All the Courses Run (An Equine Tale)

By Becky Norman

When Anna Grant enters the world of show jumping, her dreams are crushed by a sinister man who brings out the darkness in her own soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Becky Norman
• Release date: Sep 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9780987809704

Becky Norman

Since graduating from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point with a B.A. in Honors English (Writing Minor) Becky Norman has moved to Canada and graduated from Conestoga College's Human Resources Program with Honours. For the past seven years, she has been a Human Resources Advisor and is currently writing freelance articles for Suite101.com and Associated Content on such diverse topics as employment law, horse care, poetry and short works of fiction. All the Courses Run is her first novel; she is currently working on a fantasy trilogy for publication.

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All the Courses Run

Becky Norman

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Becky Norman

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The Lady’s First Song

I turn round

Like a dumb beast in a show,

Neither know what I am

Nor where I go,

My language beaten

Into one name;

I am in love

And that is my shame.

What hurts the soul

My soul adores,

No better than a beast

Upon all fours.

~W.B. Yeats

Chapter 1

The moon hung low in the sky, just a crescent, heaviest at the bottom, pregnant with light. Two young people sat under it, awed by its distance and coldness on such a warm night.

I never noticed before, Tommy, but if you look closely, you can see the line that completes the circle. See there? Even when it’s just a sliver you can still see the whole moon.

Can you? Or is it just your imagination?

You think it’s my eyes playing tricks on me?

Think of it this way, Anna: you know that the moon is round, right? You accept that as fact. It’s possible that you’re trying to fill in the bits that are missing.

I don’t know...I just assumed... She paused for a moment, considering. So believing is seeing, then.

Maybe. Sometimes. He smiled at her, his teeth a brief flash in the moonlight.

They pondered the powers of imagination in silence for a moment, then Anna sighed, still deeply grounded on the earth.

I don’t know what to believe about this move, Tommy.

Ah, you’ll be fine. It’s time you left the nest...went out into the big, cold world.

Anna snorted ruefully. Yeah. I’ve led such a sheltered life here.

Tommy chuckled. Well, maybe not. But you’ll be able to add to your adventures, then. Besides, you won’t be alone. You’ll still have Pup. And me.

That’s poor consolation, she stated sarcastically.

He punched her playfully on the arm. It’ll be good for all of us.

You’re not the tiniest bit scared?

Nah. Think of the possibilities. Great things could happen at this place.

And if they don’t...?

If they don’t, then you move on. He shrugged in a laissez-faire way.

If only it were that simple.

It can be, Anna. Just keep yourself open to the options. He tugged on her thick braid and smiled. But do me the one favour?

What’s that?

Try to keep your temper under control, will ya? And remember: believing is seeing.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was inevitable that the day he started controlling her was the day he hired her. He doesn’t really remember the situation even now; but if you ask him, he’ll swear up and down that he does. He’ll tell you that her lush black hair was tied back with her favourite green ribbon (it wasn’t; she wore it loose that day), that she was wearing jodhpurs and a blazer (it was blue jeans and a sweatshirt) and that she sat across the desk from him in his stable office (he met her in his driveway).

You see, Christopher Wardhope will tell you he fell in love with Anna Grant the minute he set eyes on her, but that’s not true. He fell in love with her when he realized what Anna Grant could be for him. And that time came about twenty-four hours later.

The first time Anna Grant was in his presence, there were more pressing matters at hand. The group of people huddled in a circle in the middle of the driveway were as sombre and quiet as a funeral ensemble. The situation was nearly as serious, as well. They stood staring at a shiny, new, two-horse trailer, still attached to a Chevy Silverado. The beautiful blend of rich earth tones adorning the sides of the trailer was eye-catching, but more remarkable still was the fact that the trailer appeared to be shaking. Occasionally, an earth-shattering scream would break the silence, followed immediately by a powerful thunk as hooves struck metal.

Well, we have to do something, Christopher said after one of these outbursts. His voice was calm and collected, something the other members of the group found comforting.

How long did you say he traveled like this?

Immediately a thin, wiry many stepped forward with a Horse Transport coverall on and answered. He started acting up the minute we got on the road. I stopped once and saw his leg was caught, but I can’t get in there to help him. He’d kick me for sure. I thought it would be best to just drive as quickly as possible. He must be young, eh?

Yes, only two, Christopher answered, distractedly. His strong, tan hand was pressed to his mouth as he thought the situation over. You’re sure he hasn’t injured himself?

Fairly positive, sir. We checked him as much as possible once we got here again. But I’m not going to open that door to make sure his hooves still work.

Well, we can’t leave him in there forever. He’s obviously terrified. Look how the trailer is rocking from his trembling!

He glanced quickly around him at the people present.

Alright, folks, let’s stop gawking and get that horse out. I want the two women up at the horse’s head. One of you put something around his eyes so he can’t see what’s going on back here. And both of you keep talking very quietly to him and pat his head. Let him know it’s okay. If he acts up, let his head go. I don’t want you breaking your arm through the bars up there. The men are with me. We’ll open the doors from the side so he can’t get a direct kick at us, then try to free his leg. I want two men on both sides of the trailer to grab his halter if he makes a break for it.

