The Stable Affair

by Jessica Andersen

  “Well, she’s got this hunted look about her and she glances over her shoulder all the time and jumps at shadows. We were out to dinner one night in New York and she freaked and ran out of the restaurant. I think she was chasing somebody, but he escaped when I knocked her down… Don’t ask; it’s a long story. Then last night I was waiting for her at the farm when she got home from a date. She didn’t see me, but must’ve known someone was there because she started yelling for the person to show himself and she wasn’t talking to me. She seemed surprised I was on her porch swing.”

  “I would’ve been surprised, too. Why were you waiting for her—no never mind, I don’t want to know.” Daniel actually very much wanted to know, but he’d save those questions for later. “So far I haven’t heard you say that you actually saw anything besides Sarah Taylor acting weird. She’s been under a lot of stress lately, what with losing her job and being blamed for a woman’s death. Maybe she’s just gotten a touch paranoid.”

  Dante nodded. “I’d agree with you, but I have seen a few things I don’t like. That same night in New York I’m pretty sure my room was tossed—not positive, mind you, but pretty sure. And the next day she was hurt when someone took a shot at her horse.”

  “Excuse me?” Daniel’s surprise was obvious.

  “Well, at least I think that’s what happened. The horse bolted for no obvious reason and later I saw a welt on its rump that looked like it had been shot at low power with one of those rubber bullets the crowd control people use. Sarah and her aunt passed it off as a bee sting, but I don’t think it was any bug bite.”

  Daniel grunted and Dante could see his friend’s mind working furiously as he considered the possibilities. “Anything else?”

  “Two things, or people rather. Sarah apparently lost a fiancé about a year and a half ago in some sort of accident. I think it was an auto accident involving the two of them and a horse trailer. She and the horse both have pretty good scars from it and the fiancé died. It’s probably not related to the stuff at the lab, but I’d like to know more about it. His name was Jay.”

  “As in Fontaine? Dr. Jay Fontaine?”

  Dante didn’t like the hollow feeling in his stomach at Daniel’s quick recovery of the name. “Yeah. Why, who’s he?”

  Daniel shook his head in frustration. “Damn it, I knew he’d died, but I didn’t know they’d been engaged. That was sloppy of me. Fontaine was the codirector of the lab. He was the brains behind most of the research they did. I’m sorry man, but that just makes things more complicated. I’m almost afraid to ask who the second person is.”

  “Matthew Bender.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned him. What’d you do, go to Boston and look him up? You visit the lab?”

  Ellie ran out of bread and waved good-bye to the ducks as she wandered back up to the men while Dante stared out over the pond. “Nope. He showed up at the farm last night to take Sarah out to dinner. When he brought her home they talked about making plans and I don’t think they were just talking about another date.”

  “Shit.”

  Dante nodded. “Yep.” He turned to his friend with gloomy eyes. “Find out what you can, will you?” He stood and pulled Ellie up to ride on his shoulders, causing her to squeal with glee.

  “Call me when you have something, okay? We’ve got to go to work now, right, Pumpkin?”

  Ellie grinned down at Daniel. “Right. We’re going to the horse show to see Sarah! Pretty soon she’s going to let me ride Marshmallow in a class!”

  Daniel remained on the bench as Dante carried the child away. He turned back before they reached the Jeep. “And Daniel?” Dante’s voice was even but his eyes were shadowed. “I really think she’s innocent, you know? It’s just a gut feeling, but I think she’s not in this, or if she is then it’s incidentally. I don’t think she’s a bad person.”

  Daniel nodded once, but waited until his friend drove away before answering. “I know you want her to be innocent, my friend, but I’m not sure if you’re thinking with your gut or a little lower down.”

  Sarah mentally ticked off which riders needed what points to qualify for each medal as she maneuvered her rig into the narrow driveway of the hunt club just after dawn and jammed The Truck into a tiny gap between two other trailers. She snuck under a few scraggly trees, hoping they might provide afternoon shade.

  Dawn was just lightening the sky with a rosy glow.

