by Toni Mari
I had done well in high school, always As and Bs. I didn’t remember having to study—I just did the homework and took the tests they gave me. That didn’t seem to be working very well for me in college. I had actually failed two quizzes. Failed, as in F. And I had an American history quiz tonight, but I couldn’t seem to relate to the Great Depression.
After lunch, when my brain was food stimulated, I would start at the beginning, copying out the sequence of events.
My phone chimed as we were running down the path to the dining hall. Once we were in the door and had caught our breath, I pulled it out of my pocket and swiped in my passcode. My jaw clenched as I read the text from Kate.
Carly shook the umbrella and closed it. “Your face just turned white. What’s wrong?”
“I have to call Kate. She thinks Windsong is sick.” Kate was supposed to ride him today. Could something have happened while he was working? Did Windsong crash to the ground in midstride? I could see his slim body stretched out flat and his chest shuddering to a stop. My throat closed, and I put a hand to my stomach as I forced air past my lips. I leaned on the wall to the side of the vestibule and dialed Kate with a shaky finger.
“What happened?” Not exactly good manners, but this was Windsong we were talking about.
Kate was just as urgent. “I’m not sure, but he didn’t finish his morning grain or hay and is already lying down. Not his usual routine.”
“Is he colicking?”
“I don’t know. He has normal manure in his stall, and he drank from his bucket while I was watching him. Then he just sank to the floor. He’s still lying down now.”
“Call the vet. I’ll come right home.”
“Normally, I would say don’t bother to come, but with his condition, I tend to worry. I would rather take him to the clinic, to the heart doctor, if that’s okay with you.”
“If you’re worried, I’m panicking. Make an appointment. I’m on my way.”
My heart racing like a jackrabbit’s, I ran straight for my car. I stopped long enough to text my parents, and then took off.
Sitting in the same plastic chair that I had sat in the first time we brought Windsong to the hospital, I chewed my nails instead of the candy bar in my hand. I put the soda bottle to my lips but couldn’t make myself swallow. It felt like a rerun watching Dr. Clark’s tall, lanky form amble toward Kate and me in the clinic’s waiting area—except this time my anxiety was doubled because I already knew Windsong had heart disease.
The vet slumped into a chair, looking more exhausted than the last time we saw him. Of course, it had been nearly eight thirty in the evening by the time we arrived at the hospital with Windsong. He had agreed to stay after hours and wait for us.
Icy cold sweat dampened my sweatshirt under my arms.
“Well, ladies. It’s all good news, relatively speaking. Everything looks exactly the same as the last time we did all the tests. He’s basically fine.”
“Why do you think he was acting so dull and unlike himself?”
“I can only guess, because all his vitals are normal right now. Maybe he had a minor colic that passed on its own. Sometimes in the fall, the changes in the weather cause colic episodes. Intestinal gas from the new growth in the grass, or cramps due to unexpectedly cool nights. Or he could just be tired. Did you change his routine? Riding him more?”
I thought about my weekend rides. Did I work harder than normal? I didn’t think so, but training for upper-level dressage was difficult and physical. “I did ride him early in the morning on Monday. I don’t usually ride then.”
The doctor shrugged. “He could just be tired. Cut back a little and see how he does. His heart hasn’t sustained any damage at this point.”
Pulling a stethoscope from his side pocket, the doctor continued, “I would like to teach you how to check his vital signs. I’ll give you a chart to write the numbers on, and then you will build a history. When you have questionable moments, you can take his vital signs and have an idea whether things are abnormal or not.”
Kate stood up. “That’s a great idea, Doctor.”
“I’m also going to give you a prescription for a mild sedative. When his heart rate is at certain levels, the sedative will act to relax him and lower the strain on his heart. You can’t, however, use it before a horse show because it will show up in a drug test and is disallowed in competitions.”
He scribbled on a prescription pad and handed the blue slip to me.
“Thank you, Doctor.” I couldn’t understand the words he had written, and I thought of Carly’s neat handwriting with a smile.
