The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [83]
Right from the start of the jumper stakes, it was clear that the crowd had a favorite: the blond man on the bulky gray horse. Some had read about them in the paper, and others were simply charmed by the handsome young man with the bright blue eyes and big smile.
The horses lined up at the in-gate: First Chance and Andante, Bon Soir and the other thoroughbreds. Joe and Jim had Night Arrest and Wayward Wind ready to go; the horses paced as the grooms walked them in circles, trying to keep them calm while they waited. The fences in the stakes class were formidable, all between five and a half and six feet tall. Each time a horse sailed over a fence, everyone in the crowd gasped and held their breath. Often enough, a horse balked at a fence and refused, sometimes almost sending his rider straight over his head. Horses approached the fences with their heads high, chafing against their bits. Riders jerked on the reins with each stride, trying to position the horse for the takeoff; then, a few strides before the fence, they gouged with their spurs and sometimes applied the whip. The overall impression was one of fear and danger—the riders seemed to be fighting their horses every step of the way. Horses knocked down fences or jarred them with a hoof, sending the light balsa marker flying.
Harry was first up on Wayward Wind and brought home a clear round, then tossed the reins to the groom and jumped on Night Arrest. The crowd clapped, delighted to see Harry ride again. Night Arrest danced and pranced when she entered the ring, a barely contained bundle of energy. Again, another clear round for Harry de Leyer. A few more horses went, and then it was Snowman’s turn. The crowd had already seen Harry charge around the course twice, on the two thoroughbreds, and even though his previous rounds had been relatively smooth compared to those of the rest of the horses, they were still surprised when the big gray horse trotted into the ring on a loose rein. Snowman turned his head and appeared to survey the crowds—and maybe he saw Johanna and the children up in the bleachers, cheering him on.
Harry smiled in the direction of the stands, then eased the horse into an easy canter. There were still puddles on the ground, and the footing was sticky, though not as slick as it had been the day before. As Snowman cantered confidently around the course, his rider crouched forward, completely in sync with his horse. There was an obvious difference between this team and all of the other competitors: over each fence, the rider threw the reins forward, so that the horse could reach out freely with this nose. Over the last fence, a huge set of parallel bars, a woman on the sidelines jerked her hand up to cover her mouth in a gasp, as Snowman jumped up and sailed over with room to spare.
Snowman won the championship again. This weekend, ribbons and silver plates were piled on the front seat of the car. The purse was only a couple hundred dollars, but it was enough to cover their expenses with a bit to spare. The long drive up to Connecticut, the money for gas, and the grooms’ pay—it had all been worth it. Harry was champion with Snowman and reserve champion with Night Arrest in the open jumpers.
But the show wasn’t quite over. Jim Troutwell and Joe the Pollack had a proposition. There was still another class left. Dubbed the “grooms’ bonus thriller,” it was a fun experiment that gave the grooms a chance to ride, bareback, over a modified but challenging course. There were sure to be thrills and spills, since