Sundancer (23 page)

The announcer called, “Would the owner of this Jack Russell Terrier get him out of the ring? Pronto.”

Sunny couldn't wait. He flicked at the dog with a rear hoof and never missed a beat. The Jack Russell rolled away like a rugby ball, then scrambled to his feet. He yapped and snarled and charged at Sunny again as they turned into the line of difficult jumps.

Bird glanced down at the angry terrier. Go away! Go!

It's my job!

I'll give you a bone if you stop.

Promise?

Yes. Find me after.

The little dog turned and ran out of the ring. Bird would have to get her hands on a bone somehow, but she couldn't worry about that now.

The line of four jumps curved diagonally across the ring, from one corner to the other. They were all different, and spaced differently as well. The first was made of wooden blocks painted like a red brick wall. There were three strides to a curved white plank fence, then five strides to large bicycle tires lined up between two steel standards. The last jump was four strides after that, and the oddest of the line. It appeared as if three black-and-white cows were looking at them, face forward.

One at a time, Sunny.

How else do you expect me to do this? Look over them, Bird girl, not at them.

Sunny didn't glance at any of them. He took one after the other without a care in the world. Now, there was the water jump followed by the triple combination, and the course would be complete.

Leave this to me, Bird girl. I've figured it out. Just sit tight, heels down. Give me lots of rein, and, again, look over the jumps.

Sunny gathered himself on his haunches and sprang over the water. The triple combination loomed up in front of them. Sunny's ears went up and he lifted off. They landed the first. Two strides to the second. Take off. And over.

The dog was back. Right on the landing spot.

Sunny was surprised. He avoided the dog but crashed through the last jump of the triple combination.

No bone for you!

I don't care.
The brown-and-white spotted dog disappeared into the crowd.

Bird and Sunny walked out of the ring. His head drooped.

It wasn't your fault, Sunny. You know that.

I should have landed on him and killed him.

You did the right thing. We're still in second place.

Yes. For now. There are twenty more horses in this class, and they smell blood.

The announcer's voice rang over the sound system. “The judge has been asked to review the last round. Interference has been called, due to an unrestrained animal on the course.” There was a murmur in the stands as everyone discussed this unexpected turn of events. “We will continue with the show, and announce the judge's decision in due time.”

Bird was pleased. Someone had objected.

“Number 316, Genesee Valley. Owned by Prescott Stud, ridden by Holly Fergus.”

The young bay gelding spooked at the plastic owl on the first fence and had a difficult time regaining his confidence. By the time he faced the row of cows, he was finished. He spun on his haunches and raced for the exit. The harassed rider excused herself as her mount pushed past the waiting horses. “Sorry!” she called. “Excuse us! Sorry.”

Bird felt bad for horse and rider, but her mind was elsewhere. Now that she thought about it, that little brown-and-white dog looked familiar.

Sunny, that dog. Did you recognize him?

Sure. That's Buzz.

Buzz?

The Tall Man's dog.

Now I remember. At the Rockhill Show. You don't think …

Yes, I do.

Why didn't you say something?

You didn't ask.

Hmmm. Let's go for a walk.

Bird and Sunny walked around the tent stalls until they found the ones belonging to Owens Enterprises. Navy-blue curtains with gold lettering. Nobody was there. Presumably, they were all out watching the show. A whining noise came from a curtained stall decorated with red-and-blue ribbons.

Bird asked,
Is that you, Buzz?

Yes. He locked me up.

Tsk, tsk. And after you did such a good job of upsetting us.

He told me to go get 'em! I do what I'm told or else.

You could've been hurt.

I'm quick! I never get hurt.

I hope not
. Bird meant it. She was about to tell him not to do it again, but she knew he wouldn't listen. Terriers never do. Jack Russels especially.

They walked back to the ring, coming around a different way. The tiny judge's booth was crowded with people. Bird saw Kenneth Bradley, Elvin Wainright, Pete Pierson, and two other men. One was the judge, Bird guessed. She didn't know the other.

She watched as Mr. Pierson painfully descended the steps, looking quite angry. So he was the one who had cried foul. Good old Mr. Pierson. Bird felt a stab of gratitude in her chest.

Elvin followed. His wide-brimmed hat obscured his expression, but Bird sensed a smug energy. Her grandfather and the stranger came last, leaving the judge alone in the booth. He spoke quietly into a phone.

