Star Pupil (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 4) Page 2

  “Don’t ever let me hear you say those words again. And that goes for all of you,” she pointed at Ethan and Mickey with the crop. “There is always a way to figure things out. You think you’ll ever be anything in life if you give up all the time? You think I got where I am today because I just gave up? Sometimes you just have to work a little harder for things but then you appreciate them more. Right?”

  “Right,” we said.

  But Mickey and Ethan had never had to work for anything in their lives. They had parents who paid their horse bills and probably wouldn’t have batted an eye if they’d asked for a new saddle. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to grow up in a family where you didn’t have to scrounge for every single thing but then I just felt guilty about it. Life was complicated like that.

  “What about the used tack section in the Barn Bazar?” Esther said. “You never know what you’re going to find in there.”

  “Yeah, last time we looked there was a guy trying to pass a llama off as a pony,” Mickey snorted a laugh.

  “It’s worth a shot,” I said, feeling defeated.

  This was what I had been reduced to, scouring the cheap paper flyer that was delivered to all the local feed stores. It was usually full of ads for poor old horses on their last legs and tack that no one wanted because it was so old that it would probably fall apart the first time you used it but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Look, there is a Clydesdale for sale in here!” Mickey shrieked as we scoured the Barn Bazar for anything that looked remotely like a useful saddle.

  “What would you two do with a Clydesdale?” Esther said. She was sitting behind her desk going over some bills while we were piled up on the old couch, sharing the paper.

  “I don’t know,” Mickey said. “But they are so cool. Every time I see them in a new Super Bowl commercial, they totally make me cry.”

  “So you’re saying if we buy it and braid it’s mane and tail and then teach it to pull a wagon full of beer barrels, you’ll cry all the time?” I laughed.

  “You guys are so mean,” Mickey said.

  “Don’t worry,” I nudged her. “It’s probably not even a real Clydesdale anyway. This is the Barn Bazar, remember? It’s probably just some old draught horse mix that doesn’t even look anything like a Clydesdale.”

  “Or a stuffed toy of one,” Esther said.

  “Doesn’t bode well for the saddles then does it?” I said. “What am I going to find? A Breyer model saddle?”

  But we didn’t find anything. The only saddles that were listed were western or far too big for me or Bluebird. I crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the trash can. I missed.

  “Now what?” I said.

  “You know, there is that new tack store that just opened up in town,” Esther said. “I have an invitation somewhere to their welcome party.” She started shuffling papers around on her desk, most of them spilling onto the floor. “I wasn’t going to go because those things are always such a nightmare but I think they were having a special sale and a raffle or something.”

  “That sounds like the perfect place to find a saddle,” I said. “Why weren’t you going to go?”

  Esther put down her glasses and stared at us like she was trying to decide whether she should tell us or not. Finally she sat back and sighed.

  “You know the cool girls in school?” she said. “The ones who run the group everyone wants to be in and they alone decide who gets to be in and who gets to be out.”

  Mickey and I nodded. I knew all about the cool group and I was about as far from being a member as you could get. Not that I cared. Being an outcast at school was the least of my worries. Mickey, on the other hand, always seemed to have one foot in each camp. She could swing either way and she knew it.

  “Well those girls,” Esther continued, shaking her head. “They grow up and go to things like grand openings and club meetings and they are on show committee boards and it’s rather like you’re back in high school again. Everyone is comparing their horses and their spouses and their show records. Trying to one up each other. It’s sort of my worst nightmare.”

  “Mine too,” I said. “I thought when people were adults they didn’t act like that anymore.”

  “Honey,” Esther said. “Adults are even worse. Welcome to the real world.”

  Despite Esther’s reservations about the people who were going to be at the grand opening ceremony, the next night we arrived at the barn in freshly pressed breeches and shirts, looking like the perfect example of hardworking, dedicated riding students. We’d even managed to persuade our hair into somewhat respectable braids, which took ages because my hair kept wanting to do annoying things like spring out into curls on top of my head. We ended up using half a can of hair spray.

  “My hair feels all stiff,” I grumbled. “It’s like I’m wearing a hair helmet.”

  “You both look fine,” Esther snapped as we fussed about in front of the mirror in the tack room. “Now go get in the truck.”

  She was also wearing breeches and boots and looked about as nervous as we were. If it hadn’t been for the stupid saddle, none of us would be going so I kind of felt responsible that I’d dragged everyone into it.

  “I think that it will probably be fun,” Mickey said. “You know, all fancy finger foods and everyone gossiping.”

  “Forget about the gossiping,” I said. “Just keep your eyes peeled for any suitable saddles.”

  But I might as well have been talking to the wall. Mickey was a gossip magnet. If there was dirt on someone, she probably knew it before they did.

  “Just don’t tell anyone about my saddle,” I told her as we got into the truck. “I don’t need people finding out that I’m riding Bluebird with a million pillows on his back just so he doesn’t get sore.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” she said, looking hurt.

  But I knew better. Not only was I going to have to keep an eye out for a well-made, cheap saddle, which was sort of like looking for a needle in a haystack but I was going to have to keep Mickey on a short leash so that the news of my financial shortcomings didn’t spread too far. It was going to be a long evening.

