Grand Prix: Jetstream

Chapter Three

Due to rain earlier in the week, the Old Salem Farm Spring Horseshow was continuing for an extra two days. I arrived earlier than usual the next morning with the intention of caring for Harmony. As I am mixing her morning feed, a familiar voice comes from the aisle.

"Hello?" it says. Startled, I stand up and wipe my hands on a nearby towel.

"Um, hi Miss Cornerstone, can I help you?" I stutter, praying I don't sound too awkward. Megan cornerstone is one of the most accomplished show jumpers around. At age 39, she's won a team Olympic gold medal, many international Grand Prix events, and been ranked the number one show jumper in the world four times. And judging by the expression on her face, she's come to see me on business.

"Is that mare of yours for sale? I can always use another nice, dependable jumper like her in my string," she says, stroking the nose of Harmony, who has come to the front of her stall to say hello. My stomach does nervous flip-flops. Though Harmony's owner has never threatened me with it, the possibility of Harmony leaving me has always been an unwanted thorn in my side.

"Um, no, I don't believe she is," I answer, dropping my days. Megan stops stroking Harmony and walks over to place an ivory card on my tack trunk.

"Well, if that ever changes, it'd be kind of you to give me a call. Have a lovely day, and congratulations on your win last night," he says. I smile and thank her before she leaves. After I've fed Harmony and washed my hands, I spend several minutes admiring Megan Cornerstone's business card. There is one incredible picture of her and her international champion jumper Fortunate. I make a mental goal of someday having an equally awesome business card.

Resolving to take Harmony for a walk around the grounds, I grab her halter and lead rope. As I'm leading her out, my phone begins to ring.

"Hello?" I asked into the phone. The number wasn't one I recognized, and I hadn't seen the area code before.

"Hello, is this Kiala Regent?" The voice is pleasant and distinctively female. It's rather obvious that I haven't met whoever is on the other end before.

"It is. How can I help you?" I answer with relative confidence. Harmony tugs on the leadrope, looking rather comical as she flaps her upper lip and strains to reach a few bites of grass growing by the corner of the wall. I stifle a laugh.

"Is there extra room in your stable block? I have a young jumper I'd like to put in your program," The lady tells me. I jumped up and down a little bit in excitement. Hopefully she can't hear this.

"Yes!" I say a little too quickly. Oops.

"I mean, yes there is. It would be a pleasure to work with you and your horse," I respond in a more formal tone. The lady on the other end gives me her information and tells me that she'll handle the shipping. When she hangs up, I sigh with happiness.

"Okay Harmony, let's go for a walk girlie!" I croon, wiggling her lead rope as she begins to follow me out of the temporary stabling. Thirty seconds later, my phone rings again. With a quiet grunt of mock annoyance, I answer.

Having learned from my previous experience, I open with, "Hello, this is Kiala Regent. How can I help you?"

"Ah, hello Miss Regent. Do you show horses in the hunter ring?" The man on the other end has a curt, unfriendly voice that I immediately am wary of. I consider several answers before speaking.

"I do..." My voice is careful and cautious, but an undertone of confidence remains. A loud noise in the background can be heard through the phone. Presumably, it is a horse, because it sounds like a shrill neigh. Reminded of my own charge, I glance back at Harmony, who is watching her surroundings with interest. And to her, it must be an intriguing site to observe.

"Excellent. I will notify you when I have shipping details. My name is Howard Merlington and I'll be in touch with you shortly. Good day," he hangs up abruptly. There was no room to argue over whether or not his horse would be staying with me. I guess everyone had to deal with a difficult client at some point.

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Phone calls pour in all day long. It seems that everyone on the East Coast now wants their horses in training with "Show Jumping's newest star," as one news source has already dubbed me. Additionally, people congratulate me on my big win everywhere I go. It's tempting to soak up and enjoy my glory, but it somehow feels morally wrong, so I stick with the humble approach.

Totaling my numbers at the end of the day, I am shocked to learn that I have managed to acquire 13 new training projects over the course of one day. It seems like a worthwhile investment to get a Bluetooth for my lengthy trip home tomorrow, so I get one later that night.

Collapsing into my hotel bed, I pause to wonder if I realistically envisioned what would happen after my big break.