by Toni Mari
“Well, Windsong. You are becoming quite the good little traveler. All your numbers look perfect.” I gave him a kiss on the soft part of his nose and stepped out of the stall. I was carefully packing the stethoscope back into its cushioned case when Cory and Kate came back from hooking up the utilities to the camper.
We ate dinner in front of Windsong’s stall and worked together to bathe and braid him.
“Do you think we should leave him alone through the night?” I asked Kate.
“We signed up for night watch, so I think he’ll be fine. He seems pretty well settled in.”
With my face between the bars, I watched Windsong quietly munching his hay. “I guess you’re right.”
Because the secretary’s office had been closed when we arrived the previous evening, I had to turn in my music disc first thing in the morning. I checked my watch. If I hustled, I would have plenty of time to drop off the music, rush back to the trailer, and get dressed before tacking up and heading to the warm-up ring.
After I won the Junior Championships, Kate had suggested that I start showing Intermediate I—skipping an entire level—since Windsong was already trained for it. In only two shows, Windsong and I had scored high enough to qualify for this regional competition in the Musical Freestyle. It was the first class scheduled this morning. I wasn’t riding first but still had to get my warm-up in before my assigned time.
I left Cory filling Windsong’s water bucket and started the trek across the show grounds. My parents were driving down to watch my class, and they were bringing coffee and breakfast sandwiches. I gratefully marched right past the long line at the food stand, hoping they would be at the trailer by the time I got back.
A volunteer was opening the door to the office just as I came up to it. I smiled and followed her back to her table. “Jane Mitchell.” I stated as I handed her my two properly labeled CDs.
“Good morning. Congratulations on the team gold this summer. Well done.”
“Thanks.”
A nasally voice chimed in, “She didn’t do it all by herself, you know.”
I spun around with an uncharacteristic squeal. “Melinda!” We hugged for real, actually letting our bodies collide and pressing our cheeks together. “How are you?” I sung, keeping a hand on her shoulder as we parted.
Her auburn hair was tightly coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck and, as usual, she looked like she had just stepped out of a premier dressage clothing catalog. But the smile on her face was genuine.
“Better and better. Belvedere and I are ready to rock the arena. Happy to see that you moved up and out of my class, allowing me to dominate again. Jealous that your horse already knows the new movements. Belvedere has some kind of learning disorder and struggles with anything new. It’s taking forever for him to get the new stuff. It’ll be years before I have him ready to move up.”
Before I bought Windsong, Melinda and Belvedere had beaten me in every class we competed in, but I had been riding my horse Paddy back then. I used to call Melinda my nemesis, and our rivalry had been pretty fierce and sometimes mean. But when we were on the junior team together a few months ago, we had become close friends. And that snooty tone that used to be so offensive to me was just the way she talked, and it didn’t bother me anymore.
“At least you know you’ll probably win today.” I smiled.
“Imagine if we both win, we’ll both go to Finals.”
Taking her hand, I gave it a firm squeeze. “That would be awesome. Good luck, kill it today.”
“Jane, here’s your packet,” the volunteer interrupted us, holding up a manila envelope. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” I plucked it from her hand and gave Melinda another quick hug. “I gotta run. Talk to you later.”
My mom rubbed hair gel between her palms and smoothed down my wavy locks. She made a bun and pinned the hair net in place. She ran her hands over my shoulders, giving me an affectionate squeeze. “You always look so beautiful and elegant in your show clothes. I’m going to miss that.” She kissed my cheek as I turned toward her, a wave of guilt sealing my lips.
Stepping out of the trailer, I shrugged into my shadbelly coat, shaking out the long tails and straightening the collar. I lifted one booted foot and rested it on the edge of a chair, adjusting the spur strap.
“You look lovely. Ready for your last big performance?” My father handed me my gloves.
Keeping my eyes down, I nodded. They followed me to Windsong’s stall.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. He’s ready for you, Jane.” Kate inspected me as she led Windsong out of the stall. “You look great. Cory, grab that bucket. I put a shine rag, a clean brush, and a water bottle for a last-minute touch-up at the ring.”
“Please put my stethoscope in there, too,” I added.
Windsong stopped when he stepped outside beside Kate, his head high, taking in the scents and sounds of the busy show grounds. His black coat glimmered in the sun. People and horses were bustling here and there, the paths and barns in constant motion. Windsong called out, stepping sideways and looking back in the barn.
Fiddling with my helmet strap, I reassured him from behind, “I’m coming, big guy.”
Cory cupped his hands, and I kissed his cheek before putting my bent knee in them. He boosted me up. As I tucked my toes into the stirrups, I observed the activity around us. The view from on top of my tall horse gave a different perspective. People looked up to me, admiration in their eyes. I was someone to be noticed when I was partnered with Windsong. And nothing felt more natural than moving forward on the back of my horse. I was bigger, stronger, safer.
A fluffy little Pomeranian dashed to the end of his leash, barking loudly at Windsong. The twelve-hundred-pound horse leapt sideways and back, as if the ten-pound lion dog could actually eat him. I tensed the reins and gripped with my knees to hold on, making a don’t worry face at the apologetic owner who held the other end of the leash. She scooped the dog up, her face red, and eased past us.