“Windsong’s malformed heart valve makes managing his condition difficult. There are no specific symptoms. I am glad you brought him in and still encourage you to do so if you have any doubts. Now let’s show you how to use this stethoscope.”
As I walked Windsong back onto the trailer, I sighed. After Kate helped me secure the ramp, I asked, “Umm, Kate?” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, clasping my hands together and pressing my knuckles to my mouth. “Is there any way you could keep all of this to yourself? I mean, I’ll explain the emergency visit, but could you not tell my parents about the vital signs and,” in a small voice that crept through my hands, “the training?” I braced my shoulders for her answer.
Kate’s eyebrows sank toward each other, causing two straight lines between her eyes. “I don’t really talk to them much, except at shows. What’s going on?”
“They want me to quit riding while I’m in college.”
“Oh.” Another line appeared on her forehead and the corner of her lip lifted as if I had given her a rotten tomato to taste.
“Exactly. So, I’m kind of not telling them anything about Regionals and Finals and stuff.”
Kate blew out a long, loud puff of air. She got in the truck and started it before she said anything. “I won’t lie if they ask me something.”
“Of course not,” I agreed, on the edge of the seat, my knee bouncing.
“Keep the chart in your tack trunk so I can fill it in when I ride Windsong.” She put an arm over the back of the seat and turned to watch the trailer as she backed out of the parking spot.
I smiled.
Chapter 8
Cory held his hat brim down low over his eyes as he shouldered through the line of people at the front entrance gate to the rodeo grounds. He lifted it slightly to catch the eye of the girl behind the glass of the ticket booth. She smiled and waved us in.
The teen put her lips to the opening and her voice sounded like she spoke from the bottom of a bottle. “Come on in, Cory. Hi, Jane. Good to see you. Congratulations on your gold medal!”
Surprised that she knew about my win, I smiled over my shoulder and waved with my free hand. “Thanks!” Cory clutched my hand and moving fast, kept his hat low and his back to the people. I stumbled over Cory’s feet when he stopped suddenly. Furrowing my brows, I asked in a low voice, “Do I know her?”
Cory didn’t answer. The crowd was thick on this beautiful Saturday night, and this was the last rodeo of the season. Many fans were milling around the souvenir carts and the food truck. The wooden grandstands rocked with thumping feet as people made their way to seats.
Cory spun on his boot heel, ducked behind the bleachers, and strode toward the chutes, still keeping the visor of his hat pulled down. The crowd was thinner back there, and he sped up. I had to jog to keep up.
“Are you late or something? Geez, Cory! You’re hurting my arm.”
He immediately dropped it, apologizing, and I rubbed my wrist.
“I was just trying to get in the back before we were spotted.”
“Spotted?” What was he talking about? “By who?”
Finally, he stopped. With a deep sigh, he explained, “Ever since I came back here, people mob me. It sometimes takes me thirty minutes to get from the gate to the chutes if I walk down front through the crowd.”
I stared at him. He lifted his hat, ruffling his hair befor
e putting it back on. He avoided looking at me. “People? Your friends?”
“Autographs,” he spit out. “They want me to sign all kinds of things. I’d rather just get on my horse.”
With a laugh, I gave him a quick hug. “This is what I meant before when we talked. Your hometown fans love you. You are a World Champion, and they’re proud of it.”
His discomfort was amusing. He never liked to be fussed over but was nevertheless charming and warm to anyone who approached him. It had been over a year since he was on the U.S. Reining Team that won gold at the World Games, but his fans didn’t forget him even if he wanted them to, proving just how lasting a win like that could be.
We rounded the far side of the bleachers and a girl called, “Cory! Hi!” There was a roar of applause and whistling as more people recognized him.
My mouth dropped open and I started laughing. Cory grabbed my arm and pulled me through the high, solid gate to the back workings of the rodeo, letting it slam shut behind us. The look of relief on his face had me laughing harder.
He adjusted his hat and glared at me. “I actually thought about not coming.”
Stretching up on tiptoes, I kissed him. “You deserve all that recognition.”
