Chapter 13 Samantha #2
When we were kids, it felt like our parents took turns having to be the ones to come to the shows.
They were long, dusty, exhausting days, so I get it.
I don’t think any of us would have expected to have an entire family turn out to watch.
It’s strange that it took a trip to Ireland, but I finally have a family here to watch me, too.
When I prepare for my dressage test, Clara preparing alongside me, I keep looking around for Richard, and worse, his father.
I’ve googled him, so I know roughly what he looks like.
I really, really hope Richard listens and either stays home or at least keeps his father away.
Scout’s jumping around like a fox before a hunt, and I’m sure I’m doomed.
“It’s just to get him some experience,” Natalie says.
“So don’t worry.” She has cooled Riona down, and now she’s standing calmly on the grass beside us like she’s always spent her weekends at a horse show.
Natalie drops her free hand on Scout’s nose, and he startles like she slapped him.
“Easy, big guy. You’re going to be just fine out there. ”
“He doesn’t think that,” I say. “He’s convinced there are attack rabbits hiding behind every corner.”
Natalie shrugs. “Ireland’s weird. No snakes, rain all year. Maybe there are attack rabbits. Who knows?”
I laugh. “I know you pray, so say one for me, please. This is about to be very bad.”
“Riona was kind of panicking earlier. She tried to bolt twice on the way over to the warm-up ring. I bet he settles in once you start doing the patterns he’s done before.”
I’m not so sure, but then Natalie’s polishing up my boots, and it’s almost go time. We lunged Scout pretty well, so I have to believe we’ll be alright. At least I know he looks great—he’s always been a striking horse. And then we’re on our way into the ring.
A tiny part of me is a little annoyed Richard isn’t here.
He’s not my boyfriend—I’ve been clear with him about that—and I didn’t want his father to come.
But my own boy. . .well, almost boyfriend.
. . isn’t even around to watch my first show in Ireland?
Especially after saying he was going to bring his dad?
It’s just irritating. It feels like Brent Round Two.
But once we start the pattern, there’s no room for me to ruminate.
In fact, there’s barely room for me to stay on. Scout has always done better outside, but we aren’t doing an especially challenging trial, so I hoped we’d be fine. But oh, boy, we aren’t. When I ask him to trot, he canters. And then, when I tell him strongly to stop, he ignores me.
Scout’s on fire.
He spooks at the people standing and watching.
He spooks at the low white poles, which every single outdoor “test” arena has.
He spooks at a little girl with a fascinator in her hair.
And then to top things off, after we halt, when I try to salute, he takes off again, nearly cantering out of the test area.
My face is bright red when I finally take Scout out of the dressage test area.
I don’t even wait for my score. I’m sure I’d be lucky to have a forty.
I’ve never been more relieved that someone didn’t come to witness my failure in my entire life.
At least, not until I’m tacking Scout down and Richard circles around us slowly.
“So I’m guessing you’re not in the best of moods right now, but for what it’s worth, everyone could tell it was Scout’s first show. ”
“How could they possibly—”
“Other than Vanessa explaining it to Natalie’s ex-husband in a very loud voice,” Richard says, half-smiling, “he clearly looked like he had never been in an outdoor arena. Ever.”
“Which he has,” I say, exasperated. “That’s precisely what was so upsetting. I spent plenty of time with him doing exactly that, and he never bolted like that before.”
Richard drops a hand on the side of my upper arm. “Sam.” He’s smiling. “He’s a green horse. We’ve all been there.”
Before I can argue with him further, I’m off to calm Clara down, because she’s panicking a little. My epic failure probably didn’t inspire confidence for her. The moment I reroute to meet her by the warm-up area, Richard salutes me, and then he heads the other direction.
“Thanks for coming.” I say. “You do not have to stay.”
“I couldn’t miss the fun parts,” he says. “I’m excited for cross-country and for show jumping. I’m sure the worst is behind you.”
His words are not prophetic, because Clara’s dressage test is even worse than mine. I can’t help noticing how worried Trace looks. He almost looks worse than I feel as he watches her, his eyes wide and attentive. When they announce her score, Trace boos.
That’s not something people do at horse shows, so a lot of people look. I cringe a little, but he’s a teenager. Surely they can see that. I’m not sure Clara even heard him as she exits, clearly trying hard to hold back tears.
“Girl, this is just how it goes,” I say, patting her leg. “Did you see my round?”
“You looked amazing.” And the floodgates open, tears streaming down her face. “I ruined everything, and it was all my fault.”
She’s not wrong—it’s rarely the horse’s fault in stuff like this.
Sometimes, but rarely. We’ve either brought them before they’re ready, or we haven’t properly guided them in the movements in the ring.
This might have been a little of both. Clara was planning to just do jumping, but at the last minute, she decided to try dressage too.
Her mom and I were happy enough that she was game that we let her.
That might have been my mistake, honestly.
By the time I get her cheered up a bit, it’s time for the cross-country segment.
This worries me more, to be honest, because even though she’s in the newcomer’s league, Hannah’s still a bit of a nervous rider, and cross-country rewards the bold.
I’m not surprised when she gets a refusal at the first ditch, and another on the second, a water jump, but she does manage to finish the course, even if it wasn’t a good pace and she had quite a few faults.
Natalie owns her course, and she’s actually sitting very near the top of her class.
That’s encouraging for me, right as I prepare to entire mine.
Scout isn’t really much of a dressage horse, but we’ve been riding outside a lot, and he seems to love jumping in the open air and galloping, so I’m as optimistic as I can be after completely falling apart at dressage this morning.
