Change of Heart (15 page)

Jenny was looking intently through her program. She was dressed in a midnight-blue velvet jumper and satin blouse and looked, her father thought proudly, positively angelic. “Look, Poppy,” she said to Ricardo as he returned and took his seat. “Here’s your name.” Both Gil and Ricardo looked and there, on the page devoted to the National Horse Shows Association officers was the name “Ricardo Vargas.” “Wow,” said Jenny and Gil and Ricardo smiled at each other over her head.

“Your father’s name should be here as well,
niña,”
said Ricardo. He flipped the pages until he came to the list of National Horse Show loge subscribers. “There.” He pointed. “Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Archer” looked back at them from the page and Jenny sighed.

“When I get bigger can I have my name in the catalog?” she asked.

“When you get bigger your name will be right here,” said Ricardo, and he turned the page to the list of International Equestrian Teams. Represented this year were the United States, Canada, Great Britain, and Italy.

“Well, we’ll see,” said Gil temperately. He was not so sure he wanted to see his daughter devote her life to horses. It was a pleasant enough pastime, he supposed, but it could be taken to extremes.

There was a stir in the audience as the announcer came over the loudspeaker. The show was about to begin and it was opening with the Open Jumper stake in which Cecelia was riding both Czar and Fairhaven. The show had actually started in the morning and competitions had been held in the afternoon as well, but this was to be Cecelia’s first class. Gil looked intently at his program at the note under the class listing. He read:

Time First Round.
To be shown over eight or more jumps 4 to 6 feet in height with spreads from 5 to 7 feet. The first round is decided by adding together the faults incurred over the course and any penalties for exceeding Time Allowed to complete the course. The time taken to complete the course will decide between any horses with clean rounds or equal faults. Table II, Sec. 1. Touches not to count.

“What the devil does all this mean?” Gil asked Ricardo.

“Look! There’s Cecelia!” cried Jenny. Gil looked up and saw a group of riders, dressed in black coats, tan breeches, and highly polished boots walking around the course. He recognized Cecelia instantly, even with her hair tucked up under a black velvet hat. She passed close below them but did not glance up. She looked very intent.

Ricardo turned to Gil. “It means that this class is conducted under the rules of the National Horse Shows Association, Table two, Section one of the rule book. They will jump only one round and they must do it within a specified time. If they go over that time they receive time faults. If they knock down a fence they receive four faults. If a horse refuses to take a fence it’s three faults.”

“Suppose more than one horse goes around without any faults at all?” asked Gil.

“Then the rider who had the fastest time wins,” replied his father-in-law.

“I see,” said Gil as the first rider came out of the gate, circled his horse, and cantered at the first fence.

“The problem spot on this course is going to be that big oxer and gate,” murmured Ricardo.

The oxer he was referring to had a spread of seven feet; as the horse finished it he had to turn and take a vertical white gate that was five feet three inches high. Ricardo had hardly finished speaking when the horse presently on the course took off over the oxer. He made a fine jump, landed, turned, took two strides, and took off for the gate. He knocked it down. A murmur of disappointment came from the crowd.

Cecelia, riding Fairhaven, was the seventh rider out. No one before her had gone clean. Gil, Ricardo, and Jennifer all slid forward on their seats. Gil felt a tightening in his chest. The horse looked so big. The jumps looked so big. Cecelia looked so small. She circled the big gray gelding and took him smoothly over the first jump.

Fairhaven was a big, powerful horse, and Cecelia did not attempt to cut corners with him. As they approached the oxer Gil heard Jenny’s breath hiss. He perfectly agreed. So far five out of the seven horses had come to grief on the combination oxer and gate.

Fairhaven took the oxer with ease. Cecelia turned him on a wide circle and let him take the gate head-on. He went over it smooth as butter and the audience broke into applause. Horse and rider took the rest of the course with the same seemingly unhurried ease and finished one second under the time limit, with no faults.

The next rider was Roderick Smith, a member of the USET and one of the leading riders in the world. He went clean and was four seconds under the time limit. By the time Cecelia came out on Czar, the next-to-the-last rider to take the field, she was in third place with Fairhaven. Roderick Smith was in first and Peter Anderson was in second.

