White Horses (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 10)

by Claire Svendsen

  "Can't we just forget about it?" I said.

  Thinking of Summer had made me sad and I didn't have time to feel melancholy. We had to get through Hurricane Joyce and riding out the storm meant keeping our spirits high. Sisters who died and horses that didn't live past their first race didn't exactly lend themselves to keeping that mood up. But Mickey wouldn’t be deterred. She kicked Hampton into a trot and went over to the group of grooms.

  "I want to hear about the ghost horse too," Will said.

  "If we have to." I sighed.

  But I lagged back, letting Bluebird walk slowly at his own pace. I didn't really want to hear about the ghost horse. I looked across the track at the other people riding and the big lake that glinted over in the infield. The wind was whipping across it, raising white horses that chased across the choppy water to the lake shore. I was pretty sure that if there was a ghost horse out there, then the hurricane would be the perfect time for it to make an appearance.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  The grooms ignored us, talking amongst themselves in Spanish. But Mickey wouldn't be deterred by things like foreign languages and people who clearly didn't want to have anything to do with us. She was too outgoing to let things like that bother her.

  "Hello," she called out to them, slithering down off Hampton's back.

  There was one with a moustache who looked like the leader. He said something to the others in Spanish and then turned to Mickey.

  "What do you want?" he said.

  "Can you tell us about the ghost horse?" she asked, all smiles despite the fact that moustache man looked like he wanted to tell us to buzz off.

  "You want to know of the ghost horse?" he said.

  "Oh yes please," Mickey replied.

  "You won't like the story," he said and the others laughed.

  I didn't want to hear the story of the ghost horse, especially not now. But apparently I was the only one because everyone else dismounted and gathered around the groom like he was going to hand out some kind of delicious candy.

  "It was a dark and stormy day," he said, his voice all low and mysterious.

  "That's how they always start," Will said. "If you really want us to believe you then you should tell us that the sun was shining or something."

  "Listen, do you want to hear the story or not?" He threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it into the dirt with the toe of his boot.

  "Yes, we do." Mickey glared at Will.

  "Well it really was a stormy day. The horses were all acting up. The wind was blowing across the lake like it is now." He pointed to the infield where the foamy waves were billowing across the water. "The white horse didn't want to race. He was young and scared, his first time experiencing the hustle and bustle of race day. He didn't want to go in the starting gate. They almost disqualified him." He leant in closer. "They should have disqualified him."

  "What happened next?" Mickey said.

  She was leaning in closer, Hampton's reins slack in her hand. The groom was really having her on. This was just a made up story that they probably told every young, naive stable hand who came their way. I didn't believe it for a second.

  "Eventually they got him in and just as the bell rung and the gates opened, lightening raced across the sky and hit right over there." He waved in the direction of the lake. "The horses were already running but the white horse didn't think he should have to run in such a storm. He started to gallop but as the rain fell he pulled his jockey away from the pack, completely out of control."

  "Please don't tell me the jockey died," I said.

  "He was injured but fine." The groom glared at me for interrupting his story. "Tossed off in front of the grandstand and left with a broken leg."

  "But what happened to the horse?" one of the dressage ladies asked.

  “He stood there for a moment, all proud of himself in the pouring rain. Lightening hit again and he reared up, striking the sky. Then he jumped over the railing and disappeared."

  "Well if he disappeared then he didn't die did he?" Will said.

  "They ran after him. Searched for him in that storm and after but they never found him."

  "Just because they never found him, that doesn't mean he died," I said.

  "There was nowhere for him to go, was there?" moustache groom said.

  I looked across the infield at the lake and the trees that flanked the opposite side of the race course.

  "There." I pointed. "He could have easily gone into those trees. I bet those woods go on for miles."

  "But that's not where the tracks went," the groom said. "The hoof prints went up to the lake and then stopped. The only conclusion people could make was that in his panic he ran straight into the lake and got stuck in the mud. He must have drowned."

  "If you say so," I said. "It's sad but it’s not much of a ghost story."

  Moustache groom glared at me. "It’s a ghost story because people still see him. They hear his cry during thunderstorms and sometimes a flash of white gallops across the track, the white horse out to race once more."

  I opened my mouth to say something about how ghosts were supposed to haunt people and a flash of white in the rain didn't exactly constitute a scary story when the first fat drops of rain fell. I put my hand to my cheek and held the drop on the end of my finger, rainbows reflecting in the tiny globe.

  "We'd better get back," I said.

  As we mounted and rode away, moustache groom called after us. "He only shows himself when a horse is going to die."

  I twisted round in the saddle. "That's not funny."

  "But it's true," he called back. "Every time someone has seen him, a horse has lost its life." Then he laughed.

  Will walked Blue up next to me and Bluebird. "Don't worry, that guy is just trying to scare you."

  “Ghost horses running around in the rain?" I said. "That doesn't scare me."

  And it didn't. But the thought that horses actually died after people claimed to see it did and the last thing I wanted was to see the white horse in the middle of the hurricane because I wanted to believe that we were all going to make it through okay.

