Chapter 2

“There’s plenty of room for both of us,” I said stoutly.

Her frown deepened. “Stay out of my way, then!”

Oh, I will!I thought.

As soon as Besca and I reached the mounting block in the far corner of the huge arena, Debbie rode Darcy directly towards us, swerving at the last moment.

“Ooops, sorry!” she laughed, and cantered away.

But Besca was unperturbed. Her racing career had accustomed her to being crowded out by other horses. As I swung gently into the saddle, I wondered how Debbie’s precious Darcy would react to being charged at.

That impressive black horse was performing flying changes.

Debbie was asking him to change canter lead every single stride, which is difficult to execute. Darcy switched easily from the left to right lead, but had difficulty changing from right to left. His rider swore at him every time he fluffed the movement.

The animal was trying hard, but he appeared sore in his left foreleg, which explained to me why he didn’t want to land on it. Yet Debbie kept pushing him.

There was nothing I could do to help poor Darcy. Debbie wasn’t going to take helpful comments from me.

Looking away, I asked Besca for an active walk and, to loosen her muscles, I practiced shoulder-ins and leg yields…while keeping an eagle eye out for Debbie, who nearly ran into us several times.

Thus preoccupied, I failed to immediately notice the man resting his elbows on the half-door of the arena entrance whose presence contributed to Debbie’s frustration with Darcy.

Besca was getting nicely into her stride. I progressed to trot and canter and was pleased with how relaxed and cooperative she was. My only sadness was that none of the team captains appreciated how much our partnership had improved over the past four weeks. Surelyoneof them could have let us ride tomorrow?

Two of the five teams had three riders, one short of the allowed four. Only the three best scores accounted for the team’s total. My bad fourth score could be dropped and I wouldn’t have ruined any team’s chance of winning…

When I cantered past the exit, I spotted the male spectator. I’d seen him hanging around the arena before, with the air of a professional horseman. Was he spotting riding talent? If so, Debbie was a good one to watch; she and Darcy were a formidable combination.

Not so my leggy Thoroughbred and I.

Besca stood out from the German warm-bloods like a goose among swans. She didn’t possess those floating gaits which draw winning scores from the judges. And I lacked the youth and talent of the other riders, who were in their twenties and thirties and much more accomplished. I was in my forties, with way less riding experience.

Even so, ever since the competition was posted a month ago, I’d been working daily with Besca, praying for acceptance on one of those teams!

But it hadn’t happened, and I was the only rider at Goldwell Stables who wasn’t in tomorrow’s show.

However, my riding hadimproved hugely, thanks to greater effort spurred on by that goal of competing. My aids were more subtle—Besca didn’t throw her head when I asked for canter, or snatch the reins out of my hands when transitioning to walk. And she no longer wobbled her head from side to side in trot like a confused old lady.

If a team captain had been watching us, she’d have appreciated our new harmony. But none of them had.

Debbie was still pounding away on Darcy when our workout finished.

I wanted to reward Besca with a short, relaxing trail ride, and dismounted in the middle of the arena. My exit request of “Door, please!” to Debbie was disregarded.

With a sigh, I led Besca to the half door, where the tall man removed his elbows and opened it. He looked around thirty. The front of his black baseball cap was embroidered with the white outline of a dressage horse, containing the letters BW, and his black jacket sported the same logo.

Definitely a professional.

He doffed his cap as we came through. “Thanks,” I responded, and we exchanged smiles.

“Pretty horse,” he remarked. “She did well for you today.”

He was just being nice, and probably said that to everyone, but my spirits were enormously buoyed. “Thank you!”

I was on cloud nine as my little mare walked along the dirt trail, and for a while even forgot to be disappointed at not making a team.

This natural environment provided quality time with my horse. None of the other boarders took advantage of this wonderful way to chill out after a stressful work session, although I never understood why. Once a week, I only rode here instead of in the arena.