Sultry August heat radiated like the pulsing barrage of Mel’s bitterness. She was tired of being out of control. Tired of not having what she wanted in life. Tired of never having a dream come true.
Her underarms were already wet, and perspiration trickled between her breasts. Hot air blew from the rattling box fan strapped to the bars of the stall. Dressed for the show, except for her wool coat and hat, her face pulsated with heat. Mel lifted her head and gave herself a mental shake.
Jake and Dave were down at the end of the aisle helping the farrier who was shoeing Royalty’s Dreamer. Mel’s job was to ready this big brute of a stallion. Pop, Vanessa and Cory were already inside Freedom Hall watching the other classes.
She sighed and gave Dreamcatcher an affectionate pat. Trouble seemed to follow them. Royalty had loosened a shoe less than an hour before the championship. What could happen next?
Mel stepped out of the stall and into the dark shed row. At the far end, three men and the mare were illuminated by a yellow glow, almost like actors in front of a spotlight. Concentrating on the horse, they didn’t see her come into the aisle. Mel sighed again. Could she ever forgive herself for Cory?
Thoughts of Cory brought a smile to Mel’s lips. She wandered to the tack room where three long blue ribbons were proudly displayed. The little girl had won her age group championship aboard Royal Tiara on Tuesday. Mel fingered her smooth ribbon, remembering how Cory had taken her victory pass along the rail like a pro. Grinning from ear-to-ear, her chin held high, her posture erect, her hands up, Cory had thrilled the crowd as well as her family.
Family. She wished she was part of Cory’s family. Choking back a tear, Mel wouldn’t cry. Not now. This wasn’t the place. She tried to stifle the pangs of longing and regret that had been eating her alive these past weeks.
The stallion snorted. Mel glanced back at his stall and saw him try to toss his head. Although she had left the door open, the cross ties held him securely.
“Easy, boy,” she said, drifting back toward the horse.
Through the metal bars above the wooden stall, she noticed the whites of his eyes roll with fear, and then he tossed his head as if one of the cross ties had become unhooked. Mel’s heart jumped to her throat.
“What’s going on?” She began to run.
In the darkened stall, Lenny half turned, giving her a scathing look. His left hand flat on Dreamcatcher’s neck, he held a hypodermic needle in his right.
“What are you doing?” Charging him, Mel knocked the needle free.
“Bitch!” Eyes filled with loathing, Lenny grabbed her arms.
“No!” she screamed in helpless rage.
Suddenly Lenny’s fingers were wrapped around her throat, his fetid breath hot on her face. Intense pain overwhelmed her. Mel brought her hands up to his wrists, clutching them, trying to drag his fingers from her throat. The ligaments of his arms bulged beneath her hands.
In that split second, Dreamcatcher reared. Lenny pivoted to get out of the way and thrust her toward the horse as he fled. Mel fell back under the hooves of the frightened creature and hit the sawdust with a thud.
“Mel?” Jake’s voice, filled with fear and confusion, sounded far away.
Mel threw her arm across her eyes, shielding her face from the dangerous hooves. The stallion’s front legs came down right beside her. A left hoof glanced a blow off her arm. She flinched in pain.
“You bastard!” Lenny shrieked.
She heard the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Someone howled. Fear clawing at her heart, Mel pushed herself up on her elbow, rolled out of the way of Dreamcatcher’s hooves, and then struggled to her feet. Stumbling into the shadowed aisle, she saw two obscure forms clash in a death-like embrace.
“Dave! Get the police! Lenny tried to kill me,” Mel shouted to the groom.
With a muffled oath Dave darted away just as Lenny threw a mighty right hook that caught Jake squarely in the face and dropped him to the ground. Flinging a disgusted glance at her, Lenny escaped down the shed row.
“Jake!” She ran to him, kneeling by his side, and threw her arms around his neck.
He folded her into his arms, his breath coming in heavy gulps. He smelled of sweat, spicy aftershave and defeat.
“God, I let him get away,” Jake muttered fiercely. “What was he doing here?”
