A Summer Without Horses (16 page)

“He’s going to be nervous, but he’s a smart horse,” she said. “If you feel he knows what he’s doing, let him do it
the way he wants to do it. It’s okay if he makes a couple of mistakes. I can learn from them and share my learning with Beatrice.”

So the most important thing I had to remember was to let Southwood be Southwood. It was as if Dorothy wanted to see him at his worst so she knew what to protect against the next time.

It quickly became apparent that Southwood didn’t have a “worst” side. He stepped onto the van like a pro. He stepped off it like an old hand. I led him to his temporary stall. He took a minute or two to see what other horses were around him and then he took a bite of hay. It was as if he were saying, “All right, so I’m here, so what’s the fuss?”

I wish I could have been as calm as he was. My own stomach wasn’t filled with hay, but butterflies! I haven’t had much show experience. Max is more concerned with us competing against ourselves, trying to be the best we can, than with having us compete against others. It doesn’t mean he’s against showing—not at all. It’s just that he feels that we each should have our own goals at a show and if we meet those goals, we’ve really earned a blue ribbon, no matter how well we’ve done compared to other riders.

I agree with that philosophy; I’ve learned a lot from it, too. Still, there’s another dimension to a show and that is that it gives riders a chance to see how they measure up to others by certain standards.

In other words, I wanted to win.

Southwood and I were entered in only one event and that was the hunter jumper class. Because of the peculiar circumstances of me filling in for Bea, I had to go through some formalities, such as meeting the judges and making a personal petition for the substitution. Mostly, they just wanted to know that I wasn’t some sort of hustler pretending to be an intermediate rider. Dorothy vouched for me on that score. I thought my own skill in the saddle would speak for me, too.

Once that was done, successfully, I had only a little over an hour to get Southwood ready. Dorothy and I groomed him to within an inch of perfection. Then I put on my own breeches and boots, added a blouse and jacket of Dorothy’s, and I was ready to meet the world, alone, except for Southwood and forty thousand butterflies in my stomach.

“You’re going to do splendidly,” Dorothy assured me. I loved it when she used words like “splendidly.” Nigel, of course, said things like “splendidly” a lot. Of course I’d heard him say “awesome,” too, so I suppose he was being Americanized at the same time Dorothy was being Anglicized!

I’d drawn the eighth starting place for the event. That was eighth out of fifteen. There are a lot of theories about order in a competition. Some people say you should be first and set the standard nobody else can meet. Others say, be last so you know what you have to beat. I was
smack in the middle. I expected to disappear into the background and that was what Dorothy expected, too. Eighth start was just fine under the circumstances—“splendid,” in fact.

There was a wide range of talent among the junior riders in the class. Some of the kids (ten girls, five boys) had been riding a good long time. There were a couple I thought were really good.

“Look at the way that girl is taking the jumps!” I said to Dorothy as a girl named Emilie seemed to soar through the course.

“Not bad, but she’s rushing. If she learns patience, she’ll be a good rider. Someday.”

I watched more carefully, trying to learn.

Then there was a boy named Francis. He was quite young and it seemed to be his first show. He was fidgeting nervously with his hands.

“Boy, he’s going to blow it,” I remarked, feeling bad for him.

“Just watch,” said Dorothy.

The minute Francis and his horse began their performance, it became clear that the horse had all the experience Francis lacked. He went over each jump smoothly and evenly. By the third jump, Francis had stopped fidgeting and they ended up doing very well.

“That’s the thing about an experienced horse,” Dorothy explained. “The very best of them can make up for a lot of rider flaws. The judges will notice the fidgeting and
mark him down, but it’s almost as if the horse gets extra credit for being so good!”

By then, there were just three riders until it was my turn on Southwood. I went to mount up and walk in circles for a few minutes until we were called. I wasn’t at all sure that walking in circles was going to calm Southwood or warm him up, but I hoped it would keep me from being fidgety like Francis.

The minute I settled into Southwood’s saddle, I felt at home. I’d been there for three hours the day before, and it seemed like we were old friends who’d never been separated at all.

I gave him the slightest signals with my legs and he responded obediently and gracefully. This horse had a style that’s hard to come by. He really wanted to please me and as far as I was concerned, he was doing a fine job of it.

I was totally prepared for him to balk. I expected him to shy at some of the strange horses. I expected him to fidget while we waited our turn. I expected him to stomp nervously, perhaps to bolt into the ring when I signaled him to start. I thought he might be turned around and confused by the audience or flustered by the unfamiliar surroundings. He let me down completely on every one of these expectations. He performed as if he’d been in a show ring from the moment of his birth. Nothing upset him in the least.

I’d studied the course of the jumps and had a good idea
of how I wanted to approach them. I knew that style was all for this class. What I didn’t know was how much style Southwood had!

He fairly pranced into the ring and then as I got him set for the first jump, he seemed to collect himself so he could concentrate on the job at hand. He broke into an effortless, silky-smooth canter. I know that’s a funny way to describe the gait that most people compare to a rocking horse, but that’s the way it was with Southwood. As we approached each jump, I had enough time to decide exactly where I wanted to be when we took off and then when I gave him the signal, we did it. Some people describe a jump as soaring or flying. On Southwood, it was more like floating. Again, I was completely unaware of any work on his part; he just did it.

The course snaked back and forth, calling for a number of sharp turns at either end of the rectangular ring. Southwood brought his entire body into a turn just the way the very best dressage horses manage to do it. He never lost a step or a beat; he never slowed down or speeded up. He maintained the exact pace I’d set for him. He jumped like an angel.

