Free The Fame Equation by Lisa Wysocky Page B

friend Annie Zinner. Tomorrow was the day she and her husband Tony were delivering a horse to us.
    I had lobbied Gusher Black, the horse’s owner, at the recent world championships and was quite excited that the horse was coming to my barn. I had first met Gusher at a world championship show a few years back. Jon and I were sitting in the stands one morning and made positive comments about a yearling filly. Turned out she just happened to belong to the guy sitting behind us.
    Gusher and I talked at each major show from then on. He was a short, stout man who’d made it big in the oil business on his own. He had an ego that he could barely contain under his ten-gallon hat, and was the kind of man who’d settle for nothing less than the best. Despite all that, he was likeable. Agnes flirted with him shamelessly and I think had hopes that Gusher could become husband number four. Even though he was a good fifteen years younger than Agnes, he flirted shamelessly back, so shamelessly that I knew I’d see a screen door on a submarine long before I’d see a marriage between those two.
    This particular horse of Gusher’s was a coming five-year-old gelding who had won his halter class at the world championships as a weanling, then won his silver medallion this year in racing. The four areas of competition––performance, halter, distance trail, and racing––made up the Appaloosa Horse Club’s medallion system. Only a handful of horses in history had won a medallion in each category and Gusher planned to make his horse the next one.
    As part of his plan, the horse had to win a national or world championship performance class, or be the top horse in the nation in terms of points for a given class. Gusher thought the Southeast was a less intense place to bring his horse along and earn points, than the tough Texas and Oklahoma circuit. I was thrilled to get the new addition, but knew I also had to deliver.
    “We’re fixing to get an early start, should be in about five,” Annie said, interrupting my thoughts. “Don’t make dinner now, I’m bringing something special.”
    I smiled. Annie was a great cook and I, for one, could use a good meal. We’d all been running on pizza, hot chocolate, and stress since Melody disappeared.
    In the barn, Jon and I decided to give Petey a day off to process his lessons from earlier in the week. Besides, it was Saturday, and although Darcy planned to spend the day with her dad, she could pop into the barn at any time. No way was I going to spoil her surprise.
    Jon decided to pull Gigi out of her double stall. Gigi belonged to Mason Whitcomb, Darcy’s dad, and had won several national and world championship titles already. “Glamour Girl” was a total space cadet, so we were giving her some time off from the show ring. Jon wanted to teach her to drive. She wasn’t yet two years of age, and even though many young horses did well being driven, I hadn’t been sure Gigi would be one of them.
    Gigi, however, had surprised me. Of course, she adored Jon and thought the sun and moon rose and set in him. Me, she more or less tolerated. I was glad that Jon was so interested in driving, as he had no interest in riding. It wasn’t that he couldn’t ride, it just wasn’t his thing.
    Today, Jon put a sidepull and a surcingle on Gigi and was trying to get her directional with the long reins. They were doing well, even though I could see that Gigi was bothered by the surcingle. Basically, it was a wide strap that wrapped around her back and belly. It also had large metal rings on it to slide reins through. Wearing a surcingle was also a good way for a horse to get used to the cinch or girth on a saddle.
    The session did not last long, mostly because Gigi has the attention span of a flea. Jon may be right, I mused. If Gigi had something to think about, maybe she’d be a little less bouncy in her stall. I always worried that she’d bang into something and hurt herself, even though we had tacked