22

Tall in the Saddle

When Sarah opened her eyes in the morning, the sun was making a pattern on the wall, a pattern made of leaf shadows and slowly bobbing prisms from the crystal that hung in the window. Sarah lay for several minutes, watching it. Slowly she noticed an excited feeling deep inside her, and just when she realized it was there, she realized why.

I have a horse!

She jumped out of bed, still tangled with the sheet, kicked free, and ran downstairs, to the nearest window that looked out on the barn.

Roy’s broad rump was turned toward her. His head was out of sight, inside the stall.

With a sigh Sarah turned away, back upstairs to get dressed. This wasn’t much like the scenes she’d been imagining—as usual, she reminded herself. The trouble was, in her imaginings she kept leaving out huge swatches of time: the time between rides, nighttime, feeding time, the period of time when she had a horse and no saddle, the period of time when her horse was in love with a goat and wouldn’t pay attention to her.…

But when she went outdoors and spoke his name, Roy swung away from the stall with an eager nicker and came quickly toward the fence. It was the nicker that Sarah had fallen in love with, even before she’d seen him, and she didn’t care at all that it was pure greed.

The barns were quiet when Sarah, Mom, and Missy got to the Equestrian Center, the same place where they’d watched the Combined Training event. Across the white wooden bridge they could see a large crowd of horses outside the ring. There were horses lined up in the ring, too, and one horse and rider all alone, galloping along the rail. They went all the way around and then stopped beside a person on the ground, who pinned a long green ribbon on the horse’s bridle.

The horses looked gaunt and weary. Their ribs stood out, and their muscles were well defined, like anatomical models from an encyclopedia. They were also hyperactive. The ones in the ring swung and jostled, occasionally threatening one another. The ones outside milled around constantly. They’d been moving so long they didn’t know how to stop.

Before Sarah could find Albert and Herky, Albert’s name was called, and it was his turn to gallop around the ring and collect a ribbon.

To Sarah’s relief, Herky was rounder than most of the others. But even he was thinner than when she’d last seen him. Albert looked utterly worn out, and he clutched the horn as he made his pass around the ring, holding himself forward and light in the saddle. Herky still had some bounce left, and Albert didn’t seem to be enjoying it.

“Wow!” Missy dug Sarah in the ribs with her elbow. “Old Albert’s starting to get pretty cute, don’t you think?”

Sarah flushed, glancing at Mom. But Mom said, “If I were single, this is the horse sport I’d take up. Look at this one, Missy. On the gray.”

“Or this one over here, in the cowboy hat.”

“You guys!” Sarah squirmed. “I think he heard you!” The man in the cowboy hat looked pointedly away from them. He was handsome.…

When all the riders were lined up, the announcer began to give out the awards.

First it was the rookies. Albert was a rookie, and Sarah listened eagerly as the announcer read through the placings. But there was no Albert Jones among the winners. Albert didn’t look surprised or disappointed. When he wasn’t talking to the boy next to him or admiring his ribbon, he was scanning the crowd. He saw Sarah and pointed to the ribbon and made a scissoring motion with his fingers.

When all the placings had been announced, Sarah expected the ceremony to be finished. But the announcer started talking about the special awards. There were dozens. Some were serious, for different breeds of horses, for senior citizens, for high-point stallion. Others were jokes, but there were huge trophies given, giant silver bowls, a lamp, a statue, a gold-plated shovel.

“… and for the greatest gallantry and perseverance shown by a rookie rider, the Simon Rookie Sportsmanship Award. This year it goes to a young man who rides tall in the saddle—a little extra-tall just now, but really, tall every day. The Simon Rookie Sportsmanship Award, to Mr. Albert Jones on Hercules.”

Albert’s face turned bright red. He started Herky toward the ringmaster and then grabbed at the horn and pulled himself forward.

“I’ll bet he’s got blisters,” Missy muttered.

“Poor Albert! He must want to die!”

Albert did look extremely embarrassed. But the presenter of the award was a spry, gnarled old lady, and after a brief conversation with her Albert seemed happier. He was handed a large pewter bowl with handles, and now he couldn’t hold on to the horn anymore. He rode back to line bravely, with a stiff expression.

“A good choice of trophies,” Mom said. “He can sit in it and soak!”

After the ceremony they gathered at the Joneses’ truck. Herky was resplendent in his traveling blanket and dark red shipping bandages, the ribbon hanging from his halter. Sarah got a carrot from the large bag Albert’s mother had brought. Herky took it eagerly, then sniffed her in a thoughtful way and let out a big sigh. He’d been through a lot. It was time for rest and comfort.

Albert did have blisters. Sarah didn’t have to ask because his father was teasing him about them. When Mom came up, he started teasing her about buying a horse at her age.

“There’s nothing funny about it,” Mom said firmly. “People a lot older than I am just rode a hundred miles here! Maybe you should get a horse and keep Albert company next year.”

“Good for her!” Albert muttered as Sarah helped him carry his equipment into the truck. He walked funny, but Sarah was able to keep from commenting about it. “One thing for sure,” Albert said, “I’ll have to do a lot more of my own conditioning next year.”

“Will you be able to? What about haying?”

“He said he’d hire extra help if he had to.” Albert glowered at his father from the darkness of the truck. “Which is great, if he’d only shut up about the reason why. He’ll tell everybody in the whole world before he’s through!”

“I won’t tell anybody at school.”

“They’ll find out,” said Albert gloomily. “But thanks anyway. Now—tell me about your horse!”