Rules and Rumors
PAYTON GASPED. “WHAT?” SHE CRIED.
“Drugging horses?” Bess whispered to me. "That’s bad, right?”
"I’m guessing that’s a big yes,” I whispered back, my gaze skipping from Dana to Payton and back again. Both of them looked upset.
"How could someone say that?” Payton exclaimed. "It’s not true!”
"
I
know that, and
yo
u know that,” Dana said evenly. “So who’s trying to convince the stewards otherwise?”
"Who or what are the stewards?” George put in.
Dana blinked and glanced at her, looking impatient and a little confused. I had a feeling the trainer hadn’t even taken in Payton’s quick introduction. "The stewards are in charge of enforcing the rules of this competition,” Dana snapped. "Including the ones about not using illegal substances on the horses. Which somebody seems to think Payton is breaking. Just exactly what I need right
now to add drama to my already busy day.” She scowled at Payton.
Just then I heard Payton’s name coming over the loudspeaker. Payton heard it too.
"They’re calling me to the ring,” she said, her expression still tight and anxious. “I’d better go. We can figure this out after my round.”
"Whatever.” Dana hurried over to open the gate so Payton could ride out. Then the trainer strode off alongside the horse, letting loose with a rapid-fire barrage of instructions for Payton’s coming round. My friends and I trailed along at a safe distance behind the horse.
“Wow,” I said. “What do you think that’s all about?”
Ned shook his head. “I don’t know. But I can tell you one thing—Payton’s not a cheater. She wouldn’t dope her horses.”
“How
do you know?” George shot him a sidelong look. “You already said you haven’t seen her in a couple of years. What if she’s decided to do whatever it takes to get to the Olympics?”
“No. Payton’s just not like that,” Ned replied. “I told you, I’ve known her pretty much forever. She’s never even cheated at checkers.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “In fact, once when we were kids our families were spending the weekend together at the beach. We were digging in the sand and found this
fancy engraved pocketknife. I figured it counted as buried treasure and wanted to keep it.”
"Yeah, sounds like you,” George put in.
"Very funny,” I said, knowing she was kidding. Everyone knows Ned is pretty much the most honest guy in the Midwest.
He shrugged sheepishly. "I was young and the thing was cool, okay? But Payton wouldn’t rest until she tracked down the rightful owner.”
"Okay.” George didn’t seem convinced. “But that was then, and this is the
Olympics
.”
"Doesn’t matter.” Ned is usually pretty easygoing. But when he gets that stubborn look in his eye, there’s no changing his mind. "I know she’s not a cheater.”
We’d reached the main ring by then. Payton was already riding in, her horse’s ears pricked toward the colorful jumps.
“Come on, let’s go watch,” George said, hurrying toward a free row in the bleachers.
A buzzer sounded, and Payton sent her horse into a canter. "I hope she’s not so freaked out by what just happened that she gets distracted and messes up,” Bess fretted. “Those jumps look awfully big!”
"I wonder if that’s exactly why someone started the rumor
about her drugging her horses,” I said. "Maybe one of her competitors is trying to get an edge any way they can.”
"Would somebody really do that?” George said dubiously. “For a horse show?”
"Some of these shows can pay pretty decent prize money,” Ned said. "Payton’s father used to grumble about all the money he spent on Payton’s riding until she started winning jumper classes. That shut him up pronto.”
"Really? Then maybe it really was—ooh! That was close!” I interrupted myself as one of Payton’s horse’s hooves clunked against the fence he was jumping.
"It’s okay,” Bess said. “The rail didn’t come down. I’m pretty sure that means no penalties.”
We all stayed silent as we watched the rest of the round. None of the other rails came down either. When Payton brought her horse down to a trot after the last fence, I heard a loud whoop. Glancing toward the gate, I saw Dana at the rail pumping her fist.
“Maybe that’ll put Payton’s trainer in a better mood,” I quipped.
