“Hey, quit that!” Her shout raspy, she banged the gate with the side of the pitchfork.
“Huh?”
“Stop beating that poor, defenseless animal!” Energized, adrenaline flowing at flood tide, she danced from foot to foot, a redheaded Valkyrie, brandishing her weapon over the gate, beating the air. Angry tears flowed unabated.
“Hey, put that thing down before your hurt somebody.” Lowering his whip, he backed away in the face of this very agitated woman, her cheeks streaked with black mascara war paint.
“Then leave that horse alone, Godammit.” She jabbed the pitchfork in his direction.
“What the Hell business is it of yours, lady?” His eyes never left the sharp metal tines.
“No animal deserves abuse like that. What’s he done that was so terrible?” She sniffled, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, tears drying up from flood mode.
“You see him jump today?”
“Yeah, so what.” She caught her breath, lowering her weapon, having deflected him from his attack. “Any athlete can have an off day.”
“Been more like an off year. Supposed to be a great jumper, but he’s got no heart. I’ve had it.” No longer threatened, the horse stood quietly, head hanging, breathing hard. Blood dripped in red rivulets off his flanks.
Maybe someone did sell this guy a clinker, as far as jumping went, but the animal didn’t look at all well. So thin!
Shit! When I get back into jumping, I’ll want a good Open horse. She almost smiled, despite her fury, realizing the decision had just been made. She studied the horse.
This poor guy may never qualify, but I can’t leave him in the hands of this cretin. The reek of booze on him was overpowering. She skewered him with two gray lasers, burning out from below arched scarlet eyebrows.
“Well, you’d better leave him alone. You can get in trouble for this kind of abuse.” Sighing softly, giving a small shake of her head, she leaned her weapon against the wall and entered the stall.
“What’s his name?”
“Injun, but he sure ain’t no warrior.” He edged away, keeping a wary eye on this crazy woman.
She studied the big red horse, watching her with soft brown eyes. He nickered, and she could almost hear, Please help me, in the forlorn sound.
Oh, damn! Trapped. She glanced at the man, still holding his whip.
“Want to sell him?”
“Huh?”
“Do you want to sell him? You clearly don’t like him. Beat him again, I’ll report you.”
“Yeah?” He studied her for a moment. “What’ll you pay?”
“Look, I wanted an open jumper, and you said yourself he’s not cutting it. I could probably low-ball you, as angry as you are, but I’ll make you a fair offer. I’ll pay you whatever you paid. Just show me the invoice. Deal?”
“You bet. I got it right here in my locker.”
A half-hour later, check written, she called the vet most highly recommended by the stable’s manager. Luckily, he was nearby and would be there in an hour or so.
Good. This poor baby needs his wounds cared for and a good general check-up.
CHAPTER TWO
She was back in the bleachers, awaiting the vet and watching the Novice Open Jumper Class, struggling with growing apprehension.
How impulsive. Keith’ll be furious. Have to deal with it. Couldn’t let that guy maim that lovely animal. She sighed, giving a tiny shrug.
The Hell with him. At least the horse will give unquestioned love, which is more than I’m getting from my husband lately. She leaned back, arms akimbo, reflecting on the state of her marriage to Keith Easton. Her eyes pooled.
Where did our passion go? She blinked away moisture, thinking of their youth. Those were the times… sometimes exciting and sometimes painful.
Passion was the problem. She never imagined how, at the exhilarating age of seventeen, her life would change when they moved from Chicago to the suburban North Shore. A new house, new school, new friends… and the hopes of finally finding a boyfriend.
But things became unexpectedly complicated, especially after making the cheerleading squad. She smiled, remembering her new friend, Sue Malloy, talking her into to trying out…
“Cheerleading? Jeez, I don’t think so,” she’d responded to Sue’s urging.
“Why not? You’re a natural, with your, coppery-colored hair. And you’re so tall. I wish I were tall.”
“Oh, c’mon. You look great.”
