Gold Medal Horse (10 page)

Over the PA system, which could be heard across the entire park, Carole heard the announcer say, “Southwood and Nigel Hawthorne, now on course.” She felt her heart beat faster.

The horse just before Southwood came galloping toward the bank. Carole could see him from far away; as he galloped closer, the fence attendant, mounted on a
horse, blew a sharp whistle. The crowd stilled and pressed against the ropes outlining the course. Carole drew in her breath.

The rider, a woman wearing a blue jersey and a white helmet, pointed her horse at the quick route. Up, up! Carole had never seen a horse jump such a steep bank before. The horse did well, but as it reached the top it seemed to lose energy and impulsion. It looked at the narrow top fence and stopped. There was not much the rider could do. She circled the horse in the tiny space and gave it an encouraging tap with her crop, and the horse gathered itself and jumped over and then down the drop. “Good boy!” the rider shouted as they cleared the arrowhead and continued on.

“Does that count against them?” Carole asked a woman standing next to her. After all, the horse had jumped correctly on the second try.

“Twenty penalty points,” the woman answered. “It should put them out of contention.”

Just for a little error like that?
Carole shivered. She began to understand why Nigel would choose the long routes. Did Southwood have a chance?

Here they came! The fence attendant blew her whistle. Carole watched Nigel and Southwood approach the fence. “Go, Southwood!” she shouted. “Go, Nigel!”

Nigel was concentrating so hard that Carole knew he
would never hear her. Southwood looked equally intense. Carole had never seen a horse look so fierce, so intent upon jumping.

She held her breath. In the final few strides before the bank, Carole waited for Nigel to turn Southwood for the easier jumps to the side. Instead, Nigel seemed to draw in his own breath. He put his legs on Southwood and steered him straight for the short route!

Up, up, two strides, over, and down! Where the previous horse had faltered, Southwood kept steady, and Nigel drove him forward. Straight, fast, and clean! Carole cheered as they galloped away. Why had they taken the short route? Carole caught her breath. Lisa’s guess must be correct! Nigel was going for gold!

“S
OUTHWOOD FAST AND CLEAR
over the Lexington Bank!” Stevie heard the announcer and screamed in jubilation. She realized what the words “fast and clear” meant—Southwood had taken the short route and he’d made it.

Stevie was standing near the lake. She knew this was one of the complexes that Nigel was most worried about. For the short route the horses had to jump two almost-four-foot-high fences in a row, without even a stride between them, and land in water, which many horses hated. Just in the time she’d been standing there, Stevie had seen one horse refuse to enter the water and another jump
in clumsily and give its rider a dunking. The long route, though, was very long—the horses had to trot and turn, trot and turn, before the jumps. Nigel had told Stevie that time lost here would be very hard to make up later in the course.

Here came Nigel. From far away, Stevie could see him start to slow Southwood. Southwood, however, saw the fence and plunged forward eagerly.

“Let him try it, Nigel!” Stevie said, even though she knew Nigel couldn’t hear. He hesitated, then shifted Southwood back on course for the bounce into the water. Stevie felt her heart almost stop. What if Southwood
couldn’t
do it?

Other horses might have been put off by the water, but not Southwood. He jumped the first fence, jumped the second, and
splash!
Southwood stumbled as he landed. Nigel fought for balance, grabbing Southwood’s mane. Just in front of them was a jump that was actually in the water—a bank like an island, with a fence on top. Southwood floundered, fighting to get his feet back under him. Water flew up around them.

Nigel could have stopped Southwood, turned him, and taken a slower, easier approach to the island. Instead he sat steady, giving the horse his head so that he could regain his balance but encouraging him toward the island. “Up!” Nigel said, and Southwood took heart. He pulled
himself up, jumped the bank, then made a tremendous effort and cleared the fence that was on it.

“Good
boy
!” Nigel shouted.

“Good
boy
!” Stevie echoed. The crowd cheered. Southwood splashed back into the water, then galloped to dry land with a satisfied swish of his tail. Stevie didn’t know who was more amazing—Nigel or Southwood. Nigel wanted to win!