Thirty seconds later, the loudspeaker crackled. “May I have your attention, please. The judge has made his decision regarding the interference call. No concessions will be made due to natural causes. The round will stand as it is. Number 297, Sundancer, ridden by Alberta Simms, has four faults. They are currently in second place, before the jump-off round, with sixteen rides completed and fourteen more to come.”

Bird was resigned. They'd done their best.

Sunny was upset.
It's not fair! I would have gone clear!

We'll have another chance at it. If not today, another time.

That's not the point! They cheated.

Bird observed her grandfather with his arm around the stranger's shoulder, walking toward the tent stalls.

The show went on. “Number 238. Whiskey Road. Owned by Seabright Stables and ridden by Alicia Cawthron.”

Bird and Sunny casually followed the men, staying out of their line of vision. The two men disappeared into the curtained room at the Owens Enterprises stalls.

17
THE SWITCHEROO

I'm big. I'm a bit of a stallion.

The announcer's voice echoed again throughout the fair grounds. “May I have your attention please. The four finalists in our Grand Classic Event today are as follows, from first place to fourth.”

Bird was frozen with anticipation. Sunny's ears flicked around.

We've got fourth, Bird girl, if I'm right about the paint's timing and the skinny mare's foot in the water.

“First is number 276, Leon Parish on Hurricane. Second is number 372, Jen Jefferies on Paramour. Third is number 310, Harold Smart riding Southern Comfort. Fourth is number 297, Alberta Simms on Sundancer.”

Bird could hardly believe it. She sat on Sundancer in stunned silence.

“Again, numbers 276, 372, 310, and 297. Please come to the judge's booth to make your draw for the Switcheroo.”

Hannah and Abby came down from the stands to help Bird. Both women were grinning ear to ear.

“I can't believe they didn't give you a break on the dog incident, Bird,” said Hannah as she finished brushing the dried sweat from Sunny's coat.

“They rarely do,” Abby said. “Stuff happens. Sometimes the wind comes up and knocks over a flowerpot. Sometimes it suddenly starts to pour. I had a toddler run out on the course once. His mother ran after him and scooped him up, yelling like crazy. Dancer kept on going, like Sunny did today, but another horse might have reacted badly. You take your chances and go with it.” She smiled at Bird and continued wiping down the tack. “You handled it beautifully, Bird, even with all that interference. You only had one rail down.”

Hannah brushed some dust off Bird's jacket and bent down to wipe her boots. She straightened the cardboard number on Bird's back. “Now, away we go. You can ride the pants off any of those riders.”

“Absolutely,” said Abby as she held Sundancer's lead shank. “You have the advantage. Show me a horse that you can't connect with.”

Should I win or should you win, Bird girl?

I wouldn't put it like that.

No? Well, if I have a clear round with my new rider and you don't, then I win. I can make that happen or not.

Bird rubbed his ears.
You're a better horse than I am a rider. Go out there and look good. Do your best, Sunny, and so will I.

So you don't care who wins?

If you win, I'll feel as good as if I win. We're partners. I just hope that one of us wins.

Abby held Sundancer while Bird went to the judge's booth. Hannah went along to make sure that Leon didn't try to pull a fast one.

Just one thing, Bird girl.

What, Sunny?

Whatever you do, don't let Fancy Pants draw me.

I'll do my best, but the odds are a problem.

Leon sauntered across the ring at the same time, ignoring them completely.

Harold Smart and Jen Jefferies were already in the booth when Hannah, Bird, and Leon stepped in. It was quite crowded.

“Leon Parish, you go first. Reach in and pull out a name. If you draw your own horse, draw again.”

Leon put his hand in the blue jar and brought out a folded piece of white paper.

“Give it to me,” requested the judge. Leon did as he was told.

“Sundancer. You will ride Sundancer fourth.”

Oops, thought Bird.

“Can I draw again?” Leon looked aghast. “I grabbed two and dropped one, but I meant to drop this one.”

The judge gave Leon a stern look. He simply replied, “No.”

“I ride last?” asked Leon. “I don't like to ride last.”

“As outlined in the rules, contestants ride in the spot designated by the placing of each horse. Now, Jen Jefferies, please.”

Jen was an affable woman in her mid-thirties. Everyone liked her, mostly because she was genuinely nice to people, and didn't involve herself in horse show politics. She reached into the blue jar.

“Southern Comfort. You will ride third.”

Jen nodded. “Thank you. Do we get a practise jump?”

“Yes. You get two practise jumps in the warm-up ring. I will supervise that after the draw. Okay, then. Next name. Harold Smart.”

