Читать книгу The Ryder Chronicles - Vicki Sach - Страница 8

Thank goodness the Winter Woollies show was in the middle of school holidays, otherwise there’s no way I’d have been able to concentrate. I was really nervous about going to my first show with Solo, but it somehow seemed right. I’ve wanted to be a show rider ever since I could remember and now my journey was finally about to begin. I didn’t care if we won or lost…just taking part was enough.

Tori and I had fun preparing Solo the day before the event. We shampooed him and she used some amazing concoction that made his white stockings gleam! We gently de-tangled and fluffed out his tail and Mrs Livingstone tidied the top by pulling and trimming. I couldn’t stop admiring it, nestled against his now rounded, shiny hindquarters. We left him munching his dinner in the stable and cleaned all the tack while watching horsey DVD’s (including International Velvet…my favourite!) in the Livinstones’ lounge room The work saddle I was borrowing had been beautifully cared for and aside from a few scuff marks, was in great condition. Tori and I scrubbed it with saddle soap and gave it a light coating of leather conditioner, then washed the stirrups and treads. Solo’s bridle was given the same treatment and everything was wrapped ready to be loaded into the car. I kept worrying I’d forget something. Girth? Check. Reins? Check. Numnah? Check. I must have driven Tori crazy but she seemed to be enjoying my enthusiasm and kept bursting into song. Gosh she has a great voice! I keep telling her she should go on one of those television talent shows but she doesn’t think she’s good enough. I HAD to figure out a way my dad could hear her!

I didn’t sleep much that night and when I did, had crazy dreams about the show, like having to ride Solo bareback because I forgot to pack the saddle and all the other competitors laughing at me.

I woke long before the alarm and lay wondering what kind of day lay ahead. Being mid-winter, it was still dark…not even the birds were chirping yet. I quietly got dressed, shrugged on a warm jacket and cut across the paddocks to the Livingstones. It was a hive of activity and I mucked out Solo’s stable while Mrs Livingstone plaited him up. I loved watching her plait, she was a true master. Since it was a novice show, she was using rubber bands to fasten the plaits rather than the more fiddly business of sewing them in place, which she said was more for big shows and turnout events. Solo began to fidget so I stood by his head stroking his face and he half-closed his eyes and began licking his lips, a sure sign he was relaxed. I wondered how many times his mane been plaited before, and by who.

“Are you nervous Sarah?” Mrs Livingstone asked.

“Heaps,” I replied glumly. I’ve tried deep breathing, positive imagery, iPhone relaxation apps…you name it, but nothing seems to work. I was so wound up!

Finally everything was ready, the car packed and it was time to leave.

My worries about Solo refusing to load onto the float were unfounded as after a few preliminary sniffs, he walked straight in…then did an enormous splattery poo! Luckily his tail was in a bag and his legs covered so most of him stayed reasonably clean.

Whoever owned Solo before me had obviously done a lot of travelling with him. I was so proud to see him standing quietly in the float, wearing a gorgeous navy and red show rug my dad surprised me with last night. The Livingstones told him what size to get although I kind of wish mum hadn’t had it embroidered with ‘SARAH RYDER’ in humongous-sized lettering.

Solo tugged at his hay net as we raised the ramp, then we were on our way. My parents were planning to meet us there later.

I was on edge the entire trip.

“Do you ever get used to pre-show nerves?” I asked Tori.

“All the time,” she admitted. “I think most competitors get antsy.”

I looked out the window and prayed it wouldn’t rain. I guess that was always a possibility for a winter show and it was certainly a grey and dreary day. A few drops of drizzle spattered against the car windscreen.

Once at the showgrounds, Mrs Livingstone parked in a quiet spot and she and Tori got ready to unload Solo. Amazingly, he’d managed to squeeze out even more manure during the trip!

“Let Tori and I handle this Sarah, in case Solo rushes backwards,” she said, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“He hasn’t been anywhere since you bought him so we don’t know how he’s going to react.”

Solo did rush down the ramp and slipped off the side in his eagerness to see where he was. He stood bug-eyed and let rip a few ear-piercing neighs, receiving several in reply, as Tori removed his tail bag and travel boots.

“I’ll take him for a walk to let him have a look around and stretch his legs, then give him a short lunge and if he’s okay, you can hop on for a warm-up session,” Mrs Livingstone told me.

