The Horsewoman(58)

“Does she know?”

“I am hoping she is in the process of finding out.”

Gus checked his watch. Daniel asked if he had to be somewhere. “Not exactly,” Gus said. Sipped some of his beer.

“But none of this helps you with Maggie,” Daniel said.

“The goal is still that we all make it to the Olympics,” Gus said. “Who the hell knows, this might be my last best shot.”

“Maggie can still make it,” Daniel said, “and so can you.”

Gus shook his head.

“With what I’m seeing,” Gus said, “she only makes it to Paris if she buys herself a ticket.”

He leaned forward, the powerful forearms on the table between them, his huge hands clasped, not making any attempt, as usual, to lower his voice.

“Right now,” he said, “she’s not close to being the rider her kid is.”

“Good to know,” Maggie Atwood said.

Before he or Daniel could say anything, Maggie and Caroline were already heading for the door. Daniel started to get up, saying, “I need to go after her.”

Gus Bennett clamped a hand on Daniel’s arm. His grip felt like a vise.

“Let her go,” he said.





SIXTY-EIGHT



I’D QUALIFIED ON SKY for Saturday night’s Bank of America Grand Prix the day before. It had not been pretty. I felt as if we were out of sync even before two late, pretty careless rails. But I still made it to Saturday night. Barely.

I wanted to win, of course. But at the very least, I needed to make it to the jump-off. Needed to ribbon. Basically, I needed points on the board.

I’d been working hard over the past week, putting in countless hours in the ring. It wouldn’t matter without results in the International Arena. As Grandmother had said at breakfast:

“This isn’t travel soccer. Nobody’s going to hand you a trophy for participating.”

An hour later I was out in our ring for a practice session on Sky. Normally I wouldn’t jump Sky, even over baby jumps, the day after any competition, serious or otherwise. But I was more on the clock than ever if I wanted to make it to Paris. Riding my own horse now.

When I did jump Sky two days in a row, I’d give her a longer warm-up than usual, like the one we were just finishing up. Then there would be a longer-than-usual cool-down after we left the ring.

In between, we were going after it hard today. So was my trainer. Especially my trainer.

“I’m sorry,” Gus Bennett yelled at me now. “Are we going to trot the adorable little horse all goddamn morning, or we going to finally get to work?”





SIXTY-NINE



THINGS HAD HAPPENED FAST after Daniel told me how Gus had joked that they should switch riders. I’d laughed it off at first. He didn’t, telling me that the more he’d thought about it, the more he didn’t think it was such a crazy idea.

“Your mother is desperate for things to be the way they used to be,” he said, “which means before her fall, which means when I was her trainer. And the more I think about the two of us, the more I think you might need someone to be tougher on you than I could ever be.”

Before I could say anything, he said, “Talk about it with your mother. See what she thinks.”

“What do you think?”

“Talk about it with her.”

Mom made it easy, said she was willing to try anything at this point. She was the one who made the decision to leave Coronado at Gus’s, at least for now, saying she didn’t want us to get in each other’s way, and that her horse was settled there. Daniel went over there every morning to work with her.

And Gus Bennett came to me, at the top of his voice from the time the driver’s-side door to his van opened and the wheelchair platform would extend, before slowly lowering him to the ground.

“You’re not riding Coronado anymore!” he yelled now. “Your horse drifts to the right, in case you forgot!”

He’d told me the same thing when I’d finished in the International Arena the day before. I had forgotten, just for an instant. It had still cost me a rail. After that, I had gotten a second rail and nearly missed qualifying.

All of it on me.

With Daniel, I used to answer back all the time—smart-mouthing was part of our deal.

Gus Bennett? No way in hell.

“Don’t overcorrect! Keep her straight!”

I came back around. He’d set four jumps. I cleared them all this time.

“I thought you said today was going to be light jumping.”

“Well, Becky,” he said, “I lied.”

As tough as he was, though, I could see why Mom had once had a crush on him. Maybe still did, for all I knew. He was still handsome as hell. But it was more than that. He was as real as anybody I’d ever known. Without an ounce of self-pity in him. And pity anyone who didn’t see that.

Gus Bennett made you ignore the chair, is what he did.

“Again,” he said to me.

I managed another clear round on the mini-course.

“Okay,” he said.

“You mean okay as in, good job there, Becky?”

“Okay as in, we’re done for today,” he said.

I didn’t wait for Emilio, hopped down off Sky myself, handed Emilio the reins. Gus gunned the Zinger to life then, spraying dirt in all directions, and headed straight for me.