The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

won. Abby punched the air with her fist and leaned over Dancer’s neck, hugging him with all her remaining strength. “Dancer, you did it! Dancer! You won!” Tears flowed down her cheeks.

      Up he reared, bellowing his victory. He walked around on his hind legs pawing the air. Sweat dripped from his flanks and neck. As the crowd stood roaring with approval and clapping wildly, Dancer lightly dropped his front feet to the ground, and bowed deeply to his audience. His nose touched the ground. He stayed in that position for five full seconds before he stood up. He tossed his head and walked proudly out of the ring, huffing to get his breath.

      There was only one dry eye in the house, and it belonged to the man with the scratched face in the judges’ booth.

      As soon as they were out of the ring, Abby took her feet out of the stirrups and dismounted. Dancer’s sleek chestnut coat was drenched. His eyes showed white, and his nostrils were flared and so red that they appeared in danger of bleeding. Abby feared the exertion had been too much, so soon after his injury.

      His sides were heaving. She loosened the girth, ran up the stirrups, unbuckled the chin strap and nose band on his bridle, and began to walk him toward his stall. He held his head low to allow more oxygen to enter his lungs, and plodded rather than walked. He’d used every ounce of his energy.

      Every rider she passed gave her the thumbs-up, or a pat on the back. “Congratulations!” called Chris Pratt from across the paddock. “Well done!” yelled Hugh Graham. Ricky Thompson winked and said, “Not bad for a girl!”

      Abby laughed and graciously accepted the good wishes, but she was more concerned about Dancer as they neared the stabling facilities.

      Hilary James stood waiting at the stall. Her radiant smile faded as she noticed Dancer’s condition. She threw open the tack box, producing towels and the warmest blanket. Hilary ran to Dancer and pulled off the saddle as they walked. She replaced his bridle with his halter.

      Without saying a word, the two young women rubbed Dancer down, blanketed him, and kept him walking. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. Hilary allowed him a small drink of water, then took away the bucket to prevent him from colicking.

      Finally, after they’d walked him for fifteen minutes, Hilary said, “He’ll be fine now, Abby.” They put him in his stall and watched.

      “Maybe it was too soon,” said Abby. “I hope I didn’t hurt him.”

      Hilary was stern. “We were all in it together, Abby. You, me, even the vet said he was fine to go. He hasn’t been in the ring for five years. Maybe there was more stress than we counted on.”

      Abby shook her head. “There was certainly more than I’d counted on. I froze out there. Dancer shook me out of it.”

      Hilary smiled. “I saw. But you came back, Abby. You rode that course better than I ever did.”

      “You’re crazy, Hilary. Dancer did it all. Every bit of it, until the last fence.”

      “You knew when to leave him alone. I’m impressed.”

      Liam Malone came running up to the girls, out of breath. “They’ve disqualified you!” he said to Abby. “They’re giving the trophy and prize money to the second-place rider. They need a jump-off to determine who that is because the next three horses have equal faults.”

      Abby couldn’t believe her ears. “Disqualified?” she asked. “For what?”

      Liam’s mouth became a hard thin line. “For riding a stallion. You’re under eighteen years of age.”

      Abby’s hands shot to her mouth. Her eyes widened.

      Hilary James looked directly at Liam. “Who made the complaint?”

      “Three guesses.”

      16

      MOUSIE RIDES AGAIN

      PETE PIERSON WENT STRAIGHT to the judges’ booth. It was crammed with irate people. Two women and a man, all in their fifties, sat behind a table. Laid out in front of them was Dancer’s application form. Behind them stood a smiling Samuel Owens, leaning on his cane. The judges were trying unsuccessfully to stem the flood of complaints about Abby’s elimination.

      Pete elbowed to the head of the line and stood tall. He had a dignified air under normal circumstances, but now he appeared imposing. He had their attention.

      “You accepted her application,” he projected over the din, pointing at the form. “Her age was honestly acknowledged. It’s right there in front of you. If you were going to disqualify her, you should have done so before.”

      The judges knew he had a point. They looked at each other. After a moment, one of the women spoke. “Of course you’re right. It was an oversight.”

      Owens quickly spoke up.“Everyone knows the rules, Pierson. A person under eighteen years of age can’t ride a stallion on any showgrounds in Canada. It was Abby Malone’s responsibility in this case to adhere to the rules. She disregarded them at her peril.” His grin had an ominous look to it.

      “This exhibition has its own set of rules,”said Pete.“And you all know it. Horses are invited at your whim, and many regulations are waived. Plus, there was no rule book sent out.” Pete glared directly at Owens as he spoke. The noisy people in the booth went silent. He shifted his glare to the judges and continued. “You invited Dancer, you accepted him with Abby as the designated rider, and she won fair and square. End of story.” Applause and murmurs of assent filled the tiny room.

      The judges huddled.

      The male judge rose to his feet. “The judges need to confer. We will announce our decision within the hour. Would everyone please leave the booth. Our decision will be final.”

      Pete nodded. “I’ve said my piece. I trust you were listening.” The tall old man with ramrod posture turned to leave the booth. “I’ll await your decision outside.” Once out of the booth, Pete stood within sight of the judges right outside the door. He wasn’t moving.

      People quietly left the booth, unsure of the outcome. Until now, Pete had been too intent on getting his point across to notice who the people were. They were the other riders, here to support the girl who they knew had won.

      Pete nodded his approval. “You’re good competitors, all of you,” he said so all could hear. “And good sports. Thank you.”

      Ian Millar spoke. “Abby Malone won the class. You’re right about the rules. We all know that.”

      Kim Kirton nodded in agreement. “That’s why I’m here. Sandstorm hasn’t competed in four years, and he was invited. He wouldn’t qualify for an A-circuit show right now.”

      Their conversation was interrupted by yelling in the booth.

      “I’m bloody well not leaving this room until I’m sure that Dancer is disqualified!” Samuel Owens barked.

      “Sir,” said the man. “Everyone must leave the booth!”

      “I am the past president of the Canadian Equestrian Federation. You can’t make me leave. And I contribute tens of thousands of dollars yearly to the Olympic Equestrian team.”

      Pete walked in. “Samuel Owens, smarten up or they’ll call security.”

      The judges whispered to each other.

      “Excuse us,” said one woman. “Of course you can stay, Mr. Owens.” She looked at Pete. “Now, if you’ll kindly let us make our decision?”

      One half hour later, the announcement was made over the loud speakers. A woman’s voice was heard throughout the park.

      “After extensive review of the situation, the judges have decided to proceed with the jump-off. Dancer and Abby Malone have been eliminated.”

      There