Hunter Derby: (Show Circuit Series -- Book 3) Page 10

  “Yeah,” he said.

  Her second round was just as breathtaking. She got the top call in both classes, beating out Donnie’s horse. Leading the jog, having her name announced—Zoe Tramell up for the ride on John Bradstreet’s Girl Next Door—being handed the blue ribbons, never felt so good.

  Donnie glared at her as she came out of the ring, but didn’t say anything besides a few mumbled swears.

  “I think you’ve got a really nice horse on your hands,” Zoe told John on the walk back to the tents.

  “It wasn’t just the horse,” he said. “I thought you rode well at home but, well, I don’t know, it’s different in the ring. You’ve got this like, presence. It was pretty freaking awesome to be a part of, even if I’m a super small part of it.”

  “First of all, you’re not just a small part of it. You’re a big part of it. What you said to Donnie Douchebag? You saved me.”

  John blew out a forced breath. “That guy’s a total asshole.”

  Outside their stalls, Zoe hopped off, ran up the stirrups, and loosened the girth. John took the reins over Gidget’s head. He was about to walk the mare into the aisle, when Zoe said, “What Donnie was saying . . . about the saddles. Did you know about all that already? Did you know that stuff about me?”

  “I read something about it in The Chronicle, yeah, but I guess I don’t know the whole thing.”

  “I’ll tell you everything sometime, okay?” Zoe said.

  “Only if you want to,” he said.

  Gidget won both over fences classes the next day and was third in the hack, making it quite the debut. Nearly immediately Zoe started fielding questions about her—where she’d come from, what had she done, was she for sale?

  Zoe told John people were asking about her.

  “For real?”

  “For realsies,” she said. She could tell he was grateful that the mare was getting some exposure. But soon after that, he wasn’t happy with her at all. It started when he showed Cruz in the jumpers. Cruz was wild, running at the jumps, and seeming to not care the slightest if John took a hold of him.

  “Looks like someone needs a little dental work,” Zoe joked to John. “A little floating action.”

  “What are you talking about?” John said.

  “I mean take him home and rip his teeth out over a few jumps,” Zoe said. “Get him to listen to you.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” John said, giving her a disapproving look.

  “It’s not like it’s abuse or anything,” she said in her defense.

  “Depends on who you ask,” John countered.

  “You’re acting like it’s all terrible and I’m horrible for just saying the horse needs a bit of a school.”

  “Your idea of a bit of a school and mine appear to be different.”

  “That’s how things are done at big barns,” Zoe pointed out.

  “I guess that’s why I’m not a big barn.”

  “Okay,” Zoe said. “Whatever. It’s your horse.”

  John brought Gidget home and Linda trucked Dakota’s horses in. It was their first time out since Florida and they were all fresh too. Zoe had to do some extra schooling sessions to get them quiet. The only exception, of course, was Midway, who was never not calm.

  Zoe told Linda how John had been all natural horsemanship. “He acted all holier than thou when I was just saying the horse needed a good school.” Zoe couldn’t help but think about how John didn’t know the first thing about what it took to win on the circuit.

  Linda had Dakota ride Dudley for her first time out since Florida and let a working student for Hugo Fines ride Plato. Hugo was pretty much the top equitation trainer in the country, and one of the winningest trainers, period. His farm, Autumn Ridge, was a huge operation with multiple trainers and multiple billion-dollar clients. Dakota got good ribbons with Dudley and Plato went well for the boy too.

  Midway ended up champion in the younger large juniors since some of the fancier horses were fresh too, spooking at a shadow or playing in the corner of the ring.

  The following week, John brought Gidget back again, this time with the plan of doing the derby. She was champion again in the high performance working hunters and John and Zoe talked about going out to celebrate. Linda said she would go but, later in the day, she said she was much too tired and her back killed and she’d have to take a rain check.

  The restaurant was quiet and intimate, with only fifteen tables. The food was artistic-looking and delicious. It was definitely a place people came on dates. “I’m sure the waiter thinks we’re on a date,” Zoe said to John out of nervousness. She hadn’t thought she’d be here without Linda.

  “Do you usually only date guys on the show circuit?” John asked.

  “It’s kind of hard not to,” she said. “I don’t meet many people who aren’t show people. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend and there had been no telltale signs of one (lock screen photos of the two of them, hair elastics, and other female paraphernalia in his car). This seemed like a good moment to find out. Even if she was keeping it platonic, she still wanted to know.

  “No, not now. I was dating someone for a while but it didn’t work out.”

  “Horse girl?”

  He nodded. “We met in college before I dropped out. We rode on the team together.”

  “Is she still in horses?”

  “No, she’s taking a break. She’s in law school in Boston.”

  “Got it. So was it the long distance thing that killed it?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. We were well matched, I would say, but there wasn’t ever, like, tons of passion.”

  Zoe rearranged her fork and knife. “She wasn’t good in bed?”

  John took a sip of his beer, looking like he was caught off guard. “I didn’t say that exactly.”

  “It feels like that’s what you meant.”

  “I just meant there wasn’t much chemistry between us. I think we were just better off being friends. What about you? Boyfriend?”

