Taking bets on horses

By Gayle Carline
Mystery Author and Horse Show Competitor

While you are reading this, I am in Burbank, California at the Los Angeles Equestrian Center. I've been there since 6:30 in the morning, which meant I had to get up at 5 a.m. to dress and make the hour-long drive from my house.

Have I ever told you I'm not a morning person?

Me before coffee.

As much as I hate getting up early, I love showing my horse. It's a kind of quiet excitement at the show. You wait for your class, then you hurry up and get you and your horse ready, then you get to the arena and warm-up. Then you wait until your number is called and you perform for the judges.

Me and Snoopy at the Del Mar Arena

It's about two hours' worth of work for a three-minute ride.

Many people have a narrow vision of horse riding. They think jumping is the only equine sport (not true), and that everyone wants to ride their horse in a parade (also not true). When I told one woman that I show my horse, she actually said, "Like in the circus?"

Really not true.

Not jumping, not parading, not in the circus.

There are two types of horse shows. One is a breed show, like Arabian or Quarter horses. At breed shows, there are many types of events, and you can show your horse in any of them. Your only requirements are that you have proof that your horse is registered as that breed, and that you are a member of the breed's organization. The other kind of show is purely an organization show. You must belong to the organization, but they don't care what kind of horse you have. These shows are typically, but not always, event-driven, like jumping or dressage. Think Olympics.

MURDER ON THE HOOF, my latest mystery/romantic-suspense is set at an American Quarter Horse Association (AQHA) horse show. It will be released in May and I am both excited and frightened. Not a lot of folks are into the equine world, and maybe a romance combined with murder and mystery and secrets galore will not be enough to coax non-horsey people to enter my world.

Still, I am in love with the story and I will remain its loyal servant. I think it's the perfect horse story for people who aren't into horses - all the excitement with none of the smells.

Here's a snippet to whet your appetite. You can read more on May 21 (for Kindle), or order it in paperback on May 24.

* * * * *

Willie felt the push of the mare’s rising back end, then the upward roll of her shoulders. In a few strides, Belle settled into a gentle rocking-horse rhythm. Willie kept her butt digging into the saddle, her left hand trying not to pull up on the reins, and her right hand trying to stay on her leg. Every four strides or so, she reminded herself to breathe.

It takes a lot of work to look this relaxed, she thought.

There was a cluster of young riders at the end of the arena, sitting around on their horses and talking. Not certain if there was room to pass, and not wanting to disturb them, Willie turned across the arena early.

“Hey, watch out,” a man’s voice barked at her.

She looked up to see the same man who’d nearly run into Emily, now barreling toward her like a freight train. Her first impulse was to stop. She raised the reins and breathed, “Ho,” but saw that she was stopping in his direct path. Her second reaction was pure adrenalin—she kicked the mare, who leaped forward and took off running.

All thoughts of how to ride disappeared from Willie’s brain. She braced her weight into her stirrups and pulled on the reins. The effect was not what she wanted. Belle raised her head and yanked forward, adding a hopping motion to her gallop. Willie grabbed the horn, trying to push herself back into the saddle. Her body shifted to the right with each bump. The rapid jostling kept her powerless to either stop the horse or get back in the middle of it.

Damned if I’m gonna come off. With one final thrust, she shoved her body left and down. Belle slowed for a moment, allowing Willie to bend her knees and sit back. The pair settled to a stop. What felt like a ten-minute nightmare was probably not even worth a rodeo’s eight seconds.

Willie let out a deep sigh and looked down at Belle’s head. Tyler and Emily were already at her side.

“I’m so—” Willie began, then choked on the word “sorry.” I’m such an idiot.

“It’s not your fault,” Emily said, helping her off the horse. “Bobby Fermino is a horse’s ass.”

The golden horse trotted over to them, carrying the smiling Bobby. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay, Miss…?”

Unlike Tyler, his dark eyes bored into her with an intimacy she did not welcome. “Willie,” she managed to force out.

Emily scolded him. “Bobby, you’ve really got to be aware of other riders. My client is a novice, trying out a new horse.”

“Again, my apologies, Willie.” Turning to Emily, he added, “Perhaps you should find a quieter arena for your less experienced riders. Are you horse shopping? I have a little gelding with me that might be more suitable for such a petite lady.” He looked at Willie again and smiled, then called out, “Denny, get the roan out.”

She glanced over at the side of the arena. A dark-eyed, tanned young man in skinny jeans and a fitted olive green T-shirt nodded, then hopped into a golf cart and headed toward the barns. Denny, no doubt.

Bobby wheeled his horse around and galloped across the arena, cutting off another rider. Willie turned to Emily.

“I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t. He took you by surprise. Yeah, you could have done a lot of things better, but at least you stayed on.”

“Barely.” Willie sighed. “I just didn’t want to come off, not in front of these people.” Especially not in front of Tyler Handsome.

Emily put her arm around Willie’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “There’s a Mexican proverb—‘It’s not enough for a man to know to ride; he must know how to fall.’”

 

 

* * * * *

 

BeeTeeDubs, the show I'll be at is called the Hollywood Charity Horse Show. Bill Shatner will be there - it's cool!

 

 

 

 

 

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Alice didn't know and neither do I.

I do, however, know why writing is like riding - horseback riding, that is. Forgive me if I've shown this before, but these are my two horses:

Frostie is my 16-year old mare.

 

 

Snoopy is her 9-year old son (gelding).

They are Quarter horses, which is a breed.

Learning to ride is what inspired me to write, so I personally know why writing is like horseback riding. 

Everyone thinks it's easy to do.

Anyone who has taken a trail ride thinks that you get in the saddle, kick, and your horse goes. People who watch others ride see nothing but the horse's movements. If you don't know, the assumption is that the horse is a point-and-click critter.

They're not.

Frostie is very ticklish - we call it being light sided. If you kick her, she will take off at warp speed. Snoopy is dead sided. If you kick him, you might get two or three steps before he ignores you completely, except to reach back and try to bite your foot.

Riding them, or any horse, requires what we call a seat, which is another word for balance. You have to balance your body evenly on their back. There are other rules, too. Lots of other rules. Rules about getting them to respond to pressure from your legs, and how much contact to have with their mouths, and even how to get a balanced ride from them (it's called collection).

Having said all that, you can possibly get on a horse, and kick it, and drag it left and right by the reins, and some horses will put up with all that and you can say you're a horse rider. But no one will look at you on a horse and say, "Wow, how graceful! How elegant! I wish I could do that."

Writing has rules. Spelling rules and grammar rules and rules for punctuation and more. Beyond the mechanical, there are rules for storytelling. Show, don't tell. Don't overdo the descriptions. Adverbs are verboten. "No crazy dialogue tags," she yelped. My favorite is Elmore Leonard's rule to leave out the parts most people skip.

You can ignore most of these rules if you want. You can write stories where everyone's yelping and whimpering every line they say, and you can describe the walk from the sidewalk to the front door in such intimate detail that we know the mating habits of the snail in the garden and he's not even a main character. Don't show us anything. Tell us everything. At the end of this, you can have a book. It might even be a book lots of people buy.

But will it be a book that people re-read because they not only love the story, they love the words you chose? Will they say, "Wow, I wish I could do that"?

In my riding and my writing, it's my constant goal: to be proud of what I accomplish.

Here's a video of my trainer riding Snoopy in a horse show at Burbank. I'll be showing him in Burbank this weekend, which will be fun.



As you watch it, look at how little her hand or body moves. Trust me, she's giving him instructions the entire way around this course.

Great riders and writers make it look easy.