  Tilda pulled up behind Sarah’s rig, followed by the convoy of parents, grandparents, children and grooms that had accompanied Pruitt Farms to the show. They had brought seven horses: three ponies for leadline, walk-trot, and short stirrup classes, three equitation horses for the medal classes, and a children’s hunter.

  Warm ups began at six-thirty. This so-called practice time was actually a chaotic affair during which five or six horses all attempted to school over the jumping courses simultaneously. Sarah had three to warm up personally, two of which she had been asked to ride by a neighboring farm whose usual catch rider was inconveniently pregnant.

  As she trotted around on an iron-mouthed bay gelding that would only turn left, she saw Dante standing by the jumper ring watching the warm-ups. Ellie stood next to him, eyes wide and mouth agape at the activity.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here so early!” Sarah wasn’t sure how to approach the photographer given their encounter the other night, but she tried for a tone that hovered somewhere between friendly and familiar.

  He turned and waved a greeting. “We’re just trying to get a feel of things without getting run over. This is wild! So different from the big show in New York.”

  “Yeah, this is a one-day. It’ll run the same number of classes in one quarter the time. There’ll be lots more craziness today, much more scrambling around and rushing to catch up.”

  As they watched, two riders flirted with disaster as they booted their horses over jumps on an intersecting course. With much swerving, snarling, and eventual apology the two sorted themselves out. Another horse and rider team tried to zip around the corner outside the tangled pair and almost went down as the horse’s aluminum-shod feet slipped out from underneath him on the slick wet grass. He too slid to a halt to regroup, causing the big black horse behind him to pull up as well.

  The paddock master yelled a disgusted, “Come on people! Heads UP!” and turned his back on the whole mess. He did however do a surreptitious radio check to make sure the EMT was on the property with the ambulance, just in case.

  Dante grinned happily at the whole thing and Ellie clapped her hands in glee. “Hey Sarah! Is Marshmallow here today?”

  “He sure is, Honey. One little girl is going to ride him in the leadline class that you’re going to do at the next show, so I’ll make sure you know when so you don’t miss it, okay?”

  “You going to be here all day?” If so, Dante hoped to catch her for a moment and grill he subtly on her date with Bender. It would be all in the name of justice, of course, not because he cared what she did with her free time. Yeah, right.

  “Yes I will. We’ve got students in the first class and the last today, so it’ll be a long show for us. I’ve got a bunch more to ride before the show starts, so I’ll catch you later!”

  Sarah had planned to spin her mount around and canter off with an impressive flourish, hoping to impress them both, but unfortunately she had forgotten which horse she was riding. The dull-mouthed creature turned his head obligingly when she pulled on her rein, but didn’t move his body an inch. Sarah was forced to kick him several times with her spur to get him in motion, at which point he stumbled off in a distracted trot, tripped, and almost fell on his nose.

  Face burning, Sarah tried to ignore the waves of mirth emanating from behind her as she seesawed her mount into traffic and attempted to aim him at one of the two warm-up jumps outside the ring.

  Dante installed Ellie with a group of Pruitt Farm’s young riders before he began to roam around, snapping candid shots on a whim.

  He saw Sarah everywher
e: riding a horse in one ring; next to Tilda at the in-gate of another cheering a sixth-place finish for Marshmallow and a dark haired sprite with a missing front tooth; then back schooling junior medal riders in the big ring.

  With three show rings running classes simultaneously, dogs racing around dragging leashes behind lest they be picked up under the “no leash, $100 fine” policy, and spectators constantly walking in front of the warm-up jumps or behind the horses as they kicked at flies, the one-day show seemed like bedlam to Dante. By afternoon he was reeling with the dizzying array of sights, sounds, and smells.

  He caught up with Sarah at the in-gate of the hunter ring where she and Tilda were watching a young teenager tackle her eight-jump course. The bay horse was veering wildly, scrambling around the corners and meeting the second fence of every line incorrectly. Dante started to speak, but Sarah waved that she’d be with him in a moment. She spoke briefly to Tilda then moved to intercept the girl exiting the ring. The child yanked the horse’s head up cruelly and spanked it once with her whip.

