Gold Medal Rider Read Free Page B

She could understand people wanting to be home for the holidays, but it was still a few weeks until Thanksgiving.
    “Sure,” Nigel said, sending another grin in Dorothy’s direction. “One is. My very
fav
-or-ite student of all.”
    “She’s in the indoor arena now,” Dorothy said. “Still practicing.” Lisa thought she could hear a note of disapproval in Dorothy’s voice.
    “Beatrice,” Carole guessed, from the way Nigel made the word “favorite” sound about eighteen syllables long. Beatrice was Southwood’s stuffy, horrid, and, she had to admit, talented owner. When she wasn’t around, Nigel usually pronounced “Be-a-tri-ce” the same stretched-out way. He made it sound longer than “Mississippi.”
    “The one and only,” Nigel said dryly. They continued down the aisle toward the entrance to the arena. “Most higher-level event riders give their horses a vacation at this time of year because there aren’t any competitions between early December and February. But not dear Beatrice. She doesn’t believe in vacations—at least not for her horse.”
    Nigel dropped his voice as they reached the gate of the arena. Under the strong lights a horse and rider were trotting in perfect harmony. Nigel raised his voice again, and sounded cheerful. “Hullo, Beatrice,” he said. “How’s things?”
    “Is she—,” Stevie began. Carole elbowed her into silence as Beatrice and Southwood swept past the gate.
    “Shhh! Yes, she’s the girl I told you about.”
    “And that’s
Southwood
? The horse you rode in a show?” Lisa’s voice squeaked. “He’s gorgeous!”
    Carole looked at the horse in confusion. “Yes—I guess so—I mean, it must be him, his markings are the same. But he didn’t look like
that
when I rode him.” Carole remembered Southwood as a beautiful horse that jumped with enthusiasm, but that was gentle, almost sleepy. The sleekdark bay horse Beatrice was riding now looked fiery and powerful. It
was
the same horse, Carole realized. Southwood had changed.
    Beatrice turned Southwood down the center line so that he was trotting directly toward the girls. Slowly she shortened his stride until his trot was nearly vertical. Both Beatrice and Southwood were concentrating intently. When they reached the exact center of the arena, Southwood lengthened his stride and began to move diagonally.
    “Half-pass,” Kate whispered. “He does it beautifully.”
    Stevie nodded. She’d seen the dressage move performed before. “Incredible,” she whispered back. Southwood had world-class presence, and he and Beatrice moved in complete, total harmony. Stevie hoped that someday she could ride her own horse, Belle, that well.
    “You rode this horse?” Lisa repeated, looking at Carole with astonishment.
    Carole started to laugh. In the arena, Beatrice brought Southwood to a walk and loosened the reins. Southwood stretched his neck and snorted. Carole turned to her friends. “When I rode him he wasn’t like this, believe me,” she said. “He was sweet.”
    “He’s still sweet,” Nigel said. “It’s just that he’s come a long way since you rode him, Carole. He hadn’t even evented then. Now Beatrice rides him at advanced level.”
    “How many of your horses are that good, Nigel?” Lisa asked.
    “Right now, he’s the only advanced-level horse I have,” Nigel said. “They’re very rare. Horses have to be incredibly athletic and have tremendous mental toughness and determination to make it to that level.”
    “I remember,” Kate said, her eyes shining in a way the rest of The Saddle Club had never seen before. “Great event horses love jumping fences more than anything else in the world. They think they can do anything. The really great ones
can
do just about anything.”
    “Heart,” Nigel said, summing it up. “The best horses are all heart.”
    “I remember,” Kate repeated softly. She rarely spoke about her past as a competitive rider. She’d stopped competing when she realized