Learning of his racing background, a certain unease settled within Jessica over being pulled into Bleauvelt’s influence. She could not escape her love and knowledge of horses and had chosen to stay out of the thoroughbred racing world for fear of being recognized by a past affiliate of Wyeth’s Worldwind Farm. Kentucky had a long history of horse-focused sports, and she naively thought that a person who was steeped in the life of one sport rarely crossed over to another. If she stayed away from racing, she thought she could live undetected in the world of hunting and jumping. She realized the problem she had created for herself.
“My son just made detective in the Lexington District.” The gray-haired friend of ClaireAnne’s flushed with pride as she announced her son’s promotion. The others at the table extended their congratulations and raised their coffee mugs in a toast. Jessica felt the color drain from her face as she forced a smile.
“Oh? You must be very pleased,” Jessica replied without conviction. She had long felt that police were good for little more than community service and issuing the occasional traffic ticket. She massaged her temples that had suddenly begun to throb.
“Are you okay, Tess?” Father Steeves was suddenly standing next to her.
“What? Oh, yes. Of course. I just realized how tired I am. I’ve been up since 4:30 this morning. I guess I’d better be going.” After a round of thank yous and good-byes, she gave a lukewarm smile and turned to leave.
She nearly bumped into the sweater-clad chest of a man. “Oh! I am so sorry! Please excuse me, I didn’t see you.” Jessica flipped her hair out of her eyes and looked up. Her stomach fluttered.
“No Miss, please. That was my fault.” The man Jessica had seen from across the school green the other day smiled down on her. He held Jessica by the shoulders to steady her. The touch was strong and electric.
“Michael! Hello!” Father Steeves greeted this new arrival robustly. “I didn’t think you were able to join us tonight. What a pleasant surprise! Come, sit. Have you eaten?” He rose and indicated an empty seat for Michael to join them.
“Um, no thank you. I’ve just come to see how everything was going for the school. Looks like a great turn-out this year, don’t you think?” Michael still gripped Jessica’s shoulders. He looked at her and paused for a moment before he dropped his hands. He addressed the woman across the table, “I heard about your son. Congratulations. He was long overdue for that slot. I know he’ll do a great job.” He extended his hand in greeting to the men and accepted the kisses of the women with a hint of embarrassment. He looked expectantly at Jessica.
“Michael, I don’t know if you have had a chance to meet Perc’s newcomer. This is Tess White. She bought the old Smythe farm up on the ridge. Tess, this is Michael Conant.” Father Steeves enjoyed the chance to introduce the two young people. Jessica’s momentary flutter was not lost on him.
“Tess White?” Michael hesitated a moment as he considered the name. “Why yes. I have heard a good deal about you. That’s some ride you had yesterday.” Michael looked at Jessica through smiling slate blue eyes. His dark hair was cut short, and he was dressed casually in a dark green Irish knit sweater and khakis.
“Oh!... Um... Well... Gapman deserves a lot of the credit for that ride, too. That horse has heart.”
Michael watched the rosy color in Jessica’s cheeks fade as she regained her composure. “What little I know about horses is that it takes a lot of skill to get a horse to respond like that. Where did you learn to ride?”
More color faded from her cheeks. “I...” she stammered, “I, ah, I’ve spent a lot of time out west working on ranches there.” There was something about how deeply his gaze seemed to penetrate and size her up that made Jessica very uncomfortable. She fought for control over herself and shifted the focus of the conversation to the horse and Hoyt’s invitation for training. After a moment of pleasant conversation, Jessica turned again to leave.
“Are you sure you have to go so soon, Tess?” It was Father Steeves trying to keep the two together.
Jessica smiled. “Yes, really. Goodnight all. See you tomorrow in church, Father.” Before any other protests could be made, she turned and strode quickly to her Jeep.
The early September night air felt crisp on her skin and the sky was filled with stars. The sounds of townspeople enjoying themselves faded away and gravel crunched under her feet. Jessica tried to shake herself to the present. She was angry for feeling so foolish when she bumped into Michael. She had met plenty of attractive men before, and did not like losing control of herself like that. She wanted to make a firm resolve to steer clear of Mr. Conant, but was unable to make a convincing argument to herself.
She drove her Jeep up the mountain and thought about her day. She smiled when thinking of the Percivals and Father Steeves. They were good people, and she felt herself trusting them. The sense of community she felt coming from everyone she met over the past week acted as a balm over her worn psyche. Still, as pleased as she was with Perc and now having a viable training assignment, Jessica felt the familiar urge to run before anyone got any closer to her. She was extremely concerned now with her connection to Chad Bleauvelt. If he had more friends that crossed over horse disciplines, she could be recognized. Uncertain that Perc would be free from such people, she was even more determined to keep control of what people knew of her.
She pulled her Jeep up to the house and hopped out. Soft nickerings could be heard in the distance.
“Well! I guess you girls are finally getting to know me, too!” Jessica walked up to the two horses and patted their strong necks. They extended their noses over the fence searching for a treat. Jessica pulled out some sugar cubes she had taken from tonight’s dinner and fed her buddies. She looked around the farm lit only by the dim floodlights she had left on and smelled the air. She felt good here.