L
ISA WAS AT
the sunken road, a giant square hole with fences on both sides. The fast route went jump, jump, jump, jump—over the fence, into the hole, out, and over. Nigel had said it called for very precise riding. Lisa thought it looked exciting, and a lot of people seemed to agree with her, because there was a big crowd around the fence.

Lisa wiggled her way to the front so that she could see. It had taken her a long time to walk to the jump, and she didn’t have long to wait for Southwood. When the fence attendant blew her whistle Lisa looked up—and recognized Mrs. Harrington and Jenny! The crowd pushed against Lisa, trying to see the next horse. “It’s Southwood,” Lisa heard another spectator say. She leaned closer.

As Nigel and Southwood barreled down the lane from the lake, Lisa caught her breath. It was clear to her that
Nigel wasn’t holding Southwood back. He was letting Southwood shine!

Nigel rode Southwood so close to Lisa that she could have caught his stirrup. “Go, go, go,” she whispered. Southwood took the short route in textbook fashion, then galloped away to the cheers of the crowd. Lisa thought he looked more Olympic with every stride.

A
S SOON AS
Southwood was out of sight, Lisa pushed her way through the crowd and ran for the finish line. Southwood had a few more fences to jump, but he’d be traveling at a gallop, and Lisa wanted to see him come in. She had a feeling she’d just witnessed something great.

When Lisa reached the finish, panting for breath, Stevie and Carole were already there, clinging to Dorothy with excitement. Lisa rushed forward to give Dorothy a hug. “Did you see them?” Lisa asked.

“The first few fences,” Dorothy said. “But I’ve been listening to the announcer, too.” Her face glowed.

A moment later Southwood came into sight, galloping up a slight rise to the final fence, a large wooden park bench set between two trees. It was big, but, as Nigel had told them, it was meant to be encouragingly easy. Southwood took it in stride, and Nigel galloped him over the finish on loose reins. They had no penalties and no time
faults. Southwood’s round had been flawless. Nigel’s face was aglow with joy.

The girls and Dorothy waited while Nigel removed Southwood’s saddle and was weighed out holding it. Then they swarmed over him with congratulations and hugs. “What made you do it, Nigel?” Dorothy asked him. “I could hear that you were taking the risky routes. Why did you change your mind?”

Nigel had one arm around Carole and the other around Southwood. He looked over Dorothy’s shoulder at Drew, who had just come running from the course, and smiled. “Prospero,” he said. “He never had his chance. I want to make sure that Southwood gets his.”

S
UDDENLY THERE WAS
a lot of work to do. Southwood was covered with sweat and breathing hard, and their first job was to make him comfortable. Dorothy had several buckets of water waiting near the finish, and right away The Saddle Club began to sponge cool water over Southwood’s neck and shoulders. Drew removed Southwood’s galloping boots and replaced his bridle with a halter and lead rope. Dorothy and Nigel checked every inch of Southwood’s body for cuts, scratches, or swellings.

“He looks great,” Nigel said with satisfaction. “A little more of that water, girls, then we’ll get him walking until he cools off. Lisa, offer him a tiny bit to drink.”

Drew handed her a different bucket. “I put some salts in it,” he said. “It’s like horse Gatorade.”

Lisa held the bucket under Southwood’s nose. “Just a little swallow,” she told the horse. She knew too much water could upset a hot horse’s stomach. Southwood took a sip, then raised his head and drooled water down the front of Lisa’s sweatshirt. He followed that up by rubbing against her. Lisa laughed as she pushed him away. Sweat and horsehair covered her now, but what difference could it make? From running all over the cross-country course, she was already sweaty and muddy. Her jeans were dirty, half of her hair had come out of her ponytail, and her bangs were sticking to her face. Lisa giggled as she picked up an empty water bucket and headed to the pump. She knew her mother would die if she saw her now.

Suddenly someone tapped her on the shoulder. Lisa turned. “This is my brother Eddy,” Drew said. “I’ve been trying to introduce you all week.”

