Ride a storm

by Quinn Wilder

  She had seconded her father's private plane and pilot to come. Though the show was only a few hours from home, a few hours in a car could be murder on her hip, and she was determined that all her focus was going to be on Dace, and her horses.

  Dace had insisted on traveling the day before, with the horses, even though she had told him she preferred that he arrive fresh, too. She had been given a crisp lecture on a cowboy's code of honor, meaning a man looked after his own mount, and that had been that. She sighed. Dace was a very hard man to be a boss around. Ha. As if she had ever been his boss. The man was impossible, untamable, difficult...

  Wonderful, a renegade voice inside her whispered, as she caught sight of him striding toward her.

  "Thank heaven you're here," he said without preamble, tugging her into the shadow of a snack tent. "Where the hell have you been?"

  A tiny part of her managed to voice the fact that it found this kind of greeting severely disappointing, even while another part panicked. "Is something wrong? Is Storm ?"

  "Storm is fine. Would you look at this?"

  He moved nearly on top of her and his scent filled her nostrils. But before she could be entirely swept away by his closeness a very lumpy tie knot was shoved in her face.

  She stared at it, and bit hard on the side of her cheek. A chuckle escaped anyway.

  "This is not funny," he proclaimed warningly.

  "Of... course... not," she gasped.

  "I've only worn a tie twice in my life. I just spent half an hour in a cold sweat trying to get this thing done up. Cadence, if you don't quit laughing "

  "I... am... not... laughing. I'm... I'm... listening."

  "I couldn't ask one of these snobs to show me how to do it, and you're late!"

  "I'm not late," she tried to defend herself.

  "I don't need stuff like this," he muttered. "I've got four thousand things on my mind. I don't need this." He yanked impatiently on the tie.

  She intervened before he strangled himself. "Now, Dace," she soothed. "I'll fix it. Relax. Relax."

  And she could sense the tension leaving those big shoulders as she patiently undid the knot and retied it, slid it up snugly into the hollow of his throat, and folded his collar down. There was an intoxi-

  eating intimacy about it all, especially when she looked up to see those near-indigo eyes resting on her with a welcome that he had not given her in words.

  She backed away from him. 'The horses weathered the trip all right?"

  "Beautifully," he murmured, but his eyes were still fastened to her face, and she had the confused notion that he wasn't talking about the horses.

  "Have they drawn for order yet?" she said, trying to break the spell of his eyes.

  It worked. He looked at his watch. "I have to go walk the course. Ohmylady drew third; Storm is near the middle of the class." He grinned. "Thirteen. Do you suppose that means anything?"

  "No. How are your nerves, Dace?"

  "Like steel," he said, and then leaned very close, so close that his breath stirred her hair. "I've never been more scared in my life."

  His eyes held a wickedly mischievous light at that statement, but she felt suddenly afraid herself. Afraid because she had this silly impulse to stand up on her tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek.

  He took her elbow and turned her toward the stable.

  "Now, Dace, try to remember not to plop Storm over the fences. He has that longer stride, and "

  "There's no sense cramming the morning of the exam," he told her. "If I don't know it by now, it's too late."

  "It was just a helpful reminder!"

  "Well, it wasn't helpful."

  She glared at him, and he gave her one of his absolutely charming lopsided grins.

  "I get very wary when you use words like 'helpful,' Cade/'

  "Dace, you are not being very cooperative. This is the time we should be cementing our working relationship ''

  "You are the last person I would trust cement to. The next thing I knew, my feet would probably be encased in the stuff/ 5

  "You're trying to distract me, aren't you, Dace?" she guessed suddenly.

  "Distract you?" he said innocently. "Naw. Though I do hope that nervous energy coming off of you in waves isn't infectious."

  "As a matter of fact, I'm not nervous!" She grinned ruefully. "Well, maybe a little. I was just looking for a way... to belong."

  Dace stopped and looked down at her, his face totally solemn. He reached out, ran a large hand over the back of her head and then cupped her chin in his hand. "You belong here, Cade Copperthorne. You couldn't have taught me with such utter and compelling confidence if this weren't absolutely your world." His hand moved from her chin.

  She felt her lip tremble slightly. "Thanks, Dace."

  He nodded, and glanced at his watch. "You have a job to do today, and don't forget it. You know these horses. You know me. You know this world. And I'm counting on your ability to critique what we're doing out there to get us one step closer to that medal you want so badly. We're a team." He smiled. "But still no cement. Absolutely no cement."

  She laughed out loud and felt some of the tension dissolve within her. Damn this man if he didn't have

  a way of turning things around. Shouldn't she be the one doing the pep talk? "Oh, go to work."

  "You, too," he said softly.

  He left her at the fence surrounding the course. She looked it over. It was nicely done and not overly complicated. She watched Dace walking it, and was pleased by the concentration on his face, pleased by the fact that he paced the water jump and the following combination jump three times before he was satisfied.

