The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [47]
By the time February came, Harry had resolved to try something new. He wanted to get a better impression of the horse’s style by watching him jump with a stronger rider aboard. He’d decided to put his gutsiest rider, Bonnie Cornelius, in the saddle. As he called out the stall numbers to the girls, signaling which horse they would ride for the day’s lesson, he could see a look of bewilderment come over Bonnie’s face. Normally, he paired her with the most challenging horses, Chief Sunset or Wayward Wind. But Harry wanted to watch Snowman jumping from the ground—studying a horse’s form over fences was critical. Maybe watching him with someone else in the saddle would help Harry figure out a better approach.
By the end of the lesson, poles had gone flying every which way, and he saw the frustration on his talented student’s face. Harry despaired a little. If his best rider could not make the horse jump, there seemed little hope that Snowman would ever carry the rest of his students over fences. The horse could be used as a walk-trot-canter mount—a steady old plug who taught a succession of girls to gain confidence in the saddle—but he just did not seem to be able to move beyond that. The image of rows of pasture fences, big and imposing, lining up between Harry’s stable and the doctor’s house still sometimes came to his mind, but the pasture jumper, if he truly had a talent, was keeping it well hidden.
Still, Harry kept on riding the gelding. One day, when he entered the ring on Snowman for yet another schooling session, the jumps were already set up to four feet around the arena. He had been schooling Wayward Wind over the fences and was planning to dismount and lower the poles to an appropriate height for his novice jumper. He warmed up the horse at a trot, then a canter, rising up into a two-point position as he let the horse out into a gallop.
By then, one of the barn hands had come over to the side of the ring and was watching him. “You gonna jump that plow horse over those big jumps …?”
Harry laughed. He hadn’t been thinking about it, but he loved nothing more than a dare. Snowman had been coming along a little—without much trouble he could clear a three-foot fence, the height of a beginner course. Why not try a bigger jump? What was the worst that could happen? If the fence was too big, the horse would knock it down. Simple enough. Or he might stop at the last minute—but Harry reckoned he could stay in the saddle.
As he came around the turn, he shifted his weight slightly, and with the pressure of his hands on the reins and a slight squeeze of his far leg against the horse’s barrel, he headed the big horse toward the jump.
Harry sensed a subtle shift. The horse pricked his ears forward and electricity pulsed up through the saddle. With a practiced eye, Harry saw the distance to the fence. He lowered his weight slightly, telling the horse to shorten his stride, and the horse followed suit, for one stride, two, and … Snowman’s hindquarters gathered underneath him; his hocks sank down. Harry kept the reins loose and his balance forward.
Up and over the fence they flew, front legs well clear of the poles. Harry listened for the hollow thump of the horse’s hind legs trailing over the rail, but there was none. Harry glanced behind him at the big fence they had just cleared, then threw the reins down and patted the horse with both hands. Snowman, relaxed as ever, slowed to a walk.
Harry trained Snowman to jump on a loose rein. Here he lets go of the reins, trusting his horse with total freedom. (illustration credits 10.1)
After testing all of the keys, Harry had finally found the one that