  "I believe in ghosts," Fern said.

  "That's not helping,” Will told her.

  "I saw my dad after he died," she carried on.

  And I thought about Summer and how I'd seen her after she died too. Was it just the overactive imagination of a grieving five year old or had I really seen her? And if I'd seen her, who was to say that people hadn't really seen a white ghost horse who was the harbinger of death.

  "Let's just not look out to the infield during the storm," I said as we got back to our barn.

  "I think that would be for the best," Will agreed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Back at the barn, the dreaded parents had arrived. There was my mom and Derek standing next to Mickey's mom and a giant black trash can. They all looked kind of awkward, like kids at summer camp who only saw each other every once in a while. It was kind of funny.

  "The fish?" I asked Mickey.

  "I hate those stupid fish so much," she groaned. "It's like she cares more about the fish than me."

  "At least she came," Fern said.

  I took that to mean that her own mother wouldn't be riding out the storm with us but I felt too embarrassed to ask. I didn't like prying into peoples personal lives just as I didn't like them prying into mine. Mickey usually would have chirped up and asked, putting her foot right in it but she was too preoccupied with scolding her mother for placing the trash can of fish right in front of Hampton's stall.

  "Well where else am I supposed to put it dear?" she said.

  "Fine," Mickey snapped. "If you're happy with Hampton eating all the fish, leave it there. See if I care."

  "Horses don't eat fish, do they?" Mickey's mom asked her husband, who shrugged.

  I didn't say anything but inside I was chuckling as Mickey's mom started rolling the trash can awkwardly down the aisle, water sloshing out from under the lid.
/>   "You know, she's probably going to put it right next to your sleeping bag now." I laughed. "All night long you’re going to hear splashing as the fish try to escape.

  "I don't even care," Mickey said.

  "I guess we'll go and see where we are supposed to be sleeping," my own mom said.

  "Okay." I shrugged.

  I didn't want to admit it but I really wished they'd all gone off to the fish camp. I was glad that she had chosen me over Derek but this was ridiculous. They were going to be bored out of their minds. There was nothing for non-horse people to do and we were all going to be completely preoccupied with making sure our horses were okay during the storm. I didn't have time to babysit them as well.

  "How close is it now?" Mickey asked Esther as we untacked our horses.

  It was still raining but not very heavily.

  "It's pretty close," she said. "We should get the full brunt of it overnight."

  "Great. A hurricane in the dark." I sighed. "Why couldn't it have come during the day?"

  "Because everything is scarier in the dark, you know that," Mickey said. "And that's when the white horse comes out to play."

  "Shut up." I punched her in the arm.

  "What white horse?" Esther asked.

  "A ghost horse that died here," Mickey said. "The track grooms told us all about it."

  "I thought I told you to stay away from people like that," Esther said.

  "You saw my mom," Mickey said. "She doesn't care who I talk to. She only cares about her fish."

  "Both your parents care about you, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. That goes for you too Emily," she said, looking at me.

  But I knew she wouldn't be saying that if she knew what Derek was really like.

  "Now let’s get these horses all squared away and no more talk of a ghost horse, okay?"

  But it seemed that the ghost horse was all anyone could talk about.

  The story spread quickly through the barns and just as with any rumor, it changed and grew with each person who told it. By the time the story got back to us, the white horse was a flesh eating zombie that drank blood and stomped people to death in their sleep.

  "He has hooves of hot molten tar," the girl who was telling us said. "And he breathes fire out of his nostrils. If he looks you in the eye, you die right then and there on the spot."

  Mickey started to laugh. "That's ridiculous. Who told you that?"

  The girl pointed to another who was also relaying the story to a group of wide eyed kids who were gullible and actually drinking the whole story in. If those kids didn't have nightmares about the hurricane, they were certainly going to have nightmares about the white horse.

  "I was there when the groom told us that story," Mickey said. "And there was nothing in it at all about fire breathing or eyeball killing or any nonsense like that."

  "Oh," the girl said, looking disappointed.

  She walked off to join her friend, leaning in and whispering something. The other girl looked over and glared at us before turning back to the group and continuing on.

  "Everyone loves a ghost story." I shook my head.

  “But they’re not even telling it right.” Mickey slumped down onto a muck tub. “And I’m bored. What else is there to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “We could go to the blue barn.” Her eyes got all bright and shiny.

  "Forget it," I said.

  The blue barn was where Will was and even though it was nice to know he was around, that didn't mean that I actually wanted to hang around with him the whole time. It was better that he was over in his own barn with his own buddies. We were both where we belonged.

  We took empty buckets and sat on them at the edge of the barn, watching the gray clouds roll in and the rain thicken. In the distance was the dull rumble of thunder. I could see the infield from where I sat and there were no white horses in it, for which I was glad. Mickey and I didn't talk. Neither one of us wanted to go into the building that was in the middle of the barns where the parents were. It was the grooms quarters now turned into an evacuation room.