She disappeared with Solo, who was jogging with excitement beside her. I gulped, feeling more rattled than ever.

“Don’t worry Sarah,” Tori said. “Most horses are excited when they first arrive at a show, he’ll soon settle. C’mon, let’s unload the car.”

I got busy setting up my very first show ‘camp’…filling Solo’s water bucket, hanging the haynet and organising grooming tools. Mrs Livingstone returned with a much calmer Solo, clipped on the lunge rein and led him away again.

I started getting my clothes ready. Hat, jacket, breeches, top boots. Uh oh, where were my boots?! I groaned when I remembered they were right where I left them…on the kitchen bench at home after I’d given them a final polish last night. I must have walked straight past them in the dark this morning!

I made a frantic phone call to mum but her phone was switched off so I left a voice mail message, then sent her a text. Why do these things always happen to me?

“Tori, my boots!”

“What about them?” she asked.

“I don’t have any…I forgot to pack them. I KNEW I’d forget something! What am I going to do?”

“You dork,” she replied, laughing. “Mum forgot Colby’s saddle once. Here, you can wear my boots.”

I glanced down and surveyed her grottiest rubber top boots, caked in dirt. They looked more like gumboots and not exactly part of the sophisticated image I was hoping to create.

By now Mrs Livingstone was back with a puffing and more relaxed Solo.

“He’s fine now Sarah,” she told me. “I don’t think you’ll have any problems with him.”

I didn’t really know what to do next, so stood there like a ninny.

“Right, let’s get cracking,” Mrs Livingstone ordered, and she and Tori groomed Solo to within an inch of his life. Tori created the most amazing chequerboard pattern on his rump, brushed the hair on his flanks into the traditional shark’s teeth pattern, whitened his socks and blended make-up onto his face. Solo seemed to be enjoying the attention and I got the impression he’d done all this before.

The final result was breathtaking! He looked every inch a show horse. My ugly duckling had finally completed his transformation. I marvelled that this elegant horse was the same nag I’d purchased so rashly.

“He looks great Sarah,” Tori said.

“It’s all thanks to you and your mum for turning him out so professionally,” I replied. I couldn’t stop admiring him!

Soon it was time for my warm-up ride.

“Don’t worry too much about collecting him today Sarah,” instructed Mrs Livinstone.

“Keep your hands soft,” (her favourite mantra), “…and try to relax. Remember, we’re here to have fun.”

Solo felt wonderful beneath me. I admired the row of plaits sitting neatly against his neck and vowed to remember this magic moment forever.

Soon it was time for Solo’s led hack event, so I dismounted and handed him back to the Livingstones, who swarmed around him adding finishing touches to his make-up and painted his hooves black. I got dressed in the float (not a pleasant experience considering the manure splattered liberally up the walls) and wrestled to pull Tori’s boots on, only to discover I could hardly bend my knees! How on earth was I going run with Solo if I got called in the led event? I didn’t say anything though, as I had no alternative but to wear them.

Before I knew it, I was leading Solo into the ring where the judge stood waiting. It all felt kind of surreal and I had a lot on my mind, including trying to walk properly. I kept Solo striding out well but it wasn’t easy, and after circling a few times, we were beckoned to line up in fourth place. Unfortunately Solo reckoned this was boring and got the fidgets, which made it hard for me to keep him from bumping the other horses. The first horse stood well for the judge’s inspection and trotted beautifully; the second kept breaking into a canter during the trot back, while the third appeared slightly lame, even to my inexperienced eye.

Then it was my turn. I led Solo out and tried to make him stand square, but he was having none of it and stubbornly left one hind leg trailing. He did however, conveniently spot something fascinating to look at outside the ring and stood with pricked ears at just the right time. Then it was our turn to perform the usual led workout of walk away from the judge and trot back. I tried as best I could in the horrible boots, turning Solo to the right so he was between me and the judge then taking a deep breath, ran as fast…and straight…as I could. I think we did okay. At least he didn’t break into a canter and even managed to stand almost square at the end.

After all the horses had worked, the judge walked up and down the line-up, assessing each horse’s conformation before making her final decision. The first horse was called forwards, followed by…I heard whoops and clapping from my cheer squad outside the ring…gosh, Solo was beckoned into second place. Awesome!

