High Hurdles Collection Two (76 page)

Their last classes were Thursday, as was the jumping competition.

At the end of the dressage hour, Elma handed each of her students a list of suggestions for further improvement. She also added comments about their strengths:

You are a willing pupil and follow directions well. I see great things ahead for you. Elma Furstburg
.

DJ looked up to smile at her teacher. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I hope to see you back here again next year—a lot more proficient in dressage.”

“I will be more proficient whether I come or not. I need to be the best athlete I can, and so does Herndon.”

“You have the right attitude.” Ms. Furstburg moved on to the next pupil.

With each event of the day, DJ thought,
Last time, this is the last time
. Though the big one was still coming up.

But even anticipating the jump-off paled next to her talk with John the day before.

“Okay, this is the way we will do this,” Hamilton announced after the noon dinner hour. “The five members of group A will jump first, followed by B, and so on. The top two in each group will go for the next jump-off There will be jump-offs in each group until there are two remaining. Riders will be eliminated as in any jumping ring; rules remain the same as in any jumping competition. Only if the two finalists tie more than two rounds will there be a timer added. Any questions?” When no one said a word, he waved his hand. “Dismissed to prepare. Full jumping attire.”

On one hand, DJ was grateful to be in the first group, but on the other, she had less time to prepare. But Herndon was as ready as he would ever be, groomed to the last shine. DJ's tack gleamed, as did her boots, and her black jacket and white breeches hung on their hangers. The sooner she loosened Herndon up, the better.

“You ready?” Megan pulled her second boot snug.

“As I'll ever be.” DJ picked up her helmet. “Let's do it.”

Promptly at two, all the instructors gathered in the announcer's box at the outdoor jumping ring. Some spectators sat in the stands, the ingate and outgate keepers stood ready, and assistants leaned against the fence to replace any fallen rails.

Having drawn number one, DJ jumped first. She circled the practice ring a final time and trotted forward when the ingate keeper swung the gate open. “Okay, big horse, this is it. All we have to do is our best.” Herndon pricked his ears forward, broke into a perfect tempo canter, and cleared the post and rail with ease. After the stone wall, he swished his tail as if this were child's play. The in and out loomed ahead, but as DJ counted
three, two, one
, and they catapulted into the air, she wanted to shout her joy.

He cleared the brush with a foot to spare and snorted as they exited the ring.

DJ gave Megan a thumbs-up as she trotted toward the opening gate. While Megan jumped a clean round, their three other classmates didn't fare so well. Group B began.

Two winners came out of that group without a jump-off, but both the third and fourth groups had three jumpers with clean rounds. JM and Kurt were the finalists in their group.

“We will let the finalists of the A group lead off,” Hamilton announced. “The jumps have been raised six inches. DJ Randall is riding Herndon.”

Herndon snorted as they neared the ingate. DJ felt like giggling. This was so much
fun
! And judging by the smile she felt on her face, DJ was as relaxed as ever.

Their round showed it. Nary a nick.

“That a way.” JM rode up beside her. “You two were having a party out there.”

At the end, five campers were still in the running.

“The jumps will be raised another six inches.” The assistants hustled to raise them all and within minutes gave the thumbs-up signal.

“DJ Randall on Herndon.”

The gate swung open and they were back in the ring. “Okay, big horse, let's party.” Lift-off on the airplane didn't compare to the way Herndon pushed off for each jump. And the touchdown was much lighter. DJ rode out of the ring to the audience's applause. Again, a clean round.

Four made it.

Kurt, JM, Kevin, and DJ faced jumps three inches higher.

“You're up with the big time now.” Megan had put her horse away and hollered from the sidelines.

DJ swallowed hard. For the first time that day, her butterflies were performing aerial routines—in formation. Would they help lift Herndon and her over the jumps?

She heard the crack on the next-to-last jump. When the audience groaned as they leaped the final jump, she knew her pole had hit the dirt. “But we did our best, big horse, we did our best.” Kevin jumped after her, and he, too, heard the fatal crack. His pole didn't even wobble but clattered to the ground.

Kurt rode past her with military precision, his face set in total concentration.

JM smiled at DJ and kept his horse moving in the practice ring. “Wish us luck.”

“Oh, I do.”

JM and his horse flying over the jumps was pure poetry in motion. The lift-offs and touchdowns looked as easy as an afternoon canter. They jumped a clean round.

Kurt trotted into the ring, picking up a canter, with perfect rhythm.

DJ shared a glance with Megan, who wrinkled her nose. Chuckling to herself, DJ watched Kurt approach the stone wall.
Three, two, one …
The horse hesitated, then with a curious twist, lifted over on sheer guts with only a whisker of clearance.

A group sigh told of everyone's relief.

Kurt brought his horse around and headed for the wall again, this time clearing it, but with no change in his expression.

“Makes me wonder if he really likes to jump.” Megan leaned on the fence by DJ.

The bars went up another three inches.

This time JM ticked on the in and out. The bar wobbled.

DJ held her breath.

The bar stayed in place as JM aimed for the chicken coop. He went over again, and before DJ could catch her breath, he was cantering out of the ring, patting his horse's neck all the way back to DJ.

“Oh man, what a way to spend an afternoon.” He pumped one arm. “Yes!” He turned in his saddle. “Go, Kurt!”

“He's rushing them.” DJ hated to say what she was seeing. “Come on, Kurt, take it easy.”

The highest bar on the in and out toppled. Kurt finished his round to applause and cheering, but he rode out of the ring without acknowledging them.