“Yeah, but my hair color’s phony, and blue eyes are a dime a dozen. You got that hot-looking hair and those neat gray eyes, and you’re really stacked. Who can compete with that?”
Ashley chuckled. Sue had made her sound like a movie star. But cheerleading was how she met Keith, as if Fate forced them together, and her usually blissful life suddenly became a lot more confused. Not so uncommon for teens, but even at its most tumultuous, she never expected this.
It was cheerleading, Keith, and of course, horses that filled her life. She had taken jumping and dressage instruction since she was a little girl.
"You’re the most instinctive rider I've ever seen," her instructor had said. "As if you were born on a horse. For a usually reserved girl, you attack jumps with an almost wild delight."
Taking Lady over fences released a hidden recklessness in her then. She imagined being on a foxhunt, hurtling hedgerows and stone walls with startling ease. Somewhere in her head, a woman’s voice (was it hers?) exalting in gleeful French. But she barely knew the language!
She blinked and sat up, casting away the web of memories, chuckling mirthlessly.
With a final wistful glance at the horses still performing, she strode toward the barn to check on Injun before heading home. Delaying a confrontation with Keith won’t change anything. He was sure to go on a tirade over the horse.
Too bad. It’s my money, and it’s about time I do what I want for a change.
She thought of that fateful time in her youth. Cheerleading never proved a disappointment, but the complications stemming from it were unexpected. She had no inkling as an innocent, trusting girl, what joy… and misery… would follow.
No time to dwell on that now.
CHAPTER THREE
“Well, doc, what’s the verdict?” She craved some happy news to shore her up against Keith’s coming harangue about responsibility to the family. What a joke.
“Unbelievable!” the vet said. “That animal’s got the worst case of worms I’ve ever seen. Musta been going on for a year. No wonder he’s got no energy. He’s lost a lot of weight, too. Who the Hell’s been caring for him?”
“I bought him from… McNulty (glancing at the Bill of Sale)… Sean McNulty.”
“No wonder. That drunken Mic doesn’t know squat about horses. Bought himself a nice little ranch out by Wheaton. Keeps a half-dozen Thoroughbreds but won’t spring for a vet or a farrier. Does it all himself… and badly at that. Stupid sots shouldn’t own horses.”
“I did I smelled liquor on the guy. Injun’s gonna be all right? Those whip marks will heal?”
“O’course. I already treated him and put salve on the welts. See they stay clean.”
“Okay, I’ll tell the groom, but I’ll still probably check him every day or two.”
“Good idea. I’m gonna put a collar on him to keep him from biting the scabs, and he should be pretty well healed in ten days or so. I’ll check back in three or four days. I may have to worm him again in a week or two, maybe even twice. See he gets extra oats for a while to help fatten him up. No strenuous work for at least two or three weeks, until he regains his strength. Should be as good as new in a month or two. Looks like he also needs to be reshod. Typical McNulty.”
“So he’ll be okay?”
“Yep. Should be.”
“Great. Maybe he’ll turn out to be the horse he looks like, after all.”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“You bought a… horse?” Keith
loomed over her, cobalt eyes narrowed, hands on his hips, lips screwed into a scowl. He shoved his face a foot from hers, using his five-inch height advantage to intimidate.
“What in Hell possessed you to do a foolish, expensive thing like that?” He ran a hand through his long, blonde mane, pressing even closer.
She stared back, trembling. They stood on the Travertine floor of the sprawling ranch house’s vestibule.
Why am I surprised? If it’s not about Keith, it’s…
“Here.” He shoved the portable phone at her. “Call the guy and tell him you changed your mind. Buyer’s remorse, or something. You’re not keeping that stupid animal.”
Gray eyes flared, stunned by his vehemence. Clenching her jaw, she straightened her back, thrusting her chin forward, closing the gap between them to inches.
“I will not! It’s my decision, and by the way, it’s my money to spend as I see fit.”
