A Military Match. Patricia Davids

your seats, men. As most of you know, the American Cavalry Competition is being held at Fort Riley this year and we’ve just received permission to participate.”

      A cheer went up from the group. Grinning, the captain motioned for silence. “We also have three major performances scheduled during the next few weeks. That means a lot of travel for some of you, but I’m confident that this year we’re going to bring the Sheridan’s Cup back where it belongs. To the home of America’s cavalry!”

      Avery observed the buzz of excitement in the group with mild amusement. The chance for the CGMCG to showcase their skills and outshine the unit that had won last year’s contest had them trash-talking like a pumped up high school football squad.

      “Okay, men,” the captain continued. “This isn’t just about beating the socks off the Fort Humphrey boys. We’ll be facing police mounted units, National Guard mounted units and quite a few re-enactor units in the Platoon Drill event.

      “All of you are free to enter the individual riding classes. They include Mounted Saber, Mounted Pistol, Military Horsemanship and Military Field Jumping. A plaque will also be awarded for the outstanding horse at the competition.”

      “It should go to Dakota,” Lee suggested.

      Captain Watson smiled. “Dakota has certainly earned a special place in this unit, but I’m not sure he is up to performing at such a high level. Dr. Cutter will give us his opinion on that soon.”

      Avery had been riding Dakota in the various parades and performances where jumping and rapid stops weren’t required, but he suspected the horse was strong enough to compete.

      Shuffling through the papers in his hand, the captain found the one he was seeking. “Winners of the individual events will be invited to compete in a combination test of skills for the Sheridan Cup. Besides the silver trophy and a one thousand dollar cash prize, the winner will have his name added to the bronze plaque displayed in the U.S. Cavalry Memorial Research Library. I don’t need to tell you that Command is hoping it will be a Fort Riley soldier this year.”

      Captain passed out the entry forms to the men crowding around him and then dismissed the group. Avery rose and left the building. He had just reached his car when he heard Captain Watson call his name. Turning, he saw his commander approaching holding out a sheet of paper. “Aren’t you going to enter?”

      “I wasn’t planning on it.”

      The captain pressed his lips together and frowned. “The Sheridan Cup carries a lot of prestige for the brass here. You are better than anyone I’ve ever seen with a saber and just as good as most with a pistol. I think you could win.”

      Taken aback by the praise, Avery found himself at a loss for words. In the back of his mind he heard his grandfather’s voice telling him he’d never amount to anything. Yet here was his captain, a man he admired, telling him he believed he could win the most coveted prize in the modern cavalry.

      “I can’t order you to enter the individual classes,” the captain continued, “but I’m asking you to do it for the honor of this company.”

      What if he entered and failed to win?

      His grandfather would expect him to fail.

       According to him, I fail at everything except spending money. So why do I still care what he thinks? I’m not a failure.

      He did care what his captain and the men in the unit thought of him. Could he face disappointing them? “I’ll think about it, sir.”

      “Let me know by tomorrow. Dakota is assigned to you, but you can pick another horse for the competition if Dr. Cutter doesn’t think Dakota should participate.”

      Lee, who had been waiting nearby, came over after the captain walked away. “Are you going to enter?”

      “I said I’d think about it.”

      “You can enter, but don’t plan on winning.”

      Avery cocked his head to the side. “And why is that?”

      “I’ve seen a couple of the riders from the National Guard Volunteers in action. You’ll be outclassed.”

      “You just heard the captain say that I’m the best he’s ever seen with a saber.”

      “Oh, I agree, but that’s only a quarter of the overall score. You might be as good with a pistol as those boys, but they’ll ride you into the dirt in Military Horsemanship. That’s like dressage and no offence, but you stink at that.”

      “Okay, my fancy riding could use some work. You seem to know so much about it, why don’t you give me a few lessons?”

      “Me? I’m worse than you are. You need someone who really knows how to work with you and your horse.”

      Avery glanced at the men leaving the building. “So which of the guys in the unit is better?”

      Lee shoved his hands in his pockets. “I hate to say it, but most of us are pretty average.”

      Exasperated, Avery said, “All right, you go to horse shows all the time. Who’s the best in this area? Who can I get a few pointers from?”

      Lee burst out laughing.

      Avery scowled at him. “What’s so funny?”

      Controlling his mirth with difficulty, Lee managed to say, “Jennifer Grant is the best dressage rider in the area, but from what I’ve seen, she isn’t going to give you the time of day.”