Rescue Heart

Chapter Eighteen

C h a p t e r . E i g h t e e n

The Highland Equine Exhibition was one of the biggest calendar events in the equestrian community in the North of Scotland. As a child and a teen, it had been an annual event for Mum and I, whether we were spectating or if I was riding. It felt strange to be back, seeing how much had changed in the few years that I had been absent. The grounds had expanded, with three massive main0 arenas where the big classes took place and four smaller ones for qualifiers and small cl0asses. Market stalls littered the edges of the path, with everything and anything available to buy from local farmer's produce to expensive saddlery products. There were restaurants, grills and bars in abundance, as well as plenty other demonstrations, everything from Highland Dancing to dog agility.

What had remained the same, however, was the atmosphere. No matter how big or small the event was itself there was always an intangible high, a buzz of excitement. There was fiercely competitive spirit, but excellent sportsmanship and commendable showmanship as always, and although I was admittedly intimidated by the scale of the show, I was put at ease by the friendly nature of stewards and competitors alike.

We arrived on Day Two to participate in a couple of classes. It had been a sporadic, last minute arrangement, but I knew it was time for Diva and I to show the world what we could do, and Helen had a habit of throwing me in at the deep end.

I was entered into an unaffiliated Intro dressage class and an unaffiliated Preliminary dressage class. Neither of them were testing, and both were well within Diva's capabilities, but with this being a whole new atmosphere for her, there would be more than just her knowledge and talent to factor in.

About half an hour before Diva and I were due to do our first test, Helen and I led her down to the warm up arena, a grassy area fenced off and secluded from the hustle and bustle of the main arena. It was positioned directly behind the grandstands, however, and the noise was inescapable. It was just the two of us – to minimise the pressure on both Diva and I, the others had agreed to let us do this on our own. Oddly, I preferred this.

Sitting on Diva, with Helen leading us down, I had a good opportunity to survey the other competitors. It was pleasing to see a variety of horses – from cobs to Thoroughbreds, to sportier types. One horse in particular caught my eye, a very eye-catching Welsh Section D. Although small and on the chunkier side, he moved with surefooted grace, in an elegant and natural outline, stepping under himself beautifully. But his stunning action was marred by the worried look on his face, and his rider was jostling for control as every few strides he spooked – violently at times – at his surroundings.

Privately, I was surprised that so far things had gone for us without a hitch. Diva was a little hotter than I would have liked, but she seemed unafraid of the noise and the busy atmosphere. When Helen let go of us and took a step back, Diva confidently continued to walk on like I asked her, until we were in the thick of the arena surrounded by several other combinations. And then it was as if the mare went into a total meltdown.

The first thing I noticed was the immediate heaviness in the contact. Diva was particular and light in the mouth – just as Twister was – and would only tolerate a gentle, sensitive contact. But Diva clamped hard on the bit and braced her entire neck against me, something she never did. Then, I felt her sides harden as she tensed up. The lightest touch from my leg was ignored, and when I asked a little firmer she gave no indication of acknowledgement – not even a flick of her ears or tail. I frowned and reached forward to rub her neck.

"Come on, you," I said softly. "What's the matter?"

I could tell that she was unsure. She looked around, and I caught a glimpse of her wild, wide-eyed expression. Her nostrils flared and she seemed to be overwhelmed by the business of it all. I couldn't really be too surprised by this given how quiet or little homely farm was, and how little exposure she'd had to a show setting. I then began to wonder if it had been too unfair for us to throw her into such a big venue from the offset.