“Yeah, I know. ‘Daddy’s’ money, but I’m still the head of this house, and you’re not…”
“Stop it! D’ya hear? Stop it!” Her arms clenched at her sides, long fingers balled into fists. “You’re not in charge of my money. What’s wrong with you, Keith? What’s wrong with us?”
“Nothing.” He fidgeted, stepping back, looking away. “There’s nothing wrong. Only I love you too much to see you blow your inheritance on a dumb animal, when…”
Ashley shook her head, sighing, tension morphed into a familiar numbness. She took his large, tanned hands, in hers, struggling to forge some sort of connection.
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but my folks left us more money than we’ll ever spend. I need some time doing things I love. Everyone needs that. You play golf and racquetball with your pals. The horse will be my buddy. It’s great exercise, and when the kids are older, it’ll give them a chance to care for another being that will absolutely love them.”
“So, get ‘em a dog. A golden retriever, or something. They’re supposed to be very affectionate.”
She sucked in her lower lip, catching it with her teeth.
“A golden would be great. I’ve been thinking about that, too. But the horse is for me, and in the process, riding will provide them an interest in something other than who’s the best dressed in school or belongs to the elite clubs.”
“Who’ll want ‘em in their club if they stink of horse shit?”
She chuckled, the last tension slipping away. “Actually, that’s the smell of upper class, darling. I know that’s important to you. Horseback riding and jumping fences or doing dressage is a money thing. Middle-class Joe Blow can hardly afford it anymore, even if he does all the grunt work himself.”
“What about the kids, while you’re out prancing around?” This said with little conviction, realizing he was losing this scrap.
“Maria’s here. Now that she’s living in, it’ll be easy. She’s like an aunt, and they can practice their Spanish and she her English.” She dropped his hands, turning toward the bathroom and a much-needed shower.
“Yeah, but what if you fall off the damned horse and get hurt? Riding is a dangerous…”
“Not really.” She paused, looking over her shoulder, her auburn hair falling over one smoky eye. “I’m pretty experienced, even though I’ve not ridden in years. I’ll begin with some basic training to see what he knows. His previous owner was a cretin and may not have trained him. I’ll start with cavellettis and very low fences. See how he works… what kind of jump and heart he’s got. Nothing very threatening.”
“But, I still don’t think…”
“No ‘but’s,’ Keith. I’m keeping the horse. It’s not open for discussion.” She strode off.
You’ll do your thing, as usual. Finally, I’ll start doing some of mine.
It’s about time.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ashley tossed the currycomb into the oak supply box and began braiding Injun's dark mane, weaving in black ribbons and tying off each strand with a tight little double-knotted bow. The chestnut thoroughbred rubbed her cheek with his velvety snout, nipping at one of the gold buttons on her riding jacket.
"Hey, quit that! I've got to look good when we go into that ring." She laughed, hugging the horse around his muscular neck. He nickered softly, as she went back to braiding his long mane.
"We’ll look great out there, won't we, buddy? A pair of redheads having fun."
She grimaced, shaking her head. Was she really ready for this? She loved riding, and especially jumping this big horse she had bought on a whim, little more than a year ago. Once healthy, he turned out to be the enthusiastic jumper that guy had been promised, and then some! Her vow to Keith to take it slowly evaporated when she realized he was so eager to attack fences.
Now, after ten months of hard training, they were entered in her first tournament, the first major amateur shows of the Northern Illinois season. Nothing like starting big.
Elation at getting back to the love of her teens with a wonderful animal under her was sadly dampened by Keith, that very morning.
“No way! You’re not going,” he had said.
“What are you talking about? Of course I’m going. This is what we prepared for.”
“No! You could get hurt… or worse. I forbid it! You’ve gotta take some respons…”
“You what!” She spun on him, smoky eyes sparking fire. They glared at each other for a moment. Then she gathered her riding jacket, black helmet and crop and exploded from the room, the front door reverberating as it crashed closed behind her.