  People were still cooking on grills, the smoke wafting out into the rain. It smelt good but I couldn't eat. I just wanted the hurricane to be over. Waiting was the worst part. It needed to hurry up so that we could all get on with our lives.

  "You know that jumping team?" I finally said.

  "The Miguel Rodriguez one?" Mickey asked.

  "Yeah. I got an e-mail just before we left." I paused, poking the sand with a stick I'd found. "I didn't make it."

  "What?" Mickey cried. "That's ridiculous. You had to have been one of the best riders there."

  "I guess I just wasn't good enough." I shrugged. "And I didn't exactly come across as a team player."

  "Well it's his loss." She put her arm around me. "Don't worry. They'll be other teams."

  "I know." I said. But I wasn't sure if there would be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Mickey wanted to talk about the riding team. Why didn't I get on it? How could I make Miguel change his mind? But I didn't want to discuss it. Ever since I got the e-mail, I'd tried to pretend that it had never happened because it made me feel like a failure. Miguel was a really good rider. He competed at the international level. If he didn't think I was good enough then who was I to argue with him?

  All the things I could have done wrong were stuck in my head and I couldn’t get them out. How I got lost in the woods on Fury. How he didn't even get to see me jump very well because Fury couldn't handle it. And what about when we sent her back? I was sure that didn't make him very happy either. Then there was the fact that I'd ridden with Frank Coppell. They had competing barns. Was that the thing that made him mad enough to dismiss me from the team? I'd won the pony jumper class with Bluebird at my first A rated show but maybe because it had been with Frank instead, that finally made Miguel give up on me once and for all.

  "Please," I told her. “Can we talk about something else?"

  "Like what?" she said. "The ghost horse?"

  "Very funny."

  We went to check on the horses instead. Bluebird was eating as usual but that made me happy because it meant that he had settled in. In the next stall poor Saffron was having a hard time with all the noise and commotion. Unlike the other Sand Hill horses, she wasn't used to going to shows. In fact I couldn't ever remember the last time she had been trailered off the property. She was spinning around in her stall, her head high and eyes wild. Every now and then she would let out an ear splitting scream and a horse further down the aisle would answer her.

  "Is she going to be okay?" I asked Esther as I stood in front of the mare's stall.

  "I don't know." Esther shook her head. "If she doesn't calm down, I may have to give her something to take the edge off."

  "She'll be okay," I said.

  But I knew that the storm hadn't even really got started yet. We'd had some rain and thunder and a little bit of wind but it was nothing compared to what was coming and what was Saffron going to do if things started blowing around like projectiles?

  "Maybe we should give them all a little something to keep calm?" I said.

  Esther put her arm around me. "Everything is going to be fine. Look around. Everyone has brought their horses here. That means that they think it is going to be safe."

  But I wasn't sure that everyone was here because they thought it was going to be safe. It was more like everyone was here because they had nowhere else to go.

  I slipped into Bluebird's stall and threw my arms around him.

  "You have to be a good boy. No freaking out. Okay?"

  He stopped munching for a second and looked at me as if to say, as long as you keep the hay coming, I'll be good. Then he went back to eating again. I sat in there for a while, listening to the people around us.

  There were lots of kids who had come to stay with their ponies instead of being stuck at home or in a hotel room, waiting for the storm to pass. Only despite Faith's assurance
s that she would be coming, they hadn't shown up. I could imagine her riding out the storm and driving her parents crazy because she'd rather be with Princess. Only Princess wasn't even her pony. She was only on lease from Esther for the summer and summer was almost over. Soon she wouldn't have a pony anymore. I was going to have to help her get one because more than anyone that kid deserved her own pony.

  "Want something to eat?" Mickey said.

  "I guess." I stood up and brushed the shavings off.

  "My dad is cooking burgers on the grill." She rolled her eyes.

  "Is that not a good thing?" I laughed.

  "It is if you like your food burned to a crisp."

  "Delicious," I said. "That sounds about as good as Derek cooks."

  "It gets better," she said. "Usually he ends up catching himself on fire. Mom has forbidden him from cooking on the barbeque at home but he thinks that since we're not technically at home then he can get away with it. Especially since she is too busy staring at her fish and testing their water to notice."

  "Awesome," I said.

  So we went and watched Mickey's dad cook us food and just as she predicted, he did catch his sleeve on fire. For a moment no one seemed to know what to do. He was on fire and we were just sitting there watching it happen. He looked at his arm, like he couldn't believe it had actually happened again and then without a second thought, he ran over and stuffed his arm right into the trash can of fish.

  Smoke wafted across the surface of the water and a singed fleshy smell filled the air.

  "That's better," Mickey's dad sighed with relief. "I knew those fish would come in handy one day."

  But Mickey's mom looked like she was about to cry or maybe explode. Her face was all red as she stared at her favorite fish, now flopping about rather sadly in the sooty water.

  "This is not going to end well," Mickey said. "Come on, let's get our food and get out of here."

  "Good idea," I said.

  And we disappeared with our food just as the yelling started.