  She was also—secretly—pleased with how he looked. With the long hard line of his leg, with the wideness of his shoulders beneath the black jacket. His hair curled and sparkled under the sun, and she knew he would wait until the very last minute to put on the black hunt cap that he despised. She realized she was looking at him with a kind of possessive pride, and was embarrassed by it. She wasn't his girlfriend, after all. She looked studiously away from him, afraid people might see her staring at him, and see something beyond professional interest in her gaze. And feel sorry for her for being ridiculous enough to yearn after such a gloriously able-bodied man.

  Suddenly, she stiffened. Lionel had appeared out of the stable area and was walking right toward her.

  She watched him, surprised by her detachment. Once, sighting him would have been followed by strong emotions, and the downward plunge of her heart. Once, she would have felt the humiliating, helpless pain of having lost him. Instead she felt remarkably little, and what she did feel didn't feel like love.

  For the first time she noticed his handsome features had sharp edges, that he was thin and pale.

  His face had a scowling superiority in its cast that she had never noticed before. He looked impatient and she remembered how hard he had been to please. Even when she'd gone perfect, he'd seemed to delight, not in constructive criticism, but in shredding her performance.

  She wondered why she was seeing him in this light, but in the back of her mind she knew it was because she was comparing him to Dace. She wondered what right she had to compare him to Dace. Her relationships with the two men were completely different. And yet she compared anyway. Her eyes moved to Dace and she was oddly reassured by his nearness, by his strength, the healthy bronze of his skin, the gentleness she knew could be found in his eyes when it was needed.

  Lionel saw her suddenly. For a moment the struggle was evident in his face. He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen her. Then he smiled, lifted a hand, and joined her at the fence, hooking one booted foot through the lower rung. "Wonderful to see you. I hardly knew that it was you," he rushed on, when she only nodded curtly at his effusive greeting. "I didn't expect to see you at this size of show."

  "Or I you," she said bluntly.

  "I've got a new mount," he said, looking over her shoulder, instead of into her eyes.

  She said nothing. She turned ba
ck to the fence and watched Dace.

  "Was that Storm Warrior I saw in the stable area?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you found someone interested in buying him? Are they giving him a try here? I've been thinking about my offer and "

  "And it was ridiculous," she cut him off coolly. "My horse is not for sale, Lionel."

  "You've found a rider for him, then?"

  She nodded, and Lionel's gaze followed hers out to Dace. His eyes narrowed and he looked back to her, an expression of unsettling knowing in his eyes.

  Her worst fear was confirmed. Something of her strong feelings for Dace must be in her face.

  "The horse was always too strong for you," Lionel said, with a certain satisfaction.

  She stared at him, feeling disbelief at the bluntness of the blow. What he was really saying was that she was responsible for her own fate—that she had been riding way above her ability.

  Startled, she realized she had unquestioningly accepted that explanation for the accident all this time.

  But now she heard another voice, Dace's voice, telling her she'd ridden magnificently. And she trusted Dace. Not a single word ever came out of his mouth that he didn't believe to the bottom of his boots. And he would know. He knew horses and he knew Storm, and if he said she had ridden well that was a fact, not an opinion.

  The conflicting views left her momentarily confused, but as she studied Lionel she tried to piece together the puzzle. Yes, she had ridden Storm well. It was true they had had one or two bad days, but nothing to suggest the outcome being as it was.

  And then the memory she was seeking tickled the back of her mind. Of Lionel mounting Storm, just once, to demonstrate an approach to a jump. He'd

  made his point but he had not ridden the big horse well, and he had not attempted it ever again.

  She watched him narrowly now. And saw what she had never seen.

  "That horse and I were perfect together," she said with utter and cool confidence. "Why don't you admit it, Lionel? He would have been too strong for you. You couldn't have stood it if I knew the truth. I was a better rider than you."

  Lionel's pale complexion took on a slightly mottled look. "I never denied you had talent. I was your coach. I wouldn't have taken you on if I didn't believe in you, and I was taking you to the top."

  She shook her head. "I think I was getting to the top in spite of your coaching, Lionel, not because of it."

  "How can you say such a thing? You loved me. We..." His voice trailed away uncomfortably.

  She actually laughed. "How good of you to remember that. We didn't love each other, Lionel. You wouldn't have ditched me quite so quickly if you really loved me. You know, you behaved despicably. And walking with a limp for the rest of my life is a small price to pay for having been saved from a life with someone as superficial as you."

  Lionel let his pale gaze drift meaningfully back to Dace. "I'm glad you feel it was worth it," he said slowly, his voice syrupy with sympathy. "There are so many things you will never have now."

  She felt the cold shock of it. She knew exactly what he was saying: not to set her sights on a man like Dace. Well, she already knew that, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let him see he'd managed to hit her again where it hurt the worst.

  "Such as what, Lionel?" she demanded, her voice glacial and her features schooled into a faintly amused mask.

  "Well, the whole Olympic dream, of course," he said regretfully.

  She knew that wasn't what he had been referring to at all, moments ago, but she'd take him at face value. "My stables are going to have a gold medal, Lionel. Maybe several of them before I'm done."

  "And I'm not?" he asked grimly.

  She shrugged. "Who knows, Lionel? You've got the best staff in the country at your stable now. But you don't have an eye for greatness in horseflesh. And you don't have a rider with that kind of potential, either."