  “Hey, you don’t think Jess will be there, do you?” Mickey said.

  And just like that, I felt in my bones that the whole evening was not only going to be a waste of time but a nightmare that I was going to be trapped in.

  “Thanks a lot,” I said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Taylor’s Tack Emporium had opened up in a strip mall amid nail salons and Chinese restaurants. It wasn’t exactly what I would call the ideal place for a tack store but our town was small and hardly a bubbling metropolis. I guess you had to take what you could get and Taylor had taken it all, or at least the largest part of the building.

  It was a grand opening in the grandest of gaudy ways with balloons and banners and a life size plastic horse on the sidewalk. Kids were scrambling up onto its back while their parents took pictures and I could just make out the horrified faces of two people behind the glass of the restaurant next door.

  “I thought this was supposed to be an elegant affair?” Mickey said, looking disappointed.

  “Not exactly attracting the cream of the crop, are they?” Esther said.

  But it turned out that while the riff raff were living it up outside, crowding around hot dogs on a grill like they were the last supper, inside was in fact an elegant affair.

  “This is more like it,” Mickey said as Esther handed her invitation to a man at the door in a top hat and red coat.

  The aisles of the store were not only crowded with all the most gorgeous pieces of tack that you could ever imagine but also women sipping champagne and doing exactly what Esther had predicted, trying to outdo one another.

  “I sent him right back to Germany and demanded they train him better,” one woman exclaimed loudly. “I didn’t pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to have the horse come in second. It was a travesty.”

  “Quit
e right,” the short woman she was talking to said. “I would have done the same thing. They think they can just send us the scraps that they don’t want anymore and we’ll still pay through the nose for them.”

  “Hundreds of thousands of dollars?” I mouthed to Mickey.

  “You’d better get your mom to start buying lottery tickets,” she whispered back.

  “That wouldn’t help,” I said. “Derek would probably run off with it all if we ever won anything.”

  This time I was going to have to rely on myself. I had the last of my money in my pocket. A few hundred dollars. Not really enough to buy a good saddle unless they were practically giving them away.

  “Hungry?” Mickey said, making a bee line for the buffet.

  “Not really,” I said. “I think I’m going to look around.”

  “Stay out of trouble,” Esther warned. “Remember, you are both here representing me.”

  “Don’t worry,” I smiled. I mean what did she expect? Us to get into a bar brawl or something? It was just a tack store after all.

  I wandered the aisle, touching soft leather and fuzzy wraps. Everything smelt new and crisp and full of untapped potential. All those wonderful things waiting for someone to take them home and use them. I ran my fingers over silvery bits, many of which I knew but some that I didn’t. There were twists and corkscrews and hackamores, each one promising to make your horse as responsive and pliable as butter between your fingers. I wondered what it would feel like to come in and be able to buy anything you wanted without worrying about the cost. I imagined it would kind of feel like heaven. Then I heard her screeching voice. Jess. And heaven suddenly felt a lot more like hell.

  In the time that I had been daydreaming, people had flooded the bit and bridle aisle, obviously convinced that because I was spending so much time down there, I had possibly found a really great bargain. Now I was trapped between a woman examining a rather nasty looking studded noseband and two girls who were trying to decide between an eggbutt snaffle and a d-ring.

  “You should have won the Snowball Cup,” a loud voice drifted out from the next aisle over.

  “I know,” Jess said. “It was a conspiracy.”

  Conspiracy? I didn’t exactly see how falling off your pony was a conspiracy but that was Jess logic for you.

  “It’s Andre,” the other girl said. “He doesn’t know what he is doing. I used to think he was the best. Now I’m not so sure. I mean if people from some shitty little redneck barn can beat us at our own game, what are we even doing there?”

  “Exactly,” Jess said. “My father is already looking for a replacement trainer. He says that he’ll find someone worthy of teaching me.”

  Worthy of teaching her? I had to bury my face in my sleeve to muffle the laughs that I just couldn’t hold back. The only person worthy of teaching Jess was someone who was going to make her listen and do as she was told, instead of cashing her father’s giant checks and then letting Jess get away with whatever she wanted because she was so difficult.

  “Still,” she carried on. “I was glad to get rid of that horrid pony.”

  Poor Stardust. It hadn’t been her fault. Even an old broke to death horse wouldn’t put up with the way Jess hung on their mouths and dug her spurs into their sides. And if Stardust was out of the picture, that meant she was back to torturing poor Beauty but at least she would be out of the jumper classes for a while.

  “So when is the new one coming?” the girl asked, her voice getting louder like she really wanted everyone in the whole store to hear.

  My second of joy faded away. Of course she already had a new horse. Why wouldn’t she? Her father was like a zillionaire or something.

  “He’s here already,” Jess said. “But he’s in quarantine right now.”

  “Oh Jess, you must be so excited. I bet you can’t wait to ride him.”

  “I can’t wait to win on him,” Jess said.

  Quarantine? That could only mean one thing. Obviously all the horses in the whole of the United Sates were not good enough for Jess and she’d gone and got her father to import a horse just like the woman who’d sent back her insanely expensive horse because he came in second. But Jess’s father wouldn’t buy her a horse who would come in second. He’d make sure he bought the one who came in first.

