CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next qualifying show that Sam and Emma travelled to was their greatest challenge yet. But Malaika was on top form and their hopes were riding high, dangerously so. Emma only just scraped into the jump-off in their first class. Surprisingly, there were twelve other clears over the very tough course and Emma had her work cut out for her in the jump-off. However, Sam sat in awe as she watched her snatch first place by nearly three seconds. As the two girls made their way back to the horse box full of buoyancy they didn't notice the riders from another ring exiting after their prize giving. Leading the field was the boy Sam least wanted to see, with a large red rosette fluttering from his horse's cheek piece. Sam's lip curled in disgust. She would rather anyone win than him. Seeing Sam's obvious revulsion he grinned at them as he passed by.

"Afternoon ladies," he said, then nodding at Emma, added "I see we both won today. Fancy a celebration drink?"

"Go bury yourself," Sam growled.

"No, I only do that to the opposition," he laughed as he rode on.

"Don't let him get to you, Sam," Emma said once he was out of hearing.

"I can't help it. I just get upset when I see anything involved with Leon Brooke."

"Come on, let's get back and forget about him. He's not worth getting upset about."

Later that afternoon, the final jumping classes were coming to an end. The show ground was becoming more and more deserted as competitors left to go home. The rain-impregnated clouds which had been threatening all day finally broke and the first spits of rain fell on Sam's face just as Emma rode into the ring.

Emma, on the other hand, didn't notice the rain as she concentrated hard on the course she had to tackle. Malaika was jumping like a dream and couldn't wait to get back into the action. Their round was fluent and a pleasure to watch and the few viewers straggled around the ring clapped as they jogged out. Emma noticed the rain when it became more persistent just as she dismounted. She had been the one of the last competitors to ride and she hoped the ground wouldn't become too slippery in the jump-off. She was one of eight riders who qualified for the jump-off and she became more and more impatient as she waited for her turn. The rain was making the grass as slippery as ice and the horses were sliding dangerously all over the place. With each passing second as the rain came down Emma grew more and more apprehensive. Maybe she should withdraw? Although a win here would count a lot towards her ultimate goal, was it really worth risking Malaika's safety? Before she could come to a decision she was called into the ring. The pair completed the first jump well but Malaika slipped on landing. Emma shook her head dubiously as they turned to face the second jump but nevertheless they jumped that just as confidently. Rounding the far corner into number three, Emma's attention was focussed on the jump ahead and only just managed to keep Malaika on her feet when the mare lost her footing on the turn. Doubt again began to curl in her mind as she considered retiring but an insistent voice in her head reminded her that she was in need of all the points she could get. With renewed vehemence she and Malaika managed the next two jumps competently and took care not to turn too sharply into the final line of obstacles. Malaika's hooves squelched in the saturated earth as she landed over the third last. Picking up speed she gathered herself for the leap over the planks. Emma could hear the mare's hooves squeaking as they slid over the grass with each unstable stride. They were so close, there was only one jump left. Malaika stood well off the last jump, a parallel of rustic poles. Sam, watching anxiously from the gate let her breath out in relief as the pair landed and swept through the Finish. Glancing around to see what everyone else's reaction was to such a good round her attention was drawn to the neighbouring arena where people were applauding the winner as he was handed his prize.

"Oh, not again," she groaned quietly.

Since the breakthrough of Sam's paralysis, her workouts at the physiotherapy gym became more intense. In the indoor swimming pool, being supported by two assistants, tears of frustration and exhaustion ran down her cheeks as she battled to put one foot in front of the other. It was hard work with very little reward and she had to take regular breaks to get her breath back. As a result of these sessions, less of her time was spent helping Emma and Malaika and even when she was home she was sometimes too tired to go down to the stables. She did, however, make time for the party held by Tom McGrath, Britain's show jumping number two. The invitation came as a welcome surprise and she was touched that he had remembered her on his guest list despite the fact that they hadn't spoken in about six months. Tom was a likeable man, rather like a favourite uncle, and she had always enjoyed his company.

Sam sat in semi-darkness, a little detached from a small group of people surrounding Tom, with the dim lighting spreading a warm golden glow over her face. She chuckled whole-heartedly as he regaled a comic hunting experience in Ireland to an enamoured audience. Any doubts she had had earlier about attending the party were long forgotten as, for the first in a long time, she laughed and chatted and was thoroughly enjoying herself.

All of a sudden a shadow fell across her and, startled, Sam looked up at the tall broad-shouldered figure standing in front of her.