“He was in with Dreamcatcher and he had a needle. I surprised him and he tried to kill me.”
Jake set her away from him at arm’s length and studied her eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. You and Dreamcatcher saved the day.” She grinned, trying to ease the tension.
Jake assessed her critically. “There’s dirt on your collar.”
“From where he tried to choke me.”
“And dirt and hoof polish on your sleeve.” Jake began to unbutton the long white sleeve. Slowly he rolled it upward revealing a deep purplish bruise on the flesh of her upper arm. His fingers were gentle. “That’s going to hurt.”
“It already does,” Mel told him, her emotions beginning to tumble in wild disarray. “What about her face?”
Jake pulled her toward him once more as if he didn’t want to let her go. “It’s nothing,” he said into her ear, his voice sounding tremulous.
Mel wanted to believe him. She wanted a happy ending. She wanted closure. Her nerves, strung so tightly, began to relax and she started to shiver as if it were a January day.
“Cold?” he murmured into her hair.
“No, just reacting to all that’s happened. Shouldn’t we do something?”
“Dreamcatcher.” Jake rose and hauled her to her feet.
With a quiver in her stomach, Mel followed him to the stallion’s stall.
Chapter Nineteen
Thirty minutes later Mel sat quietly on the back of Royalty’s Dreamer in the dim make-up area behind Freedom Hall. The palms of her hands inside her black leather gloves were wet. Her face was grim.
“Do you see him?” she asked Dave, who held Dreamcatcher’s bridle.
Mel twisted in her saddle and searched the covered walkway that lead from the stables to the entrance of Freedom Hall. Jake had gone with the police and hadn’t returned. It was almost time for the championship. The knots in her stomach twisted tighter.
All around her, other trainers sat motionless on the backs of sleek show horses. Many of the men had been rivals of Pop, and three had already won the World’s Grand Championship. Their lined faces spoke of experience. Their hands, resting on their reins, were calm and confident. Mel felt young and green beside them.
“What are we going to do if he doesn’t show up?” Mel was sick.
“You go give ’em what for!” Dave said with a grin as if he were trying to boost her confidence.
Mel smiled in response, for she was all of a sudden incapable of speech. Suppose Jake didn’t make it back in time? Suppose the future of Royalty Farm was hers alone to salvage? Mel squared her shoulders and sat straighter in the saddle. This was something she could handle. She’d handled a lot worse lately.
“Where’s my number 25 horse?” The paddock master’s voice blared from the loudspeaker.
Perched on a high platform, the man had a bird’s-eye view of the makeup area, and it was his responsibility to make sure all the horses entered Freedom Hall. “Get on your horse, Jake. We haven’t got all day.”
Mel felt, rather than saw, Jake come up to stand beside her. She swallowed slowly, and looked down at him.
“You made it,” she said, her breathing raspy.
Jake put his hand on her lower leg, connecting with her in a moment of pure intimacy. “The police are searching for Lenny. I can’t believe he tried to tranquilize Dreamcatcher.”
“I can.” Her eyes explored his face.
“Thank heavens the horse is okay.”
“Thank heavens you’re okay,” she echoed him.
What if in his desperation to escape, Lenny had harmed Jake?
“Now lady and gentlemen, we’re going
do this right. We’re going to enter the arena one at a time when I call your number,” the paddock master instructed.
With his expensive riding habit and fresh red rose pinned to his lapel, Jake looked as handsome as always. His blue eyes held a deep yearning, a simple look of sadness, and yes—love. Mel’s heart lurched. Flecks of memory pricked her soul. She remembered him as a young man, eager to learn from Pop. She saw him instructing Cory and swinging her into his arms. She saw him staggered by Lenny’s fist. Mel reached out and softly touched his cheek with her fingertips.
“Will they find him?”
Jake shrugged. “I hope so.” His misplaced dimple appeared as he smiled in encouragement.
She removed her fingers reluctantly. “You’d better climb aboard.”
Jake nodded. Mel watched him take the reins from Dave and swing into the saddle. He pivoted the stallion and urged him forward until they were face to face. Mel searched his eyes, the roguish dimples now in repose, the line of his mouth drawn tight, his brow furrowed.