He slid his arms around my waist and pressed his lips on mine. “I wish they would forget. I just want to ride horses and do this.” He blew in my ear and nibbled the lobe.
“Hey, none of that back here.” A familiar voice interrupted us. “This is a family rodeo. Show a little restraint.”
Cory swung me to the side, placing his body between me and a tall blond cowboy. “Jealous, Brandon?”
My face burned, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Cory’s throat worked and he directed a cold stare at his former friend, pulling me close beside him. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten Brandon’s advances toward me in the past and the harsh words they had exchanged about Cory’s treatment of me.
I slipped an arm around Cory’s waist, prepared to hold him back if things got heated. I’d seen how fast Cory could jump a guy, and Brandon wasn’t one of his favorite people.
“Easy, nimwit. You roped the best girl at the rodeo.” Brandon lifted my free hand to his lips, a mocking glint in his eyes. “How are you, Jane? I read all about your win. Good job, sweetie.”
I tugged my hand away, pressing closer into Cory. “Thanks, Brandon. It’s good to see you. Not competing tonight?” Keeping my tone impartial, I hooked my thumb into my belt loop and out of reach.
“My events are coming up. Since this guy hasn’t entered calf roping,” he said, indicating Cory, “maybe you could cheer me on. I might even have a shot if the calf lines up tonight.” His dimples when he smiled were almost irresistible.
Cory’s hand tightened painfully on my waist and he leaned forward, holding up his fist. “Jane’s not the cheering type.”
My eyes widened, but Brandon bumped his knuckles on Cory’s, his dimples deepening as he turned to me. “I know for a fact how supportive Jane can be. She waited around all those months for you, didn’t she?” Brazenly, he leaned forward and gave me a brief, one armed hug. “Good to see you, girl. If you ever need anything, you know how to find me.” He sauntered away unaffected by Cory’s hostility.
I twisted out of Cory’s tight grip and rubbed my side. “Geez, Cory. Lighten up. He was just saying hello.”
With a cold glare, Cory swung easily into the saddle of the sturdy gray gelding he was borrowing from Dale, the rodeo’s owner. Leaning toward me, he hissed, “That wasn’t all he was saying. You didn’t need to encourage him.”
He sat up, waiting for me to respond, but I was speechless. Encourage him? Seriously?
“Ahh, forget it, I gotta ride.” He turned the horse away without another word.
I threw my hands up. What did I do? I was just standing there. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” I mumbled to his uncaring back. I turned and pushed the heavy wooden gate open. This wasn’t the first time I had seen Cory’s jealous streak. He didn’t believe that I would choose him over someone else, anyone else. He couldn’t stand it when I talked to Shawn on the phone, either.
After hitting the snack stand, I climbed into the bleachers.
“Over here, Jane!” a bubbly blonde called, waving her cowboy hat to get my attention.
I grinned. It had been a long while since I had talked to Brenda. She was great. “Where’s Jill?” I asked as I slid onto the bench next to her.
“Working. Real life, you know.” Brenda rolled her gray eyes. Her wholesome, peachy complexion and cheery nature were more attractive than the smooth good looks of a television actress. “So, how are you? I heard you did great, won a gold medal and all. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. You heard about that?”
She bumped her shoulder into mine. “Yeah, I don’t live at the rodeo, you know. Of course I keep tabs on my fancy riding friend.”
I laughed; it was good to be here with her simple friendliness. I offered my nachos, and she told me what was going on in her life as we munched.
The noise of the crowd drowned out the thundering hooves of Cory’s horse as he raced through the gate and galloped a lap around the arena, one arm in the air waving his hat. Golden hunks of sand leapt out from under the gelding’s hooves as he slid to a stop in front of us. Cory put his hat back on, using two hands to fix it in place, sending me a steely glare from under the brim.
The crowd was still making noise for him, but my blood pounded in my ears under his gaze and I could no longer hear it. Through the sturdy chain link, my eyes locked onto his doubtful blue ones, and there was more distance between us than that stretch of sand and fence. How could he doubt me still? Didn’t he know how much of a hold he had on my heart?