"Miss Peterson, what an unexpected pleasure," the person said with a familiar cultured and teasing voice.

"You've done your homework," Sam said coolly. "You know my name."

"It wasn't too difficult to find out. There's only one person in a wheelchair in this room so you'll be glad to know you draw a lot of attention to yourself."

Sam visibly flinched at the taunt. She knew that no matter how long she sat in that chair she would never be able to accept it. The young man smirked at her obvious discomfort.

"We haven't really had the chance to introduce ourselves before now, have we? Just never seemed quite like the right time." Sam suspected he was laughing at her. "My name is Matt Benning."

"It is not a pleasure, I can assure you," Sam snapped and looked away, intent on ignoring him. But as normal, her indignation got the better of her and she turned back to him exclaiming

"How can you ride for such a man? You must surely like horses, so how can you bring yourself to treat them like that?"

"Treat them like what?"

"Like - like machines, like they don't have feelings. It's horrid!"

"Horses won't jump if they don't want to."

"They will if you've terrified them enough and broken their spirit."

Swiftly Matt Benning swooped down to eye-level with Sam and looked at her with hawk-like eyes.

"I do not terrify my horses. I've been riding long enough to know you'll only fail by scaring your horse."

Sam chuckled in disbelief.

"So you're telling me that that horse you rode at Lymington was quite happy with the way you and that despicable Leon Brooke were bashing it around?"

"I'm not going to start making excuses to some loud mouth invalid such as yourself, but I won that class, okay? If Leon Brooke's methods of training differ from your own, then so be it. Keep your nose out of other people's business," Matt Benning hissed in a deathly quiet manner. Sam was stung. She never took kindly to anybody who spoke of her paralysis but calling her an invalid had struck deep. She had never thought of herself as an invalid before. Saying that word shed a new light on her plight. And a loud mouth? Is that what she had become - a loud mouth meddling in other people's affairs? For a moment her eyes swam with tears then with a sudden force she pushed her chair past him, nearly sending him sprawling. As quickly as she could she manoeuvred her way through the crowded room to the open French doors leading onto a balcony.

Alone and away from the noise of the party, she sat in the cool breeze, looking though the railings at the lit-up swimming pool down below. The lanterns which were scattered strategically amongst the shrubbery turned to chandeliers as the tears stole down her cheeks. She tried to blink them away but to no avail. What had been such a promising evening was now turning into a nightmare. Behind her, Sam heard a soft footstep but didn't bother turning around. She knew who it was. She felt the weight of someone leaning their hands on the handles of her wheelchair.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he said solemnly.

Sam ignored him, still looking at the opal swimming pool below.

"That horse I rode at Lymington is very excitable and needed a lot of work before we could enter the ring," Matt explained.

"Usually an excitable horse would need a lot of flatwork," Sam replied. "Not being jumped over a tall jump time and time again and having its legs battered."

"You've obviously crossed paths with Leon before."

"Indirectly, yes. I rode a horse for someone that was later sold to Brooke. When I rode it again a couple of years later when it had come out of his yard, it was a wreck. Too nervous and totally stripped of confidence."

"What happened to it?"

"It was sold at a sale, and I heard it later changed hands again. So who knows what sort of state it's in now."

"And you blame Leon for that?"

"Of course," Sam retorted. "The horse was fine before it went to him."

Matt stepped from behind Sam up to the balcony railing , gazing into the darkness of the night.

"But it's not just because of that one horse," Sam continued. "It wasn't the first to come out of his yard totally spent. And no doubt it won't be the last. All Leon Brooke is interested in is power and winning and fuelling his disgusting ways are people like you who ride for him." Sam couldn't stay a moment longer. She didn't want to hear what excuses this boy, Matt Benning, who had hurt her so deeply, had to say. With one skilled movement she spun her wheelchair around and quickly became enveloped by the smoky darkness and noisy guests beyond the French doors. Matt leaned his arms on the damp railing and continued to gaze at the black hunchback hills in the distance. His usually teasing mouth was set in a grim line and a muscle was jumping in the shapely curve of his jaw. He made no move to follow Sam. What would be the point? Nothing he said could change her mind. And, he asked himself, did he really want to persuade her otherwise? Did he not have the same thoughts a lot of the time as well?

Eleven chapters down, plenty more to come! But I need your feedback peeps, I'm dying to know here! I know you're reading it, but I need to know your thoughts. Even a couple of words to say "Yeah, good, she's nice" or "Not so great, stick to writing meeting minutes in future". Hit me with it!