Harold, dapper and lean, could be seen modelling riding apparel in several horse magazines. One benefit for him was that he got his clothes free of charge. All the young male riders tried to keep up with his changing styles, but he was always one step ahead of the fashion trends. He pulled a slip of paper from the jar and gave it to the judge.

“Paramour. You'll ride second.”

The judge turned to Bird. “By the process of elimination, you will ride Hurricane, and you will go first. This worked out very nicely. No one drew their own horse. We'll proceed to the warm-up ring now, and get this show on before the crowd gets bored and goes home.”

Hannah and Bird found Abby and Sundancer where they'd left them. Hannah filled in Abby about the draw.

“You're serious?” she asked Hannah. “Leon on Sunny?” Hannah and Bird nodded together. They all started to laugh.

I don't see what's so funny.

You don't, Sunny?

No. Fancy Pants has some nerve to get on my back again.

That's exactly what's so funny.

Funny for you, maybe. I can't stand him.

The riders put their own saddles over the saddle pads of the horse they had drawn. Each mounted carefully, unsure of the temperament of the unknown horse. Bird felt Hurricane's power and sanity immediately.

I'm glad you're riding me.

I'm glad I drew you, Silver. You're a wonderful horse.

They walked into the warm-up ring. The judge instructed two teenaged grooms on how to place the practice jump, and one at a time the riders took their new mounts over. Hurricane had a gorgeous round form over jumps. Bird smiled with pleasure.

The pole was raised. Again, the riders rode over the jump. There were no problems with any of the horses, and Sunny behaved himself like an old school horse.

Good boy, Sunny.

Don't worry. I'll be good if he will.

Suddenly, without warning, Hurricane bucked. It was a huge nose-diving, kick-the-moon type of buck, and Bird was not prepared. She was thrown off his back and hit the ground hard.

What did you do that for, Silver?

You stabbed me!

I did not.

Yes! On my back.

Let me look.

Get away from me!
Silver backed away with his eyes bulging wide. The grooms came running. One caught him before he could bolt.

I wouldn't hurt you, Silver. I just want to see what's going on.

You stabbed me in the back! It hurts.

Where?

Under the saddle.

How could I have done that? I was sitting on the saddle. Let me look.

Silver considered this, then calmed down.

Bird quietly walked over to Hurricane. She stroked his long neck, then unfastened the girth.

“What do you think you're doing?” yelled Leon from Sunny's back.

Bird ignored him. She slipped her saddle off Hurricane's back and placed it on the ground.

Leon jumped off Sunny to stop her.

Before he could reach her, she'd removed the saddle pad. Everyone gasped. An open stock pin was wedged into the muscle beside the spine on Silver's back. Blood had soaked through the Owens Enterprises saddle pad that was now laying on the ground. Bird turned to stare at Leon.

“What are you looking at? You stuck a pin in my horse!”

The judge irritably stalked over and took a good look. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Herb Rawlie here. Get the vet. Now. To the warm-up ring beside the Grand Prix.”

I see what hurt you, Silver.

What is it, Bird girl?

A big pin. The kind that riders wear at their necks. It's stuck in your back.

Abby and Hannah quickly arrived on the scene. Hannah hugged Bird and checked her from top to bottom to see that she was all right.

“Can you see clearly?” she asked. Bird nodded.

“What day is it?”

Bird rolled her eyes and pointed to her mouth. Then she made the gabbing motion with her right hand, and shook her head.

Hannah and Abby smiled. “She'll be just fine,” Abby said as she put her hand on Bird's shoulder.

Paul Daniels' truck stopped beside the ring. He came running with his medical bag. His eyes took in the entire situation and he went directly for Hurricane. He pulled on latex gloves and examined his back. With cotton pads soaked in antiseptic solution, Paul quickly removed the pin, then applied pressure with the pads. He stood beside the distressed animal and waited for the blood to coagulate.

Hannah asked Paul, “How did this happen?”

Paul pursed his lips. “If this is an accident, I'm a monkey's uncle.”

“You think someone did this on purpose?”

Herb Rawlie interrupted them. “I'd ask that no one speculates about how this happened. I don't want to accuse Alberta of wrongdoing.”

“Alberta?” gasped Hannah. “Why would she sabotage her chances of winning?”

“I don't want to accuse anyone of anything until we can sit down and piece it all together. The question now is whether the horse is capable of continuing.”