  “Amanda!”

  The girl scowled at Sarah defiantly. “He wouldn’t do anything I told him! He was being horrible, and I couldn’t do a thing with him! He’s not fit for Alpo today.”

  “Get down.” Sarah’s voice was level, her voice hard.

  “But…”

  “I said get down, now.” The girl did as she was told. Sarah motioned to Philippe, who took the bay’s reins and led the gelding away, speaking soothingly to it in Spanish.

  “He kept bulging his shoulder around every corner and I couldn’t slow him down,” Amanda whined. “He’s just being a puke today.”

  “Whether or not he was misbehaving, I never want to see you strike your horse in anger. Never. Nor do I want you to punish your horse’s mouth. Ever. And above all, NEVER lose your temper and discipline your horse in the show ring. You shame yourself, me, Tilda, and the farm.”

  Tears started rolling down the girl’s red cheeks and her lower lip quivered. “You don’t care about me. You have no idea what I’m going through!”

  Ah, the drama of youth. Sarah remembered throwing a few of these tantrums herself during her own junior career. They tended to be a combination of raging hormones, lack of sleep, and competitive pressure. “I want you to go back to the trailer and settle down. If you want to apologize later, you can ride in the open equitation classes. If not, Maura can drive you home when she’s done braiding. Now go.”

  Embarrassed and overwrought, Amanda yelled, “You’re such a bitch! I hate you!” She stomped off, crying and shaking with anger.

  Sarah let out a breath, glad that Tilda had gone to the hunter ring. Her aunt would’ve kicked Amanda out of the barn for swearing in public. “Well, that was pleasant.” She turned to Dante. “The hardest part of this job is that over half of the best-paying customers are teenage females. They put too much pressure on themselves and their performances. Between that and PMS, I’m lucky if I get through a week without being cried at.”

  He could tell she was trying to brush off Amanda’s words but that they bothered her. He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a warm hug. “You handled it well, Sarah. She needed an attitude adjustment right then and there and you did it without being cruel. You’re an excellent teacher and the kids are lucky to have you.” He ignored the speculative looks they got from the other trainers and turned her so his back was to the in-gate.

  It was amazing that such simple words could bring such healing. Sarah let herself relax into his embrace for a moment and tucked her head under his chin, inhaling the spicy scent of chemicals and man. Her arms snuck around his waist and she squeezed him back briefly. “Thanks, I really needed that. You’re a good friend.”

  Dante wished she wouldn’t emphasize the friend thing, but maybe that was better. He certainly didn’t know what he wanted them to be, and it was getting harder by the day to rationalize all the time he spent at the farm. He didn’t need her help much any more with understanding the basic ebb and flow of the horse community, and Ellie certainly didn’t need him watching her every lesson. But there he was at ringside every day, dividing his attention between child and teacher, not sure what he was going to do with either of them.

  Amanda eventually slunk back from the trailer to apologize and ask if Tilda knew she called Sarah a bitch. Much relieved to learn she did not, Amanda apologized again and Sarah forgave her with a big hug. They discussed how the girl could fix the problem the next time it came up, and Amanda returned to the ring to finish a respectable third in the open equitation. More important than the ribbon was the lesson learned.

  “Well,” said Tilda as she loaded an unbraided Marshmallow onto the trailer at the end of the day. “Good ribbons for Jamie and Alex in the walk-trots, Special Hunter champion for Bess and Nougat, and good equitation ribbons for the three girls. Nicole won her New England Medal and got two American Medal points. Not a bad day’s work.”

  Sarah nodded absently as she finished snugging the shipping wraps on Amanda’s horse. She regretted not having had more time to spend with Dante and Ellie that day. She would’ve enjoyed talking to Ellie about the kids at the show and how hard they worked to get there, and even though Dante had often been at the periphery of the Pruitt Farm crew, Sarah hadn’t spoken to him again after his welcome support at the hunter ring.

  “Dreaming about me again, Sugar?”

