Derby Disaster

ChAptEr ThReE

"Rider, please exit the ring."

Will halted on Jimber, confused at the statement over the speaker. This was his class; he had entered himself in the 4' jumper classes. There must be a mistake, had he grabbed one of the other kids' numbers? He followed the directions given to him and left the arena, frowning heavily. Once he was out, he dismounted quickly, running up his irons. He then took off his number, flipping it over to see if it really was his. It was. 

He was fuming, hot with frustration. He knew he had checked and double checked all the entries before he sent them in. He knew he was supposed to be in that class. He could understand if he had forgotten to pack a certain bit or an extra roll of tape, but he had not messed up the class entries. Will's rage shone through in his blue eyes, making them look like an angry sea ready to swallow ships whole and gnash them to bits with its rocky teeth. Somebody had fucked this up. Somebody had to pay. 

The long-legged teen handed the reins to Bailey, who had come up to see why Will had exited his class, before storming over to the judges' booth. He knew that the woman who owned Dale Ridge liked to watch from the booth. He eyed the grey-haired lady angrily, "Ms. Diane, can I talk to you for a minute please?" 

Diane looked up at the boy, surprised to see his set jaw and dark expression. Diane was a slight woman of about sixty years, and she was a very kind, although competitive woman. She recognized Ava Handler's nephew, "Of course, William. What's troubling you?"

The pair walked a short distance away from the judges' booth. Will's anger was bubbling hot beneath his tanned skin, sizzling in his ears like a saucepan, "Why am I not in the jumpers?"

The aging woman frowned, "Sweetheart, didn't you scratch out this morning?" 

"No," Will's anger mutated into more rage and even more confusion. He hadn't done that, hadn't even thought about it. He had been busy braiding manes with the girls while Bailey made a coffee run. 

"Did you ask someone to pull your classes?" Diane asked gently. She felt the hairs on her neck rise, having a feeling that something here was out of the ordinary. 

"No," Will gritted his straight teeth. Something was going on. The gears in his mind began to turn and churn, producing a theory: somebody was out to get Horseland. 

"Honey, I went into my office this morning to find a note saying Will Taggert was scratching from all his classes and it was signed," she put a worn hand on his shoulder. 

Will sighed, not knowing how to deal with this. He couldn't get back into those classes now, it didn't matter he didn't scratch himself. Somebody didn't want him competing, but who? He thanked Diane, leaving to go tell the others what happened. He walked into the barn aisle with a very glum expression. 

"What happened?" Bailey looked up at his cousin with great concern from where he was brushing Jimber. 

"Somebody scratched me from all of my classes," Will said in a dark tone. He didn't know what to think or do. 

"Did you talk to Diane?" Sarah asked, matching the concern level of her older friend.

"Yeah, she found a signed note to scratch on her desk this morning," he nodded. Who would do this to him? He didn't know anyone who hated him this much at this barn. He then gave a voice to his thoughts, "I don't think we forgot our shoelaces, or extra supplies. I think someone has been stealing them. I think someone spooked Chili yesterday, and didn't want Chloe to ride."

"Call Mom," Bailey said with a fearful face. Ava Handler, his mom and Will's aunt, always knew what to do. She was a fierce woman who loved the boys very dearly and treated all riders at her barn like her own family. If anyone knew what to do about this sabotage, it would be Ava.

Rory overheard the Horseland riders' conversation and began to fret. He knew he shouldn't have pulled Will's entries, but the money...Rory slapped himself, not just mentally. He fled the barn, wanting to go somewhere to be alone. He eventually found a clearing not too far from the barn in some woods. He started to think out loud, "Roran McKenna, you're a fucking sellout. You messed up somebody's show for money..."

He punched a tree as hard as he could, furious at himself. The jarring pain flooding his bloodied hand brought him back to reality. What would his mother think? Gwen McKenna would fly into a temper. "I raised you to be honest. What happened to you?" she would scold, stamping around their sunny kitchen. If only she could still stand...

Rory slid down to the ground, talking to his absent mother, "Mum, I did it for you...The hospital bills are killing us."

His mother who had given Rory all of his looks knelt before him, "Debt is better than betraying your morals."

"Not when you're dying," he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

Rory's mother had been lying sick in a hospital for almost a year, cancer eating away at the proud woman. His father was working extra jobs, both he and his brother worked as well, but still the bills swallowed up the money. So when that strange woman had approached him offering more money than he could hope to make in a year, he said yes. He knew it was wrong, but was it really that bad? An inconvenient show for a few wealthy kids or his mom's health? It wasn't a hard choice for him.

The woman in the large hat smiled; she too had heard Will's theory as he told his companions n the barn. Yes, let them call Ava, that bitch who had stolen her child. Her son looked just like his father now: tall, tan, blond. Let them call her horrid sister, saying someone was after them. They would never guess it was her. She would just frame her accomplice; after all, she had taken photos of Rory doing her bidding. Her grin deepened as she plotted her plan to make Ava give up Will. 

A/N

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