Renegade Champion by Richard R. Rust“If you buy that horse, you’re buying your daughter’s death warrant,” Jane Pohl’s father was warned at the army barracks in the spring of 1941. But the potential that his teenage daughter Jane saw in the small, temperamental Thoroughbred was enough to convince him otherwise.
Earlier that year, when Fitzrada arrived at the army base where Jane’s family lived, the horse was stubborn, unpredictable, and dangerous. Any man who dared addle him up soon found himself face down in the dirt. Jane, excited to ride any horse and up for the challenge, had the most success with Fitz. She was patient and consistent, and the horse responded well at last, showing a great affinity for jumping. Then, inexplicably, a terrible riding accident resulted in serious injuries for both Jane and Fitz, and the army decide that it was time to destroy the horse. Heartbroken, Jane pleaded with her reluctant father: the only way to save Fitz was to buy him from the army.
Jane Pohl’s foresight proved to be correct. Jane and Fitz went on to take the Virginia show-jumping circuit by storm, winning 37 jumper and 6 hinter championships. At a time when women were rarely seen in jumping classes at horse shows and were not taken seriously by male competitors, Jane and Fitz helped to break down barriers against women riders competing in the Olympics. In 1946, Jane and Fitz found themselves at the Jumper Championship at the prestigious National Horse Show in Madison Square Garden—the highest jumping title in North America. The road there for horse and rider was a five-year test of faith, patience, and understanding friendship.
There is one mud / marsh scene, and it's a classic horse one.
Jane rides her her horse Fitz into the marsh, crossing over a patch of mud that turns out to be very deep. Fitz begins to sink to his neck. Jane jumps off and sinks to her waist. She manages to encourage Fitz to get out and they escape the marshy area.
Sinkiness: 3/5
It's well set up for fans of horses and equestrian suspense and the narration paints a clear picture. There isn't much sinking happening, specifically involving Jane herself.
The full scene:
Closer to Southern Pines, Jane saw a trail that seemed to offer a shady shortcut and decided to take it. As the trail went down a hill, she saw marsh grass among the pine trees below and thought there must be a creek close by. The soil looked wet but firm, and she thought nothing of it as Fitz walked in ankle-deep black mud. Then, with Fitz’s next step, he sunk instantly to his knees and in reaction made a huge lurch ahead to pull his hooves free.
With this leap, he landed mired up to his belly. Jane dismounted and immediately sank to her waist. Unable to feel the bottom, she realized that wading was impossible and that the suction would make swimming impossible for Fitz. Fitz threw his head up and strained with his hocks, trying to free his front legs, but the muck quivered like pudding. With each struggle, Jane watched in terror as the black muck inched up the saddle until only the horse's neck and rump were visible.
Then, to Jane’s amazement, Fitz stopped fighting and panted. She imagined reason creeping through her horse and took heart. Since there was no way for Fitz to turn around, Jane floundered in a “swimming crawl” toward a hummock of swamp grass ahead. The root mat of the hummock held her weight as she tenuously pulled herself out and stood up on it. While this required moving Fitz deeper into the quicksand, it was the only direction possible.
“Come on Fitz, you’ve got to do this,” she said, urging him to come to the hummock. He struggled to push his knees forward until he was breathing in desperate gasps and his neck was lathered in sweat. Seconds passed between his attempts, and the muck yielded only inches to each exertion as his strength ebbed. Jane feared they would not make it, but Fitz finally reached the point where he could rest his chin on the hummock.
Jane wrapped his slippery, muddy reins around her hands and strained to pull him up to her. Fitz inched forward, pushing down into the grass with his chin until his knees gradually worked to the surface and the hummock’s edge. He then pushed with his hocks, pulled on his knees, and threw his head up to follow with his body. As he scrambled up, Jane realized the hummock was not large enough for both of them and leaped backward into the muck to avoid being crushed or pulling him back in.
Waist-deep in the mud again, she looked up and laughed at Fitz, who looked ridiculous perched on the tiny island of grass with all four hooves touching. Jane then slithered on her stomach toward the nearest hummock heading back toward solid ground. When she reached the end of the reins, she clucked to Fitz to move forward. He hesitated as the roots supporting him ripped audibly, but he finally gathered himself and jumped. As he flew past her, she threw away the reins so as not to hit him in the mouth. He landed short, scrambled up on his own, and with another leap reached solid ground.
Jane was euphoric, writing later that she had finally gained the confidence from Fitz that she had sought for over a year. The pair had to backtrack to Manchester Road and finally dragged into the Southern Pines stable at dark, long overdue and covered in "black goop".