  Sarah jolted and stepped away from the bay gelding when he spooked a bit at her quick motion. “I hate it that you keep sneaking up on me when I’m under horses. One of these days one of us is going to get hurt and I don’t plan on it being me.” She glared at him and he grinned back unrepentantly.

  Tilda took the bay and led him up the ramp of the side-load six-horse trailer while Sarah gathered an armful of dirty saddle pads and polo wraps and pulled herself into the dressing room at the front of the trailer. She felt Dante close behind her, and her nerves jumped when she heard the door shut and the lock engage.

  Cramped enough when one person tried to change clothes in it, the dressing room seemed positively miniscule with Dante sharing the space. Sarah turned and wound up staring at the open throat of his green button-down. She resisted the urge to place her fingertips at the hollow above his collarbones where his strong pulse beat against the smooth skin. “Did you want something?”

  He gave her a dimpled grin and leaned back against the door, ignoring the hoof pick that jabbed him in the left kidney.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she warned. “That latch isn’t too sturdy. It might not hold you.”

  “It’s locked,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “As to your first question, I do want something. I want to know about Bender.” Dante had decided that the direct approach might be his best option.

  “About who? Matt? Why do you want to know about Matt? What do you want to know?”

  That stumped him for a moment. He couldn’t very well tell her that he was looking for reasons not to blame her for Susan’s death. So he went with a half-truth. “I like to know everything I can about the competition.”

  “Oh. Are we in the middle of a contest, then?”

  Dante ground his teeth in frustration. He could tell from the glint in her eyes that she was enjoying this immensely. “Perhaps. How often do you see him?” How often do you kiss him?

  Sarah fiddled with the pile of saddle pads, shoving them further onto the high shelf that provided storage space above the gooseneck hitch. “Not often. I was kind of surprised to see him yesterday, that’s the first time he’s gotten in touch since I left my old job at the lab.”

  “So you won’t be seeing him again?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Sarah realized that she was locked in the dressing room of her new trailer with a relative stranger who was quizzing her on the status of her nonexistent love life. That probably should have bothered her, but for some reason it didn’t. It amused her. “Why?”

  Dante took a deep breath. This wasn’t getting anywhere fast. “If I
asked you not to see him again, would you agree to it?”

  Sarah stared at him in astonishment, but in the dim light of the small dressing room she couldn’t see through the shadows to the truth in his eyes. He was asking her to choose between him and Matt, but how could she get Dante to understand that she needed to see Matt again for reasons other than romance?

  But did she really? Did it really matter if she never found out what had really happened to Susan St. Pierre

  ? She could just keep doing what she was doing and never go back into the lab. She was happy with the horses, wasn’t she?

  The knowledge shimmered through her like the dawn. She was very happy. She was happy here in this place in her life. She loved the horses and the students and the teaching. She wasn’t sure if she loved Dante, but she did want him. She allowed herself a moment to envision a small farm where a dark man watched a golden child practice on her pony.

  Sarah looked up to see that Dante was still waiting for her answer. “Are you asking me not to see Matt again because you don’t like him, or because you want me for yourself?”

  “You know I want you.”

  Those five simple words rippled through Sarah, healing many of the recent hurts that throbbed in her soul. She stepped closer to the man that had suddenly become a part of her new life. “Okay then, I won’t see him again.”

  It was that simple. Dante cupped her face in gentle hands and dropped his head to lay his brow against hers as he let the accumulated tension flow from his body. She wouldn’t see Bender again. The knowledge warmed him. If he believed her promise, which he did, then she and Bender must not be colluding to cover up Susan’s death. She must be innocent.

  “Thank you.” He pressed his lips against her cheek to seal their agreement.

  “You’re welcome.” She turned her face up so her mouth could seek his in affirmation and new wonder.

  The sounds of the horse show swirled around Sarah and Dante as they twined around each other in the little room of aluminum and steel. Horses whinnied, grooms and trainers yelled good-natured insults from trailer to trailer, and children and adults alike laughed or moaned as they reviewed the day’s wins and losses.