They all dispersed, covering the trailer as if it contained a psychopathic killer, then settled in to wait. When they were in place, Christopher nodded and said, Okay, we’re opening the latch now. Be prepared.

He grabbed one of the doors while the transport driver took the other and together they slowly and as silently as possible opened the gates. The creak of the hinges was enough to set off the explosion. The horse erupted from the rear, yanking his leg free with a vibrating clang that forced a grunt of pain from the animal. It was not enough to deter him. Head swinging, all four feet flying, body contorting, he resembled a bronc in a rodeo. He moved his heavy body to the left, sill rearing and bucking as he finally moved free of the trailer. There was the muffled thud of his hoof striking the driver’s shin and the man went down with a painful gasp.

Several people dropped out of position in their attempt to get to the driver, including Anna. It seemed a thousand things happened at once: she was aware of Christopher slamming the trailer doors shut, the horse dancing just inches away from the man’s prone body, and the other people milling about it in confusion. It was Christopher’s strong, confident voice that got everyone’s attention again.

Get the horse! Leave the driver for a minute! Somebody get the horse before he hurts someone else!

Anna was closest to the animal. She seized the halter rope and was jerked several feet across the yard before she calmed the animal down enough to have him stand still. Christopher was on the ground by the driver now, gently feeling his leg to gauge the seriousness of the injury.

Anna watched him with interest. He was obviously a very wealthy man: his tailoring was impeccable, and the two gold rings on his fingers glinted in the sunlight. Yet there he was, knees buried in the dirt as he inspected the other man. He sat straight, with his shoulder back like a soldier, but the slightly raised chin and cock of his head were nothing but those of an officer. He was tall, as tall as she was - which surprised her - and his hair was a dark brown gleam brushed back along his skull. His full lips and dark skin reminded her of a movie star she had once had a crush on - after she saw him perform in a vampire film. This man, however, was older than her movie star and more sophisticated. Definitely out of her league and definitely a boss to take full control. She grimaced at the thought; asking a favour of him in the first week was going to be no easy feat.

Even now he was demanding that someone should call an ambulance. The driver had a broken leg from the looks of it. Anna turned to look at the horse that had caused the whole event. He was young - just a baby yet - and looked as though the day’s adventures had cost him a great deal of his energy. She gently removed the bandana from his eyes and quickly wiped him down with it. She then waited for an appropriate paused in the discussions that were taking place and led the horse over to the men on the ground.

Mr. Wardhope? The horse should be stabled, sir. If you tell me where to go, I’ll see that he’s taken care of.

Hmm? Oh, yes. If you follow that path there to the right, it leads you to the main stable doors. I think stall four is open. Steve should be down there, as well. He’ll help you brush him down and get the beast settled.

Thank you, Mr. Wardhope.

He glanced indifferently at her with eyes the same color as the ochre splashed across the trailer’s sides, then turned his attention back to the suffering man before him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The barn itself was a sprawling establishment; newly-made, with running water in each stall, special flooring for excellent drainage, and an immaculate tack room that could house thirty saddles comfortably. Christopher Wardhope had big money and big plans.

He began by talking a friend of his parents’ - who just happened to be a horse expert - into becoming a business partner. Joan Harding recognized her dream career when she saw it, and signed on within the first week of proposals. They began by scanning five countries for superior show-jumping horses and in four months already had fifteen animals on their land in various states of training.

It was a good start, but of course Christopher realized that’s all it was - just the beginning. He visited auctions every weekend with the dream of finding that one great horse and quickly assembled a top staff of grooms and riders to go along with them. Things were rolling and Christopher was pleased with movement.

When Joan came to him two weeks later with news of a stables going belly-up, Christopher could scarce believe his luck. It was called Brighton Farms, Joan told him, and they had at least five potential grand prix show jumpers who would sell at a pitifully small price. They went in for the kill together.

With the barest show of negotiations, the five horses were quickly signed over, a check exchanged hands, and the deal was done. As they were leaving, Mr. DuBois, owner of the farm, asked if there might be room for two top grooms at Wardhope, as well. He had two left that still needed jobs. One was Tommy Cork, who came highly recommended; the other was Mr. DuBois’ own niece, Anna Grant. He felt she needed a change of scenery, he said, and a job that could pay her in more than just room and board. He neglected to tell Christopher that Anna had recently gotten into a drag-out fist-fight with one of the riders at Brighton when she’d caught the woman using a whip on her favourite horse, Pup. Better that Christopher take her on without knowing too much about Anna’s past. And hopefully Anna had gotten her little rages out of her system now that the seriousness of her situation was known.

So Christopher had agreed to offer them jobs then he and Joan left. He had no idea that he had just purchased the great horse he had been searching for.