Paul was astonished. “This animal has been punctured by an unsterile object, deep into his latissimus dorsi. Edema is occurring rapidly, and the position of the wound is unfortunately situated directly under the saddle.”

The judge looked blank.

Hannah translated. “It's infected, it's swelling up, it hurts, and to put a saddle on it would be cruel and unusual punishment.” Paul nodded.

“So the answer is no?”

“The answer is no.” There was no hesitation in Paul's tone.

Bird felt deflated. A tear fell from her eye as she patted Hurricane's neck.

Another time, Silver.

I hope so. We could've won, you know.

Paul gave Hurricane a shot of Banamine to ease the pain and a shot of penicillin for infection. A groom from Owens Enterprises arrived and led the injured animal back to his stall.

Bird stood forlorn, saddle on her hip, without a horse to ride. The judge said briskly, “Now it's down to three. Let's get the show on the road.”

Leon couldn't disguise his glee. He rode up on Sunny and said to Bird, “The luck of the draw. Too bad for you.”

Bird stared at him, amazed.

No, Fancy Pants. Too bad for you.

Easy now, Sunny. You've got to win.

I can't. He makes me furious. I feel dangerous when he rides me.

Then scare him a little. But go fast and clean.

Give me one reason to make him look good.

Because that was our deal. One of us should win, and now it can't be me. Go out there, Sunny. Make us all proud.

Sunny stretched his neck to the ground and bowed at Bird's feet. “What's he doing? He's gonna roll!” shouted Leon. “Get up, you stupid horse!”

If you say so.
Sunny threw up his head and jumped up with his front legs. Leon was thrown back. He almost tumbled, but caught himself in time.

Bird covered her mouth to hide her smile.

Have some fun, Sunny. I'll be watching.

I'll do it for you. Not for Fancy Pants.

Bird couldn't go up to the stands; she was too agitated. She stood at the rails where she could see and hear everything. Abby stayed with her for moral support, while Hannah went back up to sit with the others.

The announcer's voice rang out. “Attention. Attention. Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. We now have three finalists, not four. Number 297, Alberta Simms, riding Hurricane, has withdrawn from the competition due to injury. Hurricane is expected to make a full and speedy recovery. The show will now commence. The Switcheroo will take place immediately, starting with Harold Smart, number 310, riding Paramour, Jen Jefferies' mount. Once again, thank you for your patience.”

Harold Smart looked immaculate but nervous. He breathed in and out twice, then gathered Paramour's reins.

“He takes hold turning right and runs away,” whispered Leon. “Watch out for that.”

Harold looked even more nervous. “Really? Thanks for the tip.” He trotted Paramour into the ring flexing his head to the right. Leon chuckled.

Bird stared at him in disbelief. She could not believe that a person would mislead his competition so blatantly at such a vulnerable moment.

Paramour, a tall leggy gelding with a bright bay coat, cantered through the starting gate and headed toward the white fence. He cleared it beautifully and landed lightly. They had to make a hard right to the multicoloured in-and-out. Harold heeded Leon's words and held back his horse, so they came into the first of the two jumps too slowly. Paramour cleared the first jump, but couldn't get enough propulsion and stopped at the second. Harold circled and took the in-and-out again, this time with vigor. By the set of his jaw, Bird knew that Harold had figured out Leon's game. Too late.

They soared over the brown oxer with the pots of geraniums. The optical illusion caused no problem for this seasoned jumper, but Harold didn't get him in straight to the red brick wall. The top layer of wooden boxes slid off and crashed to the ground. Paramour's ears flattened and he kicked out. He didn't like knocking down jumps. His hind feet rapped the white planks, and then, because he'd picked up too much speed, he had no room to jump from the base of the bicycle tires. He stopped again.

Harold Smart and Paramour were whistled out.

Bird thought they'd done remarkably well, considering that this was the first time they'd partnered each other. Not to mention the bad advice that Leon had given him going in.

“Number 372, Jen Jefferies, riding Southern Comfort. Southern

Comfort was ridden earlier this class by Harold Smart.”

Jen had been smart. She'd stayed far away from Leon who was flirting outrageously with her, so she rode in with no preconceptions. Southern Comfort, a big rangy chestnut with a blaze and snip, trotted in loosely and proudly. His flaxen mane and tail gave him a friendly look, like an overgrown Welsh pony.

By the time this duo was sailing through the line of four jumps down the diagonal, it was clear that this was the winning round. They got along comfortably, as if they'd been partnered before.

