Chapter 2

Audry was really pissed off. I could tell by the way things were flying around the room. As soon as she came through the door, her helmet hit the far wall. Her boots followed, then her jacket and riding crop.

"Bad practice, honey?" I asked, hoping to cheer her up.

Normally, Audry is one of the sweetest, most even-tempered girls I know. But once in a while... I guess this was one of those times.

"Didn't practice. They sold my horse!" She fumed and muttered. "How am I supposed to practice for Nationals, when my horse just got sold to another rider?"

That did sound serious. At the national and international level, dressage and show jumping contests are won as much by the horse as by the rider. And even the best of both need time to become a team. Audry had been renting Blitzen for the past year, and had done very well with him. But now, offered really serious money by a rider from Chicago, his owners had sold him. We had a problem.

My first reaction was to gather Audry in my arms, for some serious hugging and comfort. Good instinct. She melted against me and cried out her frustration.

Then I took her to bed. That's always a good idea, since she's one fantastic lay-besides being my mate, my wife and my ideal woman.

Audry has her mother's blonde hair, and her dad's gray eyes. Small and elegantly slender, her narrow, heart-shaped face and slightly pointed ears give her a decidedly elfin look. The slight slant to her eyes and the faint smudges beneath them just enhance that.

Her shape is pleasantly womanly, with plenty to lick, caress, suck and play with. But, if she follows her mother's pattern, she'll always remain trim and shapely.

This superior package houses an intellect sharper than mine and a fun-loving spirit that is sweet and mellow most of the time.

Her mother, a 'flower child' of the 60s, taught Audry everything she knows about sex, men, and how to have a good time in bed. Audry and I pass up the recreational drugs, but sure do get off on the rest of it.

The next morning was Saturday and I needed to exercise my horse, Shannon. I'd raised him from a colt and trained him myself, under my mom's watchful eye. Shannon and I were going to try to win the three-day event at the equestrian nationals in the fall. Like any athlete, a horse needs to keep in shape, and it was my responsibility to see to it.

Audry went with me. The stable-hand, Deke spotted us. "Too bad about Blitzen, Audry," he commiserated. "What ya gonna do now?"

"I haven't a clue, Deke," she answered. "I'll have to find another horse, but I just don't know where I'll find one I can afford."

"Tough one," he agreed, moving off on his rounds of feeding horses and mucking out their stalls.

Audry took one of the stable hacks and accompanied me out to the cross-country course, cantering along easily on the path, while I galloped between the jumps. Shannon was full of himself that morning and gave me quite a handful-and an exhilarating ride-though he was pretty much used up by the end of the course.

Audry cantered up, just as I was rubbing him down after our workout. Her hair was free in the early spring sunshine-somewhat rare that early in the season, for Oregon. At least, for the valley. At home, on the ranch, we had only a third as much rainfall-and lots more sunshine. In Corvallis, where we were attending Oregon State, the Willamette Valley winters are just plain wet.

I watched her pull up and jump from the horse. My heart pounding-she was one magnificent woman-I grabbed her and kissed her soundly on the spot.

"Mmm. That was nice. What's the occasion?"

"You're so damn beautiful, I just had to kiss you."

Audry waved that off. But she was pleased.

That afternoon, it occurred to me that I had the best source for information about horses right at home. I called dad.

Mom answered. "Hi, Robby. What's up with you guys? How's things in Corvallis?"

"The usual, mom. School, Audry, beer and pizza, Audry, study, Audry... You know."

She giggled at that. She knows how much I'm in love. And she fully approves of Audry, knowing that we're very good for each other. "So why'd you call when you could be talking to Audry?"

"Need some advice, mom."

"Elin is good for that. I'm straight missionary style, myself." That set me roaring with laughter, echoed by mom's silvery giggle.

"No. Horse advice, mom... Blitzen was sold to the Olsens in Chicago. Audry needs another horse."

"Oh. That's too bad, Rob. Hold the line while I get your father." Mom knows all there is to know about training horse and rider. And about picking the right horse for the rider. But she's just not tuned right to follow the business side of the show horse business.

Dad picked up the phone. "That's really bad news, son. We should have bought that horse, ourselves."

"Nah. They wanted almost twice what he was worth. Let the Olsens waste their money. I don't think we need to."

