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2001 Focus on Writers Contest Friends of the Sacramento Library, 1100 entries over all |
Yesterday's Hero
 Gray Hunter with Groom by Judith Gibson |
Linda's first stop was brief. The arenas were busy with young thoroughbreds frolicking in circles around their handlers. Their long legs skimmed the ground in flashy strides; their shortened manes stood straight above their graceful necks. The sight of unbraided manes served as a reminder of her morning's chore. Smiling, she turned and hurried into the barn.
"It's our morning," she informed the big gray as she unlatched his stall door. His hooves clopped onto the hard surface of the aisle. She rubbed his bony head affectionately as she snapped the cross-ties into place. After fetching the grooming tray, she quickly flicked a few stray wisps of hay from his coat, then turned her attention to his mane. "Let's hope I can get this right for once."
Grimacing, she set to work: cutting the yarn, sectioning the hair and trying to tie the braids tightly. It looked easy when she watched others do it. How could it be so hard? A dozen times she stood back to look, then repositioned the stool and started from scratch on a section which displeased her. So intent was she on perfection she did not hear the approach of another contestant. "Is this Criterion?" the girl asked, reaching out to stroke his nose. Her voice revealed both surprise and respect.
Linda looked around, startled. "Yes. Do you know him?" The girl smiled. "Everyone knows him. My mom's best friend used to show him. She won a lot championships. You should see her wall; it's filled with trophies and plaques. I didn't think he was still alive. He must be awfully old."
"Not so very." Linda was annoyed. So what if he was old? He could still jump. "He loves being on course."
"Look, I didn't mean anything. I'm just glad to see him." The stranger's face reddened slightly, "Well, I've got to go. See you around." She gestured toward a group of girls waiting for her. As she joined them, they turned and looked at Criterion. Laughing, they walked away.
"Don't feel bad." Linda consoled him. "They were laughing at my braids, not at you." She stared fiercely at their departing backs for a moment, then hugged him tightly as the tears started.
All her life she had wanted to show horses but couldn't because it was too expensive. Now she had a chance: riding a borrowed horse, wearing borrowed britches and wistfully hoping she measured up to her competition. Watching the other girls as they waited for their trainers to bring their horses, already warmed up and magnificently groomed, she couldn't help feeling envious. They were so calm; she had never been so nervous. They were surrounded by assistants; she was on her own.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she finished rebraiding the patient horse. "It doesn't matter. We're going to have fun today. We don't need a lot of money or fancy grooms to do that. We're going to be just fine."
Time was flying, and Linda had to hurry. She saddled her horse, changed into her show clothes, and rushed to the arena. Keeping an ear cocked for the announcer's call, she worked on the rail of the warm-up arena, practiced over jumps, and continued to fuss over the mane braids. No matter how tightly she tied them, they continued to slip free and unravel.
Criterion ignored the constant turmoil around him. As was his habit, he sedately threaded his way through the tangle of riders on the rail and patiently circled until his turn came over the jumps.
Bystanders lined the arena fence, mostly concerned with spotting a winner or improving their own rider's workout. Occasionally she could feel their curious stares or overhear their remarks about her own performance. Phrases like "too lazy" or "strung out" floated in the air as she rode past.
Studying the others as they worked, Linda realized their horses were approaching the fences at a quicker pace and with more power. Criterion was too placid at the canter; even Linda's strongest urging could not move him any faster.
At last, her turn in the show ring came. Trying to conceal her nervousness, she entered the arena, circled once around before setting her horse on course. As soon as he faced the jumps, he changed. Tensing slightly, his head came up; his ears pricked forward. Steady, confident, he sized up each jump, sailing over effortlessly.
It was Linda who was struggling. Frozen with fright, she worried about falling over every jump. She clung to his neck despite the smoothness of his pace. Two of the fences seemed unreasonably high; they terrified her. She tried to stop him from jumping, but he simply ignored her and continued right along. "Thank you, Criterion," she crooned in his ear as the exit gate shut behind them. "Thank you for saving my life."
Embarrassed by her fear, she kept her eyes focused on the pommel of her saddle until she had ridden away from the crowded arena. What was wrong with her? Looking back, those fences were no higher than others she had jumped. How could she have panicked when he was doing well?
Criterion turned and rubbed his nose against her stirrup. Could he be as ashamed as she felt? Silently, she vowed to do better in the next event. She straightened herself in the saddle and reluctantly headed back to the practice ring.
 Bay Hunter with Groom by Judith Gibson |
When the announcer called the winners in an equitation class, Doreen Stewart was pinned in fifth place. Linda's caller had placed despite the antics of her inexperienced horse.
Linda wondered what it would be like to ride a horse as beautiful as the bay. Imaging herself astride Doreen's horse, she mentally accepted the glistening trophies and the admiration of her competitors. As soon as she wished it though, she felt guilty. Criterion was trying hard; it wasn't fair to be disloyal.
As the sun grew hotter, she tired faster. Little beads of sweat trickled down from her hard hat and mingled with the dust on her face. Each class seemed to get larger and the wait longer. She quit practicing and saved her energy for the show ring. Instead, she sat and watched the other exhibitors as they worked hard to implement their traineršs instructions.
Listening closely, she learned to avoid certain mistakes and how to present her horse better. Each ride in the show ring became a little easier. Even though she wasn't winning, she was doing better and beginning to have fun again. She was even happy when Doreen qualified for the championship class.
Linda had tried once or twice to strike up a conversation with her, but the girls from Doreenšs training stable interrupted each time with laughing remarks about Criterion's age or Linda's lack of skill. Not wanting an angry fight, Linda decided to stay away. It was easier.