Maybe safer wasn’t the word I was looking for, but people kept a respectful distance from Windsong as we jigged and swung down to the warm-up ring.
As I rode among the other competitors preparing for their classes, keeping Windsong busy with circles and figures, I tried to relax. I thought about what I wanted the outcome of this ride to be. Since I was riding up a level and in an open class with experienced adults and professionals, I probably wouldn’t win. Although a tiny part of me always hoped I would earn a blue ribbon, and I would love to go to the U.S. Dressage Finals if I did, it was better to be realistic. Besides, my parents wouldn’t allow me to go to Finals. Or maybe a win would convince them that I should never give up riding and showing?
I looked around the warm-up at the intense faces of the other riders. Most stared at their horses’ heads, their concentration so complete they might as well have been alone in this ring. Across the show grounds, a competitor and his horse glimmered against the crystalline blue sky, the creamy white footing sparkling in the sun. It was a lovely picture and in a few moments, that would be me.
I had prepared the best that I could, and there was no sense worrying about what my score would be. I was going to enjoy my ride and this beautiful day. I patted Windsong’s neck and pointed him at the gate.
It was time.
Chapter 11
Kate held the stethoscope against Windsong’s side behind his leg, her eyes on her cell phone screen. “Fifty-seven beats.”
“Wow, that’s great,” I answered, holding my boot out so Cory could polish off the dust. “That’s a lower heart rate than at the end of my workouts at home. He’s such a pro anymore.”
The competitor in the ring came to a final halt.
Kate stepped back. “Have fun.”
I rode through the gate and pressed Windsong into a trot. Putting the reins in one hand, I waved to my parents. The judge’s bell tinkled, so I halted Windsong on our starting mark.
Cory stood by the entrance ga
te. He lifted his hat, ran his hand through his curls, and set the hat back on just right. Blowing out a big breath, he pointed at me, then down to Windsong, and then crossed his hands over his heart. I nodded, smiled, and raised my arm to signal my music.
Windsong swelled when he heard the notes and, with the lightest brush of my boot, he lifted gracefully into a collected canter. We turned down the center line and he slowed infinitesimally one beat before the music stopped. One more stride and I braced my shoulders; he halted square and motionless on the last note. Dropping my hand, I saluted, and the judge seated herself.
Windsong knew the music and the moves as well as I did. We worked together effortlessly and somehow Erica’s face popped into my mind. When I had watched her ride Santos, it was impossible to see her aids. Santos responded to every invisible shift of her weight or tightening of her muscles. The result was a powerful, emotional display of the discipline and beauty of the sport. That’s what I was going for today. Let them see us dance, Windsong.
I laughed out loud as we trotted to our final halt and saluted with a flourish. The judge stood and grinned back. “Thank you,” she emphasized, like I was doing her a favor.
As we strolled out of the ring, a wave of applause followed us. I couldn’t stop grinning. What fun. Give this up for four years? No way.
Windsong was all settled in his stall. I had rinsed the sweat off, thrown a light cooler over his damp back, and put fresh hay and water out for him.
My parents entered the barn and Mom asked, “When will we get the results?”
I glanced at my watch. “The class ended about fifteen minutes ago. Maybe in an hour or so. Let’s go get lunch. I’m starving.”
Kate, Cory, and my parents all walked to the secretary stand with me after we ate. The volunteer who had signed me in called my name as soon as I stepped through the door.
Turning my shoulders sideways and ducking elbows, I made my way over to her table through the packed room. I dragged Cory behind me, assuming the others would also follow.
“I have your test. Congratulations.” She handed me the folded paper, delight on her face.
I looked at the front of the test and smiled at my score. But what made me freeze in place was the number one written next to it and circled. My score was in the high sixties, a really good score for this level, but did that little number mean what I thought it meant? I looked up at the volunteer.
She nodded. “You won the class.”
Everything went dark as Cory grabbed me up in a bear hug and my parents and Kate patted my back, my arms, whatever wasn’t enveloped by Cory’s body.
I had no words, but laughter bubbled out every few seconds.
“You know what this means?” Kate shouted.
I nodded, still giggling.
“Great note to end on, baby.” My father kissed my cheek, and my heart dropped to my toes.
Kate’s mouth dropped open. “Do you want me to tell them?” she whispered.
An elbow bumped my back, sending me into Cory’s chest. I tried to step forward, but there was no room. I pointed to the door. “Let’s go back to the trailer and we can explain.”
On the ruse of helping me get dressed for the awards ceremony, Kate closed the trailer door behind us.
“You haven’t told them that this could qualify you for Finals?” she immediately demanded.
Tugging my white breeches back on, I explained, “I really didn’t think I was going to make it. It’s an open class, for goodness sakes.”
Kate shook her head and rolled her eyes. “When are you going to learn to trust me when I say that you can do it? I keep an eye on the scores from the shows. I knew you were scoring as high as the other qualifiers. What are we going to do now?”