“Well, maybe I’ll stay for a little while.” She smiled to herself and walked down the hill to her house.
Jessica went straight to work preparing for the Harvest Hunter Pace. Mr. Bleauvelt had made it very clear that he wanted to personally oversee her preparations for the Pace. He also made it clear that she was to ride one of his horses; the same big gray Jessica had seen at the team-picking rally.
Jessica passed on this piece of bad news to Hoyt, but insisted on continuing with Gapman’s training. She argued with him successfully that if Gapman had some intensive training then Hoyt would better enjoy the pace himself. People would certainly notice the difference in the horse, too, thought Jessica, so training Gapman would not be a wasted effort in advertising her skills as a trainer. The early October event was just a few weeks away, and she took whatever time she found to get both horses ready. She divided her time between her farm, Gapman, and Bleauvelt’s big gray.
As the date approached, Jessica noticed a change in Mr. Bleauvelt’s attitude toward her. He was a man who certainly had a strong build in his younger years but now his strength had softened with the ‘good life’ into an aristocratic paunch. Of medium height, he had a southern grace about him that Jessica knew would make him stand out as a horseman. He was confident in his capabilities training horses, but he became quite aware that his newest team member far surpassed his knowledge and skill.
Bleauvelt had been forced to look outside his normal circle of acquaintances to locate another team member after one had recently suffered a bad fall. He felt cornered into taking Miss White at the team-picking rally since she placed so highly, but quickly became quite pleased with his decision.
Jessica made a habit of arriving at Bleauvelt Farm just after sunrise each morning. She knew that this would be the time of day when she would run into the fewest people, and the horses would be their freshest. Mr. Bleauvelt was pleased with the industriousness of his new trainer and said so. Jessica merely smiled politely and continued her work, carefully avoiding any conversation about anything other than training and horses with Mr. Bleauvelt.
Bleauvelt’s big gray, Smokey Mountain, initially had a bad attitude toward his new rider. Jessica slowly determined that the horse had been ridden by too many unskilled riders and had soured to taking commands from someone he did not respect. A good deal of their first sessions together was spent making the huge horse perform dressage passages.
Jessica always considered dressage to be the equine version of ballet and knew its conditioning to be superb in preventing injury. She loved making the animals prance sideways and perform supple bends around the tightest turns while being finely attuned to her commands. The use of subtle cues demanded the horse to vary its gait or bend its body in ways that did not come naturally to the huge athletes. It forced the horse to concentrate on what it was being asked to do. Smokey Mountain was fast to respect his trainer and this respect translated immediately into a better dialogue between them on the open hunt course.
The day before the Harvest Hunter Pace, Mr. Bleauvelt called Jessica into his den. His house was a large beautiful Federal-style home with impressive white columns flanking a bright white facade. The den was richly paneled in finely oiled mahogany. Two deep red leather chairs were pulled close to the fire in the hearth, their brass grommets glowing against the thickly padded arms. Mr. Bleauvelt was sitting in one chair staring absently into the red embers.
“Mr. Bleauvelt? What’s wrong? You look upset.” Jessica walked into the den and leaned against the door with folded arms. She was still attired in her uniform of slim black riding boots, dark tan colored breeches and a sweater. Her breeches skimmed her legs from the tops of her boots, along her thighs to her waist. Her sweater, old and worn but of obvious quality, draped elegantly around her shoulders. Horsehair and dust from the day’s workouts still clung to the soft suede patches on her inner knee, but she still looked comfortable and at ease in the rich environment.
“Of all the stupid luck!” he stormed as he hit his fist on the padded arm of his chair. “I took Blue Velvet out this morning for one last breeze before tomorrow’s event. I had been so impressed by the work you were doing with Smokey Mountain that I thought I could tune her up a bit for the big day and tried some of the passages I’d seen you do. Well, there’s more of a knack to it than I thought, and I guess she wasn’t ready for it. The vet just called me to say she has a pulled tendon and can’t be ridden for a while.” He jabbed at the embers with a fire iron. “Damnation!”
“He’s right. I just checked on her. I thought she was standing funny in her stall and found the sore spot. She’ll be fine, but tomorrow’s event is definitely out. What do you want to do?”
“You’re a trainer. Can’t you do something to make her right?”
“Um. No. She has a minor issue and working her now could lead to a much more serious injury.”
“What about giving her a shot of something to numb it up a bit. I used to see that done at the track.”
Jessica tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. “No. There is nothing I will do but offer her rest.”
“All right, fine then. Damnation!” He jabbed the fire some more and remained in deep thought. Eventually, he continued talking. “The only other horse I can ride is Smokey Mountain. I’ve been following your advice and riding him every afternoon. He really has improved. I called the other team members and no one else has a horse ready for the event. What about that other animal you have been training?”
Jessica broke into a huge smile and strode into the room. “You mean Percival’s Gapman? He is ready. I have been really impressed with that animal. He has heart and he loves the rough terrain. To him, it’s just one big game to be won.” Hoyt’s dream was about to come true! She held her breath not to say anything until Mr. Bleauvelt came up with the idea himself.