I tried to act casual but my heart was bursting with pride. Second place…who’d have thought?

“Congratulations,” said the judge, as she tied the red ribbon around Solo’s neck. “Your horse is lovely and I had trouble deciding on my first and second placegetters, but your workout wasn’t quite as good.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “It’s our first outing together.”

She continued to look thoughtfully at Solo.

“What’s his name? He looks vaguely familiar.”

“Solomon’s Gold.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m positive I know him from somewhere. Oh well, all the best.”

I left the arena amidst much clapping and whistling from Mrs Livingstone and Tori.

“Well done Sarah,” said Mrs Livingstone. “We’d better hang around in case the winner of your class gets champion, then Solo is eligible to go in for reserve.”

Did she just say RESERVE CHAMPION? I’d have said any ribbon was a bonus, but a sash? Darn, now I was nervous all over again!

Thankfully my parents arrived and after making me pose for lots of photos, mum handed me my top boots, which, happily, she had spotted in the kitchen on her way out.

We watched as two more led hack classes were judged, then it was time for the champion led hack 15hh and over. This seemed to take an awfully long time as the judge was being very thorough. I couldn’t help hissing a triumphant ‘yes!’ when the tri-colour sash was eventually awarded to the winner of my class, as this meant I was eligible to try for reserve. I wasn’t expecting anything so I relaxed, and Solo did too. Our workout was much better; he fairly flew beside me, displaying his lovely, floaty trot. Once again the judge took her time making the final decision.

“Chestnut on the end please,” she said finally, pointing to Solo.

The judge walked towards us, a large purple sash fluttering from her hands. I was speechless.

“Well done,” she said. “That was a much improved workout. He’s certainly a lovely type with excellent movement.”

I think I may have croaked a reply.

I led Solo out of the ring in a daze.

“Wow, reserve champion, top effort Sarah!” said Tori.

This was beyond my wildest dreams and I was so proud of Solo! The rest of the show passed in a blur. Solo placed third in his novice ridden hack event, and I was sixth in novice rider but unfortunately missed Solo’s open hack event due to the classes clashing (a common problem according to Tori). I wasn’t worried though, I was over the moon at bringing home three ribbons and a sash, an achievement I didn’t dare contemplate this morning.

The drizzle that had been threatening all day was starting to set in so we decided to pack up and head for home. Just as well…I was physically and mentally exhausted. My parents stood around watching us work.

Tori was on the other side of the float unplaiting Solo’s mane while Mrs Livingstone packed the car.

“Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame, where there is a flame someone’s bound to get burned.”

Tori was singing her favourite song by P!nk.

“You gotta get up and try and try and TRY…..”

My dad ran around the float to Tori…I don’t think I’ve seen him move so fast in years!

“Was that you singing just now?” he asked.

“Uhh, well…yeah,” she mumbled, her face flushing crimson. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was listening.”

“Well you’re very good…great in fact. I don’t suppose you’d like to have a go at recording something? No pressure, just an informal, muck around session in my studio. Sarah can help, can’t you sweetheart?”

Oohh he called me sweetheart, he MUST be serious!

“Errm, aargh,” I couldn’t catch was Tori was mumbling. She pretended to be engrossed in Solo’s mane.

“Do it Tori,” I urged. “It’ll be fun and I know dad won’t let anyone else hear it without your say so.”

I couldn’t sing to save myself much to dad’s dismay, as there’s nothing he enjoys more than sitting behind the console in his recording studio ‘makin’ music’.

“Pleeaase?!” I pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, unwinding a final plait.

“I hope so,” he told her. “You have real talent.”

I could tell dad didn’t want to push her so with a wink at me, which I interpreted to mean ‘talk her into it’, he re-joined mum and they headed towards their car for the drive home.

I got the giggles when I saw Solo’s curly mane and forelock after he’d been unplaited. I gave him a hug and thanked him for a fantastic day. He wasn’t the most perfect horse in the world but gosh…when you think back to the fire-breathing dragon that pranced around the paddock just a short time ago, well…it was nothing short of a miracle.

“Your dad gone?” Tori asked, peering under Solo’s neck.

“Yeah, you’re safe. But think about what he said, it was a massive compliment coming from him.”

She looked thoughtful.

“Really? I guess I’m my own worst critic. Maybe next weekend, okay?”