“Come on, Cecelia,” muttered Jennifer. “You can do it.”

“She will be able to make better time on Czar,” said Ricardo. “He is not so strong a jumper as the gray, perhaps, but he is more athletic,”

“Cecelia Archer,” the announcer boomed, “riding Czar Alexander.” Cecelia circled and took Czar to the first fence.

It was a very different ride from her ride on Fairhaven. This time it was obvious from the start that Cecelia was going for speed. She cut corners. She brought Czar into the big oxer with so small a margin for takeoff that Gil was sure she would crash. The chestnut cleared the spread, however, and when he landed Cecelia turned him and took the gate
on an angle.
This time it was Gil’s breath that hissed in his throat. Before his horrified eyes, Czar cleared the gate, landing in perfect position for the next jump. The angle had saved Cecelia several seconds. Gil watched, almost forgetting to breathe, as the horse took the last two jumps. Cecelia finished eight seconds under the limit and the huge, packed Garden burst into a storm of applause.

The last rider was Roderick Smith. He was forced to go for speed, and under the pressure of it, his horse refused the gate after clearing the oxer. Roderick brought him around and got him to take it on the second try but by then he was over the time limit. Cecelia took a first and a fourth and Ricardo was jubilant.

“You see,
niña”
he said to Jenny as the applause rolled out for Cecelia holding her trophy, “you see how all that hard work has paid off. All those long hours of training Czar to jump at angles were very necessary. The speed classes are not won on jumping big. They are won on the angles.”

The applause died down as Cecelia and Czar left the ring. “Damn fine ride,” said a man behind them. Jenny turned. “That was my mother,” she announced proudly. Once again Gil and Ricardo’s eyes met in a shared smile.

Cecelia joined them just before the intermission, still dressed in her riding clothes. She looked slim as a reed, although she had had to order new breeches for the show. Her old custom-made ones no longer buttoned.

“Where’s your trophy?” demanded Jenny.

“I gave it to Franik to put in the car. He’s waiting for you, Jenny. At the intermission it’s time for you to go home.”

“Oh, all right.” Jenny’s shoulders drooped but she didn’t argue. They had had all this out before. When the five-gaited class was finished she allowed Gil and Cecelia to take her outside to Frank, who was waiting with the car.

“Be a good girl for Nora,” Cecelia murmured, “and I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Okay,” said Jenny docilely. Cecelia and Gil were spending the remainder of the week in New York while Jenny was going home to Connecticut. “You were super,” she said. “I hope you win
all
your classes.”

Cecelia laughed. “It’s unlikely, but it would be nice. Good-bye, Jenny.”

“Good-bye, sweetheart.” Gil bent far down to kiss his daughter and for a minute she reached up to hug him. Then she was in the car and Frank was pulling away from the curb. Cecelia and Gil turned to walk together back inside. “I think your father knows half the audience,” Gil said as they went up the escalator.

Cecelia laughed. “He does, I’m sure. He has such a good time at these shows.”

“Are you sure you want to go to this party afterward? I don’t want you to knock yourself out.”

“We don’t have to stay long but I think we should put in an appearance.” It was a party given by the NHSA president. “I hate to bore you with all this horse talk, Gil,” Cecelia went on with quick sympathy. “You’ve been so good about it.”

“I don’t mind the horse talk,” he replied evenly. “I do mind you overdoing things.”

“I’m not. I won’t. We’ll only stay a short while, I promise.”

“All right,” he agreed and they moved down the aisle to join Ricardo.

* * * *

Gil was back at the Garden the following night to see Cecelia take a second on Czar and a fifth on Fairhaven. He did not see the Thursday afternoon class in which she took another first on Czar and third on Fairhaven. He was there Thursday night, however, for the jumping of the William C. Cox Memorial Challenge Trophy. It was a puissance stake and very different from the classes Cecelia had competed in previously.

“ ‘Puissance,’ that means power, doesn’t it?” Gil asked Ricardo as they sat together in the now familiar seats and Gil looked through his well-worn program.

“Yes. This is a class for the ‘super
^’
horses, the horses who can jump enormous fences. It calls for a great deal of strength, and many very fine horses simply don’t have it. Each rider is allowed only one horse in this class, but even if she were allowed two Cecelia would not have entered Czar. This kind of class is not for him. Fairhaven, on the other hand, may do very well.

