Gold Medal Horse (5 page)

Drew smiled another sad smile. “He was too good a horse for a rider like me,” he said. “He was capable of so much more than I was ever going to be capable of. I loved him, but I knew I was holding him back, so I sold him to a professional rider who could take him to higher levels of competition.”

“Then what happened?” Stevie said. “Where is he now?”

Drew shook his head. “That’s the worst thing,” he said. “I don’t know where he is. I tried to keep in touch with him—I wanted to know everything about him—but first he injured a tendon in his leg while galloping in his pasture, and he couldn’t be ridden for a year. Then he was sold to a rider in California. I think they must have changed his name, because I never heard a word about him again. It was years ago that I rode him. He could be dead.”

Drew looked anguished. “I don’t want Nigel to push Southwood,” he said, “but I want him to have a chance. What if something happens to him, like it did to Prospero? Prospero should have had a chance.”

Lisa looked at her friends. They all felt enormously sad for Drew, who obviously loved Prospero very much.
He loved Prospero enough to sell him to a better rider
, Lisa thought, realizing how much courage that had taken. She remembered when her old beloved lesson horse, Pepper, had grown old and sick. She had made the decision to end Pepper’s suffering, and it was one of the hardest and best decisions she’d ever made. Drew’s selling Prospero sounded like the same kind of choice.

“I’m so sorry,” Carole said softly. “Maybe Prospero’s doing really well in California. Maybe he’s a champion event horse.”

Drew shook his head. “I subscribe to a magazine that
covers all the show results. They publish photographs of the winners. I’d recognize him if I ever saw him. Whatever he’s doing, he isn’t winning.” He tightened his reins involuntarily, and his horse tossed its head. “I don’t want that to happen to Southwood!”

They had ridden in a loop along the far fence of the horse park and were nearly back to the start of the ride. The Saddle Club was silent, thinking. Finally Stevie spoke.

“None of us knows more than Dorothy or Nigel,” she said. “But, Drew, what you say makes at least as much sense as what Nigel said to us last night. We’re willing to help you convince Nigel. We’d like to see Southwood do well.”

The others nodded. “It’s a Saddle Club project,” Lisa said.

Drew looked grateful. “Thanks.”

W
EDNESDAY MORNING
T
HE
Saddle Club woke up early enough to head to the horse park with Dorothy and Nigel. Nigel had to go to a competitors’ meeting, but he invited them all to go on the official course walk with him afterward. Walking the cross-country course was the only way the riders could plan their strategy: The horses weren’t allowed to see any of the fences until they were asked to jump them. The Saddle Club had walked a course with Nigel in North Carolina, and they enjoyed seeing all the enormous fences up close.

Dorothy parked her station wagon near the stables, and Nigel hurried off to his meeting. The girls walked with
Dorothy to the stables and were admiring a handsome blood bay horse near the entrance when Drew rushed out to meet them. “Hey!” he said. “You still haven’t met Eddy! I know where he is—don’t move, I’ll go get him!”

Stevie clapped her hand over her mouth and shrieked. “Ohmigosh!” she said. “I left my purse in the station wagon! We’ve got to run—someone could steal it!” She grabbed Lisa’s hand and the three of them fled.

“Stevie,” Carole said, gasping, “you don’t have a purse.”

Stevie grinned. “Quick thinking, wasn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Lisa replied. They ran past the parking lot and leaned against a tree until they’d caught their breaths. “Now,” Lisa said, “what should we do until the course walk?”

On the day before, they’d located the dressage and show-jumping rings, visited the Pony Club’s office, and watched a film about horses in the main horse-park building. Lisa pulled a battered park map out of her pocket. “Let’s visit the Breeds Barn,” she suggested.

As its name indicated, the Breeds Barn was filled with horses of all sorts of breeds, both familiar and rare, from all over the world. The girls walked past stalls containing a Thoroughbred, an Arabian, a Morgan, a quarter horse, a Welsh pony, an Appaloosa, and a Saddlebred. All of those were types of horses they had at Pine Hollow. They
paused to admire the different kinds of giant draft horses, the Austrian Lipizzaner, and the Peruvian Paso Fino. Finally they stopped in amazement in front of a stall containing the hairiest pony they’d ever seen. Its mane and forelock cascaded down its neck, and its thick black coat rippled in heavy waves.

