I pictured a set of ten-pins crashing hard under the crushing weight of a bowling ball, frozen in place by the surge of fear I felt at impending doom on four hooves snorting and prancing its way toward me. But when no one else ran for the hills, I could, at least, be grateful to my lack of flight instinct that kept me from looking like a total coward.
Turned out this sort of thing was to be expected in the horse world. Who knew? Somehow, the itty-bitty little girl (she looked like she couldn’t have been more than twelve) perched on the back of the giant creature had the upper hand. Despite the fact her horse had, at the very least, a mind of its own and surely wanted to ensure its freedom from the clearly inadequate strip of metal in its mouth controlled by two thin lines of leather that would never do the job. And yet, as the deceptively strong (and rather fearless and clearly confidently skilled) girl wrangled the white beast into submission, I took a shaking breath and a moment to be thankful it wasn’t me in the horse’s saddle.
Everyone standing in his path would have been toast.
Instead, she slapped him hard on the neck as he came to an abrupt halt, his long tail thrashing, foam falling in chunks from his mouth as he worked the bit, ears flat against his head. And while I’d initially been afraid of (what was now clearly a) him, and fearful for her, when she let out a long string of blistering swear words before hitting him hard with a short crop in her right hand, I had a sudden change of heart.
It took a special kind of person to piss me off. Temper or not, I could typically shrug off arrogance given enough time and distance. But there were particular activities that I couldn’t let slide. Being mean to people I cared about? Check. Intentional cruelty or dishonesty? You betcha. And anyone who was harsh with animals?
Snarl.
Sure, he wasn’t behaving himself, but there was no need, in my mind, to beat the poor creature. The brunette on the big, white gelding took zero care in her dismount, the poor creature’s sides heaving as she’d obviously given him a massive workout and did little to wait for him to catch his breath before leaping from his back, one boot thudding against his side as she did, the reins tossed at Charlie as the young woman (and not a child after all upon close inspection), tiny beside the towering horse who spooked sideways in response, casually snapped the horse’s nose with her gloves almost as an aside.
“He’s being an absolute ass,” she snarled at the stable hand. “Deal with it.” She only then seemed to note Sarah and Jimmy stood there, with me as part of their little group. That triggered a shady little smirk at Jimmy and a rather suggestive hip cock before she fixed her nasty expression on Sarah.
“Saw you drop that last rail,” she said. “Nice try.” She snorted softly, delicately, cruel expression deepening while she tossed her head. “If you can’t handle SuSu’s power, maybe you should give her up, Sarah.”
And, with that, whoever this young rider was succeeded in ticking every single box available to her.
I drew a breath to deliver some kind of scathing remark that would likely get me kicked out faster than the track I was already on but Sarah was quicker. And, apparently, accustomed to the other woman’s verbal assaults because she, unlike yours truly, kept her temper, even smiling though the cutting tone of her voice spoke volumes.
“Jagger’s time was off,” she said, almost sweetly, right into the wide, bright blue eyes of her smaller counterpart. Fakes? Looked like contacts to me. “Not to mention you’re mishandling him made him misbehave.” The young woman stiffened at the criticism. Could dish but not eat her own crow? She needed a thicker skin. “Might want to keep an eye on the clock, Violet, not to mention your horse’s manners.” Sarah looked the girl up and down. “Oh. And your diet.”
Wow. Did she just call the teensy weensy rider in front of me fat? I gaped at Sarah, not sure how to feel about such an attack, as her rival’s eyes narrowed into slits, the crop in her hand slapping her leg hard enough the giant horse beside her, now in Charlie’s possession, snorted and shied once again. Telling me he was more than familiar with the strike of that stick she held. No wonder he was misbehaving. I’d be pissed at her to. Seeing his reaction was enough proof of abuse it cut off any kind of sympathy I might have had for Violet before it could grow.
Sarah wasn’t done. “At least I’m riding consistently,” she snapped then, snarled, really. One finger jabbed at the gelding whose head hung low, sides still heaving a little, body soaked with sweat. “And treating my horse with respect. When was the last time you were in the saddle? Two days ago? You might want to focus more on the trials, Violet, and less on dating and dinners out.”
“Mind your own business,” the tiny rider shot back. “Jagger’s being an idiot. That’s not my fault.”
“Indeed.” I spun, flinched at the sight of a tall, older man, now surrounded by breeches and golf shirts, though he wasn’t helmeted. Thankfully, he ignored me and settled his scowling expression on Violet. “Miss Shard, if you don’t mind.” Sarah shrugged, looked away, Jimmy clearly uncomfortable, Charlie scowling, while the towering, barrel chested man addressed Violet, not quite looming over her but close enough to call it what it was. “Miss Perry, pray tell me, what you think that creature,” he jabbed his index finger at the big, white horse, “has done to deserve being treated like some sort of mechanical instrument you can use up and toss away at your convenience?” His British accent, mild enough I missed it initially, heated up as he continued, becoming obvious that he might not have spent much time in the United Kingdom in the last twenty years or so, but his origins were more than obvious when his temper made an appearance.