  “No, not now. I’m not usually very good at relationships.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want one. I guess I don’t pick guys that make good boyfriends. Like Donnie. You must think I’m like the worst person for having been involved with him.”

  “I guess I just have to wonder why . . . like what was up with that?”

  “I was working for him. We were winning a lot. That can be kind of intoxicating, I guess you’d say? I think I just got caught up in it all. One night it just sort of happened, and then, well, I guess this is where I tell you everything that happened . . .”

  Zoe inhaled sharply and let it out. “Okay, I mean you probably know a lot of this already but Donnie treated me like shit, like really badly, abusively badly. But of course I didn’t leave him. At the same time I got involved with this other guy, who worked for Arouet, you know the custom saddle place.

  “He was into drugs—using and selling. I helped him get the gate numbers to farms and numbers to tack room locks and he stole the saddles. I never went with him or got any of the money.”

  Zoe realized she was avoiding taking responsibility—something she’d talked about with her counselor just last week.

  “But I helped him do it by giving him the access so I was a participant in it. Finally, I went to the police and I turned him in. I got off with probation, court-ordered therapy, and community service—that’s why I’m at Narrow Lane.”

  Zoe felt like she’d just got off her eighth ride of the day. Her arms and legs felt wobbly, even though she was sitting down. But she had said it. She had confessed everything. Well, everything except the part about her being bipolar. Maybe that would make what happened more understandable but she didn’t want to tell him just yet. She was still coming to terms with the label herself.

  “Wow,” John said. “That’s some crazy stuff.”

  “It’s worse than you thought, right
? Like now you don’t want me to ride your horse? You’re scared I’m going to steal your stuff?”

  “Of course not,” John said, but he looked away from her a little too quickly.

  “I’m trying to do better now. To make better choices. I was in a really bad place back then and things are much better now. I’m much better now.”

  “I have something I should tell you,” John said.

  Zoe rubbed her hands together. “I hope it’s juicy.” She couldn’t for the life of her imagine what kind of secret John had to reveal to her, unless he was gay after all, which would be a real shame. But nothing about him seemed gay and he’d just confessed to having a girlfriend, although the sex hadn’t been great.

  “You’re gay,” she blurted out.

  John had been leaning in and he pulled back abruptly. “What? You think I’m gay? Do I seem gay to you?”

  “I don’t know, I just figured . . .”

  “I’m not gay,” John said. “Why does every guy who rides have to be accused of being gay? It’s like if you’re straight and you ride you have to spend half your life proving you’re not gay.”

  “Maybe that’s why most straight horse show guys sleep around all the time, to prove they’re not gay. I’d never thought of that before. It’s like to prove their virility.” Zoe chanced a look at John. “So you’re not gay?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I live at home. With my parents and my sister.”

  Zoe chuckled. “That’s your big reveal? That you live at home?”

  “Yup, that’s it.”

  “So do most of our generation. If I could live at home, I would because I basically can’t afford to have my own place, which is why it’s totally crappy.”

  “I live there because it’s affordable—I mean I haven’t sold a horse since last fall and also because my parents need help with my sister—carrying her up the stairs sometimes, stuff like that.”

  Was John telling her because that was why he had put her off when she had come on to him the night they’d gone out for drinks? Even if he had wanted to, could he not take her home because home was home? Still, she had a place they could have gone to, and no guy she had ever known who was interested in sex let a lack of appropriate location stop him. But maybe that was just it, though. John wasn’t like the other guys she had known.

  For the first time since he’d turned her down, she had a little bit of hope again. Maybe John was the right guy for her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The course for the derby was open to hand-walk at noon on Saturday. Some riders had their grooms hand-walking their horses, especially if they had multiple mounts, but Zoe took Gidget on a tour herself, letting her sniff a few of the spookier jumps.

  The jumps looked larger than any had in the hunter ring all week and also more solid. There was a wide green roll top and a jump made out of the round hay bales usually found in the middle of a huge field down south.

  The only people who had watched Zoe pilot Gidget in the high performance hunters were the few trainers with horses competing against her. Now, however, the sidelines were full of trainers, riders, and owners. The announcer gave a quick run-down of how the derby worked in terms of the two rounds, the open numerical scoring with two judging panels, and the extra points awarded for jumping the four high options.

  Zoe and John walked the course together, determining what strides to do in the bending lines and where, if anywhere, Gidget might decide to be spooky. Zoe said she felt good about planning to take all the high options. If Gidget started to unravel for any reason, she’d amend her plan and choose the lower jumps.

  Zoe drew tenth in the order and felt very prepared as she walked into the schooling area to warm up. Everything felt like it was on target.

  Until after her first jump when Gidget’s fake tail fell out.

  “You’re losing parts,” Alison Raynes called out with what Zoe was sure was a smirk.

  Zoe pulled Gidget up and John collected the tail from where it had landed in the dirt.

  The first rider waited at the in-gate and would be in the ring soon. She was junior rider, Jane Hewitt, a professional’s kid. She was Dakota’s age, one of the youngest riders in the derby, and her trainer was giving her a pep talk.

  Zoe said to John, “I’m not sure we have time to put it back in.”

  “Should we just go without?” John asked.

