Dreaming of Tomorrow. Susan Kohler

around him for a while. Half an hour of innocent talk with him would feed her daydreams and secret fantasies for a year.

      “Okay, I’ll work alongside you and help you get the hang of it,” David replied, looking into her soft brown eyes and noticing the eagerness in her expression. “But I’m still going to kick some butt, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

      “I agree.” Cliff turned to Emily. “I’m sorry Ma’am, if you want, I’ll send someone out to relieve you as soon as possible.”

      “I’ll be okay, I guess.” She looked over at David and smiled shyly. “David here said he’d help me out.”

      “There’s still the little matter of something to drink, and a chair.” David squinted at Cliff. “Do me a favor and take Target to the trailer and ask Nikki to walk him around for me after the awards are handed out.”

      “I’ll get right on it. And Ma’am, feel free to shout up at Rusty if you want to be replaced, this is a horse show not a slave labor camp.” Cliff walked away only to return a few minutes later with a pair of cold beers. He handed one to Emily and one to David. “This is just a start, I’ll be back with a cooler and a chair. Thanks again for helping us out, Ma’am, we surely do appreciate it.”

      “Thanks.” Emily very seldom drank alcohol but she pulled the tab and gulped the ice cold beer.

      She had forgotten to bring any cold drinks with her and it seemed like she was too busy to head up to the cook shack. David watched with amusement as she drained her beer in one long gulp, handing her his unopened beer as soon as hers was gone. There was something appealing about this girl, he decided. She was so determined to do this dirty little job, and enjoy it, in spite of her shyness and the haunting sadness that never left her eyes.

      “Here, take this. I have lots of cold drinks in my motor home,” he offered.

      “Thanks.” Emily grinned, took the can and drank the second beer more slowly.

      She was so thirsty, she never noticed someone coming over and taking David’s horse.

      “Hey!” she exclaimed. “Where’s your horse?”

      “Cliff took him over to my trailer to get him out of the way. I’ll ask Nikki to walk him around to keep him loose.” David explained, “It can be dangerous for a horse to cool off too much between events or to run without being warmed up.”

      He looked up and saw Cliff hurrying back. “Here comes Cliff with a chair and a cooler.”

      “Here you go Ma’am, I’m sorry that took so long.” Cliff smiled at her as he opened up the folding chair.

      “It’s no problem, thank you, Cliff.” Emily smiled. “I’m Emily, by the way.”

      “Nice to meet ya’ Emily,” Cliff drawled. “Regardless of how it looks, we appreciate our volunteers.”

      He tipped his cowboy hat and left.

      David pulled open the cooler. “I hope you like beer. I should have known that’s what Cliff would bring you.”

      He waited for her response, then as she nodded he pulled out two cans, opened one and handed it to her.

      “Wow! That’s three beers in one day. I almost never drink beer but today it seems perfect. Thank you.” Emily accepted the can.

      David opened the second can for himself.

      “Here, David.” A woman rode up, leading David’s horse.

      She handed him a silver plate, about 10 inches in diameter. “You looked busy so I grabbed it for you.” Even dirty, with her hat pulled low to shield her face and sunglasses covering her eyes, Emily could tell she was gorgeous, and thin. Damn!

      “Thanks, Nick,” David said in an off-handed tone. “Hey! Thanks for taking care of Target for me. Will you walk him until you have to ride? And throw this thing in the trailer?”

      He handed the trophy back to her.

      “Sure thing.” She walked her horse to David’s trailer to take care of Target.

      The show started up again. As they talked, David and Emily let horses in and out. He explained the event to her and pointed out which riders were the best and which were not. The first group of horses had very young riders.

      “Now, you must know by now that these are timed events and they are divided into age groups, 12 and under, 13 to 17, 18 and over. There are time penalties for knocking over a pole or a barrel, and going off course is a disqualification. Did you notice anything different about this sport than other sports?” David asked.

      “Well, the horses for one thing,” Emily said, grinning. “It’s like a team sport with an animal as a teammate.”

      “Exactly!” David smiled at her. “I approve of the way you put it. The best riders and horses really do form a team. What else?”

      “Well, most sports have separate competitions for men and women,” Emily mused.

      “And we don’t,” David said. “We compete head to head. Sometimes there are separate events for men and women but usually there are just age groups. The third difference is more subtle: we cheer each other on. We’ll cheer a good ride. We’ll all run out to help if a rider falls. We loan each other equipment if something breaks. We even offer advice to help a new rider. Then we go all out to win. The sportsmanship you learn at these shows, if you have a brain, is excellent.”

      “If you have a brain?” Emily prompted.

      “There’s always one hot shot who just can’t grasp the concept of sportsmanship, but for the most part the riders all support each other,” David explained.

      The announcer called for the 13 to 17 riders to get ready, giving the numbers of the next three to go: “All right heads up! Number 25 in the arena; number 28 on deck; 42 get ready and then we move to the 13 to 17 group, with number 53 going first.”

      “This event, if you didn’t hear the announcer, is called Pole bending. The horses weave through the poles which are spaced twenty feet apart, and are timed. Watch that rider there.” He pointed to the girl waiting to go into the arena. “She’s the state champion for her age group in this event. Notice how she barely skims through the poles, without wasting any motion or losing her horse’s forward momentum. She and her horse are so in tune with each other that you can hardly see her give him any signals.”

      Emily watched and saw that the girl and her horse did indeed move as a perfect team through the poles, which were about six feet tall and just over an inch in diameter, painted white, with round flat bases to hold them up, not too much bigger around than the poles themselves. She let the girl out and the next rider in.

      “Now watch him, he’s new to the sport, not as talented, but with potential. See the differences in his ride?” David watched with a critical eye. “I think he should slow down just a bit until he gets the horse more schooled.”

      Emily watched and realized that she could see exactly what David meant. The boy’s ride was choppy and rough; he had to really work hard to get the horse around the course, and there was no flow, no rhythm to the ride. She told David that.

      “Exactly!” David was proud of her insight.

      “Watch this girl.” He pointed out a slightly older rider. She had a very rough ride, knocked over two poles, and got a bad time. “She used to be really good.”

      “She didn’t seem very good to me,” Emily puzzled.

      “She wasn’t good today,” David said in a disapproving tone. “That’s what can happen when a teenage girl discovers boys and forgets to practice her horse.”

      “Why are so many of the horses male?” Emily asked.

      For an answer he pointed out a horse over by a red trailer. Every few minutes the horse would squeal and kick out at nothing in particular.

      “See