The Horsewoman(59)

“You’re already tired of me,” he said. “Admit it, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“You have feelings?” I said, and was instantly sorry.

Told him I was.

“I know what you meant,” he said.

He paused.

“But anytime you want your old trainer back, all you have to do is say the word.”

“I will,” I said. “But I don’t.” I grinned. “Are you sure you want to train me?”

“Hell, yes,” he said.

Gus Bennett actually smiled then. Didn’t last for very long. The moment was there and gone. Like the sun peeking through the big cloud cover and then disappearing again. But I knew I’d seen it.

“I know you think this trainer swap was your call, Becky,” he said. “Yours and your mom’s. It wasn’t. It was mine.”

“But why?”

Then he told me why.

“Of course, if you ever tell anybody that,” he said, “I might have to kill you.”

“You know what?” I said. “I believe you.”

“Maybe you are learning,” Gus Bennett said.





SEVENTY

Daniel



DANIEL WAS NOW SEEING from Maggie what Gus had been seeing on a daily basis.

That she had lost her confidence.

She didn’t need a full psychological work-up or a therapist to explain to her that she had come back too quickly from the accident. Maggie was smart enough to know why she was in this dark a place, this quickly. A perfect storm.

Perfect shitstorm.

Gus had seen it even before she’d gotten back into the International. He’d tried everything to get her past this, or through it. He’d even admitted that he’d invited her to the Trophy Room on purpose the night he’d been there with Daniel. He’d wanted to challenge her pride. Nothing had changed the next day in Gus’s ring. She’d circled again. It’s why he’d suggested to Daniel that they switch riders.

Gus said his thinking was simple enough:

Maybe Daniel could get through to her, because he sure as hell couldn’t.

But she was still circling. No Gus, no audience, not even the grooms at Gus’s barn, or other riders. Just her and Daniel. It should have been a pressure-free setting. The worst part was that she wouldn’t know she was stopping the horse until it was happening again.

Somehow she hadn’t stopped yesterday, as she’d made it through the qualifying on Wednesday. When Daniel asked her afterward what had been different, she said, “I…don’t…know.”

That night she’d even spent an hour on the phone with Dr. Bob Rotella, an old friend of Gus’s who’d become the most famous sports psychologist in the country. He’d worked with other riders, some of them friends of Maggie’s. And worked wonders with them. Everything he’d said made perfect sense to her. The hour flew by. It did feel like being with a great therapist.

She’d come out this morning and circled again.

She was taking a break when she said to Daniel, “I will not humiliate myself again on Saturday night. Nope. Not happening, Daniel. Can’t do it to myself. Can’t do it to this horse. Can’t even do it to you.”

They were in the middle of Gus’s ring. Daniel said for her to remember that she had made it to Saturday night, that she’d made it through yesterday’s round with no circling, even if she’d gotten two early rails. She’d fought through that. And, for one day, fought through her fears.

She just didn’t know why.

“Maybe for once I didn’t give the poor horse mixed messages,” she said.

“The horse has never been the problem, Maggie,” Daniel said. He made a sweeping gesture that took in the whole ring. “The problem is not even in here.” He pointed to his head. “The problem is in here.”

“So how do I fix it?” she said.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“I’m all ears,” she said.

“You need to take a trail ride,” Daniel said.





SEVENTY-ONE

Maggie



THEY HAD BROUGHT Coronado back in Gus’s trailer, had saddled him up at Atwood Farm. Then Maggie went out alone, the way she had the day of the accident. Breaking the rule about an unaccompanied trail ride one more time. Maybe one last time.

“I can follow if you want,” Daniel said.

“No,” Maggie said. “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it.”

She left the barn behind her and made the left turn before she got to Stable Way, walking Coronado at first, slowly picking up speed, not pushing it.

Not yet.

She remembered every detail of her ride that day. She noticed all the familiar geography now. Imagining it was a course without jumps. But knowing exactly where the finish line was, past where the new barn was going up, past the barn owned by Tyler Cullen’s owner, past another new construction site.

Feeling everything starting to happen fast now. Feeling a dryness in her throat. Feeling the tension in her back, legs, arms. Knowing it was probably just more of her craziness, knowing that the red fox wasn’t coming out of the bushes this time.

Still afraid that he might.

Had Daniel been right?