"I know, right?” George made a face. “I thought
Payton
seemed a little intense until Trainer Frowny Face came along.”
The crackle of the loudspeaker prevented any further comment from the rest of us. "That was Payton Evans with a clear round,”
the announcer said. “Which puts her in first place.”
A loud curse came from nearby. Glancing that way, I saw a short, lean man in his thirties kicking at a fence post with a scowl on his face. He was dressed in breeches and a polo shirt and had a riding crop tucked into the top of one tall boot.
My friends saw him too. "Looks like somebody’s not happy that Payton did so well,” George murmured.
"Yeah,” Bess added quietly. "I’m guessing he’s one of the ones who
didn’t
have a clear round.”
“He’s not the only one who doesn’t look thrilled.” I’d just spotted Jessica, the girl who’d almost run her horse into Payton’s earlier. She was riding toward the in-gate to start her round. But instead of focusing on her horse or the jumps, she was glaring at Payton.
"Come on, let’s go congratulate Payton.” Ned got up and hurried to meet Payton as she rode out of the gate.
The rest of us followed, arriving just as Payton slid down from the saddle beside Dana. "That was great!” I said. "We had a lot of fun watching you own that course.”
"Thanks.” Payton gave the horse a pat, then ran up her left stirrup. “He was really amazing, wasn’t he?”
Dana grabbed the reins and pulled them over the horse’s head,
leading him off almost before Payton could finish with the other stirrup. "Listen, you almost ate it at t
hat yellow oxer,” she told Pay
ton. “Looked like you took your leg off. I told you a million times you can’t do that, especially with this horse.”
"Yeah, sorry about that.” Payton didn’t argue. "I’ll remember from now
on.”
"You got away with it this time, but you won’t at Grand Prix heights.” Dana frowned. “You have to stay focused!”
I couldn’t help wincing. The trainer’s voice was awfully loud, and people were turning to stare curiously at her and Payton. But Payton didn’t seem to notice. She was nodding thoughtfully as Dana went on to detail every mistake Payton had made during the round.
"Wow,” George whispered in my ear. "And here I thought she just put herself into first place! You’d never know it listening to the Dana of Doom.”
Finally Dana’s cell phone chimed, interrupting her monologue. “I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly, glancing at the screen. "They need me over at the pony ring. I’ll meet you later to talk about your next class.” She tossed the horse’s reins at Payton and rushed off without waiting for a reply.
My friends and I caught up to Payton. "So when do you find out
if you won?” Ned asked her.
"Will there be a jump-off if someone else goes clear?” George added. "Those are fun to watch on TV.”
"There’s no jump-off in this particular class.” Payton unbuckled the chin strap of her riding helmet as she led the horse along the path leading to the barns. “So I just have to wait until everyone goes to find out the final placings.”
George looked disappointed. “No jump-off?”
“Nope, sorry.” Payton smiled. "But don’t worry, there will probably be one in the Grand Prix if you come to watch that. And some of the other jumper classes too.”
"Cool.” George immediately looked happier.
"Anyway, like I was saying before, we’re all really impressed with how you did just now.” I gave
George a sidelong look. "Jump-
off or no jump-off.”
"Yeah,” Bess said. “Especially considering that upsetting news you got right before you started.”
Payton shrugged. "I learned back when I was still riding ponies that I can’t let anything distract me when I’m in the ring. I just need to focus and get the job done, no matter what.” She cracked a
wry smile. "My dad calls it the Evans Edge.”
"The Evans Edge?” George grinned. “Love it! But now I need a
motto like that of my own.” She thought for a second. "How about the Fayne Fierceness?” She struck a pose like an action hero.
“More like the Fayne Fail,” Bess said.
Ned and I laughed while George shot her cousin a disgruntled look. "That’s still better than the Marvin Misery.”
We spent the rest of the walk inventing insulting names for one another. As soon as we arrived at the barn, though, we forgot all about that. There was too much to see. Horses were hanging their heads out over their stalls doors. Riders hurried here and there. Farther down the aisle, a farrier was tapping nails into the shoe of a patient horse.
