Bubba Goes National

By Jennifer Walker

Thirteen-year-old Leslie Clark has loved horses for as long as she can remember and has been riding since she was six. Although her widowed father cannot afford to give her everything she desires, she works hard to get what she wants. When what she wants, a great horse to show, is taken right out from under her by her rival, Kate Wellesley, Leslie thinks her whole world has been turned upside down--until she finds Lucky (nicknamed Bubba by her father, who thinks he is funny). Then, everything changes.

Readers of BUBBA GOES NATIONAL will be touched by an inspiring story, but they will also learn about the care and showing of horses while they read about Leslie's adventures. Sandwiched in is a lesson that if one is willing to work hard, they can make their dreams come true. BUBBA GOES NATIONAL is the first of the Riders of Green Meadow series, which will showcase horses that are unwanted by one person but are another's dream come true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twin Trinity Media (TTM)
• Release date: Feb 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452432809

Jennifer Walker

Jennifer Rineman is a full-time writer, editor, and novelist, as well as a ballroom dance instructor. Her work has appeared in numerous magazines, including Modern Arabian Horse and Horseman's News. Although horses are her specialty, she enjoys writing on a variety of subjects.Jennifer has published two books in the Green Meadow Series: Bubba Goes National and Bubba to the Rescue. She has two more started for the series, as well as several other books in various stages of planning and completion. Her short stories earned their place in the first-ever Accentuate Writers Anthology, Elements of the Soul, by placing first and second place in monthly contests. She also has a story in the anthology The Ultimate Horse Lover.Jennifer previously published under the name Jennifer Walker.

Book preview

Bubba Goes National

by

Jennifer Walker

Published by

Twin Trinity Media

AT SMASHWORDS

Copyright (c) 2010-2011 by Jennifer Walker

All rights reserved.

First Digital Edition

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2-DIGITAL--SMASHWORDS EDITION

This book is also available in paperback at fine retail bookstore locations.

Editors: Jennifer Walker / Michelle Devon

Cover: Accentuate Author Services

The story herein is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously and are the sole concept and product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental. The author and publisher respect trademarks mentioned in this book by introducing such registered titles in italics or with capitalization.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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http://AuthorJennWalker.com/bubba.html

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to every girl of any age who ever loved a horse. It is dedicated to anyone who ever saw a diamond in the rough and made it shine. But mostly, it is dedicated to all of those diamonds in my life, without whom I could not shine. It is dedicated to all of my friends who helped me come up with the people, horses and events in this story, whether they knew they helped or not.

To my mother, Ann, whose fault it is I got into horses in the first place--and who knew I would be a professional writer before I did. To my daughter, Megen, who reminds me of what it is like to be a teenager. To my good friend, Beth, who has helped me in many ways, including being brutally honest when I needed it. To my friend and mentor, Michy (Michelle Devon), who has mentored me in my writing career, provided priceless editing services and helped me get this book published.

Finally, to my wonderful husband, Greg, who puts up with awful lot from me.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1: Lesson Day

CHAPTER 2: Green Meadow Training Stables

CHAPTER 3: The Horse Show

CHAPTER 4: Show Time

CHAPTER 5: Bad News, Good News

CHAPTER 6: Lucky Bubba

CHAPTER 7: Leslie's Birthday

CHAPTER 8: The Trail Ride

CHAPTER 9: Suit Shopping

CHAPTER 10: The Schooling Show

CHAPTER 11: Recovery

CHAPTER 12: Back at Home

CHAPTER 13: Getting Ready for the Date

CHAPTER 14: The Date

CHAPTER 15: Back in the Saddle

CHAPTER 16: Off to Regionals

CHAPTER 17: Last Chance to Qualify

CHAPTER 18: The Championships

CHAPTER 19: Show Season is Not over Yet

CHAPTER 20: Time to Go

CHAPTER 21: Albuquerque

CHAPTER 22: It's Show Time!

Afterword: A New Beginning

About the Author

Prologue

Leslie sat in the line-up, waiting breathlessly. She was surrounded by the best riders in the country, and the thought of beating any of them seemed an impossible dream. She had worked so hard and done everything she could to prepare, but she was not sure it would be enough.

She had been riding Lucky for such a short period of time that the odds were astronomical against her winning. She could see her friends in their box, all with fingers crossed and expectant looks on their faces.

I hope I don't let them down, she thought.

Beneath her, she could feel Lucky's powerful muscles twitch, barely containing the same nervous excitement she felt. The energy in the air was so alive she felt as though she could reach out and touch it.

The riders around her had been working for years to get to this moment, just as she had. They all had friends and loved ones in the crowd, just as she did. There was no doubt in her mind: they each wanted the championship tri-colored ribbon and statuette as much as she did.

At last, a deep voice resonated through the speaker system, filling the arena. Now came the moment they had all been waiting for. A hush fell over the crowd and all eyes turned toward the riders and horses and the tension built as the crowd and competitors collectively held their breath…

CHAPTER 1: Lesson Day

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The alarm clock sounded, its shrill cry piercing her skull, impossible to ignore. Leslie groaned and hit the snooze button.

