this year, I’ve got nothing. Next year I’ll be eighteen and I can’t compete as an amateur. I’m afraid I’ll be out of my depth, riding against the pros. Assuming I even have a horse to ride.”
He nodded. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t try to dismiss my worries.
“Do you have a plan for next year?” he asked.
I shrugged. “If I could think of a way to earn a pile of money, I’d buy another jumper prospect. But I haven’t had any brainwaves, and Dec doesn’t want to buy any more horses right now. So, no.”
There was a way I could triple my earnings for the summer — by doing what Teri was doing, working at the racetrack. At the show she had announced she was working as an exercise rider for the summer; I was envious, not of the job, but of the money. I was paid for the lessons I taught and the training I did, and when we sold a horse I’d schooled Dec usually gave me some money, too. But it didn’t add up to much compared to the track, so I might have sounded a tad bitter when Seth and I discussed it in the barn the following night.
“Wish I could work at the track. But that’s not happening,” I grumbled.
He snorted. “Well, duh.”
I laughed at his goofy expression. Seth had changed over the past few months, gotten more serious. I was happy to see some of his natural silliness re-emerging.
“What’s new with Melissa?” I asked him as we started feeding. He had kept in touch with the swimmer from Montreal; it was the first time he’d had a completely non-physical relationship with a girl.
He sighed. “She’s got a boyfriend now.”
“Oh. Sorry, dude.”
“It’s okay, she lived too far away, anyway. I kind of wish the girl from the gallery had called me back, though. I feel so used.” He said it jokingly, but I could sense an element of truth to his words. It was probably the first time in Seth’s life that a girl hadn’t called him back, rather than the other way around. Life was changing for Seth, too.
My brief tackroom conversation with Jaden made me miss him even more when things went back to normal. The new normal for us — distantly polite. On Wednesday Gran made an unexpected midday visit and brought lunch with her, and I was sent to fetch Dec and Jaden.
I walked past the big grass paddock in front of the barn, toward the row of new posts poking out of the churned-up grass. Once I got close, though, I stopped dead. Dec was nowhere in sight, and Jaden was working with no shirt on. I remembered seeing him bare-chested the year before, but the effect it had on me now was markedly different. I watched him wrestle a post into a fresh hole in the ground for a minute before he looked up and saw me. I blushed and looked away even as I started walking forward; I didn’t want him to think I’d been, well, watching him. Although I clearly had been.
“Lunch is ready,” I muttered, barely glancing at him.
When he thanked me I fled with a sigh of relief. I really didn’t know how I was going to survive the summer.
* * *
It was chilly when I went to do the last check of the barn on Thursday night, and I wished I’d worn a sweater instead of just running outside in my T-shirt. Everyone seemed comfortable until I got to Piba’s stall — what I found there made me instantly tense.
Piba looked unhappy, and as I watched she turned her head, looked at her flank, then stamped her hind leg a few times. Uh-oh. I quickly checked her feed bowl, and sure enough, there was some grain left in there. I went in and took her pulse; it was forty beats per minute, on the high end of normal, but since Piba was such a fit horse, I suspected that number was high for her. Her neck was slightly damp too. I checked her gums; at least they were pink and moist, and the color returned quickly when I pressed my finger against them.
I thought for a minute. Normally, if there were people around, I would take steps to treat the colic first and call the vet if it showed no signs of subsiding. But I was alone, and Piba already seemed quite uncomfortable, so I decided to call her right away.
“Hold on, sweetie, I’ll be right back to take care of you,” I reassured Piba with a quick pat. I ran to the tackroom to call. The answering service told me that Kathy, our vet, was with a foaling mare, and her partner was away at a conference. They agreed to send Kathy over as soon as possible.
I collected a blanket on my way back because it was chilly outside and Piba was already sweaty. After putting the blanket on her I brought her outside to walk. We slowly followed the perimeter of the big sand ring; I shivered and tried to hug myself close to Piba’s body. Normally I would walk a colicky horse for about twenty minutes out of every hour, but I didn’t have a watch on, so I would have to guess. Piba wasn’t getting any better, she didn’t pass any gas or poop, and occasionally she would stop to kick at her belly. I was getting worried. The word ‘colic’ is enough to make any horseperson break into a cold sweat. Colic is the number one killer of horses — it’s truly remarkable what sensitive digestive systems equines have. And the fact that they are completely unable to vomit makes digestive upsets even more likely. The trouble was, without knowing the exact nature of the problem, it wasn’t safe to try to treat her.
After what I thought was twenty minutes I put Piba back in her stall and tried calling the vet again. Kathy was still with the mare. I found a jacket and put it on gratefully
before going back into the barn.
“Piba, no!” I cried as soon as I spotted her.
She was lying down, trying to roll. My worry exploded into outright fear; this was the most dangerous possibility with colic — the horse rolls to try to relieve the pain, and sometimes they move so violently that they cause an abdominal torsion. Those twisted guts are what killed horses most of the time. If it happened, Piba would need immediate surgery in order to survive.
I ran into her stall, my heart beating hard, and started trying to get her up. I yelled, pushed, and yanked on her halter, and finally she heaved herself to her feet with a groan. I quickly clipped on the lead rope and brought her back outside, shaking with relief. My heart was still pounding. I couldn’t leave her by herself, and I had no way of knowing whether the vet was on her way. I needed help.
I brought Piba into the barn, tied her next to the tackroom doorway so I could watch her and called Jaden’s cell. It went to voicemail right away so I left him a message, trying not to sound too panicked, but asking him to come to the barn as soon as possible because Piba was colicking. I didn’t bother trying the vet again, and Dec had left his cell in the house, so there was no way for me to reach him.
We went back to walking. Once in a while, I would allow Piba to rest — I didn’t want to exhaust her — but she often tried to lie down when I did, so I’d have to cajole her into moving again. I had to admit she was being amazingly cooperative. Horses are often in so much pain with colic that they scarcely notice their surroundings; they’ll walk into walls or crush the people around them. It was the only time I would hit a horse, to force him or her to stay on their feet and keep moving. But Piba summoned her courage and responded to my requests. I didn’t have to resort to violence.
After about an hour I went back inside and called Jaden again, and left another message when there was no answer. I tried the vet’s office again too and felt a rush of relief when they said she was on her way.
“Good news, sweetie, the doctor’s coming for you,” I told Piba as we headed back outside. It felt as though we’d been circling that ring for hours in the starry darkness, but I was developing a real affection for Piba. She had astounding heart to still be cooperating when she was suffering so much.