  “Without a fake tail?” Zoe had never found herself in this position before. All the horses she’d ridden before were expertly groomed and braided. “Maybe you should have had her professionally braided, at least for today,” she said.

  “I put the fake tail in fine yesterday and the day before and last week,” John pointed out. “This happens to everyone sometimes.”

  “Fine, whatever,” Zoe said as the first rider entered the ring. “Let’s just go without it.”

  So one thing had gone wrong. It wasn’t the end of the world, Zoe told herself as they continued to warm up. Only it wasn’t just that one thing.

  Four jumps later, Gidget threw a shoe.

  “Crap,” Zoe said.

  “Should we scratch?” John asked.

  “Scratch?” Zoe said, astounded at how quick John was to bow out. “No, we just need to get the shoe tacked back on. We’ll move down in the order.”

  She hopped off, instructing John to take Gidget over to the show farrier. She went to the in-gate to let Kevin know they needed to move down, probably to go last of the 36 entries.

  She texted John to make sure he’d found the farrier and to let him know she’d wait by the ring.

  As she waited she watched the rounds. It was interesting to see who was riding which horse, how the horses were going after Florida. Some horses thrived on showing at the same place all circuit, and looked nervous now that they were in a new setting. One horse ran out at the roll top and another stuck off the ground at the log pile.

  Other horses looked reinvigorated by the change in scenery, relieved not to be pounding away in the same ring week after week.

  Alison rode into the ring on one of Donnie’s. She went straight to the canter, probably trying to conceal a slight lameness. She put in a good trip, except for one rough lead change. Donnie whooped like crazy and the scores came in on the higher side with the points added on for the high options. She took the lead in the class.

  Zoe looked down at her phone. No text back from John. What was taking so long?

  Everything okay? she typed. She would kill him if he found a way to draw this out so much that they couldn’t go.

  Yup, just not the speediest farrier I’ve ever met . . .

  Zoe looked at the in-gate to see who was on deck. Cassidy Rancher was surrounded by what could only be described as an entourage. There was the trainer, the assistant trainer, the assistant-assistant trainer, two grooms, and a road manager with Cassidy’s mother hovering nearby.

  Cassidy motioned in the air with her pointer finger, going over her course by drawing an imaginary line from jump to jump.

  The assistant-assistant trainer offered her a drink from an infuser water bottle. Cassidy waved her away.

  Zoe watched, transfixed.

  She had seen Cassidy ride plenty of times before. She’d even competed against her. But things were different now. Cassidy was the “it” girl of the show circuit. She was the prom queen, the MVP. She was the best junior rider in the country.

  Cassidy knew it and so did everyone else. She had a long line of trainers and hangers-on. She had owners clamoring for her to ride their gorgeous horses. She had the luxury of telling no to half of the people who asked her to throw a leg over their mount.

  Cassidy entered the ring and the buzz of conversations along the rail quieted. The spectators were expecting greatness, and wanted to be a part of that greatness, if even for a few moments. If only so they could go home to their barns and say they’d seen Cassidy Rancher ride and yes, she was as good as people said.

&
nbsp; “Next on course from our junior division we have Cassidy Rancher riding her first of two mounts today. She’s currently up on Lawless, a nine-year old Belgian-bred gelding owned by Hugo Fines and the Autumn Ridge Farm.”

  Cassidy rode brilliantly, making the high options seem effortless. Zoe felt more antsy about Gidget and the shoe, when really it was all because she wished she was Cassidy. It wasn’t even that she wished she rode as well as her—Cassidy was maybe a hair better, but Zoe felt she was close in talent. It was Cassidy’s position in life Zoe was jealous of.

  Cassidy was still a junior, that blessed time where the world seemed limitless. Where your parents still paid the bills, or other people did. Where trainers let you stay with them and took you out to meals because you built their reputation. When people talked about how amazing you rode and how young you were, how poised in the saddle.

  They even forgave your mistakes—riding or otherwise—chalking them up to youthful folly.

  Once you graduated from the junior ranks, people automatically expected you to act professionally, to make all the right choices, to essentially grow up overnight. But just because you could no longer show in the junior divisions didn’t mean you were a full-fledged mature adult.

  Suddenly Zoe felt overcome by a burst of vindictiveness toward Cassidy. She imagined fast-forwarding a few years to when Cassidy herself aged out. It wouldn’t all be so amazing then, would it? She wouldn’t have trainers fawning all over her anymore.

  She’d be just another talented rider in a sea of other talented riders trying to find good horses and eke out a living. Cassidy’s life might seem perfect now but Zoe took glee in the fact that time would catch up with Cassidy Rancher too.

  Cassidy finished her round and her entourage went crazy with the whooping. The two panels of judges handed out scores in the high nineties.

  Cassidy gave her horse the obligatory pat even though Zoe knew she thought her scores were more a product of her, than the horse. It was probably true that if another rider had laid down the same trip on the same horse, the scores might have only reached the high 80s or low 90s. Those extra points were the Cassidy Rancher factor.

  Zoe turned away from the ring, her jealousy making it impossible to watch anymore. She couldn’t stand to see everyone fawn over Cassidy.