Why do I have to go to school? Why does school have to be so early?

She knew she could not possibly get out of bed. She was too sleepy and comfortable. She rolled over and pulled the cover up over her head, hoping Dad would call her in sick so she could stay in bed all day and read. With that thought in her mind, Leslie snuggled deeper under the covers. The sun peaked through her bedroom window, shining on her face. Just when she was about to drift back to sleep, she suddenly remembered what day it was.

Saturday! It's lesson day! Leslie bounced out of bed, instantly wide awake.

For her, Saturday was the best day of the week. Saturday was the day she could spend all day with the horses at the training stable. First, she had her riding lesson, and then the rest of the day was spent mucking stalls, cleaning tack and exercising horses. She worked after school two days per week and sometimes was lucky enough to get to ride on those days for practice, but Saturday was the only day she had a lesson. She did not want to be late.

~~~~~

Leslie was only ten years old when her mother had died, and ever since then, money had been tight. Leslie's father, Dan Clark, had done the best he could, but she knew it saddened him that he could not give her everything she desired. She had been riding since she was six and was very talented. He had told her she might have to give it up when he could no longer afford lessons for her, but Leslie wanted it badly enough that she came up with the idea to work to pay for her lessons herself. Her instructor had agreed, knowing how much riding meant to the young girl.

Leslie started by sweeping barn aisles and cleaning tack, and as she grew older and proved herself to be trustworthy, was given more and more responsibility. She would clean stalls, tack up horses for her coach to train, longe them, and groom them. She also traveled to horse shows with the other clients, working as a groom to earn extra money. Leslie had become very good at braiding manes and tails, and her thorough grooming and willing attitude made her a favorite amongst her coach's clients.

Leslie pulled jeans over her slim hips and shrugged into a t-shirt. The other girls at the barn had rich parents and fancy riding clothes, but Leslie had never let that bother her. She was happy just to get to ride. She pulled on the pair of jodhpur boots her Dad had given her last Christmas, her pride and joy. They had been her only gift that year, but they were of the highest quality and were finally getting broken in.

Leslie walked down the hall to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She looked in the mirror, and her own bright blue eyes twinkled back at her. For the first time, she noticed that she was starting to look like the picture of her mother that was on her dresser.

She thought of the day she lost her mother, Claire. The two of them were on their way home from grocery shopping when a drunk driver had careened into their car at top speed, sending it rolling. Somehow, Leslie had survived the crash with only a broken arm.

When she realized she was standing motionless with toothbrush in hand, Leslie shook herself out of the memory, finished brushing her teeth and pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail before running downstairs for breakfast.

Her father, a tall man with brown hair and sparkling brown eyes, was in the kitchen. He winked at her when she bounced into the kitchen and handed her a plate of bacon and eggs.

A working girl needs a good breakfast! he always said. Leslie wolfed it down, as was her custom. Saturday mornings had become a ritual, and Leslie looked forward to these quiet times with her dad almost as much as she did spending time at the barn. It was almost enough to make her slow down to enjoy her father's cooking, but her ravenous appetite always won out. He did not have time to have breakfast with her during the week, which was usually cold cereal. He worked long hours and was often already at work by the time she woke up to go to school.

How's the piggy bank doing? Getting full yet? he asked. Leslie had her own savings account at the bank, but Dad liked to tease her by calling it her piggy bank. She had been saving every penny she earned grooming, hoping she could buy her own horse someday.

It's not for pigs. It's for a horse. Leslie swallowed a bite of eggs and grinned. After last weekend's show, I'm up to $856.37! Of course, even after I pay for the horse, I'll have to figure out how to pay for the upkeep.

Their conversation continued until it was time to leave, and Dan and Leslie climbed into his beat up old car to head over to Green Meadow Training Stables. While they drove, Leslie watched out the window. The familiar scenery whizzed by, the suburban streets giving way to green fields dotted with trees.

Her thoughts drifted, and suddenly she was six again. She sat straight and tall in the saddle, legs sticking almost straight out to the sides and tiny hands gripping the reins. Her mother walked alongside her, a tight smile on her face, but Leslie was too young to see just how nervous her mother was.

Why don't you come sit down, sweetheart? She'll be just fine. Her father was sitting backward on a chair on the other side of the fence, arms casually resting on the back of it.

I don't know, Dan. She's so tiny, what if something happens? Leslie was embarrassed, but thankfully her instructor shooed her mother away and began the lesson.

Returning to the present, Leslie realized that she had not thought of her mother in a long time. Now, she would give anything to have her mother walking along beside her.

She felt guilty, wondering if she was a bad daughter for not keeping her mother's memory close enough. She did keep pictures of her mother on her dresser, but she could not remember the last time she had looked at them. Her favorite was of Leslie's very first ride on a pony, her mother holding the lead. She had stared at it so many times that she had every detail memorized, from the black and white spotted pony to her red, whip-stitched cowboy hat. She decided she was not such an awful daughter, after all, if she could remember every detail of the picture like that.