“What is it?” Stevie asked. She gave the pony a pat, and it snuffled her hand.

Carole read the card. “ ‘Bashkir Curly.’

“ ‘Bashkiria was a remote area in the former Soviet Union,’ ” Carole continued to read. “And I guess the curly part is self-explanatory,” she said with a giggle.

“I’d say so,” Lisa agreed.

Before they knew it, it was time for the course walk. Consulting Lisa’s map, they joined Dorothy and Nigel at the second fence to avoid going back near the stables. Fortunately, Lisa thought with relief, Drew was too busy to go on the walk, and Eddy didn’t seem to be interested because he hadn’t come along.

The Saddle Club had seen difficult cross-country fences before, but these were the hardest yet. While Nigel walked carefully around each obstacle, planning exactly where and how he and Southwood should jump it, the girls climbed on top of each one and marveled that any horse
would
jump it. The fifth fence, called the Footbridge, was built over a ditch and was nearly six feet wide.
Stevie stood in the ditch. The rails of the fence were higher than her head. “Awesome,” she declared.

Dorothy leaned over a rail and looked down at Stevie. “The horses jump both sides together,” she reminded her. “On the outside, the fence is only about four feet tall.”

“Oh, only four feet,” Lisa muttered with a touch of sarcasm. “That’s not much.” Four feet! When would she ever jump four feet high—let alone six feet wide!

“What’s the purpose of the ditch, then?” Carole asked. Her eyes were gleaming; she loved learning everything about riding. She’d always thought of becoming a show jumper, but eventing thrilled her, too. Maybe she’d do both.

Dorothy laughed. “To scare the rider. The horses won’t look at it, probably, unless the rider seems nervous.”

“Are you nervous, Nigel?” Lisa asked.

“Right now, no.” Nigel grinned. “At three in the morning on the day I have to jump these things, I’ll be very nervous. And when it comes time to actually ride, I won’t be nervous at all.” Dorothy rolled her eyes disbelievingly. “Well,” Nigel amended, “maybe a little nervous.”

Farther into the course they came to a fence shaped like a giant V laid parallel to the ground. A big tree grew in the middle of the V.

“Dorothy,” Carole asked while Nigel walked away from
the fence to study the approach, “you taught us about the flags on the jump—you said the riders had to keep the red flag on their right and the white one on their left. That way they’d always know from which direction to jump the fence.”

Dorothy nodded. “That’s right.”

Lisa saw the problem right away. “On this fence there are two white flags—on the outsides of the V—and only one red flag—on the point in the middle. How do you jump it?”

Dorothy explained. “This is an option fence. You have to jump between all the flags, but in this case you have a choice of two ways. You can go over both arms near the very corner of the V, right against the red flag, in a single jump, or you can jump both arms of the V as separate jumps.”

“But there’s a tree growing in the middle,” Stevie protested. “You’d have to go around it.”

“That’s right,” Dorothy said. “Lots of horses don’t like jumping corners, and if you aim too close to the corner of the V you risk having your horse duck around the fence. That costs a lot of penalty points. On the other hand, if you jump the arms separately and go around the tree, it will take much longer. This course has to be ridden at a gallop, and if you go over the time limit you get penalized for that, too.”

Nigel came up and was looking at the backside of the V. “Option fences make difficult courses like this suitable for a variety of horses,” he said. “The short, direct routes are harder, but the easier routes take longer. If your horse isn’t ready for the harder routes, you can still get through the course safely, but you won’t be fast enough to win.”

“They do that at the Olympics, too,” Dorothy said. “They build all the really hard courses with some easier options. They always want the horses to be safe.”

“Oh.” Carole looked at the fence thoughtfully. “How will you jump this one, Nigel?” Nigel flushed and exchanged glances with Dorothy. Carole realized, to her dismay, that her question made him uncomfortable.

