Showjumpers Read Online Free

Still, his eyes were bright and kind, and he met Georgie’s gaze keenly. His ears pricked forward as she approached him and took his reins.
    “He’s lovely,” she said. “He has such an honest face.”
    “Belvedere’s a reliable jumper,” James assured her as he legged her up. “I would have preferred to put you on something with a bit more class like Tinkerbell, but Dad said she’s not for first-timers.”
    Georgie suspected that what Mr Kirkwood really meant was that he didn’t consider her good enough for his best horses, so he’d stuck her with a draught horse. Still, she wasn’t complaining. She really liked Belvedere, although sitting astride him felt weird after riding Belle. His heavy physique bulged out beneath her, the barrel of his belly forcing her legs to stick out like she was doing the splits.
    As she lumbered back across the lawn trying to get used to Belvedere’s cumbersome trot, Georgie caught sight of the showjumperettes. Kennedy and her friends were mounted up on elegant, well-bred hunters and all of them wore sleek black riding coats with frilled stocks at their throats and top hats instead of helmets. Next to them on her draught horse in her borrowed country tweeds Georgie looked like an unsophisticated hick. She could see from Kennedy’s smirk that this had been her intention all along.
    “Interesting choice of outfit,” she said to Georgie. “Beige is really your colour, isn’t it?”
    “Thanks, Kennedy,” Georgie replied sarcastically. “Oh, and by the way, Abraham Lincoln called – he wants his top hat back.”
    Kennedy’s expression turned fierce. “You obviously know nothing about hunting. If you get in Dad’s way today, he’ll feed you to the hounds.”
    “Calm down, Kennedy,” James said, “I was just about to tell her the rules.”
    He smiled at Georgie. “There’s really only one rule. My dad is the master of the hunt and you must never overtake him on the field. Those other guys with him in red coats are Dad’s henchmen – the whippers-in, and the field masters. They’ll try and boss you around, but don’t worry, just do as I say and no matter what, always stick with me.
    OK?”
    Georgie didn’t have time to reply. Randolph Kirkwood raised the horn to his lips, giving a long, low blast. Then he set off at a brisk trot, the hounds following obediently at the heels of his great, grey hunter. The pack scampered across the pebbled driveway, heading to the right of the house towards a low stone bridge that crossed a small stream, leading out into the pasture beyond. They kept alongside their master in tight formation until they reached the field, and then they began to fan out, casting for the scent.
    Two hounds to the far left of the field began baying, and soon the others had joined in their howling chorus. Randolph Kirkwood gave another toot on his horn to alert the riders behind him and then the hunt was off and galloping.
    The hounds covered the ground far more swiftly than Georgie had anticipated. They kept pace with Randolph Kirkwood’s hunter, who flew the first obstacle, a clipped hedge at the far end of the field, without hesitation. Dedicated to the pursuit of the scent, the hounds squirmed and thrashed their way through the hedge. Several men in red coats followed, along with Mrs Kirkwood, who jumped the fence with expert finesse.
    With the competent riders over the hedge, the rest of the field surged in a mad rush. Just as Damien had predicted, Heatley Fletcher was one of the first to fall. Georgie saw his big brown hunter skid to a halt in front of the hedge so that Heatley flew over his mount’s neck, landing face-first in the mud.
    Heatley’s horse caused a collision with three other riders, two of whom also promptly fell off. Georgie watched the pile-up in astonishment.
    “Total carnage!” Damien said with a grin as he rode up alongside her.
    “I told Dad we should ride at the front,” Kennedy whined. “Now we’re stuck behind the