You know, Dad, she said almost absentmindedly. We haven't been to the cemetery to see Mom for a while. Do you think we could go soon?

Funny you should mention that, because I was just thinking of her. How about we go tomorrow?

Sounds good. They would have to discuss it more later that night, because Leslie could see they were approaching the familiar lines of white fence and the sign that read Green Meadow Training Stables.

CHAPTER 2: Green Meadow Training Stables

For a horse crazy thirteen-year-old girl, Green Meadow Training Stables was heaven on earth. The barns were large and airy, white with green trim, and neatly kempt. The large arenas were groomed weekly, and there were miles of trails in the woods to ride on. Most of the horses in training at Green Meadow were Arabians, Leslie's favorite breed.

While Leslie groomed her lesson horse, Fred, she admired his large, kind, wide-set eyes and dished face. Tiny ears almost touched at the tip, and his mane and tail were long and flowing. At 14.2 hands, he was smaller than many of the other horses at the barn, but Leslie thought he was just perfect. She loved his arching neck and slender, yet powerful legs. His back was slightly swayed with age, and his hip bones stuck out a little, but he carried himself proudly.

Although Leslie enjoyed riding him, he could be a little boring. He was great for the younger kids since he was very calm. In fact, he'd been the first horse she rode when she graduated from ponies. Now, however, she longed for a more exciting horse to ride, with more energy and a fancier trot.

Pulling two different kinds of rubber curries out of the grooming box, she groomed Fred's coat with them, rubbing in circles to pull up all the dead hair and dirt. As she worked, she thought back to her first lesson on Fred, and how excited she'd been that she was finally allowed to ride a real horse. Helen had been stern with her that day, telling her that she would have to be responsible and do everything she was told, or she would have to go back to riding ponies.

Leslie exchanged the curries for a smaller, softer one and rubbed Fred's face and legs, laughing when Fred closed his eyes in relaxation, head drooping. Are you going to sleep, pal? she asked, but his eyes just closed further. She thought again of that day long ago when she had first groomed him. She had been too short to reach the top of his neck and back, and her mother had held her up as she brushed first with a medium-bristled brush, then sprayed on the coat conditioner, and then finished with a soft-bristled brush.

Why do we have to use so many brushes? she had whined, rubbing her tired arms.

You want him to look his best, don't you? All these horses would not have such wonderfully soft and shiny coats if they did not get thoroughly groomed before and after every ride, Helen had explained.

I guess so, but it sure is a lot of work! Now, Leslie was so used to the routine that she did not give it a second thought. She took great pride in keeping all of the horses at Green Meadow looking beautiful.

Picking out Fred's hooves to clean out manure and rocks had been the only thing she could do by herself back then. She smiled at the memory of saying, hoof! in her most authoritative voice, trying to sound stern when she told him to pick up his foot.

Leslie's favorite riding discipline was saddle seat. She had started riding this style when she started taking her lessons on Fred, about six months after she had started riding. She liked how saddle seat horses pick their knees up high, the upright way they carried their head and neck, and the feel of power and energy underneath her when she sat tall in the saddle.

Finished with her grooming ritual, Leslie placed a saddle pad and saddle on Fred's back and tightened the girth. She remembered how her mother had reacted when she saw the saddle Leslie would be riding in, a saddle that offered much less support than the one Leslie had been riding in up to that point.

You call that a saddle? It's so thin, she might as well be riding bareback! She'll fall off!

Helen had been so patient. Your daughter's a very good rider for her age and experience, Claire. She'll be fine, I promise. It's thin so that the rider can communicate better with her horse. It's called a flat saddle, and I guess you can see why. Indeed, the saddle was nearly flat, with no contours to keep the rider in place.

It's OK, Mom. I'll be fine. Leslie had been excited to ride like the big kids.

Leslie snapped out of her reverie. It was almost time for her lesson to start and she was going to be late if she did not get moving. She put the bridle on Fred's head, carefully slipping the two bits between his teeth. She stuck her helmet on her head, grabbed her whip, then led him outside to mount him.

Riding toward the arena, she squinted in the bright April sunlight. She immediately wished she had left her jacket inside. She took it off when she got to the arena, hanging it on the fence so she would not sweat. The sunshine felt good on her arms and she was glad she had worn a short-sleeve shirt.

While Leslie warmed up her horse, Helen appeared and walked out to the center of the arena. Leslie smiled and nodded a greeting as she trotted by, unable to take her hands off the two sets of reins to wave. Helen smiled back, tiny creases appearing around her mouth and bright green eyes.

Fluffing her short, curly brown hair with slender fingers, Helen called out, How are you this morning, sweetie?

Great!

Good, let's get to work, then.

When Leslie's mother had died, Helen had become like a second mother to her. When Leslie's father went out of town on business, she would spend the night at Helen's. Over time, he came to trust his daughter's coach completely, even allowing her to take Leslie out of town to horse shows.

Fred was in