Skye Nicholson , she lectured herself . Keep your cool and let Champ do his thing.
Morgan had just finished an Advanced Trail Class and was smiling from ear to ear as she jogged Blaze toward Skye and Mr. and Mrs. Chambers. In her left hand, she waved a red second-place ribbon.
“Way to go!” Mr. Chambers said as Morgan pul ed Blaze next to Champ. “Another one for your col ection.” He shook Morgan’s hand and patted Blaze on the neck.
“Great job,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Skye, as soon as they check the roster, they’l cal for your class. Let me see if your number is fastened tightly.” She ran her fingers along the large number 77 attached to the back of Skye’s vest.
Mr. Chambers checked Champ’s bit, the cinch, and the stirrup lengths. “Now remember, listen careful y to what the judge tel s you to do. And don’t forget your number. Seventy-seven! Sometimes when it’s a close cal with one or two others, the judge wil cal your number to repeat a maneuver.”
“Seventy-seven!” Skye reached up to her hat, adjusting it one more time squarely on her head.
“Hey, Skye!” Morgan said as she pivoted Blaze toward the ring. “Look over on the top row of the grandstand. Al the kids from youth group are there.”
“I see Robin and Sooze too,” Mrs. Chambers said.
Skye looked at the top row where she saw a long line of familiar faces waving and hol ering.
“Oh no!” Skye moaned with a hint of surprise.
“Chad’s there too!”
“Chad?” Morgan teased. “What about Chad?” Skye’s racing heart started to race even faster, and once again her face flushed.
“Attention,” the announcer blared. “Al entries for the Intermediate Western Pleasure Class please enter the ring.”
Mr. and Mrs. Chambers turned toward Skye.
“Okay, that’s your signal,” Mr. Chambers said. “Let’s have a quick prayer.” He took hold of Champ’s bridle.
Mrs. Chambers stepped to the front of the horse beside her husband. “Okay, Tom.” The Chambers and Morgan bowed their heads. Skye stared at Champ’s ears.
“Dear Lord,” Mr. Chambers said, “Skye’s done her best to learn how to ride. We pray now for her and Champ’s safety. We commit this competition into your hands, and ask that you bless her efforts.
May your perfect wil be done. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” Mrs. Chambers added. “We know you’l do your best!”
Smiling, Skye turned Champ toward the gate. This was what she had trained for al summer and she wasn’t going to mess up now.
She checked out the parade of horses waiting at the gate, some nervously prancing, some calmly waiting —Quarter Horse, Pinto, Arabian, White, Thoroughbred, Black, Morgan, Bay. As she gently prodded Champ into line, Skye inspected the faces of the eight other contestants in fancy outfits. Half of them, obviously first timers, looked scared and panicky. The other half looked steady and ready, like they’d done this a thousand times before. Al were kids Skye had never seen before, from who knows where, and al anxious to win. Except for one.
Wait — no! It couldn’t be. Hannah Gilbert? Hannah Gilbert on a horse? Here? At this horse show?
Skye’s face wrenched like she had just been slapped.As she approached the pack, Skye glared at Hannah dressed in a fancy cowgirl suit and sitting on a golden Palomino on the other side of the cluster.
“You have got to be kidding!” Skye whispered to Champ as she brought him to a halt. “She rides?
She shows? I thought al that bragging was about beauty contests — not horse shows!”
Just as Hannah squared her Stetson, she glanced up and her eyes met Skye’s. Pow! Skye’s invisible fist hit Hannah square between her snooty eyes.
The look of surprise on Hannah’s face was equal to Skye’s. Her eyes exploded to the size of the silver medal ions on her hat and her face radiated fire that matched her red silk shirt. Then, like her face was melting, it slowly twisted into a nasty glare.
Skye
Morgan had just finished an Advanced Trail Class and was smiling from ear to ear as she jogged Blaze toward Skye and Mr. and Mrs. Chambers. In her left hand, she waved a red second-place ribbon.
“Way to go!” Mr. Chambers said as Morgan pul ed Blaze next to Champ. “Another one for your col ection.” He shook Morgan’s hand and patted Blaze on the neck.
“Great job,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Skye, as soon as they check the roster, they’l cal for your class. Let me see if your number is fastened tightly.” She ran her fingers along the large number 77 attached to the back of Skye’s vest.
Mr. Chambers checked Champ’s bit, the cinch, and the stirrup lengths. “Now remember, listen careful y to what the judge tel s you to do. And don’t forget your number. Seventy-seven! Sometimes when it’s a close cal with one or two others, the judge wil cal your number to repeat a maneuver.”
“Seventy-seven!” Skye reached up to her hat, adjusting it one more time squarely on her head.
“Hey, Skye!” Morgan said as she pivoted Blaze toward the ring. “Look over on the top row of the grandstand. Al the kids from youth group are there.”
“I see Robin and Sooze too,” Mrs. Chambers said.
Skye looked at the top row where she saw a long line of familiar faces waving and hol ering.
“Oh no!” Skye moaned with a hint of surprise.
“Chad’s there too!”
“Chad?” Morgan teased. “What about Chad?” Skye’s racing heart started to race even faster, and once again her face flushed.
“Attention,” the announcer blared. “Al entries for the Intermediate Western Pleasure Class please enter the ring.”
Mr. and Mrs. Chambers turned toward Skye.
“Okay, that’s your signal,” Mr. Chambers said. “Let’s have a quick prayer.” He took hold of Champ’s bridle.
Mrs. Chambers stepped to the front of the horse beside her husband. “Okay, Tom.” The Chambers and Morgan bowed their heads. Skye stared at Champ’s ears.
“Dear Lord,” Mr. Chambers said, “Skye’s done her best to learn how to ride. We pray now for her and Champ’s safety. We commit this competition into your hands, and ask that you bless her efforts.
May your perfect wil be done. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” Mrs. Chambers added. “We know you’l do your best!”
Smiling, Skye turned Champ toward the gate. This was what she had trained for al summer and she wasn’t going to mess up now.
She checked out the parade of horses waiting at the gate, some nervously prancing, some calmly waiting —Quarter Horse, Pinto, Arabian, White, Thoroughbred, Black, Morgan, Bay. As she gently prodded Champ into line, Skye inspected the faces of the eight other contestants in fancy outfits. Half of them, obviously first timers, looked scared and panicky. The other half looked steady and ready, like they’d done this a thousand times before. Al were kids Skye had never seen before, from who knows where, and al anxious to win. Except for one.
Wait — no! It couldn’t be. Hannah Gilbert? Hannah Gilbert on a horse? Here? At this horse show?
Skye’s face wrenched like she had just been slapped.As she approached the pack, Skye glared at Hannah dressed in a fancy cowgirl suit and sitting on a golden Palomino on the other side of the cluster.
“You have got to be kidding!” Skye whispered to Champ as she brought him to a halt. “She rides?
She shows? I thought al that bragging was about beauty contests — not horse shows!”
Just as Hannah squared her Stetson, she glanced up and her eyes met Skye’s. Pow! Skye’s invisible fist hit Hannah square between her snooty eyes.
The look of surprise on Hannah’s face was equal to Skye’s. Her eyes exploded to the size of the silver medal ions on her hat and her face radiated fire that matched her red silk shirt. Then, like her face was melting, it slowly twisted into a nasty glare.
Skye
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