Gus shook his head before getting his wheelchair out of the middle of the ring, and over near the gate, his usual position to watch me warm up.
“The two of you are still related, right?” he said.
He’d heard our brief exchange.
Seamus was tightening my girth one last time as I settled into the saddle. As he did, I leaned down so I didn’t have to answer Gus in too loud a voice.
“We are,” I said to him. “And we might know each other better than we ever have.”
Then I got ready to ride my horse, try to do what Gus told me to do all the time, to the point where I could hear his voice in my sleep: Act like I belonged.
And know that if I went clean, nobody could catch me.
I finally heard Mom’s name called. Saw her walk Coronado slowly toward the big ring with Daniel alongside them. It was too soon for me to move Sky over to the in-gate. It meant I would have to listen to her round from here. Seasoned competitors in our sport, especially in the International Arena, could determine the strength of a round from the reaction of the crowd in the stands.
I heard a bad round for her now.
One collective groan early. Another one about twenty seconds later. Two rails down for her. Had to be. Knew the sound. If she made it to a jump-off now, she would be one of the last horses in. Maybe last one in.
I stayed away from Mom when she brought Coronado back inside the schooling ring. Tyler was going next, with Jennifer Gates to follow. Heard just one groan while Tyler was out there. Then another.
When Gus and I waited at the in-gate, Gus said, “Your mom is in the last spot if we have to go back out there for a jump-off.”
“Ain’t gonna be no jump-off,” I said.
“You sound like Rocky Balboa,” he said.
“Who?”
I knew he was just trying to relax me, because he always found different ways. I also knew from the walk what a long course this was, one with a little bit of everything. Two brutal rollbacks. Water. Big distances the second half.
“Act like you belong,” Gus said finally.
I’d won against a field as deep and talented as this before. Had that muscle memory going for me. But that was on Coronado. This time it was Sky and me. Maybe, on a stage like this, about to move out of Mom’s shadow once and for all. Beating her and everybody else. Maybe trying to serve notice that this was my year now. My time.
Looking to show the Selection Committee that I really did belong.
I gave Sky a kick to put her in motion.
NINETY
THE ROUND WASN’T without drama. Not with the water jump this time, Sky clearing both the jump and the water with room to spare.
No, the problem was with the first rollback. When I got there, I knew I could easily shave time by going inside. But knew I didn’t need to shave time. I was cruising by now. Sky had torn it up over the first half of the course, no chance of a time fault.
I made a sharp, clean turn coming into the rollback, my brain telling me not to take chances here, to go outside, I was in complete command as long as I didn’t make a mistake. Outside was the safer route. My brain practically screaming at me to go outside.
But I was riding to win.
Screw it.
Went inside.
Nailed it.
Three jumps left.
Gave Sky perfect distances on the first two.
One more.
I could taste it now.
Then got Sky too close to the last jump.
Not by very much. Maybe half a stride off. But that was all it took sometimes to mean the difference between triumph and disaster.
Sky raised up just fine, did the best she could in that last second. It was when she was coming down that I heard the solid thwack—worst sound in the world for a show jumper—as she caught the top rail of the oxer with one of her hind legs.
No!
But it stayed up. The sucker stayed up. The cheer hit me then, a huge cheer that seemed to come from all directions. No jump-off. Just a first-place ribbon and trophy and another bottle of champagne.
And a ton of money and points.
We’d won the goddamn World Cup. Even Gus Bennett allowed himself to look happy as we came toward him from the last jump. I looked over my shoulder briefly, just to make sure the rail on the last oxer was still up there.
“That,” he said, “is what I am talking about.”
Only now was the crowd noise beginning to subside, and the force of that last moment when I was clean. I took one last look around, at the course and the crowd, the whole ring. It all looked sweet.
It was then that I heard a loud voice coming from the box seats above me and knew right away it was Mom’s.
I brought Sky to a stop.