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How many events combine speed, danger, beauty, wealth and the opportunity to whip your partner with a riding crop if he doesn't cooperate? Last weekend there was a three-day horse trial here in Dutchess County — dressage on Friday; cross-country on Saturday over 25 walls, fences and trenches; and on Sunday stadium jumping. Horses and their riders, all familiar to one other from years of competition, were scored as teams on all three days. You might think of it as a progressive, competitive co-ed party — with horses.

But it is also a tough international sport, with the prospect of injury always present. (Ambulances waited on the sidelines.) On Saturday night, the somewhat dazzled Millbrook hosts gave a fiesta for the riders, grooms and anyone helping with the event. "For the volunteers and the competitors, it's just a good time," said Louise Meryman, an organizer.

The 250 competitors ranged from teenagers to Peter Green, 55, a scout for the United States Olympic team. (The horse trial has been an Olympic sport since 1912.)

At 3:40 p.m., the caterer, Dorcas P. Sommerhoff, was in a tent by jump No. 5. "That's a cute horse," she said, as one galloped by, clods of dirt flying. "I can't be watching," she said. "I've got to be working."

The last horse finished just ahead of a thunderstorm. Riders, one wearing a T-shirt that read, "Failure is not an option," began washing and brushing their horses. Heidi White, 38, was fawning over her mount, Northern Spy, who would place third the next day in his division. The two of them, along with several other competitors, were on their way to the Burleigh (sic) Horse Trials in England.

At 6, a soggy line formed for margaritas. People were dressed in jodhpurs, shorts and Lucky jeans, all showing off the kinds of backsides that result from five hours a day of levering posteriors over saddles. There was polite talk: "It's been unnecessarily unpleasant," a man in a Hawaiian shirt said. But polite talk paled in comparison with the chance for a horse-crazed volunteer to get an autograph from Darren M. Chiacchia, a handsome rider who was competing on seven horses, or to gossip about what happened to him on the cross-country course.

And it was a chance to network. Some women from Canada spotted Mr. Green. "He's a selector," explained one, Jennifer Holling, "and we're going to be very nice to him."

Mr. Green reveled in the attention. "It's my job to scout the young riders," he said. "So far my reception has been very warm."

Mr. Chiacchia — who has a Web site (www.eventrider.com) offering pinup pictures of him and his horses — lined up for the Mexican food with Mitchell Robinson, who added a note of diversity with a silver stud through his lip. "Have you ever been to a party at a three-day event?" asked Mr. Chiacchia, 37. "I've been sworn to keep my clothes on."

"Sunday morning," he said, "you look at each other and just don't say anything. You pretend it didn't happen."

Mr. Chiacchia got a drink but allowed that he was not all that familiar with tequila. On the other hand, he noted, "I've ridden my whole life with a hangover." (He managed to place in the top five in two events. A rider who abstained from the party, Phillip Dutton, rode three horses to first places.)

Sara Richardson was in line for food with her husband, Todd. "I'm a horse husband," he said. "He fixes stuff," explained his wife.

Ms. White watched the course designers use a tape measure on the jumps for the next day's competition. "They've been in here drinking, and now they're out there checking the course," she complained.

Jody Petty, a steeplechase jockey from Saratoga, N.Y., was on a busman's holiday, sitting with Liza Horan, 29. Mr. Chiacchia was talking about his sponsors, including Purina Mills, Tide and Antarès saddles.

"It's easier for the cute boys to get them," complained Ms. Horan, who rode her horse to second in one division.

When the evening turned cool, Mr. Chiacchia said, "I'm going to send someone to get my jacket."

"Did you hear that?" Ms. Horan said. " `Send someone!' You can say that when you're famous."

When Mr. Chiacchia left, the talk quickly turned to him and his mount Windfall at the water jump. (This crowd gossips about horses' quirks as much as it does about riders' romances.)

Windfall refused, twice, and he and Mr. Chiacchia were issued 60 faults. "Windfall was notorious about water," Mr. Petty said. "It was a problem before, and it came back."

And then came the highlight reel. "Oh look," Sharon White said. "They're showing the cross-country. That's the best part."

From somewhere in the back a man yelled, "Watch watch watch watch!" as a gray horse wobbled and jerked through the water jump. "That's a rough ride," he said, appreciatively.

Olivia van Melle Camp, another organizer, looked out at the thinning crowd at 8 p.m. "The cross-country is the hardest part," she said, "so there's a certain amount of relief."