![]() ![]() ![]() Misty splashed bravely into the water, ploughing towards the obstacle without direction from her mistress. Oh, no! The stream at this corner of the field had swollen from the overnight rains and spilled its bank. She urged Misty to the spot they jumped over yesterday… then jerked upright and reined back. Kate’s chosen route stayed close to the edge of the field, and she needed to traverse a stream with a hedge beside it. Three jumps to go!Ī country steeplechase with several riders taking a tumble, circa 1840. Scanning to her left, Kate saw a racer tumble through the brambles, but several participants were over and galloping for the next hurtle. Kate kicked up to a gallop and aimed straight for an open gateway, crossed the lane, and cleared a single hedgerow, Misty surging powerfully. The pack reformed well off to Kate’s left, heading for the most challenging of jumps over a pair of hedgerows with a narrow lane between them. All the participants would surely gallop across the broad field upon which they now raced. Kate didn’t look back but smiled, knowing it must be Hugh Wansbrough cheering her on. A few yelled out exclamations of awe or surprise upon spying Kate in their lead. ![]() She watched as seconds later men started jumping the brambles and entering the field. Some would undoubtedly remain on the road to Bicknoller, their mounts too weary for more jumps, but others would soon be in her pursuit. Kate looked left, reining back to a canter, and watched the bobbing heads of horses and upper halves of men cantering upon the road. They raced across a muddy pasture to the hedgerow and plunged through, clearing the stone wall. “Ha, ha!” Kate felt elated and Misty sprang into a gallop. Kate let the reins go long for a moment as they landed in the soft turf, then gathered them again. The mare raised her head, turned, then leapt over the blackberry brambles into the unknown beyond. Now! Kate alerted Misty slightly with her right hand, tapped once with her right heel, then applied pressure with both heels and gathered the reins. Kate rocked her hips in the saddle, keeping her hands steady, legs squeezed, and heels low. The dapple-grey mare fast cantered, ready to gallop whenever the signal might come from her mistress. “All right, Misty?” Kate needlessly whispered to her hunter. She had slyly stayed with the pack on the way to Crowcombe, as to not reveal the shortcut, keeping it a secret for the return half of the race. It meant an extra jump through a thick hedgerow… but Kate had discovered an opening. By cutting from the pack early and galloping across a pasture no one else ever thought to enter, she would be taking a straighter path to Bicknoller and save precious seconds. The previous day Kate had scouted the route several times and decided upon a bold tactic. Ahead were five racers, throwing up clumps of dirt, the surface of the road compromised by overnight torrents of rain. I recognise him and his horse from last year. A large man on a superb chestnut stallion rode to her side. Kate glanced through her mud spattered veil over a shoulder. ![]()
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