“And our winner for today is John Mark Hanlin on Once Again of Peachtree, Georgia. Second place goes to Kurt Schwartz on Sidor from Greenleaf, Connecticut. Let's give an extra round of applause for our two winners and all the entrants.”

DJ cheered and clapped with the rest. As far as she was concerned, by far the best man had won.

“You'll each have pictures of taking the brush jump. They'll be in your packets when you leave tomorrow. But I'd like the four finalists to enter the ring now for a group photo.”

DJ reentered the ring to stand next to Kevin. “You did good.”

“You too,” he answered. “A newbie showing up lots of returnees. Good for you. Won't be long until we see your name on the winners' lists.”

“Hope so.” She smiled for the camera and gave Herndon a hug.

Trotting out of the gate, she thought ahead. Tomorrow they would fly home, and early Saturday morning they'd drive to Rancho de Equus for the show. It couldn't get any better than this, could it?

John Hamilton led the final lecture on Thursday night, titling it “The Olympic Mind-set.”

DJ thought he must have sat down with Gran, Joe, and Bridget to discuss how to help Darla Jean Randall the most. He talked about the importance of dedication, not just to physical perfection like perfect jumps and the greatest horse, but to building the kind of character that could win or lose with grace, that kept on trying when all the chips were down, and that knew how to be a team player as well as a leader.

“You must learn to do your very best, and then, win or lose, let it go. Let it go! Look to the next jump, the next test, the next event. Not just for the Olympics but for life. There are a lot of losers out there who whine and blame someone else, anything else, but you …” He looked each of them right in the eyes. “You know that when you have done your best and given it all you have, you have won, be it in the ring, in the boardroom, or in your home. The medal isn't the proof of a win. Doing your best is. I'm proud to know winners like you.”

DJ clapped with the others, wishing she had some better way to show her appreciation for all he had done for her that week.
Just do your best, that's all you can do
. She had another show coming up to prove it.

Chapter • 12

Fog and thunderstorms could really mess up air travel.

So DJ found out. Between the thunderstorms on the East Coast that delayed their leaving and the fog on the West Coast that wouldn't let them land, DJ arrived home a day late, feeling like someone had pulled the plug on her energy and enthusiasm. If only she could go to bed, she knew she would sleep around the clock.

Brad met them at the gate. “I've got Herndon in the trailer, and I've already talked with your mother. The others have gone on to the show, as you well know. Joe said he would come back and get you, but I told him I'd just take you on, if that's all right with you.”

“I guess.”
That means I won't even get a shower before I go
. She felt her hair. Stringy like it hadn't seen water for a week.
All I want to do is go home
.

“Our luggage is at carousel D,” Jackie said with a sigh. She and Brad had vacationed in Maine while DJ was at the USET camp, then returned to take her and her horse home. She laid an arm over DJ's shoulders. “At least you slept part of the way on the plane. If that baby hadn't been crying so loud, I'd have slept, too.”

DJ rubbed her ear. “I think I caught his earache. If I could only pop this thing …”

“Try holding your nose and blowing. That's what a stewardess told me one time.”

DJ did that but shook her head. “Nada.” She forced a yawn, but that didn't work, either.

“Maybe if we get you something to eat and drink, that will help.” Brad had steered them to join the flow of people toward the baggage area.

DJ stretched her jaw again and tried yawning with a hand cupped over her stubborn ear.

“Want some Tylenol or something?” Jackie stood behind DJ on the moving walkway.

DJ swallowed repeatedly but with no letup in the pressure on her ear. Instead, the pain was intensifying, giving her a bad headache. She'd never had such an earache before.

The wait to pick up their luggage seemed hours long.

“Look, DJ, you can miss this horse show if you want.” Brad looked at her and shook his head. “You look like a ghost, and with your tan, that's hard.”

“No, I'll go. This will quit pretty soon, and after I sleep, I'll be fine. Bridget really wanted me to show in this one because of the judge. He doesn't usually come out to the West Coast, and Bridget's planned a dinner for us all at the end of it. I can't let her down over a silly plugged-up ear.” She pulled on her earlobe, feeling more like banging her head on the wall.

When they finally had all their luggage, they loaded it on a cart and pushed it out to the Land Rover Brad had driven over from long-term parking.

“Thank you for helping us,” Jackie said with a sigh as she sank into the leather seat and leaned her head back on the headrest. “What a trip!”

DJ buckled her seat belt and rubbed her ear. If only the thing would pop. She opened her mouth wider and wider, but while it made her yawn, it didn't help the pressure that had turned to pain. No wonder that baby had been screaming. She felt like doing the same now.

“Thanks.” Gratefully she took the Tylenol Jackie handed her and slugged them down with water from the proffered bottle.

They let Brad out at the truck and trailer parked in the enclosed lot by the transport company. Herndon nickered when he saw them and shifted in the double horse trailer. DJ wished he'd nicker for her again, but so far that hadn't happened. So far a lot of things hadn't happened yet—especially her earache going away.
Please, pills, work fast
.

Taking the front seat when Brad got in the other rig, DJ watched the scenery as they turned south on Highway 101. If plans had gone right, she and Herndon would have had a day of rest at home before setting out for the show again. And as Gran often said, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Her stomach began to feel queasy at the stop-and-go traffic on the multilane freeway. One more thing to contend with.

“So,” Jackie asked after the traffic let up some, “what would you say is the most important thing you learned at the camp?”

DJ didn't need to think on that one at all. “That there are lots of kids out there with the same dream I have, and if I ever want a spot on the Olympic team, I have to be the best rider and have the greatest horse. We watched videos of past Olympics, and the final jump-off is always a killer.”