She stood up in her stirrups like a jockey and put her reins in her left hand, freeing up her right hand to press the button on her stopwatch. Tyro broke from the start box and this time Georgie didn’t try to hold him back. Are you ready? On your marks … and … three … two… one… GO! Right then, bring him up to the start line, he told her. The steward seemed to understand her silent plea. Hurry up, she thought, I can’t keep holding him! My arms already feel as feeble as worn-out knicker elastic from hanging on so long! She was trying to stay calm, but as the steward fussed over his clipboard she could feel the adrenalin surging through her. You don’t want to fall off before you even get started, do you?įalling off is most definitely not part of the plan, Georgie agreed. Before the pony could getaway, she had pulled hard to the left, turning him in a tight circle so that he was back in the same position as moments before, in the start box facing out over the hill that led down to the first jump of the cross-country course. The sudden movement threw his rider back in the saddle, but she regained her seat with lightning speed. And this must be Tyro.Īs the steward said his name, the black pony went straight up on his hind legs in a half-rear and then lunged forward, trying to bolt. Number forty-two… forty-two … let me see … the steward ran his eyes down the list, forty-two … here you are! Georgina Parker, yes? He cast a glance at the pony dancing and crab-stepping. Holding him back, the girl tightened her grip on the reins as she waited for the steward to check his clipboard. The black gelding snorted and fretted, moving anxiously from side to side in the start box.
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