Lisa’s mouth fell open so fast she was surprised she didn’t hear a thud from her chin hitting the ground. Eddy was not mouse-haired, cross-eyed, or goofy. His complexion was as smooth as rose petals. He had high, chiseled cheekbones, beautiful dimples, and perfect blue eyes. He was gorgeous.

In fact, the only thing less than perfect about Eddy’s appearance was the look of disappointment on his face.

“I haven’t seen you or your friends the whole week,” Eddy said. “Have you been hiding from me or something?”

“Uhhh …” Lisa became aware that her mouth was still open, and she closed it. Suddenly she wished she weren’t covered with horse slime. She wished she weren’t sweaty. She wished she weren’t dressed like a barn slob. Most of all, she wished she didn’t still have chicken-pox marks. She wished she’d met Eddy on the very first day. They could have walked the cross-country course together. “Uh—of course w-we haven’t been hiding,” she stammered as she filled the bucket at the pump. The truth was, they’d been running away. “We were just busy. But we’re not busy now.”

“Well, I am.” Eddy still looked somewhat disappointed. Lisa couldn’t blame him. Of course he knew they’d been avoiding him—no boy was that dumb. “I’ve got to help Drew,” Eddy continued as he and Lisa walked back to Southwood and the others. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you, Lisa. Drew
said
you were really nice.” From his tone, Lisa knew that Eddy didn’t think she was necessarily very nice.

Eddy and Drew began walking Southwood back to the stables. Nigel looked at his watch and ran off, still in full riding gear. “He’s got to go sign autographs in the
Horse-Play Magazine
booth,” Dorothy said. She, Carole, and
Stevie were gathering Southwood’s gear. Lisa went to help, slinging Southwood’s sweaty saddle over her arm. A little more sweat could hardly make a difference at this point.

“You’ll never believe it,” she groaned. “All week we’ve been hiding from the most gorgeous boy in the world!” She pointed at Eddy, who was walking beside Drew.

Stevie’s and Carole’s mouths dropped opened just as Lisa’s had. “That’s Eddy?” Stevie said. “Wow!”

Dorothy laughed. “I told you that you’d like him,” she said. “I knew you girls were avoiding him. Why?”

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Carole said lamely, still staring at Eddy.

“Right,” Dorothy said, with another laugh and a roll of her eyes. “When I was your age, I might have done the same thing. Fortunately, I grew out of it by the time I met Nigel.”

“I think I’ve grown out of it just now,” Lisa said.

L
ATER THEY ALL
went out for a celebratory dinner, Drew and Eddy included. The tension of the night before had been replaced by a general glee. They were all ecstatic over Southwood’s success.

“A toast,” Nigel said, raising his glass high, “to clean, fast rounds!” They all raised their glasses. Southwood was in sixth place after cross-country. He’d done amazingly
well. Nigel drank deeply—he was celebrating with a banana milk shake—and came up with a milky mustache. Dorothy leaned over and playfully wiped it off with her napkin.

“A toast,” Stevie said, raising her glass of root beer, “to a real Olympian—and his rider!”

“Now, now,” Nigel scolded her, “we still have show jumping tomorrow. Anything could happen.” But from the smile on his face The Saddle Club knew he felt confident.

“He’s never had a rail down in competition,” Carole reminded him.

“And tomorrow would be a bloody awful time to start,” Nigel added.

“But you have to admit, things look really good,” Lisa said. “There weren’t too many clean rounds today—and all of the other British riders had time penalties. You’ve got a really good shot at the team now.” She smiled at Eddy, who was sitting next to her. Or rather, since Eddy had chosen his seat first, she was sitting next to him. Lisa was trying to make up for lost time. “Isn’t that thrilling, Eddy? To think that we know an actual Olympic horse and rider!”

Eddy shrugged. He seemed even shier than Drew. He hadn’t said much to Lisa, despite her repeated attempts at conversation. Of course, Lisa doubted whether she’d have
had much to say to a boy who’d run away from her for a week.

“I guess so,” Eddy said, then added to Nigel, “I mean, I think it’s great, but, you know—nothing’s certain.”