The horse’s registered name was Panther’s Midnight Hunt and he was too much horse for just about everything he’d attempted. Dressage was out of the question, as well as western events and he had only experienced minimal success in the show-jumping ring. He stood well over 17 hands high, was a spoiled child, and was pure muscle - even in his head. He was a big black stallion with slightly too much weight on his six-year-old bones. He was stubborn, egotistical, demanding, and totally devoted to a tall, fine-boned groom named Anna Grant. He considered her his mate-for-life, even protecting her as such from overly-aggressive humans and keeping her away from other horses that aroused his jealousy. Panther’s Midnight Hunt also detested change. Every little variance in routine was met with shrill screams of resistance and bone-crushing kicks. When the big stallion realized he was leaving his home for good that day in June, he made sure no one at Brighton Farms would forget him. He even worked his two-year-old stable-mate into such a frenzy that by the time the younger horse landed at Wardhope Stables with his leg caught in the trailer, he was a whirlwind of chaos.

After the mess was finally straightened out, the transport driver whisked away to the hospital, and the assorted nerves of horses and humans had been settled, Christopher decided it was time to gather all the grooms and run through the rules.

~~~~~~~~~~

There were two women and three men seated on bales of hay in front of him, their silence broken only by the inquisitive nickers of the horses stabled around them. They were all younger than Christopher, physically fit and serious-looking. Christopher was pleased at the image of hard-working devotion they represented. The one woman he had met earlier in the day - she was an attractive blonde with pale blue eyes and the smoothest skin Christopher had ever seen. She sat by herself, removed from the others. The other woman was tall with black hair and green eyes. She sat close to one of the male grooms.

He was really no more than a boy, Christopher figured, probably twenty at the most. His blond hair was as stiff and spiked as the hay he sat on. He had dark blue eyes that glanced warily out from an angular face and he sat forward with his worn hands on his worn jeans. His sleeve just brushed the leg of the dark-haired woman, protecting, yet acknowledging space. Christopher knew these two must be Anna and Tommy: they were the only two he hadn’t seen before.

Well, why don’t we all introduce ourselves? I don’t think everyone’s met. First of all, my name is Christopher Wardhope. I own Wardhope Stables, along with my partner, Joan Harding. Joan is primarily responsible for the training of the horses you will be taking care of; you will be meeting her a little bit later. So, I’d like us to take some time to get to know each other. This isn’t an ordinary business where the people you work with are strangers after their eight-hour shift. You’ll be spending a lot of time with each other and I hope you’ll become friends.

The first man to introduce himself was the one sitting closest to Christopher.

I’m Steve Weber. I’ve been a blacksmith over at Whispering Pines for the past five years until Mr. Wardhope here asked me to come and help him. He nodded a bearded, rugged face at his new employer.

The next was the other man, a thin, red-haired worker with thick blotches of freckles on his cheeks. I’m Andy Dean. I used to work at the Frozene County Race Track.

The blonde-haired woman cleared her throat and looked around at her new companions. Lara King. My parents own a riding stable outside of metro. I’v taken care of their horses for twenty-some years.

The dark-haired girl smiled and nodded at Lara. I’m Anna Grant. I’ve worked at Brighton Stables since I was seven. The DuBois - the people that owned Brighton - are my aunt and uncle.

‘I’ve never heard of Brighton Farms before, the burly groom named Steve put in. Are they a big operation?"

Um, no, Anna paused. Actually they were a dressage-focused stables that dabbled in show-jumping, but they folded this past week.

Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Steve put a gnarled hand on her shoulder in brief sympathy. These are tough times all around.

Anna nodded silently.

I’m, uh - I’m Tommy Cork. I come from Brighton, too. Same as Anna. He bobbed his head in her direction.

Christopher took a few steps closer to them to attract their attention again. "Okay, folks, now comes the nasty part - the rules. I’m not a dictator, but I do believe the only way this farm is going to keep its own head above water is if we have some discipline and direction. So I expect the following obeyed:

"One: you’ve seen the bunkhouse...this is the grooms’ own ‘home’ to sleep, eat and entertain in. At no time are the grooms to approach the Wardhope house unless invited. If there is a problem, you use the phone like any other employee calling an employer.

"Two: taking care of horses is a 24-hour-a-day, seven-days-a-week business. You arrange schedules among yourselves, but there are to be two people in the barn at all times, midnight or noon, and those two people are working - not sleeping, talking, or admiring themselves in the mirror. I can’t stress this enough, folks. If I catch you listening to a baseball game when you’re supposed to be on duty, I’ll find some saddles for you to polish while you’re doing it.

"Three: there is absolutely no vacation time during the summer. That is show-season and every hand is needed on the horses. Other vacations throughout the year - including even one day off - are to be approved through me, with one month’s notice.

"Four: absolutely no medication is to be administered to the horses without my or Ms. Harding’s presence and approval. Absolutely no change in diet of the horses is allowed unless Ms. Harding or I tell you to do so. That includes feeding them ‘treats’ - our jobs rely on their