She sighed, shaking her head at the memory.
What nerve. Who does he think he is, forbidding me to ride?
Being almost in her third month won't interfere with her ability to jump the course, nor will it endanger the fetus. She held a pregnancy with utter tenacity, playing tennis into her eighth month with her first two children with no ill effects.
She doubted he really worried about losing a baby he didn't even want. How had this even happened, as rarely as they managed sex anymore? That’s all it was for Keith.
Sex.
They stopped making love years ago.
Partly my fault, I suppose. Not easy being romantic when I’m scouring the shadows for monsters, just when he’s getting it on.
This strange, uncontrollable panic… The Terror she called it… blossomed early in their marriage. All was wonderful at first, as they kissed and touched, trembling with delicious passion. She’d close her eyes, descending into her special imaginary place, that tranquil little meadow, surrounded by massive oaks and firs. She’d even imagine the tinkling of a brook, tumbling over small rocks.
Mon amour! Mon amour!
That lustful French voice, whispering to her, spilling goose bumps down her spine. Where did it come from? Exciting, but kind of spooky.
Then something would change. Ardor and joy were quickly squelched by the specter of a fierce horned apparition, wickedly hooked beak and raking claws, charging from the woods, screaming death. She knew it was imagination, but The Terror clutched her heart, drying up her juices, stiffening her limbs with panic.
She’d fight through it, trying to relax, steadying her breathing, wanting to please her husband. She never discussed it with anyone, feeling foolish, but The Terror had no real bearing on what was going on between them now.
Keith's real concern seemed less about her being hurt, and more over not wanting to be saddled with caring for their children if she were laid up from a bad fall… a fear without basis. Maria loved her kids and was always there whenever Ashley needed her. Ricky and Beth were crazy about “Aunt Maria,” and they were getting quite good at speaking Spanish with her.
Well, she’d deal with Keith later. It was time to get Injun tacked up and out to the ring. They were due to ride in less than thirty minutes.
CHAPTER SIX
She sat astride Injun just outside the fenced show ring, watching a massive dappled gelding attack the course. The young rider apparently had little control over the brute, c
rashing into crossbars and flattening walls, continually getting in too close to each jump before taking off.
Ashley again dried her hands on her fawn jodhpurs and adjusted her black riding vest. She tugged at the white collar of her blouse, as rivulets of perspiration trickled down her spine, despite a temperature in the low 60's.
Okay, I’m nervous. The practice fences didn’t seem nearly this size. I’ve never jumped anything like this before. I aughta be better prepared.
Reflexively, she glanced at the well-filled bleachers, fruitlessly searching for her parents, and moral support they could never again deliver. Six years they’d been gone, perishing in that horrendous, flaming collision one icy night on Lake Shore Drive.
She blinked away tears, smiling ruefully. Still she sought their faces in the stands or at family occasions. But there were no more calls from Mama, full of gossip, or Papa, with clever stories. They were the bulwark that enriched her life with love and humor by their very presence… things Keith ceased doing many years ago.
It wasn’t only that she mourned them. That pain had finally been compartmented away, a place she rarely visited. But she missed their companionship terribly, exacerbated by the reality Keith no longer provided much of that either.
Should their joy, that magical connection, have perished so quickly just because of her restrained panic during sex? She never denied him anything and had struggled to enjoy that expression of love, despite her irrational fears.
Injun tossed his head and took several quick, mincing steps in place, sensing the time was near for jumping. She again scoured the stadium but noticed no familiar faces. Then she saw him, lounging by the arena’s railing, his obsidian eyes riveted on her.
Who is this intriguing guy, lean and fit-looking, whom she observed several times in the last few days, watching her work Injun over the practice course? Again the beat of hummingbird wings fluttered in her breast, just as it had every time she felt his magnetic gaze on her. It was more a sense of anticipation than arousal, despite his rugged, somehow handsome face.
A 3rd Time to Die Page 3