Leaping Hearts(39)

“Thanks,” she said, and then started back for the crowd around the billboard.

“Don’t worry about going into the fray,” he said, stopping her. “I’ve already sketched out the course and you’re going second to last in a field of fifteen.”

“That’s great.”

Together, they bent over his clipboard and analyzed the course order. There were eleven fences, with two combinations. Mercifully, Devlin’s prediction that there wouldn’t be a water obstacle was correct. After A.J. was familiar with the layout, they went inside the ring and walked the course, pacing off the distances between the jumps. Taking three-foot steps, they counted four as one of Sabbath’s strides. Other competitors and trainers were doing the same and the lot of them looked like a platoon of confused soldiers, high-stepping in different directions.

After they’d walked the course once, Devlin coached her on how to handle the turns.

“The first three jumps are straightforward. Going into the turn that follows, get him into a lead change as soon as you can before heading over to the first combination of uprights. Six is going to be the first real test. It’s a tight crank and he’s going to fight you for his head. Seven and eight are relatively easy but then comes the cruncher. He’s going to get barreling fast during that straight shot before the turn into nine and ten. You’re going to have to hold him as best you can so you don’t go cockeyed into the corner and miss that last combination of oxers. Get through them and you’re home free with the wall at eleven.”

A.J. nodded and asked him some specific questions about where she needed to take jumps at an angle in order to get the stallion into the best position to handle the turns. She knew that her late start position was going to be an advantage. She could watch the first couple of jumpers and see where they were having problems. Typically, courses had one or two fences that the competitors tended to fault on, and discovering where those were was important information. Sometimes, it was surprising where the problems came up.

The goal in competition was a “clean round,” which meant the horse and rider made it over all of the fences without knocking down a rail. A point system, made up of “faults,” measured any deviation from a clean round. If a rail was knocked down, it would mean four faults for the rider, and there were other transgressions such as a horse refusing a jump or failing to cross the start or finish line. There was also a time limit on the course, and if a rider’s time came in above it, they would be disqualified.

After all the competitors finished the first round, if there was only one clean round or only one rider with the lowest number of faults, that competitor would win and the others would place accordingly. If there were multiple clean rounds or lowest number of faults, there would be a jump off, a timed round over a half dozen fences. The rider with the fastest timed clean round would then win or, failing any clean round, the rider with the lowest number of faults would take first place.

A.J. and the competitors all knew the rules by heart. They also knew the standards were the only predictable thing in an event. There was no way of knowing what would happen when someone went into the ring. During the two minutes it took for a rider and horse to go through a course, anything and everything could happen. It was this kind of triumph and tragedy that kept them all, competitors and spectators alike, coming back for more.

As she ran the course order through her head again, A.J. was thinking she had no idea how the stallion was going to behave. Well, she knew what the downside could be. Putting Sabbath into a foreign ring and surrounding him with people, some of whom would be moving around while he was jumping, was asking a lot. It would be visually arresting, a feast for the roving eye, and she knew how easily he lost concentration.

After walking the course one more time, she and Devlin headed back to the competitors’ paddock. By the time they returned to the trailer, Chester had wrapped each of the stallion’s lower legs to prevent injury if he knocked a rail, and had already put A.J.’s saddle on his back.

“We’ve got a good position,” Devlin said as they approached. “How’s he been behaving?”

“I think he’s engaged to that mare over there but I can’t be sure.”

Devlin laughed. “Maybe you’ll get that spring wedding after all.”

“I’m hopin’ for one.”

A.J. shot them both a curious look but the subject was dropped.

Going inside the trailer, she retrieved the bag that held her show clothes. In one of the empty stalls, she tossed aside her barn boots and undressed, feeling chilled by the early-morning air. In a hurry to get warm, she quickly put on a crisp white shirt with a priest’s collar and tucked it into a pair of tan jodhpurs. Fishing around in her bag, she found her good-luck socks. Bright pink, they had pigs with angels’ wings flying in formation and she covered them up by stepping into a pair of highly polished black boots that came up to her knees.

Out of her purse, A.J. retrieved a gold pin, which she affixed at her throat in the front, and then she plaited her hair into a long braid that she twisted tightly into a bun at her neck. Looking around for a mirror, she didn’t find one so she tried to get a sense of what she looked like by using a compact.

Frustrated because she couldn’t see herself, and feeling conflicted because she was wondering what Devlin would think of her outfit when she should have been focusing on the event, A.J. took her blazer from its wooden hanger and put it on with a smooth motion. The tailored black jacket was lined with red silk and had two brass buttons on the front engraved with the Sutherland logo. She tried not to dwell on the insignia as her fingers did up the blazer. With a crisp tug at the double vents in the back, she was armored in genteel battle gear and she emerged, velvet helmet dangling from one hand, ready to go into the ring.