"Son, as it stands now, the Olsens have a horse. Audry doesn't."

"True," I admitted. "But we have integrity. And I have a dad who knows all the horses in the country, and can work a miracle and find just the right one for Audry."

Dad laughed. "Don't you wish? Give me a day or two to think on it-make a couple of calls-talk to your mom. Tell Audry we'll find something for her."

"Thanks dad. And thank mom, too. Even if she didn't have any advice for me."

"Huh?" dad said.

"Ask her. It might be fun." I hung up.

"Well?" Audry demanded. "Do I have a horse?"

"Not just yet. But dad said he'll find you one. He'll get back to us in a day or two. He'll want mom's opinion on any horse he considers, too, you know."

"Sure. I just hate to waste the time."

"It'll be OK, honey."

Tuesday, mom called. "Can you guys come out to the ranch for a couple of days? We have an idea."

"I guess, Mom. How about we leave right after class on Thursday? We can be there Thursday night."

"That will work fine... Oh, yes. Rob, I want you to bring Shannon, too."

"OK, I guess. But, why?"

"Easier to show you. See you Thursday night."

Audry's only Thursday class was a 9 o'clock, so right afterwards she drove to the stables and loaded Shannon in the trailer we pull behind my pickup. (We're ranch kids. We drive pickups. How would we pull a horse trailer with a sedan?) On a hunch, she threw all our tack in, too.

By one, we were on the highway. We tooled right along, being careful on the curves, so Shannon wouldn't get tossed around. It wasn't quite dusk when we arrived at home. I turned Shannon into the corral. He seemed happy, frolicking in the familiar place. This was his home, too.

Audry and I first stopped at the big house, to tell grandma we were home for the weekend. We lived there, when we were home. Then we went to my parents' house. (We'd see Audry's folks in the morning. Grandma said she'd have everybody to breakfast.)

Mom and dad had funny looks on their faces. They said they had the solution to our problem-maybe. But it was a big maybe and they needed to test a couple things first, to make sure. We'd all know more tomorrow. That was all they'd say. So Audry and I said our goodnights and walked back to the big house and our bed.

Something about the clean mountain air at the ranch-we always make spectacular love our first couple of nights at home. Not that making love with Audry isn't spectacular all the time... That night, after a sixty-nine that left us both quivering, Audry pulled me on top of her-somehow I was ready again-and into her. Then we just talked, and kissed, and loved. When we were almost asleep, I would have moved my weight off of her, but she whimpered, and whispered that she liked to feel me on her. And in her. We'd gone to sleep plugged in before, spoon fashion, and loved it. This was new. Audry's curves are an interesting mattress, indeed.

When the approaching sunrise lightened the window in our room, we woke, still joined, and declared our love in the best way possible. Waking up to Audry is marvelous. Waking up making love to Audry is indescribable.

At 7, the family gathered around grandma's table for breakfast. Audry greeted her parents with kisses-and a special hug for her mother, Elin. (Elin had told her about sleeping under her man. It was fun to try.)

When we'd scarfed down grandma's hearty breakfast, we adjourned to the corral.

"Rob, put Audry's saddle on Shannon, would you?" mom asked.

Confused, I just said, "Sure," and did as she asked.

When Audry was mounted, mom said, "Audry, try a little dressage." She did, and the horse responded perfectly. Of course he did. I'd trained him.

"OK, Audry. Now try the jumps."

Again, Shannon was flawless. He responded to Audry perfectly-with a bit less of himself than with me.

Dad led out a huge horse. "Rob, this is 'Samarkand'. We call him 'Sam'. Throw a saddle on him. I'd like to see what you think."

The horse was so big I had to let out the cinch straps, adjusted for Shannon, a lot. And dad had to help me get a leg up, to mount him, with my stirrups at jumping length.

Once aboard, he gave me a bit of a tussle-just finding out if I was competent. Nothing like the workout a cow pony would give a rider first thing in the morning. With firm but gentle hand on the reins and pressure of knee and leg, I got him in hand.

He was pure joy to ride. The horse felt just right, on the dressage movements I tried. He took the jumps eagerly, clearing them all with ease. I asked dad, who was nearest, to open the corral gate so I could ride him out.

In the open, I let him have his head. He started with a fast canter. Then, rolling his head, he seemed to ask. I gave him a gentle heel and he took off!

