The Story That Never Was: Part Five

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Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
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"But when someone is on a winning horse, and everything looks wonderful, it's very hard as an outsider to persuade them something is wrong." (James Wolfensohn)

It was Jake's first horse show, and already things were going wrong. I was nervous, he was irritated, and we'd started off the flat warm-up by kicking another competing horse.

And now I was staring down the in-gate of the show ring, struggling to remain calm as my trainer dropped her hold on my reins and said, "You're up."

My eyes swept around in a hurry to process the ring. It was open, practically barren. I stared down the stark white poles of the jumps, my first blessing of the day: simple, nonthreatening, and best of all, tiny. Whoever called that "Trot X" seriously needed to reconsider their definition of an X. They weren't even cross-rails, really; they were speed bumps. If I had been on any other horse but Jake, it would have been boring.

But with Jake, things were never boring.

He seemed confused as we gave our courtesy circle for the judge. The ring had been slightly altered in size and content for the show, and, of course, there was no other horses in their with us. He seemed to feel the change in atmosphere as we headed toward that first jump. All eyes were on him, and he knew that. He was Super Star pony; the world revolved around him, and he would prove that it was for a good reason. But Jake's version of showing off wasn't leisurely trotting over what were only glorified cavaletta. In his rush to prove he was the best, he committed the cardinal sin of beginner's equitation: breaking gait. That first time around the jumps, he insisted on cantering boldly out of every line we went in to, and I was not strong enough to stop him. We managed to recover in time to trot our closing circle and walk out of the ring in shame.

As I dismounted, I didn't have to face anyone, really. Shannon was the trainer for half the people on the show grounds, and I wouldn't see her again until it was time for him to enter the arena for my second round. I tried mostly to keep my head as I watched the other riders compete and counted down the seconds until I had to enter that ring again. The moment came only too soon.

In case I haven't stressed this enough, Jake was moody. Super Star Show Off Mode was no longer. As I entered the ring for a second time, he already bored with this song and dance. Thankfully, though, it was easier to perk him up than to slow him down, and now that I had him going at a steady trot, we could easily bounce through (or step over) the tiny cross-rails. When I finished the round, I felt confident that we had done better. Lack of interest was better than breaking a gait. In a hunt-seat show, you never break from your gait.


And then, finally, it was the time for my last class: Equitation on the Flat. It was the one rough spot I'd been anticipating since the warm-up that morning: six horses crammed into one ring. As I followed Kim and Handsome (the horse Jake had earlier kicked after he and his rider ran up our tail) through the in-gate, I whispered to him, "Jake, this is it. Do it for me, okay? Go out there and show 'em what you got."

It was as much of a pep talk for me as it was for him (more so, really, as I actually speak English). But it worked. Jake was a gentleman as we passed other horses in the ring. He looked content, swiveling his ears to take in the sights and sounds of our last class: our last chance for redemption. He moved his feet to the rhythm, and best of all, he didn't once break from a gait. I left the ring with a smile on my face, and slipped a peppermint to my favorite horse, the Super Star.

All in all, it was a good show. Our class was small (only six people), which meant that I got a ribbon even if we trashed the class (as we did our first round). We got fifth out of sixth for breaking to a canter that first class, a third place ribbon for our improved second round, and claimed second place for our fabulous flat class. For a green horse at his first show in a completely new discipline, I think Jake did great.

I felt accomplished as I put Jake in his stall later that evening and tucked him in for the night. My family and friends were proud of us, and I told them that I was looking forward to the day when Jake and I would come home from a show with a big tri-color Champion ribbon, because I knew he had the potential. On the ride home from the barn, I started easing my parents into the idea of me leasing him.

If only I'd known, after that triumphant, dramatic day, that Jake and I's future together would not be as magnificent as I imagined. In fact, it would be coming to an end all too soon...

[To be continued]

Part Six