"Hey," Travis said hotly, "I'm workin' now, I'm giving Ken some board money."
"Honey, I didn't mean..."
Suddenly he was ashamed of himself. Mom had stood up to Stan. She probably had been goofy about him when he was little, the way Ken and Teresa were about Chris.
"Listen. Thanks a lot, okay?"
"Hon..."
"I gotta go. I'll tell Ms. Carmichael to send you the contracts. Bye."
The book. The book. He was going to get his book published!
He lay in his bed, too tired to sleep, too excited about the book again, too worried about Casey, who was supposed to ride the Star Runner in the jumper classes tomorrow.
He turned some Springsteen music on, low. Suddenly, and savagely, he missed his cat.
Chapter 11
He found out the difference between hunters and jumpers. Hunters were judged on form, smoothness, correct striding. Jumpers were judged on two things: getting over the jump and speed.
You didn't have to be real bright to figure out which was the most dangerous.
The jumper classes were the first ones the next morning. There were only seven riders entered; six of them were professional trainers. After the huge hunter classes of the day before--Jennifer's classes contained thirty riders--this seemed ominous to Travis. There weren't many who were good enough, or brave enough, to try this.
By seven he had fed, watered, and cleaned most of the stalls. He wandered over to the arena to watch the jump crew set up the course and got drafted into helping. He dragged poles around while distances and heights were measured and argued over.
These suckers were high. It was a funny thing, too, that when you were on a horse, the jumps seemed higher than when you were on the ground. He'd noticed that back at the barn, when Jennifer and Kelsey had talked him into riding--at a walk--around the arena. It amazed him how much bigger they seemed from a horse. He'd been scared the whole time he was riding that the horse would decide, suddenly and without warning, to jump.
"Casey riding this morning?" one of the jump crew asked. The crew were mostly fathers of the riders. "I heard she took a bad spill yesterday."
"Yeah," Travis said. "She's riding."
"That gray horse she's got, he's a mean one."
"Yeah, but if she ever gets him settled he'll be hard to beat," said someone else.
"He is a good-looking animal."
"I like that bay Jessie's got. Pretty and sane."
"Well, you know it was that jughead roan of Pete Wheeler's that won this class in the last show. Looks don't count here."
After the course was set, Travis went back to the stalls. The barn was relatively quiet--the show had lasted late last night and few people showed up to watch the first two classes. Casey had the Star Runner tied securely in the aisle, wiping him off with a polishing cloth. Braided, groomed, polished, his coat shining like heavy silver-gray silk, the Star Runner stood motionless, his dark eyes fixed on something only he could see. Parallel universe, thought Travis, suddenly remembering a term from his sci-fi stage. It was like the Star Runner's body was in one dimension and his mind in another.
Maybe he was an alien being, Travis thought, half joking, half not. After all, nobody said aliens couldn't be horses. Maybe that was why everyone was uneasy around him, why such a beautiful animal gave people the creeps...
"Hey, kid." Casey tossed her cloth onto a lawn chair set up outside the tack stall. "Could you get me my saddle?"
"My name is Travis, not kid," he said, ticked off once too often by the way she referred to him. Two friggin' years difference in their age--it wasn't like she was old enough to be his mother.
"Sorry about that." She didn't sound sorry; but it wasn't until he was tightening the girth that he realized this was the first time she'd had anyone tack up for her.
"I bet you couldn't pick up your saddle," he accused her. "You did break some ribs yesterday."
She shrugged. "Naw, I just thought I'd get my money's worth out of you."
She checked the girth herself before she put on the bridle. Travis held the Star Runner, who was beginning to stamp and paw, while Casey changed from her navy-blue sweat jacket to her charcoal-gray riding coat, applied her lipstick quickly, without a mirror, and tucked her hair into her velvet hard-hat.
"Leg up, please." She stood beside the saddle and bent one leg back.
"You never needed a leg up before," he said, grabbing her boot and shoving her up. She could always jump straight up and catch the stirrup--Travis thought that was probably left over from her western riding days. He could picture that, Casey being a cowgirl. He could picture that real well.