  He looked white and furious, though she was sure it was no surprise to him to be told that he didn't have the talent. Still, she shivered at the look of malice in his eyes, before he turned and walked away. She had just made an enemy. Out of a man who had once loved her.

  No, that was not true. If he had ever loved her, he would not be able to hate her so easily, he would not be so intent on hurting her. What was it with Lionel, anyway?

  Lord, she thought whimsically, she'd been a girl when she first met him. A little girl who'd fallen in love with her coach, as all little girls did, and then never taken a grown-up look at him when the time came.

  The competition began a few minutes later, and Cadence watched critically as the first two horses completed the course. She knew well before either horse knocked down a fence that they were not contenders.

  Dace was announced and he came out. If he was nervous now it didn't show at all. Ohmylady's ears were pricked forward, and she pranced slightly with excitement. Dace checked her easily. The whistle blew, and they began the course. The fact that they were both nervous showed only in the fact that they rushed the first two jumps. Then they seemed to settle into the task at hand, looking smoother and more relaxed with each jump. They rapped a pole on the combination jump, but it didn't go down. But it seemed to throw their timing slightly, and Ohmylady's takeoff was too close to the next fence. They knocked down the top bar. They recovered and went the rest of the course without fault.

  Cadence was thrilled. Dace had done extremely well for his first time out. And four faults might not knock him out of the running.

  Indeed, the next six horses also all received faults. Lionel was riding in the tenth position. And went clear.

  Cadence tried to tell herself it didn't matter. That this was Dace's first show, and basically all they wanted to do was chalk it up to experience. And yet, there was a fierce competitor inside her, and a vengeful woman, too. A part of her wanted, impossibly, for Dace to win. And the victory would have been made even sweeter if it was over Lionel.

  She tried to keep her expectations in check, but as soon as she saw Dace enter the arena on Storm Warrior her hopes soared again, unfettered.

  What she saw pleased her immensely. Dace had looked good on Ohmylady. Now, teamed with the more powerful mount, and with his first-time-out nerves behind him, he looked electrifying. And he and Storm Warrior gave an absolutely electrifying

  performance. Though their round was not without flaw, the bold heart of the horse, and the iron determination of the man who rode him, more than compensated for the fact that they approached more than one jump too quickly or too closely.

  They had a clear round and they finished, not to thunderous applause, but to startled silence. The horse was known, but Dace was a complete novice and he had taken spectators and competitors alike by surprise. The silence ended and the applause was deafening.

  Cadence felt tears prick her eyes. Her heart was flying. She had been right. That very first time she'd seen Dace, racing the wind across rough fields, she'd been right. Her heart had recognized him, and it had been right. They were going to the top— he and Storm Warrior. There was nothing left of her envy that someone else would ride her dream. Watching them together had filled her with an awe that erased all else. Even though she'd been watching them practice, and they'd been good, they were even better at the show. They had that extra electrifying spark that born competitors brought to competition.

  Two more horses in the field went clear, and there was a jump-off. Dace and Storm went clear, but their time placed them second. Lionel came fourth. As a bonus, Ohmylady ended up placing a respectable seventh in the competition-

  She had lunch with Dace in the competitors' canteen, and was so excited she could barely swallow her hamburger. She happily went over the high and low points of the entire morning. She realized part of her babbling was pure exhaustion,

  and suddenly the words dried up and she practically slumped on the table.

  "I think I'm going to cry," she informed him. "I'm so tired and happy."

  "And your hip hurts," he gues
sed. "Cade, why on earth didn't you sit down? Every time I saw you, you were hugging the fence."

  Tears did smart her eyes then. "I just forgot. I got so excited, and so wrapped up in the action, I just forgot. Can you imagine how wonderful that is for me?"

  "Humph. You seem to forget quite often—to the point of abusing your hip. Sometimes lately I wonder if it's not getting worse "

  It seemed to her this was just underlining Lionel's observation of this morning. She didn't want Dace to notice her injury. She didn't want his advice or his sympathy. If he wasn't going to give her the kind of attention he'd give any red-blooded woman, she didn't want his attention at all!

  She got up from the table, managing not to wince as her hip complained. "I'm going to look up some old friends."

  "I think you should jog a few miles first."

  "What?"

  "Just thought I'd try it," he said wickedly, "since you usually take my suggestions and do the exact opposite. Cade, I need you. I need you to be one hundred per cent there tomorrow when you're observing me and that horse. I need you focused on us. You won't be able to do that if you overdo it today."

  She sniffed. He was absolutely correct, of course, and she decided she might go and lie down for a

  while, though she wasn't going to let him see that. Imagine him talking to her as if she were some cranky old maid aunt who didn't have a penchant for doing what she was told!

  She marched away, with her nose in the air. But not before she heard Dace's heartfelt sigh of long suffering.

  Dace brought a portable stereo into the stall, hoping to calm Storm with some classical music. The horse hated confinement, and Dace hated seeing him buiii his strength on jumpiness. He suspected that, until they figured out the horse, the other dreams would elude them. A gold medal was going to require every ounce of strength and energy both of them had, and Storm wore himself out with his restless pawing and fretting.