“Southwood could do the fast route, couldn’t he?” Stevie asked. Like Carole, she was aware of the faint tension between Dorothy and Nigel. On the other hand, it was a Saddle Club project to get Southwood to the Olympics. “I bet he could, a great horse like him.”

“Probably.” Nigel gave a small laugh. “Corners are one of the worst types of obstacles,” he said. “You have to ride them accurately and absolutely know that your horse will listen to you. I’ll—mmm—well, I’ll probably go the long route here.”

“But it’s so long,” Carole said before she could stop herself. Nigel looked unhappy, and Carole wished she’d kept quiet.

“All the riders memorize all the options on the fences,” Dorothy said quietly. “That way they can change their plan in the middle of the course if they have to, if their horse is going worse than they expected—or better.” She smiled at Nigel and slipped her arm through his. Nigel looked at her affectionately, and The Saddle Club felt relieved. Dorothy and Nigel felt differently about what Southwood could do, but they weren’t quarreling.

At the end of the course walk, Nigel invited them to lunch. “We’ll go back to the stables and pick up Drew and Eddy,” he said.

“Thanks, but—” Lisa looked at her friends.

“—but we’re dying to go on another trail ride,” Carole said firmly. “We had such a wonderful time yesterday. And we ate such big breakfasts that we really aren’t hungry. Do you mind?”

“Can’t keep you off horses, can we?” Nigel said. “Okay, have fun—but don’t ask those rental horses to jump any of the fences!”

“I can’t believe you said we weren’t hungry,” Stevie told Carole as they walked across the park. “My stomach’s about to eat my liver for lunch.”

“What I can’t believe is that you said we wanted another trail ride,” Lisa said. “Yesterday’s was so lame! But thanks, Carole. I don’t think I could have thought of an excuse fast enough.”

“So far we’re definitely winning the game of Dready Eddy,” Stevie said. “And look! A hot dog cart!”

After two chili cheese dogs apiece they felt fortified and ready for the trail ride. “Oh, fiery steeds,” murmured Stevie as they approached.

This time there weren’t any other tourists waiting to ride, and the guide recognized them from the day before. She seemed glad to see them. “Hurry!” she said. “Get on and let’s leave, before some more tourists show up and we have to take them.”

The girls laughed. “Do you get lots of women in sandals?” Lisa asked.

The guide rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe,” she said. “But I can tell you all know how to ride.”

They started out. Lisa rode her sad horse from the day before, and Carole rode the same bay. Stevie picked a pinto that reminded her a little of Stewball, the horse she rode at her friend Kate’s ranch. “Only Stewball has an engine,” she said, complaining about the pinto’s poky stride. “This horse feels like a motor scooter.”

“ ‘A horse is a horse, of course, of course,’ ” sang Lisa.

“Not when it’s a moped,” Stevie replied darkly.

Carole used her legs to urge her horse on. “I feel like mine’s a bicycle,” she said. “I’m doing all the work.”

They followed the level path around the side of the
park. Once they’d given the horses a chance to warm up, the guide said they could trot—and when the three girls all rose smoothly to a trot, the three horses perked up their ears and moved more willingly. “Poor ponies,” Lisa said soothingly, patting her gray horse. “They’re so used to people bouncing on their backs. No wonder they don’t want to move.”

They turned the corner so that they were now following the fence line along the front of the park. Trucks whooshed down the highway just across the fence, but the trail horses seemed oblivious to them.

Stevie turned in her saddle to speak to Lisa. “This really is bor—Arrhh!” She shrieked as her horse gave a sideways leap and whirled, then stood with muscles trembling, ears pointing toward the fence. “What was that for?”

The other horses jumped, too. For a moment Carole felt her balance slipping. She grabbed her horse’s mane and stayed on.
That’s what I get for not paying attention
, she scolded herself. She knew a rider could fall off any horse, anytime.

“Oh, no!” Lisa’s voice rose high in panic. Suddenly the riders could see what had spooked their horses—a lone horse, a skinny, haggard-looking, almost-white horse, plunging toward them across four lanes of traffic!