Scout’s in good shape, at least, and he bravely takes the first fence—a stacked log—and the second, a brush-topped wedge, and then dives down a drop, clearing the first water jump handily.
The ditch spooks him, and he literally stares straight down as we sail over the fence behind it, but we do clear it.
Barely. After that, we hit the sand gallop, and that’s where Scout really shines.
No one ahead of me has finished with fewer than five time faults—the course time was set a little short, and it’s hard to keep pace when you’re constantly slowing to clear jumps.
When we hang the turn, and we come up on the double angled roll tops, I worry he’ll balk, but he tosses his head and sails right over both, back-to-back.
I breathe a heavy sigh of relief as we clear a really wide hedge, coming down a little heavier on the back end than I’d have liked, and then we pick up speed for the first grass galloping area, and it really feels like we’re flying.
I pat his neck. “You’re doing so well, boy.
” As if he can understand me, he tucks his head and really shoots ahead.
But then there’s a massive log oxer with no ground poles or even brush, but we clear it, and right after that, there’s a tight turn and then a triple combination.
Brush wedge, water, flower wedge, a low ditch with a big drop on the back end.
Right as we clear it, I’m beaming, until I see Richard beside an older, white-haired man.
My heart sinks, but I can’t slow. We’re galloping again, and then we’re sailing over a massive log jump.
Scout must feel that I’m nervous, because as we reach the final jump, a small ditch with a brush-topped wedge behind it, he throws his head and nearly refuses, springing over it with almost no momentum at the last moment.
We clear it, but I almost fall off, half-losing my seat like a totally green idiot.
“Oh, boy, you saved me there.” Scout takes off then, and we manage to exit the round with a scrap of dignity. When the announcer shares my time, the first clear round with no time faults, I’m floored. And when he announces that it moved me from second to last into fourth place, I’m really stunned.
I’m able to almost entirely ignore Richard’s attempts to chat, thanks to the looming show jumping round.
One day events are rough, but the girls all manage to get their horses reasonably cleaned up—cross-country grease is horrible stuff—and we’re going faster than I thought we could.
I’d have liked more time for the horses to rest, but Scout seems ready to go again.
And at least all the jumps have the frangible pins that drop them if they’re bumped.
The last thing I need is injured horses.
When all is said and done, Riona puts in gorgeous rounds, and Natalie places second in her entire class.
Conor and Hannah take first in their newcomer class, and she can’t stop beaming.
Even Clara does fairly well, with a fifth overall out of eleven.
“Not bad for a first show back.” Natalie wraps an arm around both her girls, and she smiles at me. “Thank you so much, Sam. You are just the best trainer we could ever imagine.”
That’s when they announce my final score, with showjumping added—Scout had clear rounds, but lost in the jump-off. We need to work on his turns. “Third overall.” I sigh. “If my old trainer heard about this, I’d never live it down.”
At a regional show. How embarrassing.
“That was great.” Richard’s finally reached me, having given me time to swing down off Scout and loosen his girth a bit. “On a completely green horse who’s still quite young. How old is he?”
“He just turned nine,” I say, “but he hasn’t been ridden much. He was track broke when I started riding him a few months ago.” I force a smile. “But it’s fine. Not every show goes my way. I learned that a long time ago.”
“You’re clearly a very gifted rider for an American,” the older man beside Richard says.
He looks just like his son, but his hair’s grey.
“You shouldn’t be bringing prospects along at regional shows.
” He quirks an eyebrow. “Someone with a discerning eye should be investing in your success.” He smiles.
“Uh, thank you,” I say. “But I quite like working with prospects and bringing green horses through their first shows.” It’s different than the four star and five star grand prix events, but it’s rewarding in a different and much less stressful way.
“It’s very nice to meet you.” The man casts me a sideways glance before turning back to Richard. “Richard tells me that riding horses isn’t even the only thing you do well.” He arches an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but if Richard told him I kiss well or something? How horrifying.
“I told my father that you remodeled your own cottage before a fire made you start over.”
“Ah,” I say. “Well, that’s been a second hobby for me for a long time now. Unlike horses, that hobby makes me money.” I can’t help laughing at my own lame joke.
“Hey,” Natalie says. “Me and the girls are going to get the horses ready to load.”
“Good idea,” I say. And I thought it was, right up until they abandon me with Richard and his dad. “I should help them.” I glance over my shoulder longingly.
“We should go to dinner,” the old man says. “I’d love to get to know you better and find out what else you’re great at.” He’s smiling, and he almost looks friendly.
I’m caught up enough in the conversation and my own nervousness in meeting him that, until the flashing lights start, I don’t even notice that a few reporters have gathered and are snapping our photo.
“It is him,” one of them says.
“The duke,” another says. “I told you so.”
“And who’s his son with?” The man edges closer. “Is this your girlfriend?” the reporter asks. “What’s her name?”
“This is Samantha,” Richard says. “She’s a very talented American who recently moved here.
She runs a brand-new hotel in Lismore at the Fortwilliam Estate, and she gives horseback riding tours.
” He smiles, and I remember what drew me to him in the first place.
He’s such a picture of refinement and handsome gentility.
He looks like he could be the posterchild for some Cinderella tale.
“And yes, Sam’s my girlfriend.” When he turns back toward me, he shrugs sheepishly. “Right, darling?”
Darling? I sigh, and then I force another smile. “I am, yes.”
And then the flash bulbs really explode.
Looks like some things are about to change and not in the way I expected.