  “Competitions like the Snowball Cup?” Jess said. “Those will be little kids games to Blue Midnight. I wouldn’t even bother to take him to such a small dinky show.”

  And somewhere in the back of my mind the wheels were turning because the name Blue Midnight sounded like something I’d heard before. But I didn’t have time to process that thought because Mickey was pushing her way down the aisle, a cookie in one hand and a pink flyer clutched in the other.

  “Come on,” she shrieked. “I’ve found your saddle!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was beautiful and I know it sounds crazy to call a saddle beautiful when the word should be reserved for sunsets or the person you love but I couldn’t help it. The saddle was beautiful. Rich caramel leather with tight stitching and padded knee rolls. I ran my fingers over them, imagining how I would cling to Bluebird’s back with my knees dug in.

  “It’s perfect,” I said, stepping back. “But it must be more than I can afford.”

  “No silly,” Mickey said. “Look, it’s the raffle prize.”

  “Oh well that’s much better then,” I said. “What are the odds? One in a thousand or a million? I never win anything.”

  “But I have a feeling,” she grinned. “That tonight will be your lucky night.”

  “It won’t be,” I sighed.

  “Just shut up and buy the ticket,” she said.

  “Alright, alright,” I said. “How much are they? A dollar? Five dollars?”

  “Twenty,” she said.

  “Twenty?” I squeaked. “I could buy those new gloves I need for twenty dollars.”

  “Stop being difficult and just trust me,” she shoved me towards the table where a young guy was selling the tickets. When I didn’t move forward, she gave me another shove.

  “One,” I grumbled.

  “Here you go,” he tore off a ticket stub and winked. “You look like you’re a lucky sort of person. I bet you’ll win.”

  “I very much doubt that,” I said as Mickey dragged me away.

  We spent the rest of the evening by the food table, stuffing our faces. It was pretty good for free food, catered by some fancy place down the street.

  “I love these,” Mickey said, stuffing a miniature pizza into her mouth.

  “They’re good,” I said. “But not as good as the horses.”

  Someone had made tiny horses out of chocolate. They galloped their way down the fancy white tablecloth, chocolate manes flowing in a non-existent breeze. I’d already eaten three of them.

  “I can’t eat those,” Mickey shook her head. “It makes me feel like a cannibal.”

  “Cannibals only eat humans silly,” I said.

  “I don’t care,” she stuffed another pizza into her mouth. “It still feels wrong.”

  But I thought they were delicious and I was just entertaining the thought of sneaking some of them home and creating a little chocolate herd in the back of the refrigerator when Esther came over looking exhausted.

  “Ready to go girls?” she said, picking up one of the pizzas and examining it before putting it down with a frown.

  “Go?” Mickey cried. “We can’t go yet. We have to wait for the raffle. Emily is going to win the saddle.”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” she said.

  “See, I told you,” I nodded. “I’ll never win it.”

  “You will,” she grinned.

  “The only person who will win that saddle is the person who needs it the least,” Esther sighed. “It will be the person who has the most money because then they will feel guilty and they will end up coming in here and spending more money on stuff and so the store will win.”

  “Well that doesn’t ma
ke any sense,” Mickey said.

  “Yes it does,” I sighed. “That’s good business.”

  “Exactly,” Esther said.

  “But she has a ticket and it’s not fair to make us leave until the raffle is drawn,” Mickey crossed her arms defiantly.

  “Fine. We’ll stay for the raffle,” Esther said. “Then we are out of here. These people are wearing on my nerves. A woman just told me that her horse would only eat German treats.”

  Mickey laughed but I knew Esther was right. The person who would win the saddle would probably already have a tack room full of saddles at their own barn. Besides, people who could afford to buy their horse expensive German treats could certainly afford to buy more than one raffle ticket for a saddle they didn’t even want but needed to win to look important.

  We didn’t have to wait long. After a few more minutes of people milling around the buffet table, there was a clinking sound. Taylor of Taylor’s Tack Emporium was not the guy I had imagined but instead a petite blonde woman with a pixie face. She stood up on a mounting block and tapped her fork against her champagne glass.

  “I like to thank you all for coming,” she said in a voice much louder than seemed normal for someone so small. “You have made the grand opening a really wonderful success and I appreciate all your well wishes and the way you have welcomed us into your horse community. We hope to be a cornerstone of the equestrian ecosystem here in this area and if you need anything, no matter how big or small just let us know. If it’s not on the shelves, we’ll be more than happy to custom order it for you.”

  “She couldn’t afford to custom order half the things I need,” Jess said loudly. She was standing off to the side with her friend, both of them with crossed arms and bored looking faces.

  “And now, are you ready to see who is going to walk away with this fantastic Rodriguez saddle, valued at just under four thousand dollars?”

  Everyone clapped.

  “Rodriguez saddle?” I whispered to Mickey. “Like, Miguel Rodriguez?”

  “Didn’t you even look at it properly?” she whispered back. “It’s his custom line. How cool is it going to be when you show up to the clinic with one of his own saddles? You’ll put all the other riders to shame.”