“The international riders are in this as well?”

“Yes. It is open to all the jumping competitors.”

“So how does it work?” Gil asked as he watched the crew raise the jumps to what looked like a very unsafe level.

“The course consists originally of six jumps. Those horses who go around clean come back and jump again. The second time the jumps are fewer but higher and wider. Eventually, in a good competition, only a wall and a spread jump will remain.”

“Time doesn’t count?”

“Time doesn’t count.”

“What is the highest a horse has ever jumped?” asked Gil with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Indoors?” returned Ricardo. “Seven feet three inches.”

“Oh my dear God,” said Gil. Now he knew why Cecelia had been so evasive when he asked her about this evening’s class.

The first horse came out of the in gate and the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker identifying him. Gil settled down rather grimly to watch. Cecelia was the tenth to ride, and by then four horses had gone around clean. “Cecelia Archer on Fairhaven,” the announcer’s voice informed them. “Mrs. Archer is wearing the sash that denotes she is presently our leading Open Jumper Rider.” Cecelia put Fairhaven at the first fence, and with calm deliberation, he went around clean.

The first jump-off saw ten horses come out and six go clean. The second jump-off saw three go clean, and Fairhaven was one of them. As the men came out to raise the fences for the third jump-off Gil turned to his father-in-law. “This is insane. I would never have let her do this if I’d known what it entailed. For God’s sake, Ricardo, she’s pregnant!”

“Cecelia knows what she is doing,” his father-in-law returned imperturbably. He turned to direct a penetrating brown stare at Gil’s face. “She doesn’t try to keep you from your work, does she?”

“It’s not the same thing,” said Gil.

“Why not? This is Cecelia’s moment and she deserves it. She is one of the best natural riders over jumps I have ever seen—and I do not say that just because she is my daughter. She has an instinct that can’t be taught—a feel for the stride of the horse, the position and height of the fence.” The in gate opened and the Italian horse Fabrizio came into the ring. “Now watch,” commanded Ricardo, and both men fell silent as the rider from the Italian Equestrian Team pointed his horse at the six-foot-ten-inch wall. The big black seemed to soar over it effortlessly and then took the spread with equal ease. “He is very good,” murmured Ricardo.

“Who?” said Gil. “Horse or rider?”

“Both,” answered Ricardo. “Here is Cecelia.”

Gil’s knuckles were white with pressure from his grip on his program. He watched his wife canter toward the fence and groaned to Ricardo, “She’s going too slow!”

“No,” said his father-in-law. “Three or four driving strides are all she needs before takeoff. Fairhaven has good impulsion.” Almost as soon as Ricardo had finished speaking Fairhaven began to drive at the wall. Cecelia was well forward in the saddle, and as the horse left the ground she remained perfectly still. Having brought him properly to the jump, she sat quietly and let him take it without hindrance. And take it he did, smoothly and with his knees tucked well up. “Beautiful,” said Ricardo as horse and rider proceeded to take the spread with equal confidence.

The third rider, Roderick Smith of the USET, did not have the fortune of the first two. His horse knocked down the wall and was out of the competition with a third. The jury announced that there would be a fourth jump-off between Giorgio Luchiani of the Italian Equestrian Team and Cecelia Archer. The wall would be raised to seven feet two inches.

“Jesus Christ,” said Gil. He felt sick.

Ricardo said nothing as he watched the crew raising the height of the wall. “What is the highest Cecelia has ever jumped before?” Gil demanded of his father-in-law.

“Before tonight do you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Six and a half feet.”

“Great,” said Gil. “That’s just great. Suppose the bloody horse crashes?”

“He won’t fall, Gil. Calm yourself.” But for all his reassuring words, Ricardo looked pale. He had not expected Fairhaven to be this good.

The Italian horse and rider came out of the gate. Giorgio Luchiani was a veteran of many European puissance classes and he did not make the mistake of rushing the wall. The black made what looked like a successful jump but at the very end his hind feet nicked the top of the wall and knocked it down. “He took off too soon,” said Ricardo. “That is always the temptation on these big fences. I hope Cecelia has the sense to wait.”