Becky nodded, relieved she could get rid of the twine dangling from her stirrup, a sure mark of a greenhorn. “That was nice of him,” she said.
“Yes, but he is nice. To everyone, if you know what I mean.” Stephanie expertly sliced the twine. She refolded her knife, her gaze sharpening on Becky’s face. “Look, I don’t want to be out of line here, but you should know he has a lot of female friends.”
“I know that.” Becky turned her head and fiddled with her stirrup, avoiding Stephanie’s probing blue eyes.
“It’s just that you’re really sweet. Those other nurses from the big house wouldn’t even talk to me. Not one of the six—”
“Six?” Becky’s head shot up. “That many?”
“Yeah,” Stephanie gave a dismissive shrug, “but not at the same time. Dino believes in spreading his love. Thinks that way he won’t get hooked again. Look, I’m not really a gossip,” she said. “Just thought you should know. Here, take this.” She pressed her jackknife into Becky’s hand. “Every horseperson should have a knife.”
Becky squeezed the small knife, moved by the empathy in Stephanie’s eyes. She’d always considered the gallop girl too cool to be hurt, and her jealousy when Stephanie flirted with Dino now left her ashamed. She hadn’t wanted Dino sleeping with Stephanie but had given no thought to how the new rules might hurt this girl.
“But what about you?” Becky’s voice thickened with regret. “Do you still want to…see him?”
“Nah. I tried to change him and couldn’t. My new guy is way easier.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Just remember, there are some horses you buy, and some horses you only ride. Now let’s get going before it’s too hot. I’ll grab Hank.”
Becky led Lyric from the barn, unsettled by Stephanie’s blunt words. No doubt about it, if she did decide to sleep with Dino, he had plenty of experience. And on the positive side, he seemed to leave everyone happy. Old girlfriends, new girlfriends, even Martha—they all loved him.
“I’ll open the gate.” Slim’s voice cut into her thoughts. “There’s a new mounting block in the ring. You girls riding far?”
“Don’t know.” Becky checked her watch. Nine-forty. “Guess it depends on the heat.” She led Lyric toward the big red block.
The mare snorted and planted her feet.
“Dino warned she might be scared. Race riders always get legged up. They don’t use an old woman mounting block.” Slim scowled at Lyric. “And that bitch mare is never helpful about anything.”
Lyric’s nostrils flared pink as she stared at the strange plastic steps in the middle of the ring.
“Guess it looks a little odd,” Becky said, disappointed the mare didn’t trust her enough to move closer. “But it beats scrambling up on a piece of rope.”
“Most jocks vault up, although it’s not great for the horse’s back.” Slim jabbed his thumb at Stephanie as she led her horse from the barn. “Watch her.”
Stephanie grabbed a piece of Hank’s mane and lithely swung into the tiny exercise saddle. Becky shook her head in awe. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you to mount.” Stephanie shrugged. “There’s lots of time.”
Maybe, Becky thought, but vaulting up looked like a demanding maneuver, and she’d never considered herself particularly athletic. Probably she’d always be stuck using the old woman steps.
She sighed and coaxed Lyric a few inches closer to the mounting block, fervently wishing she’d mounted before Slim and Stephanie were around to watch.
Lyric edged closer to the block, every muscle in her sleek body taut.
“She looks spooky. Want me hold her?” Slim asked.
“It’s okay,” Becky said. “I have a way to make her stand.” She dropped three peppermints on the ground, stepped up on the block and scrambled into the saddle while Lyric gobbled up the mints. “I’m not sure if that’s in any training manual,” she added sheepishly.
A ghost of a smile tugged at Slim’s mouth. “Actually Jill used that trick when she was little. Guess whatever works. Listen.” He scraped his boot in the dirt. “Don’t ride too fast today, Becky. Take it easy.”
“Come on,” Stephanie called with a hint of impatience. “That sun is getting hot.”
Becky nodded at Slim but knew she didn’t intend to take it easy. “Which way?” she asked, following Stephanie.
“Dino told me to stick to the hillside.” Stephanie gestured. “And not let you go too fast.”
