In my first lesson back, Carol said the United States Dressage Federation was going to create a national competition, just for Junior riders, ages fourteen to eighteen. Since I was seventeen, I was eligible to try and qualify for that show.
“I don’t know,” I said, hesitantly, not wanting to ever repeat the disaster from the Festival of Champions show.
“If you want to make it as badly as you say you do, one little show wouldn’t change your mind,” she said.
“It wasn’t one little show—it was the biggest show of my life!” I declared.
“How are you ever going to get anywhere if you give up?” she said.
“I won’t,” I said.
“Exactly, you won’t give up,” she clarified for me.
“We’ll do the Oakwood shows and then some little local shows over the summer. If you don’t have the scores you need by September, we’ll go to Connecticut, where they have some more shows. The Juniors show is in October, so at least that buys us some time,” she strategized.
“One thing we really need to do though, is to find Moony the right bit, and you need to get a set of spurs, and ride in them every day,” she instructed.
“OK,” I said.
I had discovered a company that specialized in tack of all sizes. I ordered the smallest bit and spurs they sold, and crossed my fingers.
__________
When the bit arrived, I found Carol and asked for her opinion on how it fit. She slid it into Moonshine’s mouth. “Hmm . . . looks like I can put in one finger on each side. The port doesn’t look too high or low. It’s not hitting his bars . . . looks like we have a winner!” she said.
“Really?” I asked in disbelief.
“Go get your bridle, take off your bit and put this one on, let’s see how he likes it,” she instructed.
I ran to the tack room, unfastened the buckles of the old bit and attached the new bit to the bridle. I hurried back to Moony’s stall, where Carol stood waiting. I handed her the bridle.
“OK, let’s see if this fits,” she said as she slid the bridle on Moonshine’s head.
“Looks good to me,” she said as she checked it on both sides, and lifted the corners of his mouth to see how the bit looked inside.
“Tack up, I’ll meet you in the indoor,” she said.
I tacked him up quickly, got on, and we walked to the indoor, where she waited with Gunilla by the office.
“Pick up the contact,” Carol called to me.
I picked up the reins, shortening them gradually. Moonshine did not object. He simply chewed softly on the bit, a sign that he accepted it.
“Super!” I heard Carol say from the office. “Warm him up as usual, I’ll be right back,” she said. I warmed up. Moonshine felt soft in the contact, and light off of my legs, but still reaching for the bit. This was the feeling I had been reading about for years in all of the dressage books and magazines I read.
“Wow,” Gunilla said as she came out of the office with Carol. “Looks like we finally have a bit!”
I kept Moonshine working, but a smile took over my face. I had to try again, I couldn’t quit now.
“OK, Victoria, take a break,” Carol called.
As I brought Moonshine back to a walk, I looked over to Carol and asked, “So when is our first show?”
__________
That summer, both trainers were determined to help me and Moonshine reach our highest potential. I was allowed to work as Carol’s working student again, so that I could practice on other horses, and improve my seat. Sometimes Carol gave me mini-lessons on those horses, but I still got my hour-long lessons on Moonshine. When I wasn’t riding Moony in a lesson and Carol wasn’t around, Gunilla appeared to give me tips and pointers. Gunilla also had me ride the sale horses she hadn’t sold yet. There was no more pressure to buy; now the focus was to feel the movements on trained horses and translate that to Moonshine.
That show season, Moonshine and I consistently earned respectable scores, never getting scores lower than 60%. I knew we had a chance to qualify for the National Juniors Championships that fall.
Then, one day, at the end of the summer, I tacked Moony up for a lesson with Carol. I walked him for ten minutes, like I always did, before I asked him to pick up the trot to warm up. But as soon as he started trotting, I felt him limping. I sat back in the saddle to stop him, “Whoa, Moon.”
But he grabbed the bit in his teeth and wouldn’t stop—he actually sped up. At the higher speed, the limp was more obvious.
“Hey, Victoria! Your horse is lame!” Gunilla shouted from the barn.
“I know! He won’t stop, though!” I yelled back, hoping people wouldn’t think I was asking him to keep trotting.
“Just stop him!” she yelled back, more forcefully.
I understood the concern, if he kept trotting on a bad leg, he could do more damage, possibly career-ending damage. But Moony was so stubborn, he wouldn’t stop. I had to pull back with all my weight, and steer him into a corner to stop him.
Jean saw the spectacle, as she was hand-grazing her horse just outside of the ring, and said, “Poor guy, he still wants to go! What a heart!”
“I know,” I said, touched that my horse still wanted to do his job, even though he was in pain.
“Well, there goes that pipe dream,” I said to Moonshine as I slipped off the bridle, sure that this lameness ended any possibility of us going to the Juniors’ Nationals.
Just then Carol appeared in the barn.
“What happened?” she asked.
“He’s lame,” I replied.
“The Navicular must be acting up. Alright, we’ll just give him a few days off, but get him out of the stall and walk him as much as you can. We’ll give him some meds, and see how he feels on Thursday. I’ll tell Kim about the meds,” she offered.
“OK, thanks, Carol,” I replied, grateful that she was always around.
“Why don’t you walk him for a little bit, wrap his legs for the night, and when you’re done, come to the office,” she said.
I had done as Carol instructed and when I finished with Moonshine, I headed to the office. Carol was chatting with Gunilla. I went over to them.
“How’s the horse?” Gunilla asked.
“Lame, vet’s coming tomorrow.”
Carol started,“The plan is for you to ride Moony in the Junior’s Nationals. Since you got a bunch of qualifying scores, we’ll stop competing him. I think you got enough scores to earn a spot on one of the teams, but we’ll have to wait and see the scores that the other Juniors get, since there are only twelve spots. So, he’ll get a week off, and we’ll see how he is after that.”
“But you need to keep riding. So I’m lending you Gerry until Moony is back on track.” Gunilla interrupted.
“Gerry?” I repeated, unsure if I heard her correctly.
Gerry was Geronimo’s barn name. He was one of Gunilla’s highly trained warmbloods. I was shocked that she volunteered him for me to ride.
I was afflicted by a mixture of gratitude and concern. I was struck by Gunilla’s generosity in lending me her horse. But I was also concerned about Moony—would this lameness end it all, right now? Would we never get the chance to redeem ourselves? Would I ever be able to prove that Moony was just as good as a warmblood?
I was grateful for the back up horse that Gunilla offered, but I wanted more than anything to make it with Moonshine.
“Thank you so much,” I said.
With that, summer ended and I began my final year of high school.