The Horsewoman(72)

“Pretty sure it runs on both sides of the family,” I said.

She somehow forced a smile, and lowered her voice, so we didn’t make a scene out here, too.

“Honey,” she said. “No matter what happens, I’m still your mom.”

“No,” I said. “You’re an opponent.”





EIGHTY-NINE



IT WAS SUNDAY AFTERNOON, last day of the FEI World Cup finals, one of the biggest events left on the calendar, and not just because of the prize money. Three-day event. Speed course on Friday. A jump-off class on Saturday. They added up your points then. I’d always thought the scoring was way too complicated except for this: If you were the leader by Sunday and then went clean, there was no jump-off. You won. Everybody else lost.

And by Sunday afternoon, I was the leader.

This after a second in Kentucky and a third in North Carolina over the past month in World Cup qualifiers. The best Mom had done was get a sixth in Carolina. It was as if we were headed in different directions right now. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Just knew how I felt about my horse and me. And we were both bad ass right now.

Which felt good.

Very good.

Mom, Daniel, Gus, and I arrived at the schooling ring at the same time, with the final round about half over. Mom was in fifth place, which meant she’d go fifth from the end in the order. As the leader, I was going off last. I’d know what everybody else had done by then. I’d know exactly where I stood. And not just today. Because if I ended up winning today, I would move all the way up to fourth place in the Olympic standings. If the team were being selected today, I’d be going to Paris and Mom wouldn’t.

But there were multiple events to ride before team selection. We still had the Rolex Grand Prix, back in Kentucky, and then the last big event before they did pick the team, up on the show grounds in Long Island where the Hampton Classic would be held later in the summer, after the Olympics were over.

As Gus liked to say, this shit was getting very real now.

“Good luck today, honey,” Mom said before Emilio helped her up on Coronado.

“Back at you,” I said, and walked over to where Sky was.

This was pretty much our relationship now. Sentence or two at a time. No overt hostility. No more angry words. The heat was gone. More an undercurrent of coolness now. Or iciness. It seemed like years ago that I had found her lying there on the trail.

Gus shook his head before getting his wheelchair out of the middle of the ring, and over near the gate, his usual position to watch me warm up.

“The two of you are still related, right?” he said.

He’d heard our brief exchange.

Seamus was tightening my girth one last time as I settled into the saddle. As he did, I leaned down so I didn’t have to answer Gus in too loud a voice.

“We are,” I said to him. “And we might know each other better than we ever have.”

Then I got ready to ride my horse, try to do what Gus told me to do all the time, to the point where I could hear his voice in my sleep: Act like I belonged.

And know that if I went clean, nobody could catch me.

I finally heard Mom’s name called. Saw her walk Coronado slowly toward the big ring with Daniel alongside them. It was too soon for me to move Sky over to the in-gate. It meant I would have to listen to her round from here. Seasoned competitors in our sport, especially in the International Arena, could determine the strength of a round from the reaction of the crowd in the stands.

I heard a bad round for her now.

One collective groan early. Another one about twenty seconds later. Two rails down for her. Had to be. Knew the sound. If she made it to a jump-off now, she would be one of the last horses in. Maybe last one in.

I stayed away from Mom when she brought Coronado back inside the schooling ring. Tyler was going next, with Jennifer Gates to follow. Heard just one groan while Tyler was out there. Then another.

When Gus and I waited at the in-gate, Gus said, “Your mom is in the last spot if we have to go back out there for a jump-off.”

“Ain’t gonna be no jump-off,” I said.

“You sound like Rocky Balboa,” he said.

“Who?”

I knew he was just trying to relax me, because he always found different ways. I also knew from the walk what a long course this was, one with a little bit of everything. Two brutal rollbacks. Water. Big distances the second half.

“Act like you belong,” Gus said finally.

I’d won against a field as deep and talented as this before. Had that muscle memory going for me. But that was on Coronado. This time it was Sky and me. Maybe, on a stage like this, about to move out of Mom’s shadow once and for all. Beating her and everybody else. Maybe trying to serve notice that this was my year now. My time.

Looking to show the Selection Committee that I really did belong.

I gave Sky a kick to put her in motion.





NINETY



THE ROUND WASN’T without drama. Not with the water jump this time, Sky clearing both the jump and the water with room to spare.

No, the problem was with the first rollback. When I got there, I knew I could easily shave time by going inside. But knew I didn’t need to shave time. I was cruising by now. Sky had torn it up over the first half of the course, no chance of a time fault.