There it was again. Another warning. Everyone considered her incompetent—someone who needed special mounting steps—and her determination to learn swelled. “Dino just doesn’t want me to beat him.” She forced a nonchalant smile, wishing it really were possible to beat him. That would prove she could actually ride. It might even impress him.
“Well, you should be able to beat him if you’re on Lyric,” Stephanie said. “But she’s used to riders crouching over her withers. Shorten your stirrups and get your ass out of the saddle so she knows what you want.”
Becky tucked her knees higher, imitating Stephanie’s position. “Like this?”
Lyric definitely perked up when she cranked her legs. Now there was a bounce in the mare’s walk along with an arch in her neck. But it felt awkward, like she was leaning too far forward. She missed being able to grip Lyric’s sides with her legs.
Stephanie sighed. “Good try, but you look funny. Those English saddles suck for hardcore galloping.”
Becky looked dubiously at Stephanie’s exercise saddle. It was tiny, probably only seven pounds, although race saddles were even smaller. And ‘hardcore galloping’ seemed a little faster than she wanted to go. Still, she’d never be able to beat Dino unless she shook off her fear. “Could I try your saddle?” she asked impulsively.
“Wow, you want to step on the gas? Can’t say I blame you,” Stephanie said. “But first, practice in that saddle.”
Becky stared over Lyric’s pricked ears, concentrating on feeling her horse’s rhythm. With her legs pulled up, balance was more important, not grip. Clearly jockeys were superb athletes to gallop at breakneck speed, surrounded by a bunch of racing horses.
“That’s better,” Stephanie said after another twenty minutes. “Later we can trot to the bottom of the hill, switch saddles and we’ll gallop up the ridge.”
“You may not be able to keep up,” Becky teased. “Not if I have your wicked fast saddle.”
Stephanie snorted and Becky took a second to admire her supple grace. “You’re a beautiful rider,” she said.
Stephanie flashed a big smile. “Imagine getting paid to do something that’s this much fun. My money problems disappear when I’m riding. Now watch my hands, and make sure you don’t jerk Lyric in the mouth. You can’t use my saddle until you’re totally balanced.”
After a little more practice, Stephanie finally pronounced her ready. Both horses stood quietly while they changed tack. Stephanie vaulted up, but Becky’s stomach squirmed. Now that they’d switched saddles, Lyric’s back looked foreign—the saddle too tiny, the seat too little, the stirrups way too short.
Stephanie spotted her hesitation. “You can lengthen the stirrups, like an old woman.” She snickered. “Or I could dismount and boost your ass into the saddle.”
“I was starting to like you,” Becky said, leading Lyric to the side of a jagged rock and searching in her pocket for another mint.
Lyric sidled away, then stopped and sniffed. Becky edged closer and stepped onto the rock. Now she could reach the stirrup, but what she really wanted was to learn Stephanie’s vaulting move. She visualized the mane grab, the graceful hop, the leg hook over the horse’s back. Dino might not notice she was galloping more aggressively, but vaulting onto a horse’s back would have to impress him.
She dropped two peppermints on the ground, sucked in a resolute breath, grabbed mane and swung up. Her face slammed into Lyric’s shoulder. The pain burned her nose as she tumbled to the ground and scraped the side of the rock. “Shit,” she muttered.
“Actually tha
t wasn’t a bad first attempt. I’m surprised you tried.” Stephanie wasn’t even laughing. “Try again. You might need a run-on.”
But Lyric finished the peppermints and sidled away from the rock, her eye flashing with a streak of perverseness. Becky resolutely wiped her sore nose then backed Lyric alongside the rock. If she dropped the reins, used her last remaining peppermint and took three running steps, she might be okay. But Lyric would have to stand perfectly still and the stubborn glint in her eye indicated trouble.
It would be fun to try though. Especially with someone around to help. She could feel Steph’s encouragement rolling over her like waves.
Becky stepped back, dropped the peppermint, and took a running leap. Lyric stepped sideways just as she flung a leg over her back. Oh, God. This was bad. Her heart pounded and she stared down at the flashing ground. If she let go of Lyric’s mane, she’d be down between the horse’s feet—her deadly kicking feet and the unyielding rock. She tried to pull herself up but her knee bumped Lyric’s ribs, and the mare lurched further to the right.