Never breaking eye contact, I lifted my hand, touched two fingers to my lips, softly kissing them. I pointed to him and stretched my mouth to exaggerate the words. “I love you.” For an endless moment, I pressed my hands over my racing heart, hearing only the whoosh of it in my head.
Slowly, finally, he grinned; his icy blue eyes warming to the color of the sky on a hot summer day. With a flick of his fingers on his hat brim, he wheeled the gray around and trotted to the center of the arena to prepare for the first bucking bronc to come flying out of the seven-foot-high slatted gate.
Brenda sighed. “He is something else. They should put him on a calendar. I bet he could sell a million.”
I chuckled. Brenda was right. Besides mouthwatering looks, Cory had that special something, that charisma, which made people love him. But somehow, he didn’t know that about himself. I couldn’t imagine wanting anyone but him, but lately, it seemed it didn’t take much for me to make him angry.
My body still tingled and I nodded. “He still makes my knees weak, not that he believes it.”
Brenda patted my leg. “Every couple has rough spots, but his eyes don’t lie, and I can see the love he has for you shining like a beam of light.”
I giggled at her southern drawl.
An instant hush fell over the crowd as that first gate flew open and a wild-eyed buckskin came careening out, mouth open and ears laid flat back. Brenda and I leaned forward, hands on our knees, like the rest of the crowd. A silent second passed, and then folks started yelling encouragement.
Suddenly, the cowboy’s shoulders fell forward, his body folding like a ragdoll’s. The savvy horse twisted his ribs and kicked out his hind feet in the opposite direction. The guy couldn’t hold on and flew off the side of the spinning horse. He collapsed into the dirt of the arena, and I winced because I knew what that kind of impact felt like. But he was already standing and dusting off his chaps when the startling buzzer sounded. Sadly, he would receive no score to console him while he nursed his bruises.
Three rides later, I clutched Brenda’s arm when they announced Len, another of Cory’s buddies, as next up. The gate burst open and a monster bay horse sprang out. With his nose down between his thick, strong legs, the horse threw his square, muscular rum
p up hard and high, twisting from side to side, trying to get Len off. Each leap in the air was punctuated by a grunt of effort, and spittle dripped from the thick, furry muzzle. Dirt sprayed as high as Len’s beige hat.
“Holy cow! That horse can buck. Stay on, stay on, Len!” I bit my lip, shaking Brenda’s arm. Despite the glare of the stadium lights, I could make out the fierce determination in the lanky cowboy’s dark, gentle eyes.
With his palm high in the air, his legs bent and flopping by the horse’s shoulders, Len matched the tough-looking horse’s efforts, staying centered and as balanced as a rider could be on a leaping, kicking beast. His hat tumbled off and rolled under the horse. A massive hoof slammed down on it, crushing it.
The buzzer screamed. Len made it! I winced when Len let go and flew through the air, surprisingly landing on his feet and stumbling into the rodeo clown’s arms. When he gained his balance, he swept up his hat and punched the dents out of it, and then jumped in the air, hooting and pumping a fist.
I screamed, smacking my hands together. What a good ride.
Cory chased the bay through the wide-open gate at a corner of the arena, and the attendant slammed it closed behind the flicking black tail. Cory circled back toward the center of the arena, slapping Len’s open hand as he passed. Len climbed the fence and perched on top, waiting for the giant digital scoreboard to show his score.
The announcer’s voice boomed with enthusiasm. “Good job, cowboy! That ride was enough to put him in first place with a seventy-two.”
Len snatched his hat off and whooped it up, catching himself before falling back into the ring. Showing every one of his perfect white teeth, his grin was electrifying. Brenda and I squeezed each other’s arms in excitement for him.
Len held on to first place and proudly came out to collect his oversized check and pose for a picture.
There was a pause in the action while the crew set up for the next event. The announcer filled the silence. “Folks, we have one of our hometown heroes here with us tonight. While this pretty little gal doesn’t ride rodeo, Jane Mitchell won a gold medal for the North American Junior Rider Individual Dressage Championship. Where are you, Jane? Stand up and let the folks congratulate you!”