“Tonight is an important night for us both.”
He didn’t need to say he was thinking of Cory. One of them had to win for their daughter. A renewed sense of urgency raced through her blood.
Slowly Jake stretched his hand forward and cupped her cheek in his palm. Even through his gloves, she could feel the warmth of his hand.
“Good luck, Mel.”
“Good luck, Jake.”
The paddock master’s voice blared again. “When the music starts, we go. You’re in first, 292.”
A crusty old trainer on a horse called Movie Maker broke away from the others and stood poised at the head of the ramp.
Jake smiled once more and putting on his game face, removed his hand. Her heart throbbed with an intense ache of loss.
Inside Freedom Hall, the organ began to play the first notes of “My Old Kentucky Home,” and ten thousand spectators rose to their feet. On cue, the first horse and rider started down the long ramp into the arena, followed by a cortege of running grooms.
Mel shifted in the saddle and straightened her back. With effort, she set her mind on the business at hand. To make a good ride, she needed all her concentration. Shortening her reins and pressing with her legs, she asked the mare to walk. They made several circles as other horses and riders entered the arena. Then it was Jake’s turn. He spurred his horse into action and disappeared down the ramp, the bay stallion’s black tail billowing dramatically. She heard the crowd roar as the favorite entered the arena.
“Number 640, you’re next.”
Mel took a deep breath. “Come on, Royalty, it’s show time.” She clucked to the mare. “Trot, girl.”
Royalty’s Dreamer didn’t need to be urged. Lifting her proud head and stepping out at a lively trot, the horse flew down the ramp and burst into the bright lights. All around her the crowd cheered, but the mare didn’t flinch. Royalty knew her job and set out to do it with the heart of a champion.
The competition was already taking shape as Mel made her first pass down the long straightaway. The eight horses circled and circled the arena, vying for the favor of the three judges who stood like little monarchs in the middle.
Coming around the first turn, a horse and rider from Missouri rudely sheared in front of her. Stifling a curse, Mel pulled up just in time and swung Royalty around the upstart. Once settled against the rail again, Mel saw other riders challenging Dreamcatcher, cutting in front of him so the three judges could compare their horses with the favorite.
As she pounded down the second straightaway, Mel decided to save her horse because the competition looked like a long one. Since the show at Lexington, she’d schooled the mare for endurance. If she made the final workout, Mel hoped her effort would pay off, and only then would she challenge Jake.
The striking of the horses’ hooves on the green tanbark sounded like muted cannons.
“Waallkk. Everyone bring ’em on down to the walk.” The announcer’s voice was a Southern drawl.
Royalty’s walk was what the judges looked for in a five-gaited horse, more of a prance. The black mare picked up her dainty fore legs and snapped them out in front of her body. Her lovely, long neck, which came straight out of her beautiful laid-back shoulders, was arched. Her head was high and her ears were alert and pointed forward. The animal’s eyes were expressive. She had that show horse attitude that said, “Hey, look at me! I’m something special!”
“Okay, everybody, let’s set ’em up and slow gait.”
Mel knew Royalty probably had the best slow gait of the whole class. The mare performed the four beat gait as it was meant to be—slow. Mel sat motionless on her back, gliding around the arena.
“Rack on! Let’s see ’em rack!” The announcer’s instruction was accompanied by a shout from the crowd.
The rack, a faster version of a slow gait, was the most exciting part of the five-gaited class and the most difficult.
She turned Royalty loose and let her go on. Mel’s heart surged as the mare skimmed across the tanbark as if her hooves hardly touched the ground.
The class was called back down to the walk, but several riders kept racking past the judges. Saving Royalty’s stamina for later, Mel simply returned to the walk and found a good place along the rail for the canter.
After the canter, the competitors reversed, striking a trot as they circled the arena again and again. With every step, Mel urged Royalty forward, pushing her up into her bridle and keeping her head set and neck arched. All the gaits were repeated one more time, and then the announcer called everyone in to line up.
