One Little Horse Show©Elsa Wolf

When Steph called about the upcoming horse show, she assured Joan everything was self-sufficient. The show wouldn’t be a problem, and the contract had been signed along with the liability releases. Famous last words.

Joan was retired and had no intention of immersing herself in the workings of the horse farm ever again. A month or two had gone by without any known problems. She still owned the place. It was time to stop in at the management office. Going only ruffled her feathers. The place was in complete chaos.

Over in the arena, she found a man standing on the sidelines, typing feverishly on a computer tablet.

“Hello, you doing all right?” she said nonchalantly. “All the forms and go-times sorted?”

“Morning, ma’am. I’ve seen pictures.”

“What?”

“Sorry. You’re the owner of this property?”

“Yes. Good to meet you.” She reached a hand out and connected with his sweaty palm. “Did you complete the forms? Including the release waivers?”

“Um, no. No.” He was waiting on someone Joan had never heard of. She excused herself and headed for the barn’s office. There, she found a young man wearing earbuds at the desk. The countertop was covered with dust. Best she could tell, he wasn’t working.

Joan shouted, “Excuse me.”

He rose a good three inches out of the chair before looking up at her blankly.

“Who are you and what the hell is going on around here? Find the release waivers and get them out to the registration table. There’s a long line.”

“I’m George. Steph hired me last week to help around here.”

With a humph, Joan glared at George.

“Yes, yes, ma’am. I’m on it.” He took the earbuds out and ran out of the room.

In the meantime, Joan rifled through the old file cabinet and found paper copies, just in case he wasn’t quick enough. Small drops of moisture were forming on her forehead. Stepping out of the building, she nearly collided with an unknown woman leading a miniature horse. with

“Can I use this one?” the woman asked.

“No, he’s too feisty.” Joan looked at him, and his front feet were skittishly popping up and down. She hadn’t worked with Charlie. Only a skilled, equally small child could ride him on a quiet day. This wasn’t one of those days.

She was beginning to think retiring had been a terrible idea. Focusing on the house renovation had been all she was interested in of late. The shows were a large part of the facility’s income, but she never liked the chaos they created. Even less so, now that she and her husband had moved into the guest house while the big house was being completed. People and horses were filling the air with noise, along with the roar of the vehicles’ engines. The normal sounds of the farm’s boarders and lessons were quiet by comparison.

The jumping and dressage arenas were already set up. Before retiring, she had either ordered or constructed new jumps herself. The jumps had numbers attached to them to mark the course. In the other arena, the dressage letters were posted on the fences. Both sand arenas were level to the eye, and the arena drag lines reminded her of alien crop circles.

On the far side of the arena, more rigs were driving in and parking alongside ones that had arrived earlier. The back lot was filling up and would take another ten three-horse goose-neck trailers and trucks, or fifteen tow-behind two-horse trailers. The ground was solid.

Joan heard wheels spinning on the drive. The front tires weren’t up to the job, and the dirt was flying backward under them. The driver kept trying to move forward, and the ruts were getting deeper. The front of the vehicle was sinking lower into the ground. Running over, she yelled up at the driver. The engine stopped, and the horses started neighing and swaying in their compartments. Running her hands through her hair, she got the driver out of the cab and took it upon herself to back up the rig onto the main road and then across to the public parking area. They’d get the farm tractor out and repair the road later.

The show must go on.

Retirement over.