Grace leaped over the fallen log in the backyard, landing on one knee. A gust of wind swirled through the grass and caught the corner of the horse poster on the fence. It peeled away with a soft rip and fluttered down like a bird taking flight. Grace's eyebrows drew together as she stared at the empty space on the fence. She reached down for the poster, its paper warm from the sun.
She smoothed the curled corners flat against her thigh and pressed the poster back against the fence. There was no pin left, so she took a bright red sticker from her pocket and pressed it firmly over the bottom corner. The poster held, but the sticker made her sigh. She had been saving that one for Biscuit's birthday. The fence creaked gently in the breeze while she worked.
At the edge of the show jumping course, Grace climbed onto Biscuit and gripped the reins. The wooden fence ahead looked impossibly tall against the sky. Biscuit's ears flicked backward and his front hooves pawed the ground. She swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the jump. He can do this, she thought. She patted his neck and leaned in close.
"We can do this," she whispered, her voice barely above the rustling grass. Biscuit's ears turned forward a fraction. Grace dug her heels gently and the pony stepped toward the jump. The course stretched wide around them, bordered by low wooden fences and bright orange cones. She held her breath and waited for him to move.
Grace rode Biscuit toward the final fence, the murmur of the crowd rising around them like distant waves. Biscuit's hooves struck the grass with quick cadences. The blue sky arched overhead and the trees formed a green wall at the course edge. She leaned low over his neck and whispered, "Just the jump." The fence filled her whole view.
A blue butterfly settled on the top rail of the jump, wings trembling. Biscuit shied hard, his hooves clattering on the packed earth. Grace's hands tightened on the reins and she leaned even lower. Just the jump, she thought, just the jump. She felt his muscles coil beneath her and pushed forward with her body.
Biscuit gathered himself and launched upward. The world tilted as they soared over the fence in a wide, shining arc. For one breathless moment, both hooves left the ground and the sky opened wide around them. Then the front legs touched down and the back legs followed, smooth and sure. Grace sat up straight and let out a quiet laugh.
That afternoon, Grace hung her blue ribbon on the fence post beside the horse poster, now securely taped. The sun warmed her shoulders as she watched Biscuit graze in the field beyond. His tail swished lazily against his legs. She reached out and patted the ribbon, her cheeks smudged with hay dust. That was the best jump ever.