Once more Mel sent Royalty into a brisk trot past the judges. Then hopping off the mare’s back in the line up, she stretched her out into the classic Saddlebred stance.
“Good ride,” Jake said, halting beside her and sliding off Dreamcatcher.
Mel glanced at him. His smile was like an invisible hand stroking her face.
“Thanks.” She dared return his smile, her heart pulsing with the excitement of the competition and his compliment.
As Mel held the reins high and kept the horse’s attention, Dave removed the saddle, and wiped off sweat with a scraper and a towel. Hurriedly, he pulled a comb through Royalty’s long raven tail and spread it out to touch the green-colored tanbark of the arena floor. Jake busily mirrored Dave while his own groom handled Dreamcatcher. As the judges approached, Jake tossed the comb and towel to the groom and took his place at the head of the stallion.
Soon after that, the three judges were upon them, walking around Dreamcatcher and inspecting his conformation. The crowd cheered.
When the judges toured Royalty, the audience whooped and hollered louder. Jake caught Mel’s gaze and winked. Disconcerted, she tried to retain her composure, knowing the grand show mare, ridden by the only woman in the ring was the sentimental favorite of all the ladies in the crowd.
It was kind of ironic, after all, to be competing with Jake but having the same ultimate goal. The irony went even further when she thought of herself in this position. She’d shunned the big championships, being content with her career training horses for young riders. Jake was the one with the fancy career, the desire for greatness in the Saddlebred world. Now she and Royalty were one of the favorites in the World’s Grand Championship. It was awesome.
After everyone was back in the saddle, the announcer called for a four horse work out, and, to Mel’s wonder, she was part of it. Sultan’s Starcross and Movie Maker had made the cut, and to no one’s surprise, Dreamcatcher.
Her nerves on edge like a cat getting ready to pounce, Mel pushed Royalty into a fast trot. She set her lips in a grim line of determination. Now was the time to show the judges and the world that this little mare had the heart as well as the ability to be the World’s Grand Champion. Now was her chance to save Royalty Farm for Cory.
Angling behind Jake and his horse, Mel followed them around the ring. The bay stallion’s body glistened in the bright lights. His black mane tossed with every
springy step and his black tail cascaded behind him. The crowd loved the rivalry between the two or them.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re watching a brother and sister duel out there,” the announcer revealed. “Royalty’s Reverie, two time Five-Gaited World’s Grand Champion, was the sire of both Dreamcatcher and Royalty’s Dreamer. Earlier this summer, both horses were rescued from the barn fire that took their sire’s life.”
The four horses were asked to trot, slow gait and rack, and then reverse and do the three gaits again. Once Mel saw Sultan’s Starcross falter and break from the rack. His rider got him going again quickly. The contenders challenged Dreamcatcher, and Jake answered challenge with challenge. During the reverse, Mel backed off, and let the males go after each other. She put Royalty on the rail and worked her hard, hoping that her mare’s quality and stamina would show through.
“All right, everybody. Let’s come on back in and line up facing the ring master.”
Mel used the opportunity to make one more pass in front of the judges. She sent Royalty sailing along the rail to the delight of everyone in the crowd. Although winded, the little mare kept going as spiritedly as if she had just stepped into the ring.
The final line up went quickly. The judges stood behind the contestants, checking the numbers pinned to their backs and writing them down on score sheets. Then the whole class retired to the end of the ring by the entrance ramp. As she regained her breath, Mel was comforted that she could do no worse than fourth.
“You did a great job, Mel.” Jake rode up beside her.
She turned to meet his eyes, their blue reflecting the brilliant lights of the arena. “Thanks, but this class belongs to you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. You never know what the judges will decide.” In an old-fashioned gesture, Jake touched the brim of his homburg, a look of respect in his eyes.
At that moment, Mel knew she loved him more than life itself. It didn’t matter who won, just as long as one of them did.
Overwhelmed by emotion, she raised her gaze overhead, ignoring the sounds of the crowd around her and the feeling of tension in the air. The massive scoreboard proclaimed in shinning yellow lights “5-Gaited Grand Championship.”
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