The Horsewoman(97)

“I don’t need no sunlight reflecting off that pool today,” I said.

As soon as I said it, as soon as I heard the words, I turned to Gus.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be,” he said. And grinned. “I don’t need no sun in anybody’s eyes today, either.”

Then he said, “What do you think of the course?”

“I’ll tell you in my bad French accent,” I said. “It eez, how we say, bru-tal.”

One rollback in the first part of the course and a combination. A double. Then another rollback in the second half, followed by a triple. Then the water. Then one more turn, and a spring to the last fence.

Yeah.

Bru-tal.

By the time Tyler was at the in-gate, Simon LaRouche had just made the crowd go wild by going clean. He was in the jump-off along with Matthew and Eric. Mom and I had come over from the schooling ring to watch Tyler. Both of us up on our horses.

“Good luck,” I said to him, and actually meant it. Still wasn’t giving him a pass on the things he’d done or tried to do. But he had been trying to get here as long as Mom had.

He gave me a quick, surprised, sideways glance and then said, “Thanks.”

His mistake, his false step, came at the water jump. It wasn’t the glare off the water. The afternoon had gotten a little darker, if anything.

It was rider error all the way.

I could see halfway to the fence that he’d given Galahad a bad distance, after what had been a flawless round until then. He was going to be short. For all of Tyler’s obsession with Coronado, Galahad was a pretty terrific horse himself, or they wouldn’t be here.

But when they got to the jump, Galahad was just too far away, and there wasn’t a damn thing Tyler Cullen could do about it. He tried to get his horse closer at the last second. Not even a second.

Just too late.

Galahad stopped.

This time it was Tyler Cullen coming out of the saddle and off his horse, going over Galahad’s head.

The horse didn’t clear the fence.

Tyler did.

And belly-flopped into the pool.





ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO

Maggie



MAGGIE COULD BARELY WATCH from the in-gate as Tyler made the long walk of shame out of the ring, soaking wet, after his trainer had collected Galahad.

It had been a long time since Maggie and Tyler had thought of themselves as friends, or anything close. She still remembered the night at the Trophy Room when he’d basically told her she was washed up. But they were teammates now. This was the Olympics. More than anything, he was a fellow rider. She felt terrible about what had happened to him and happened here. At least he’d landed on his stomach and not his back. Or arm. Or shoulder. At least he hadn’t come down on the fence.

It reminded her of what had happened with Coronado on the trail that day, at the worst possible time.

They’d given her a few extra minutes while Tyler and his horse had left the ring, to warm applause from the crowd. All in attendance were show-jumping fans who understood how much Tyler had lost, even with the team competition still to come.

But Maggie needed to forget that, and forget him, unsee what had just happened and do that right now. She had to get her mind right, and quickly, and stop thinking about what could go wrong, and just go.

Ride your ride, she told herself.

Barely heard her introduction. Just the buzzer. Then she and Coronado were moving, into the course, no problem with the first jumps, no problem with the first rollback. Quickly she was into the first combination, feeling a slight chip on the second fence, on the way up, nothing more.

She felt as if she were through the first half of the course in a blink, coming up on the water jump, telling herself Coronado had never had trouble with a water jump. And didn’t now. Landed clear out of the water, by what felt like a country mile.

They were coming up on the triple now.

Even at this pace, Maggie’s vision once more registered in slow motion. A good thing. The line. The distance. Don’t think. Just react.

We’ve got this.

Easy as one, two, three.

Two jumps to go. They made the turn, she squared him up.

One fence left.

The skinny.

Trying to keep her breathing and her emotion under control. Feeling her excitement rise, wondering if her horse could feel it, too. They were over the last fence and finishing clear then. Even then she couldn’t make herself slow Coronado down right away, made one more turn before she allowed herself to look at her time, 77.1, as she heard the ring announcer say, “Premier place.”

Four riders in the jump-off for the gold medal now, Matthew and Eric and Simon. And Maggie.

Her kid trying to make it five.

By the time Maggie came out of the ring, Becky was already out there.





ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE



I WAS OUT THERE as soon as Mom looked up at her time.

I didn’t want to say anything to her, not right now. Didn’t even want to make eye contact. She’d ridden her horse. I needed to ride mine. I was happy for her, no doubt. When she had been asked to deliver, she had produced, at least for now, the ride of her life. I knew how much she wanted this.

But more than ever, I knew how much I did.

I had shocked everybody, including myself, by making it this far. It didn’t matter if I didn’t make it to the jump-off, if Matthew and Eric and Mom were the ones competing for the gold medal and not me.