They headed toward the water jump. One foot splashed slightly on take-off. The crowd groaned. Southern Comfort completed the triple combination with ease, and they trotted out of the ring. Four faults. All because of a little water. Bird felt badly for them.

You said to scare him a little?

Bird turned to Sunny.
If you must.

I must. Watch me.

“The last of our finalists is coming in now. Number 276, Leon Parish, riding Sundancer. Alberta Simms rode him in the qualifying round.”

Sunny burst through the entrance and galloped through the starting gate. Leon held on for dear life, and try as he might, couldn't control the angry animal. Sunny hurled himself over the white vertical, and to add some zest, kicked the plastic owl right off the standard. Laughter filled the stands, encouraging Sundancer in his antics.

The multicoloured in-and-out was designed for two strides between jumps, but Sunny raced so fast that he did it in one. He screamed toward the brown oxer and tore over it, bucking as he landed. Leon Parish was now saying his prayers aloud.

The optical illusion was an obstacle that appeared straight from several angles, hence its name. Sunny took it from the extreme right so that he could shave off two strides into the line of four. Leon wasn't expecting that, so his balance was off. Sunny made a valiant effort to readjust his weight, and the two landed together.

The “brick” wall, land, two strides instead of three to the white planks. Land, four strides instead of five to the bicycle jump. Land, then three strides instead of four to the cows. Sunny was galloping full out. Leon's face was bright red. He was so rigid with fear that Bird thought he looked like a scarecrow tied to the saddle.

Sunny began to slow as he neared the water jump. Bird sighed with relief. She was glad that he remembered the tricky pacing. Now Sunny slowed to a crawl. He appeared to be cantering in slow motion with tiny strides. Then he suddenly hurled himself over the water. From where Bird was watching, it appeared as if he'd gone eight feet in the air, and landed an entire stride away from the lip of water. Leon most certainly had not expected this and he barely stayed on. He lost the reins and his stirrups. He groped fruitlessly for the reins as his feet searched in vain for the stirrups. They took off at the first of the triple. Sunny ignored the wailing Leon, the flapping reins, and the pounding stirrup irons as he jumped lightly and surely over the three last jumps and galloped through the timers.

The crowd was on its feet. Sunny danced along joyfully. He hop skip jumped to the center of the ring. He did a short dressage demonstration, with grand jettes and airs above the ground. Majestically, he pulled himself up on his hind legs, then took a deep bow. First to the east, then to the west.

Now that he'd found his stirrups and gathered the reins, Leon began to relax. Bird knew by the smile beginning to creep across his face that he realized that he'd won. Thirty thousand dollars plus the prestige. Leon took off his riding cap and waved it in the air. He stood up in his stirrups and bowed to the crowd.

Bird whistled under her breath. Big mistake. Sunny's ears went flat. With Leon in a vulnerable position, Sunny reared and shot out of the ring. Leon grabbed at Sunny's neck and managed to keep it together until they were past the exit. Safely out of the ring, therefore not eliminated by the rider touching the ground, Sunny dumped Leon face first on the hard ground.

Sunny trotted right over to Bird. He was so overcharged with adrenaline that Bird could hardly make out his thoughts.

Victorious! Completely victorious! Job done! Fancy Pants gone!

Calm down, Sunny.

Time perfect, no rails down! Tell me! How fabulous am I!

Bird laughed and patted his neck. The gelding pushed her chest with his nose and rubbed his face on her jacket. Bird scratched his ears happily.

You are totally fabulous.

I won! I won! Come for a victory lap!

No, Leon won, not me.

I won! Are you kidding? He's never getting on this horse again!

Sunny wouldn't take no for an answer. He twisted her in his snaking neck and pushed her toward his side.

Okay, Sunny. It's in bad taste, but who cares? It's your day!

Bird stuck her riding cap on her head and climbed up into the saddle. The two of them trotted into the ring. The audience was standing up to leave but sat when they realized that the show was not yet over. Sunny collected himself and arched his powerful neck. He cantered gracefully around the ring twice to a standing ovation and exited at a humble walk. Gone was the wild, crazy horse that had careered around the course at breakneck speed just a moment before. “Please stay in your seats as we make the presentation to the winner of the Grand Classic Event. Let's call in Leon Parish on Sundancer to receive his first-place ribbon, the Classic trophy, and a cheque for thirty thousand dollars! Mr. Leon Parish, please enter the ring on Sundancer!”

Bird hopped down from the saddle and handed the reins to Leon as he stumbled past.