I snapped my collar closed and threaded my stock tie through the loop on the back. “We are going to go out there and you are going to tell my father that this is important and that I can’t not go.”
Kate stopped pacing in front of the tiny couch. “You want this, right, Jane?”
I looked at her reflection in the mirror behind me. Her eyes were intense. Pausing a moment, I arranged my tie. I turned, meeting her gaze with equal intensity. “Yes, I do.”
“You understand what it means—more riding, hard work, focus.”
I turned, dipping my chin. “Yep.”
She grinned. “Then that’s what we’ll tell them.”
My father’s arms were crossed, his face stern. “You are not taking a whole week off from school for another ribbon. I said this was your last show and I meant it.”
“It’s not just another ribbon, it’s a national championship.” I hated the whine in my voice, but my father’s shuttered face seemed impenetrable to plain reasoning. When that look appeared, I reverted back to his little girl, tears making my voice tremble.
Kate tried to interject in a neutral voice. “It is probably the last time Windsong can do something like this due to his age—”
My father interrupted her, holding up a hand to stop the flow of words. “I respect your opinion, Kate. But Jane is a college student now, and college and her future need to be her priorities. She’s not going to go.”
I wanted to shake him, I wanted to poke him in the chest, stomp on his foot, do something to change that hard expression. I didn’t bother looking to Cory for backup, and my dad had already shut Kate down.
I locked eyes with him, clenching my teeth, trying to keep my voice steady. “But I want to go. This is Windsong’s last chance, Dad.” I wrapped my arms around my chest, my muscles hard with the effort of keeping my chin up and holding his gaze.
His eyes narrowed, and he pointed his index finger at me. “No. More. I won’t give you the check for the nomination, and if you keep badgering me about it, I’ll sell the horse. You are not going.” He turned on his heel and stalked to his car.
“Mom?”
She was unsympathetic. “Your father’s right. The only reason you can afford to do all of these shows is because your father and I have excellent careers. We have supported your riding, now we will support you in college. That’s the way it’s going to be. You need to stop this arguing and think about your priorities.” With a last meaningful look over her shoulder, she turned toward the car.
“So that’s it. You’re not even staying for the awards ceremony?” I called after her.
She glanced at the car. My father waved angrily through the windshield. “No, we’ve been to all the others. What’s one more when the rest of your life is at stake? Finish up here, and I expect you home for dinner.”
After they pulled away, I slumped into a chair. “This is unbelievable.” They had acted like this was a local show and I won a measly blue ribbon. I won Regionals, for goodness sakes. I had a chance to compete at the National Finals. Only a couple hundred people in the whole country qualified to do that. This was big.
Cory, who had been leaning against the trailer hiding behind his hat brim throughout the whole argument, sunk in the chair next to me.
“They have a point, about paying for the horse shows.”
The lump in my throat expanded. “Seriously? You’re on their side?” I rasped.
“I’m just saying. When you’re paying the bills yourself, you can do whatever you want.” He handed me my boots.
I glared at him, then snatched the boots and started tugging them on. Apparently, I had been living in a cushiony fantasy world all through high school. My parents gave me everything I wanted, acted so proud of me as I competed in horse shows, and had bought Windsong for me with no hint that it was all temporary. I had invested my heart and soul in riding. Cory had been my only distraction from the intensity with which I trained. And now, he pulled his support out from under me when I needed him most. None of them understood.
Kate lifted my shadbelly coat from the back of the chair, smoothing the fabric like she was petting a cat. She shook it out and held it for me to slip my arms into the sleeves. Our eyes met, and I was surprised to see hers glistening
. I paused, ducking my chin to swallow.
She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me as she helped me on with the coat. Holding me tight for a moment, she whispered, “They’re angry, but maybe we can talk to them later, when they calm down.”
I closed my eyes and leaned into her small, strong frame.
Before dinner, I trudged up the stairs to my room, but my father stopped me.
“I’m sorry we argued, honey. I know this is all really exciting to you right now. I’m telling you, it’s just a small blip in your life. When you’re older and have kids of your own, you’re going to look back and thank me for looking out for you.”
I came down a few steps to be eye level with him. “What if I told you that I wanted a career with the horses? I’m really good at it, Dad. It feels right to me.”
“I’m not saying you aren’t good, but it’s not a real career.” He patted my shoulder. “You’ll see when you get back to your dorm tonight. You’ll get right back into the routine of school and you will barely have time to think about your horse.”
On the hour-and-a-half drive back to school, I had a lot of time to think about my father’s words. Windsong was fourteen years old, and he had a heart condition. Finals this year would probably be his one and only shot at a national title. And if I wanted my riding career to continue, I would have to get myself noticed now, before it was over for him. Especially if my father refused to pay my bills, I would need an owner or sponsor to get the ride on another horse of Windsong’s caliber. Otherwise, I would have to wait until I got my degree, found a great job, worked my way up the pay scale, and then, maybe, I would be able to afford a horse that had the talent that Windsong had. I didn’t want to wait twenty years before I could do this again. When I told my father that it felt right, I meant that the only place where I felt focused and driven was in the saddle. No. I had to do this now.