I quickly remembered Francis on his horse who made him look good. I knew I was a better rider than Francis, but even at that, Southwood was making
me
look good.

At some point during the jump course, I completely ceased being aware of the audience, the judges, even Dorothy and Nigel. It was as if the whole world were simply
Southwood and me and we were not two, but one and that was enough.

At Southwood’s landing over the last jump, the whole audience burst into applause. Since the audience primarily consisted of the parents and grandparents of the other kids in the competition, I knew we’d done something very special.

“Oh, Carole!” Dorothy greeted me. The grin on her face told me she was proud of me. She didn’t have to say the rest, but she did. “You were
wonderful
!”

“Not me. Southwood. I don’t know about Bea being a champion, but this fellow’s a champion through and through. He made his rider look good today and he’ll make his trainer look good for many years to come. You picked a winner, Dorothy. I just sat there and let him do it all.”

“And he did it, didn’t he?”

“He sure did!”

I stood up in the stirrups, swung my right leg back over the saddle, and let myself slide to the ground. Then I gave Southwood about one-sixteenth of the hug he deserved.

I didn’t pay too much attention to any of the rest of the riders. Some were better than others. Two of them were disqualified because their horses refused to jump. Another had a problem because she took the jumps in the wrong order. One of the girls’ horses bucked a few times and that’s not good form. Mostly I was thinking that I had
done what I’d come for and I was ready to go home. In fact, I started to untack Southwood.

“Hold it, there, Carole,” Dorothy said, refastening the buckle I’d undone.

“Shouldn’t we go home now?” I asked.

“It’s generally considered a good idea to wait until the ribbons are announced,” Dorothy said.

I don’t know why, but I was surprised by that. I had wanted to win, but my goal really wasn’t to get a ribbon. I was only there because Southwood needed the experience and by riding in the show, Dorothy had learned that he was really good. What none of us had been prepared for was exactly how good he was.

This being a junior class, the judges like to give a lot of ribbons. Not everyone can win and all the competitors know that, but when Dorothy said they had eight ribbons to award, I realized I might get one. Still, I wasn’t prepared for receiving first prize. That was a blue ribbon and a very large round of applause. I gaped at Dorothy when they announced my number.

“Didn’t you know?” she said.

“Uh-uh.”

“Well, I did. So go get your prize, you goose,” she said, giving Southwood an encouraging pat on his rump.

He loved it. If he’d been happy about being in the ring for a performance, he positively preened when we returned to garner the rewards of our labors! All the other ribbon winners were waiting patiently. The judges greeted
us warmly and then clipped the ribbon on Southwood’s bridle.

“Would you like to lead the victory gallop?” the judge asked me.

I’d forgotten about that. Southwood and I were only too happy to oblige. We circled the entire ring at a gallop and then were joined for a second go-round by all the other riders while all the proud parents and grandparents applauded like crazy. Nobody applauded louder than Dorothy, though. I was very happy for her.

I was happy for myself, too. Even though this wasn’t a big show, I’d had an opportunity to do well and it had worked out well. I’d had an almost magical ride on an exceptional horse and I’d gotten a blue ribbon that would make Beatrice Benner so jealous she wouldn’t be able to see straight.

That was the good news, of course. I’d certainly one-upped Beatrice. She would probably
say
it was just because Southwood was an outstanding horse, but the ribbon was
mine
not hers, and somewhere in her mind, she would always have to wonder if she would have gotten the blue herself. I gloated on that one. I admit it.

In fact I was so busy gloating that for a while it distracted me from the bad news about Southwood’s being such a great show horse. The blue ribbon was mine to keep. But I couldn’t ever show it to the people who’d care the most—Stevie and Lisa. I’d broken my promise to my
two best friends and my punishment was that I would have to keep this secret forever.

That’s a horrible punishment, particularly when it also meant I was going to have to lie to my friends. As much as I dreaded that, it was better than having Veronica diAngelo in The Saddle Club.

T
HE
FIRST
THING
Carole saw when she climbed out of her father’s station wagon at Pine Hollow was Stevie Lake in a saddle on Topside.

“Stevie!” she shrieked in joy, running over to her dear friend. “You’re better!” Her heart glowed with happiness.

Carole scrambled up the fence that circled the outdoor ring and when she could reach her, she gave Stevie a hug.

“Are you
all
better?” Carole asked.

“Let’s just say I’m better enough,” Stevie answered. “I’m going to avoid a sitting trot for a few weeks yet, though, but I’m back in the saddle—with my doctor’s approval. And I don’t have to lug that awful pillow around anymore.”

“How wonderful!” Carole’s happiness was totally sincere. It was both for Stevie
and
for her.

“That’s almost exactly what Lisa said when she arrived here five minutes ago.”

“You mean she’s already tacking up?”

“Sure. Don’t you want to go do that? I asked Max if we could take a trail ride and he said it would be okay. I think he knows that we have a lot to talk about and he figures if he says we have to stay and go to class this morning, we’re just going to talk all the way through it and drive him mad.”

“That sounds more like Stevie than like Max,” Carole commented.

“Well, he did need a little convincing.”

“And you were just the person to do it for him, weren’t you?”

Stevie smiled proudly. She knew there was nobody in the world better than she at talking Max into things—unless it was Max himself. Stevie remembered his wonderful mistake at the horrible error she’d made with the young kids. She gulped. She had to forget that episode, permanently, now that her friends were home. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was important. She patted Topside and began walking him around the ring slowly to warm him up while she waited for her friends. It did feel awfully good to be back in the saddle—legally.