Something hard pressed against her ribs, and she heard Stephanie’s calm voice. “We got you, girl.” Stephanie grabbed Lyric’s rein with one hand and yanked Becky into the saddle with another. Hank stayed beside Lyric, a warm, solid presence—a horse who clearly was used to flailing riders.
“You almost did it.” Stephanie grinned. “And that’s a tough maneuver. I’m surprised you had the guts to try.”
“But I didn’t do it.” Becky sighed and placed her toes in the short stirrups. “If Hank wasn’t here, I would have hit the ground.”
“Still, you tried. Even Slim can’t mount like that. And Lyric isn’t the most cooperative horse in the barn.”
“Hank sure is though.” Becky studied the bay with fresh interest. “Why doesn’t Dino let me ride him?”
“He’s a good horse.” Stephanie gave the gelding an affectionate pat. “He knows his job, and the outriders love him. Saved a lot of riders. Horses too. On the other hand, he turns too fast and will dump a green rider. No, you’re better on Lyric. She only goes one direction. Now get going before I ask why you’re so keen to learn. Or why you suddenly care about your looks.”
Becky pushed Lyric into a canter, anxious to escape Stephanie’s astute eyes. It took a moment to balance in the smaller saddle, but the difference was apparent. The exercise saddle, although smaller, helped her keep a forward position and Lyric loved it. The mare moved more rhythmically—straight, forward and true.
The fresh breeze cooled her throbbing nose. Stephanie had moved alongside so she loosened her reins a notch, and Lyric’s stride extended. Gosh, this mare could motor. And it felt like she had several more gears.
Both girls grinned as they crested the hill and pulled their horses up.
“Not bad for a beginner,” Stephanie said. “We usually eat up here. Did you bring any food?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Becky said, instantly contrite. Stephanie was probably starving. She’d been at the barn since six and was taking personal time to accompany her. It had been a long time since Becky had enjoyed the company of a woman her own age, and it was almost as much fun as riding with Dino. Almost. “I’ll bring a bunch of granola bars next time,” she said.
“Fill your pockets with mints too,” Stephanie said, “and we’ll have you mounting like Zorro in no time. But I have to pick my daughter up now. Sitter charges double if I’m late. We can ride again tomorrow. This was fun.”
Fun? Someone like Stephanie thought she was fun. Becky’s heart gave a happy skip. No one but Martha had ever said that. Her parents had pawned her off, her only boyfriend had dumped her, and Craig the Creep had her jumping at shadows. Well, nobody could hurt her now. Lyric made her feel strong. Invincible. “Let’s gallop one more time,” she coaxed.
Stephanie checked her watch. “Okay but we have to be quick. Means I’m not holding Hank back.”
They broke off together. Both horses burst forward, ready to run. Hank was faster at the start, but Lyric quickly caught up and soon they pounded over the ground in tandem. Stephanie clucked at Hank while Becky pushed her hands against Lyric’s neck, asking for more speed.
Lyric dug in. The wind whipped mane against Becky’s face but the sting, the speed, the exultant feeling were glorious, and she forgot about her sore nose. She was holding her own with a real jockey. She shot Stephanie a grateful grin. Felt like she was soaring.
Saw it happen.
Stephanie’s eyes widened, a split second of shock, then her slim body vanished beneath Hank’s hooves.
Becky rose in the stirrups, sawing desperately at Lyric’s mouth. The mare protested, but raw fear gave Becky the strength to slow down and yank her around.
Hank had already circled back to Stephanie, trotting sideways, trying to avoid a dragging stirrup. Lyric, however, snorted and refused to approach the crumpled figure.
Becky leaped off with an impatient curse and charged past Hank, who lowered his head and sniffed at Stephanie’s helmet.
“Fuck!” Stephanie said.
Becky sagged with relief, dropping to the ground on boneless legs. “Don’t move,” she said, pulling out her cell.
“It’s not my neck. It’s my goddamn arm. You’re a nurse. Can’t you splint it or something?”
Becky gulped at the sight of Stephanie’s distorted arm. “I’m calling for help.” Not Martha, God, not Martha. Slim would know what to do. He wouldn’t get upset and have a heart attack.
He answered on the first ring.
“We need a four-wheel-drive truck on the south hill, by the trees,” Becky said, “and an ambulance waiting at the barn.”