Violet’s petulance made itself known, arms crossing aggressively over her chest, the crop striking Charlie’s arm before he could dodge. She didn’t even acknowledge she’d hit him, scowling up at the man who’d just berated her while I realized we were drawing too much attention and I really, really needed to move on while the getting was good.
“He’s acting out,” she whined. “I told Melina but she just got mad at me and insisted I keep riding him.” Violet glared at Sarah. “I’m supposed to be on SuSu. You just got her because you’re connected.” Family, huh? Well, the Pattersons owned her, so there. Wait, was I on their side for some reason? Ew. Violet had returned her attention to the towering gentleman, facing him down like he wasn’t more than twice her weight and easily a foot above her diminutive height. “Besides, you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Alphonse,” Violet shot her next volley. “I’m done wasting my talent on your worthless coaching.”
Alphonse looked briefly uncomfortable, then angry himself. Felt weird to witness this clearly private bout of bitterness that the outside world didn’t usually get to see. This wasn’t my fight and I really had to go. I scanned quickly for a getaway plan, only to find myself cut off from moving forward by the mass of people I’d somehow found myself amidst, not to mention to hulking equine walls of fur and stomping feet. If I wanted to escape, I’d have to make myself conspicuous, circle around behind SuSu or cut through the argument.
Or retreat. And there was no way I was leaving until someone told me to.
“You arrogant little gnat.” Alphonse’s voice rang, a powerful tenor, echoing around the courtyard, drawing more attention from other riders who paused before scurrying away. So this had to be a familiar battle people learned to avoid? Lucky me. “Why Melina continues to support your uselessness I have no idea.” He sniffed. “You’re lack of skill and abusive behavior only creates stress in your mount. You have no one to blame but yourself. And your terrible choice in coaches.”
Sarah eye rolled at me. Yup. Ancient argument. One that drew out yet another body, this one with the authority, I could tell from her stomping step and the logo stitched into the fabric of her golf shirt, though she didn’t notice me just yet. Instead, she stopped next to Violet who glanced at her with a flicker of guilt before the woman spoke, toe-to-toe with Alphonse.
“You are here as a courtesy,” she said, hands on her hips, short, dark hair rather wild as if she’d just stripped off her own helmet. She’d held onto her youthful figure though she was older than me, lines around her eyes and mouth deeper than they should have been, tan telling me she’d spent her whole life in the sun, likely on the back of a horse. “But I’ve warned you before to stay away from my riders.” She paused a moment, before her voice dropped as she glanced sideways at Jagger. The tall gelding still danced in Charlie’s hands, clearly unhappy with the level of tension around him. Well, high strung I understood. He was clearly an athlete and stressed out. Melina took note herself, it seemed, spinning back to Alphonse with fury on her face. “And their horses.”
“Alphonse Brunbaugh goes where he wishes,” he said, drawing himself up to his impressive height and towering over her much as the two equines in our midst towered over the rest of us, “and does what he chooses.” He sniffed at Sarah, gestured at SuSu. “I’m merely pointing out to you and your protégé,” he said that word like it was an insult, “her failure will be on her. And you, Melina.”
I was expecting the two of them to have a giant fight. Clearly the grown adults were as unhappily competitive and confrontational as the young men and women they trained. I felt an unexpected surge of gratitude I’d grown up without the kind of pressure that had obviously shaped and evolved this small group of people into the angry, frustrated and, in Violet’s case, petulantly argumentative collection of souls I found myself shaking my head at.
Judging others. My favorite.
But it was Sarah who shocked me the most with her reaction to Melina. Her whole persona shifted, the sweet young woman I equated with the hard-assed but generally awesome Pamela Shard transforming from rather innocent if confident in her handling of her big horse to snarling animal ready to bite off its own leg if that was what she needed to do to win.
“I am sick,” she was practically screaming and she’d barely gotten started, “and tired,” she lashed out with one hand toward Violet, almost striking Melina in the process, “of that rider,” she was barely audible now, her horse stomping and snorting in fear, “trying to undermine my training.” Holy Hannah. Pent up rage much? “And the next time she tries to interfere,” Sarah shook her index finger in Melina’s face while the older woman’s expression darkened, her cheeks deep red, a vein I knew from the forehead of my own darling Crew leaping out in response to the verbal assault, “I’m taking this to the Olympic committee and having her banned.”
“And I’ve had it,” the coach snapped while Alphonse heaved a sigh and tried to get between them while Sarah actually lunged for Melina, the older woman’s temper clearly frayed to the limit, “with your attitude, Miss Shard. You ride here because I allow it, and only because I allow it. That can change. In an instant.” She snapped her fingers in Sarah’s face.
Oh boy. Coming from someone with a temper? Melina’s challenge… accepted.
***