As we headed down the aisle the opposite way, a young woman appeared. She was dressed in jeans and short boots, with a rag tucked into one back pocket and a hoof pick sticking out of the other. Her hair was a mess, and there was a big greenish smudge on the front of her T-shirt.
“Sorry I didn’t get up to the ring to meet you, Payton,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll take him now.”
“Thanks, Jen.” Payton handed the reins to the woman, who cooed at the horse as she led him away.
“Who’s that?” George asked as Jen and the horse disappeared around a comer. "Your personal servant? Must be nice.”
Payton laughed. “Not mine—the horse’s,” she said. “Jen is a groom. It’s her job to help take care of the horses. A big, busy barn like Dana’s couldn’t survive without a team of great grooms.” She patted a horse that was sticking its nose out over the nearest stall. “So would you guys like to meet my horses?”
“Sure, we’d love to!” Bess said. “How many do you have?” “Nine, but only four are at this show.” Payton headed down the aisle, with the rest of us following. “The rest are either youngsters or taking a break.”
“Nine horses? Wow.” George whistled. “And here I thought it was hard work taking care of my family’s dog!”
Payton laughed. "Luckily, I don’t have to take care of them all myself. Most of my horses live at Dana’s barn, where her amazing staff does all the hard work. All I need to do is show up and ride.” She stopped in front of a stall where a copper-colored chestnut with a blaze was nosing at a pile of hay. "Here’s one of my guys now...
She went on to show us a couple of more horses. "So which one are you riding in the Grand Prix?” Bess asked as she patted a pretty gray mare.
Payton smiled. “I was just about to introduce you to that one. Come on, let’s go see Midnight.”
We followed her to yet another stall. Inside stood a tall, impressive-looking dark bay without a speck of white on him anywhere. A weather-beaten man with slicked-back dark hair was running a brush down the horse’s long legs.
"This is Mickey,” Payton said, gesturing toward the man. “He’s Midnight’s groom.” She introduced us, though Mickey hardly looked up from his task.
"Midnight is gorgeous,” Bess said, reaching out to touch the horse’s velvety nose. The horse sniffed her hand, then snorted loudly, blowing horse snot all over Bess’s face and dress.
"Yeah, and he knows it!” Payton laughed. “He’s quite a character. Hope he didn’t get you too gross.”
“No biggie,” Bess said with a smile, reaching into her purse for a tissue. That’s one of the good things about Bess. She might look all girly and delicate, but it takes more than a little horse snot to faze her!
Payton turned to Mickey. “I was thinking of taking him out for some hand grazing, if that’s okay.”
Mickey just nodded, reaching for the halter hanging just outside the stall door and quickly buckling it onto the horse’s big head. Then Payton clipped a lead line to Midnight’s halter and led him out.
“Wow, he looks even bigger out here,” George commented.
“I guess a bigger horse must make those Grand Prix jumps look smaller, huh?” I joked.
Payton chuckled. "It doesn’t hurt,” she agreed. “Do you guys want to tag along while I graze him?” She reached into her pocket and held her hand up to the horse’s muzzle. I wasn’t close enough to see what she’d pulled out, but whatever it was, the horse slurped it up eagerly and then nuzzled her for more.
"What do you feed a horse like Midnight?” I asked. "Treats, I mean—like you just gave him.”
“My horses love all kinds of treats.” Payton gave a light tug on the lead to get Midnight moving. "Most of them aren’t too picky— they’ll eat carrots, apples, mints, whatever. One or two are more particular, but most horses have at least one or two favorite snacks.”
"Just like people, huh?” Ned said.
We left the bam and headed over to a grassy area near the fence separating the fairgrounds from the parking lot. The bright sunlight bounced off the bumpers and mirrors of the many cars parked out there, and Midnight snorted and danced in place at first as he took it all in. But he settled quickly, lowering his head and nibbling at the grass.