“You got it.” Slim cut the connection, and for once Becky appreciated his brevity.
“Fuck,” Stephanie said again. “Please stop Hank from bumping my arm.”
The gelding’s concern was obvious, and Becky backed him up. Lyric remained thirty feet away, oblivious to the drama, intent on taking advantage of the opportunity to graze.
“Slim’s coming,” Becky said. “I’m going to see if I can rig a splint. An ambulance can’t get up here so we’ll get you out in his truck.”
Stephanie forced a smile through bloodless lips. “Just remember, I was in the lead when my stirrup broke.”
“It broke?” Becky’s gaze drifted to Hank’s saddle. The right stirrup dangled in two strips, and the iron hung uselessly by the horse’s knee. The broken leather might be of some use though. She rose and pulled it from the stirrup bar. Hank stood like a rock, and Becky’s appreciation for a good pony horse swelled.
“Is the bone sticking out?” Stephanie asked.
“No, nothing’s protruding. It looks good.” Becky forced her voice to remain calm as she gathered some sticks and wrapped the leather around Stephanie’s arm. Stephanie didn’t make a sound. God, she was tough. “Have you broken bones before?”
“Collar bone three times. Ribs twice, nose once, pelvis once.”
“Jesus.”
“But this is the stupidest yet.” Stephanie gave a weak smile. “Not even on the track. This was a quiet trail ride.”
“I’m sorry.” Becky’s voice caught. “If I hadn’t asked you to gallop that last time, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Lucky it was me. I know how to fall, and Hank won’t kick a rider’s head off. Who knows what Lyric might have done.” She stared at her arm. “I think Hank clipped me with a hind foot though. Did you see me fall?”
“No, I’d passed by the time you hit the ground.”
“Sure. Rub it in.” Stephanie made a face. “Where the hell is Slim?”
Hank lifted his head, ears pricked. A blue diesel truck rumbled through the trees and up the hill. Water dripped from the truck’s muddy fender. Slim had obviously taken the shortcut over the riverbed.
He leaped out, his eyes anxious. “Where are you hurt, Becky?”
“It’s not me. It’s Stephanie.”
Slim recoiled, and the stunned look on his face wo
uld have been humorous in any other situation.
“Just my arm,” Stephanie said. “Help me up. The Rangeland Hospital is closest.” Her face blanched as Becky and Slim helped her rise, but the splint kept her arm relatively immobile.
“Can you lead these horses back?” Slim asked Becky as he slammed the passenger door. “I’ll call from the hospital.”
Becky nodded, stepping closer to Hank, fortified by the gelding’s steady presence. Hank seemed to share her misery and watched the truck rumble away before taking a half-hearted nibble of grass. Lyric, however, munched with a complete lack of interest in events.
Becky rubbed the back of her neck, uncertain how cooperative the mare would be. It might be easier to ride the gelding and lead Lyric, but Hank’s saddle only had one stirrup. The escort riders at the track made ponying look easy but the actual mechanics of it were daunting. Of course, that was assuming she could even catch Lyric.
She led Hank closer to the mare, pretending they were only joining to graze. Lyric raised a suspicious head but decided they were no threat, and Becky snagged the reins before the mare guessed her intentions.
Good thing too. She wasn’t in a mood to chase after the willful mare, especially with the prospect of a two-mile hike and the temperature rising. She organized the horses—Lyric on her right, Hank on her left—and began the trek.
Luckily they were subdued from their gallop, and if they thought it odd she was walking, they didn’t show it. However, she did feel silly, leading two saddled horses. The phone chirped, jarring her rhythm, and she juggled Lyric’s reins, managing to jam the phone to her ear by the fourth beep.
“Hi, Becky,” Deb said. “Martha wonders if you’re joining her for lunch.” The nurse’s voice lowered. “She’s fine but as usual wants only you.”
Lyric took advantage of the stop to grab some grass, and Becky struggled to balance the phone and keep the mare from stepping on the drooping rein.
“I’m hurrying.” She untangled the rein from Lyric’s left leg. “Be there in about an hour.” She closed the phone but Hank, puzzled by the delay turned and now faced both Becky and Lyric.
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 90