Doreen appeared tired too, but she kept on riding. The young bay pulled and strained against his rider, and Doreen had to struggle to keep him under control. She always managed to make him look good in the front of the judge, but it took all of her stamina to repeat the same jumps over and over. The sun rose higher, and the day grew hotter.
Hunters over fences was their last class. Since Criterion was a former champion, he had to face the higher fences. Linda wished she was as experienced as he was. These looked too high for her. The first jump was a simple picket fence. She aimed him toward the center, where the slats were slightly shorter. He picked his spot, tucked his knees and easily cleared the obstacle. It was a straight line to the brick wall. Wider but no higher than the picket, Linda trusted Criterion's judgment and concentrated on sitting tight in the saddle. The third fence was right in front of her. A brush jump, it looked fairly easy. She felt a little braver. Looking down as he sailed over, she could see the pebbles of sand, the individual leaves, the sharp, red striping of the cross bar. She felt as if they jumped in slow motion.
The rest of the course was clearly etched in her mind. The bright set of double rails on the oxer, the bit of shimmering blue water under the gate jump. She could feel his long strides skim the ground; she could see the judge making notes on his pad; she could even watch the crowd as they watched her. Time was non- existent. This was wonderful.
The last fence changed her mind. It loomed larger than she expected. Criterion maintained his steady pace. He didn't seem to have noticed how high the jump was set. Linda tried to hurry him. He ignored her. The closer they traveled, the higher the obstacle grew. Linda wanted to stop but knew Criterion was in charge. Feeling helpless in the face of danger, she closed her eyes, praying to stay aboard.
She felt the air rushing past, heard his hoofbeats, sensed when he was gathering and ready to take-off. Opening her eyes at the last minute, she was staring straight into the top bar. As he lifted, it dropped from sight and they were soaring above it. It felt so weightless, so incredibly free. She was jubilant leaving the ring. She had done it; their ride was good.
The loudspeaker didn't call her name when the winners were decided. As good as the ride had felt, the judge had not used her in the line-up. Linda leaned against Criterion's shoulder. Their day was done. She was disappointed they didn't have any ribbons to take home. Having this day to remember would have to be satisfaction enough.
Doreen's last class was the championship. Linda wanted to see how she placed so she waited in the shade as the day wore on and the light began to fade. Growing weary, she just decided to start home when the announcer called a short break while the ring crew set up the championship course.
Looking around for Doreen, Linda couldn't spot her in the deepening dusk. Leading Criterion by the bridle, she wandered around until she found her standing in the darkness by herself.
 Detail of Young Horsewoman by Herman Richir |
Doreen shook her head. "No one can help," she sniffled. ~I have to ride this all alone. Have you seen the size of the jumps out there? He's never jumped that high, and he's never been under lights. Those shadows will spook him, I know. What if I fall off? What if he hits a jump and gets hurt?"
Why don't you just pull out?" Linda was puzzled.
"I can't." Doreen was really sobbing now. "My trainer would be angry. The other girls would laugh. What would my mom say? I couldn't face any of them."
Linda stood in the dark and held her new friend. "It'll be all right. You'll see." Even as she spoke, she knew it wasn't true. Doreen was a good rider. She knew how much her horse could do.
They started to walk back as the announcer called the class. "Thanks." Doreen's voice was grateful. "I'll get through somehow. Just don't count on any ribbons."
Linda was astounded. "Why should you worry about ribbons? You need to worry about being safe. A ribbon in this class isn't worth getting hurt or hurting your horse."
Doreen stopped and looked at her. "I know that, and you know that, but does anyone else?" She led her horse away.
Linda followed, standing behind Doreen as she waited her turn. She could see Doreen fiddling with her reins, adjusting her stirrups, even checking her braids. Seeing that, she knew how scared Doreen felt. She felt sorry for her, but couldn't help.All she could do was wait and hope nothing went wrong.
The course was tough. Two riders were disqualified when their horses refused to jump; one was thrown when her horse crashed through a hurdle. Doreen's name was far down the long exhibitor list; the delay seemed endless. Finally, the announcer called the Doreen's number to be the next contestant. She received last minute instructions from her trainer and began to mount.
She put her foot into the stirrup, then stopped. Pulling it back out, she stood with her head resting against the saddle. Linda could hear her weeping. Her trainer was urging her to get on, but Doreen remained as she was. At last, Linda could stand no more. She pushed her way through the crowd of girls surrounding Doreen.
"Doreen, here. Take Criterion. He can do it. I know he can."
Doreen looked stunned as the other girls began to laugh. "Come on. He's good. You're good. You belong together." Linda could barely whisper. Doreen picked her head up, looking around at the crowd of girls from her stable before staring at Linda for a long moment. The announcer's voice gave her a one minute warning."Yes." Her voice was hesitant at first, than surer in its conviction."I think I will."
Her face began to show traces of relief first, then excitement. "Thank you. I'll do him proud, I promise." She wiped her tears away with one gloved hand and gathered the reins in her other. Just as she swung up, the announcer called for her entry. "You'll see," she smiled, looking down from the saddle. "There won't be a better performance tonight."
Linda reached to fuss with yet another loose braid, but Doreen slapped her hand away. "He's just fine. I'm honored to ride him." She trotted through the gate and circled around once before cantering. Criterion's head came up; his ears pricked toward the first jump. Doreen settled into a perfect rhythm with him. Linda grinned. This was going to be a splendid ride.