"Stop being such a little mother-hen." She tapped him lightly on the head with her crop as she nudged the Star Runner into a walk.
"Get Sandman brushed," she called over her shoulder. "Jennifer's in the first flat class, and you know her."
The hell I will, Travis thought, and ran over to the schooling ring.
Casey walked the Star Runner around the ring twice in each direction, trotted him twice, cantered him collectedly in small circles.
"Boy, she's got him going well on the flat," said one of the girls watching from the bleachers. "Now if she could just keep him from going crazy jumping."
"Jesse says he'll never make a good jumper because he never listens in the ring."
Travis knew she meant "pays attention." Oh, yeah, he thought. If he doesn't listen Casey'll just yell louder.
The Star Runner was snorting and blowing, almost panting, in rhythm with his strides. Casey put him over the practice jump once from either direction, then trotted out of the ring.
"Hey"--Travis ran up beside her where she stood by the entry gate--"is that all the warm-up you're going to do?"
Casey was looking at the course. "I thought I told you to groom Sandman."
"So fire me. Don't you need to school some more?" He moved over to miss the Star Runner's dancing hooves.
Casey's face was glowing. She was like a girl with the best date for the prom.
"Oh, I thought I'd surprise him a little this time. Open the gate for me, would you, ki--Travis?"
First one on the course, Travis thought wildly, swinging the gate open, doesn't even get to see how the jumps ride, damn her, and everybody thinks it's just the horse who's crazy.
"On course, the Star Runner, ridden by Casey Kencaide."
Travis wondered if she hadn't schooled more because it hurt too badly, and something about the way she sat up after the first jump convinced him he was right. Should have at least taped her ribs--the Star Runner threw a bucking fit in the corner, Casey got his head up and absolutely charged him at a five-foot vertical--he cleared it by a foot and the small crowd in the stands gasped. The next jump was a four-foot-high oxer with a four-foot spread; the Star Runner flattened out like a leaping cat to clear it. He shot up and down like a pogo stick through the final triple, and Casey had to make two finishing circles to get him back down to a trot.
Travis raced around to the exit gate, and it wasn't until he heard her laugh and say, "Well, we know it's jumpable," that he even thought about the fact that she'd gone clear--and if anyone else went clear she'd have to do it again, for speed.
"Well," he said. She winced a little as she slid off.
"Well what?" She was panting, like it hurt to breathe. "Here, cool him off a little while I watch the next couple of rounds."
"I'm going to get a nurse or something." He knew there was one around here somewhere.
"No," she said, "you're not."
She walked into a small cloud of congratulations around the entry gate, and Travis watched her until a sharp pain in his arm made him jump.
Goddamn horse had bitten him.
And it made Travis madder to realize he was afraid to retaliate, afraid to whack him across the nose with the reins like he would any other horse.
"Come on." He jerked the reins, careful not to get too close. His arm smarted from the bite--his leather jacket was
all that had saved him from having a hunk of flesh ripped off. He walked the Star Runner up and down, listening to the cheers and groans of the crowd, as riders went clear or had a rail down.
More and more people were arriving, the place was filling up with screeching girls and harried mothers again.
"Travis! Travis!"
Jennifer and Kelsey came running up. "How'd Casey do?"
"She went clear."
They grabbed each other and jumped up and down, squealing like a couple of morons.
"Have they started the jump-off yet?"
"No, I think that's the last horse now."
And from the cheering it was another clear round.
"You better get tacked up," he said to Jennifer. She couldn't afford for Casey to get any madder--skipping last night's medal class in favor of piano recital had really ticked her off.
"I'm done!" Jennifer boasted. "He's clean and tacked and I'm dressed and ready."
"Oh," Kelsey said, giggling, "you're bleeding."
Travis looked down at his hand, not too surprised to see blood trickling out of his sleeve.
"I got bit."
"Boy, Casey is a grouch at the shows," Kelsey teased. Travis scowled at her. Some things weren't funny anymore.
Suddenly Casey was there, running the stirrups down.