We ran about a mile, then cantered a mile back. By the time we got back to the corral, I was in love. Not like with Audry, but this big horse and I had formed a bond.

I guess I was grinning ear to ear when I pulled him up.

Mom grinned too. "I see we've solved your problems," she said.

"Well, Sam is a hell of a horse," I agreed. "But the problem was Audry's."

"Oh, no. That one was easy. She'll ride Shannon."

That brought me up short. I'd raised him. I'd trained him myself. He was bred to be my horse!

Then I looked at mom, and dad, and Audry. And Sam blew in my ear, slobbering on my jacket.

I knew they were right. Sam was a better horse for me, and Shannon would be perfect for Audry. And, though I had been reluctant to admit it, Shannon's endurance was a source of worry. I just wasn't sure he'd be able to retain his form and stamina for the 3-day event. That wasn't a consideration with Sam. It was hard to accept that I'd put that much effort into Shannon and he wasn't what I'd been trying to create with him.

Mom knew what was going through my head. "You're still young, Robbie. Now, while you will still love horses, you'll be able to see them as they are. Don't feel badly. Shannon was the best of that crop of colts, and you did an outstanding job with him. It isn't your fault that he isn't really suited for the 3-day."

Ruefully, I agreed with her. Shannon and I would have done well in the 3-day. But we'd never have been outstanding. Sam and I could be.

But, with Audry on him, Shannon could be outstanding in the other equestrian events. So I had nothing to be ashamed of except youth-and my parents had made sure I wouldn't be ashamed of that.

Samarkand was bred on the ranch. I didn't remember him, especially, but vaguely recalled him among the other foals a couple years back. Mom and dad had been working with him for about a year-either for me or to sell. Besides having a superior horse, I didn't have to buy him! That was good, because this animal would easily bring $150,000 to $250,000. That's a lot for a ranch kid financing college.

That night, the bedroom pyrotechnics wiped memory of the evening before from my mind. Audry wasn't just happy about getting Shannon-with mom's assurance that this was the right horse for her-she was ecstatic! She was every bit as happy that I had the right horse, too.

A week after we returned, with both horses, to Corvallis, we sent in our entry forms for nationals.

That spring, I graduated with a B.S. in Animal Husbandry, from Oregon State ("Silo Tech", according to the students at Oregon, just down the road in Eugene.) We'd be working at the ranch all summer. In the fall, we'd go to nationals, then return to Corvallis, so Audry could continue college and I could work toward an M.S.

We didn't pull our weight on the work of the ranch that summer. Both of us worked our horses for hours daily and attended some competitions, too. Sam thrived on the work and the attention. And I had to admit that Audry got more out of Shannon than I ever had.

Pretty soon it was late August and time to load up for the trip to Richmond, and the national equestrian championships.

When we arrived (Flying with horses is interesting. They didn't enjoy the journey at all.) we discovered a major problem. The national organization didn't have Audry's entry form, and mine was messed up. A lady at the registration table, who looked like she sucked lemons for fun, told us that Audry couldn't compete and that I was entered, riding Shannon, in the arena events only.

Of course, she couldn't show us any paper entering me that way-it was all in the computer. And computers are machines, so they don't lie, do they?

Since we were in mom's home territory-the Virginia hunt country-we let her go stomping off to find an official and get things straightened out.

She returned looking really down.

"He says that there's nothing he can do. The national board adopted new rules, and all competitors have to be properly entered or they can't compete."

"But mom, we were properly entered. We even got the letter to competitors about boarding for the horses, and all."

"I know honey. But they say they don't have it and refuse to change."

Dad, no dummy, and very much up on what goes on in the world even though we live on a remote ranch, said, "I think we have a problem. Someone doesn't want the kids competing and is trying to keep them out. I'm on the state board. I'll demand a meeting with the national people. We'll get to the bottom of this."

The next morning, dad got his meeting, but not much satisfaction from it. That we had enemies became clear. Dad was repeatedly interrupted and summarily cut off when he would try to make an argument.

Mad clear through, mom and dad called mom's family lawyer, who headed a large practice right there in Richmond. A day later, we had a preliminary injunction allowing Audry and me to ride our proper horses in the events we'd entered.

