Horsewoman Book 1: Best Of Equitation

Chapter 11

"Yes! Way to go, Cristal!" Jas danced and cheered around me when I walked to her, followed by Pal getting numerous nose kisses.                                                                     "Hello, are you Cristal Rogers?"
I spun around to see a girl about my age, smiling kindly. Something about her was familiar. Darkish brown hair, freckles, brown eyes, and a kind and shy expression. "Nicole!" I exclaimed. Nicole Collins was my friend from third grade.                                                                                                                                                      "You remember me!" She said delightedly. Her voice still had the familiar British accent. I love the way she says hoh-ses for horses and gahhhls for girls. "I saw you jump," she said shyly. "It was absolutely delightful! Would you like to come watch my performance? I have equestrian vaulting in half an hour." We both nodded vigorously. Soon we were waiting outside the dressing room stall. Nicole came out after about ten minutes. She was totally transformed! Her shiny hair was in a tight bun. Instead of riding boots, she wore ballet slippers. Instead of jodhpurs and a coat, she had a golden-blue, shiny unitard on. Nicole was beaming. "I didn't know you ride!" I exclaimed as we walked to where her horse was. Nicole smiled. "I have been riding ever since I got my first horse, right around fourth grade," she replied. "And that's when I switched schools," I remembered. We finally reached the stalls, and Nicole said, holding her arm out in a grand gesture, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for....The spectacular Pixie!" Pixie was the most gorgeous chestnut Morgan mare I'd ever seen. Her thick mane was elegantly braided dressage-style. "I need to tack her first," said Nicole. She took a lunging surcingle off a metal hook on the wall. A surcingle is kind of like a girth with no saddle. It's used sometimes to lunge horses. But this one was different. Instead of metal D-rings, there were three leather loops, each about the size of my hand. Nicole must have noticed my puzzlement because she explained, "It's a vaulting surcingle. I can stick my feet in the loops and stand up. I can also put my hands in there to do handstands." Wow! Nicole buckled the surcingle just below Pixie's withers, on top of a mint-green saddle pad. Then she put a leather-rope hackamore onto Pixie's head. She attached a twenty-foot lunge line onto the hackamore and led Pixie out. The Morgan's walk was just as gorgeous as herself. Her well-oiled hooves seemed to float over the stable ground. I couldn't get enough of Pixie's elegant gaits when Nicole urged her into a trot. We finally made it into the arena. Jasmine and I took our places in the bleachers, while Nicole, first in line, waited to start. Three judges sat at a white plastic table. One of them raised her hand and nodded toward Nicole. She stepped forward in a gymnastics salute. The lunger, her mom Olivia, flicked the long whip and Pixie took off in a canter. Nicole jogged beside Pixie for 10 strides, then swung up using big plastic handles on the side of the surcingle. She sat with straight legs for three strides, then swung into a handstand. She held that for 2 strides, then, staying in the handstand, lowered her legs into the splits. She held that for 1 stride before lowering down to straddle Pixie, like normal riding. She stood up and lunged back into a cutoff back handspring. She ended in a backflip off of Pixie's rump. We all clapped loudly when Nicole and Pixie bowed in unison.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        "Woo-hoo! Go, Nicole!" We shouted as she bowed once more. They walked proudly out of the arena, everyone in the arena whooping and shouting.
Nicole ended up getting first, then it was time to go home.

"Hey, Mom!" I said, slamming the door behind me. "I'm home!"
Mom stepped out of the kitchen, stirring something in a pot with a wooden spoon. "Don't slam the door, honey," she said kindly. It felt like the millionth time she'd said that to me.
"Hey, Mom," I said again, pulling off my boots and socks, "remember Nicole Collins from third grade? You know, before I switched to Oak Ridge Academy."                      Mom shook her head, then nodded slowly. "Vaguely. The sweet little girl with brown hair and freckles?"                                                                                                                     "M-hm," I said, sitting down and massaging my feet, which were sore from riding all day. "What's in the pot?" I asked when my stomach growled. Mom grinned.             "Mashed potatoes," she said. "Your favorite." I flashed a smile to her. "Thanks!" Just then, Troy barged in, gnawing on a hot dog. "Tryin' to spoil your dinner, Tulip?" I teased. Tulip is his teasing name, which he hates. Troy held out the other half of hot dog.                                                                                                                                         "Want some?" He offered sillily.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       "Eww, no!" I said, waving it away. He knows I hate hot dogs.
"Dinner's ready!" Mom called from the kitchen. She rang the 'dinner bell' and Ella, Dad, and Danielle came rushing in.
"Guess what, Cris!' Said Ella, beaming. 
"No idea," I replied, getting up from the sofa.
"I barrel raced today! Daddy showed me how. One hand on reins, other on saddle horn, right barrel first-"
"Nice, Ella!" I interrupted her. "What was her time?" I whispered to Dad when Ella left. Dad grinned and waved the neon orange stopwatch.
"37.79," he answered.
"Ouch," I grimaced.
"Come on, you two," said Mom from the dining table. I picked up Kittiana, our tabby kitten, and walked to the table. I love our dining room. Mom's china horse collection is on a giant shelf on one side, and the other one has vintage Western saddles, hung on saddle racks nailed to the wall. In the middle is a dark brown mahogany table that must weigh a hundred pounds. When my Grandpa was younger, he made this table, so it's about fifty years old. Around the table are eight chairs with deep blue cushions. We sat down and Dad prayed.
"Dear God, thanks for this awesome day you've given us. Thanks for all the ribbons we've won today, and for new friends, or old friends, we've met." He winked at me. "Thank you for the food. In Jesus' name, amen." Words of 'amen' flickered around the table, then we began to dish up.
"Delicious!" I said, looking at my plate filled with corn, salmon, mashed potatoes, and salad. When we finished dinner, peanut butter brownies and milk followed. Then we went our own ways. Dad went to feed the horses, Troy went to exercise Greta, Danielle went to finish her crocheting project, Mom went to help her, and I went to the family room to watch TV. As always, Ella followed me to the family room sofa. I sat down on the blue gingham sofa and turned on Netflix. I tapped on Heartland, and watched two episodes. On the third, Amber was just about to get onto a pretty sorrel Quarter Horse, which had been abused, when I turned it off. I went to my room and read two chapters of Winnie the Horse Gentler number 6, Gift Horse. Then I went to sleep.