At the hearing, we introduced the carbon copies of the entry forms we'd sent and the letters to competitors with the information about where to take horses, costs and so on. We also pointed out that they had me registered, but in Audry's events and on Audry's horse. Obviously-to us-someone had entered the data incorrectly in the sponsors' computer.

The judge agreed that we had done our part and the organizational weaknesses of the sponsors of the event should not penalize us. He ordered us entered in accordance with the registration forms we'd submitted.

Of course, his decree couldn't control the marks the show judges gave us.

Audry was marked so low, it was laughable. There were boos and angry whistles in the audience when her marks were shown. She and Shannon had performed flawlessly in dressage. And they were clean over the jumps, in elegant style, in very good time on both trials. Still, they finished below everybody else who was clean over the jumps.

On the second day of the 3-day, I checked Sam over before I saddled him, as I always do. His off hind hoof was cut. He couldn't compete! It wasn't a split, or tear. The hoof had been cut deliberately. Not enough for permanent injury, but enough that he either would not be able to run and jump today or, if he did, he'd really injure himself.

Sick at heart and nauseated, I called dad into his stall.

Furious, dad demanded another meeting. He accused the national organization of gross negligence and favoritism, and said that he was filing a criminal complaint, as well as a civil lawsuit.

Some of those in the room knew him well-they all knew mom, of course-and took him seriously. But three men, eastern 'big money', laughed out loud.

In the hall, on the way out, one of them said to dad, "Try it, asshole, and your punk kids will never ride again."

Dad did file a criminal complaint about the damage to Sam. The police investigated and said they had no suspects. Too many people who didn't know each other moving around the stalls. No way to tell even who it might have been.

Our civil case didn't do much better. We received a small damage award for the vet bill for Sam. But the court threw out the part about willfully denying us our right to compete freely in the event we'd qualified for. After all, we had competed. Our performance was our problem.

A couple of weeks later, Uncle Rick found one of the horses dead-apparently shot by a deer hunter. Of course, the entire ranch was posted, but we still had the occasional hunter who didn't believe in common courtesy, much less the law.

The next week, we heard a shot over in the hills. Investigating, we found one of our better bulls, shot through the lungs. On the hill above him, we found a 30-06 brass, and a cigarette butt-and footprints of somebody wearing city shoes. In the gully below, we found jeep tracks. Whoever shot the bull must have known it wasn't a deer-it was pure black-and didn't even walk down to it after taking the shot.

It looked like the guy from the meeting was making good on his threat.

Mom flew back to Richmond, to confer with her family. We didn't even know those three guys, except that they were newly-rich easterners who were interested in horses. Mom soon found that they were a clique in financial circles, too.

And one of them had a son who fancied himself quite a rider.

The family used their connections.

They are a close-knit family, the Parmentiers of Virginia, considering the 'unholy three', as we named them, to be johnnies-come-lately. They tended to think mom had married beneath her, but had come to like us and, after all, we were family...

It was one of the unholy three who had suggested to the Olsens, also in the group, that they buy Blitzen. And one of the others had been the person behind the new computer system the national organization used-and, the family discovered, leaving a nice little 'wormhole' into it so that data could be manipulated after it was entered.

They had also gotten to a number of the judges and arranged for their boy's scores to be better than he deserved-and ours as low as they could possibly be.

Their only problem with us was that both Audry and I were likely to beat their kid.

While we couldn't prove very much of this, we could prove the damage to Sam, and the killing of our stock. And we could demonstrate the ability to manipulate the data in the computer.

Dad went to the board of the state equestrian committee. They were all Oregonians, and didn't take much crap from the eastern establishment. He laid it all out to them, and got a unanimous, though secret, resolution that they would do whatever was needed to clean up our sport.

Then both dad and mom, with the state president, went to the boards of the group in Washington, California, Idaho and Nevada, with the same results. Soon, all the western states were solidly behind us, with the south and midwest joining up, one by one, as they heard what had happened.

By the following Easter, the state organizations demanded and got an emergency session of the national board. At that meeting, the computer system was officially made a backup only. The paper registration forms would be the determining records. And competitors who qualified for nationals were allowed to change their registration, in person, at any time. Also, provisions were made for changing mounts, if the horse named in the application was incapacitated. (The sport, of necessity, made a big thing out of being sure the animals were not endangered.)