He looked at Jessica steadily in the eyes. “Do you honestly think that horse can keep up with the other animals on our team? You’ve seen them. Class A hunters, each of them. I do not want to be embarrassed by some hack horse,” he said in a steely tone.
“Mr. Bleauvelt. You saw Gapman at the team-picking rally. He must certainly have done something right, or I would not have placed in the top five and we would not be talking right now. I’ve been riding him every day, and I know he’ll be an asset to this team.” Jessica was excited about riding Gapman. Smokey still had a touch of a know-it-all attitude about him, but Gapman was just happy and willing to go wherever Jessica took him. Besides, Smokey Mountain’s snotty attitude was a perfect match for his owner.
Mr. Bleauvelt picked up the phone and made the call to Hoyt. She could tell by the expression on Mr. Bleauvelt’s face that Hoyt made him work for every word. Hoyt was likely dancing on the other end of the phone, but he did not want to seem to be too eager to relinquish his horse. Finally, Mr. Bleauvelt returned the phone to its cradle.
“Hoyt’s bringing Gapman down tonight so the horses can get acquainted with one another.” He turned and looked at the flames. “I know I don’t have to tell you about the consequences of this decision, Miss White. Now, tomorrow I will meet you at the registration booth at seven a.m. sharp. The horses will be readied for us.” Jessica was dismissed.
October 1995
THE SUN BROKE over the Pine Mountains, and its light winked off the heavy dew that had settled in the valley the night before. The site of the Harvest Hunter Pace start was in the large meadow of a park close to the river. At daybreak, the field was full of SUVs and pickup trucks pulling horse trailers and large eight-horse Pullman vans. The horses snorted with excitement and their breath puffed out of their nostrils in twin blasts of steam.
The spectator area was already crowded with people. The Harvest Hunter Pace was put on by the town of Perc and attended by serious horsemen and horsewomen around Kentucky as well as neighboring states.
It was easy to pick out the riders from the spectators. The onlookers were gathered into tight groups, huddled around coffee mugs and bundled in warm jackets. The riders were clustered only in groups of four. Three riders of each group wore the expected formal riding attire of a black or dark tweed coat with a velvet-trimmed collar. Each team leader wore the traditional scarlet jacket with its black collar. Crisp white shirts were topped at the collars with black neckbands or stocks, with large pins in them. Some men opted for the more formal ascot around their necks. All riders donned the dress black velvet covered hard-hats. The light colored breeches and slim black leather boots reaching almost to their knees completed the trim and accomplished habits of the riders.
Jessica was no exception. She wore her best show breeches which were snug fitting and slightly lighter in color than her daily workout pair. Her black coat was made of a fine wool gabardine and was worn over a richly woven starched white shirt. Her long hair was secured into a bun at the nape of her neck. The morning sun made her sprinkling of freckles contrast with her pale skin and her blue eyes glowed with excitement and purpose. Her naturally cautious and removed demeanor translated into a classic and aloof air. Anyone who saw her came to the same conclusion. She looked stunning.
The teams were identified by a colored band worn on the right arms of its four members. Flashes of pink, blue, yellow, and other colors could be seen in the morning light. Jessica could just make out the profiles of Hoyt and ClaireAnne but did not recognize their other team members wearing what Hoyt called “Percival’s Proper Purple.” Jessica caught his eye and waved to him. Hoyt beamed and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
She met with Mr. Bleauvelt and the other team members at seven o’clock as agreed. Their team was to wear an armband of royal blue. Bleauvelt, looking quite handsome in his scarlet jacket and white ascot, cleared his throat and assumed a serious air.
“Good morning. The horses are ready for us and we are going to be the twelfth team out this morning. I trust you have all met Miss Tess White. Miss White is the young woman who has worked wonders with Smokey Mountain.” The other team members nodded in greeting toward Jessica. “For Mi
ss White’s benefit, the name of this event is a ‘hunter pace.’ But what we all know as a ‘hunt’ of a dozen horses following baying hounds is not what we are here for today. This event is more of an endurance challenge. We will work as a team to get over the mountain and back again in the best time. The best time from past years was a little over two hours.”
Jessica was a bit put off at being spoken about as if she did not know what she was up against, but attributed Mr. Bleauvelt’s manner to nerves and genetic arrogance.
“We have all had a chance to review the course map. The toughest part comes toward the end after we have climbed the ridge and doubled back down the inside of the ledge. That’s when we hit Jackman’s Ravine. Both horse and rider will be very fatigued at this point so be aware of your speed and overall pace through the event.” The other team members nodded in recognition and agreement.
“The course is not marked with a cross-over point. The next red course flag you will see is about 100 yards away from the ravine on the other side. It is up to us as a team to find the best crossing point. John?” The tall, thin man to Jessica’s right raised his head. “John. I want you to take the lead to scout a good crossing point. Ruby?” The auburn haired woman to Jessica’s left looked up. “I want you to track south to see if you can see the course flags on the other side of the ravine. That will save us some time when we cross.” He handed each person a long thin metal whistle on a royal blue silk cord. “Three short bursts on this will tell us that you’ve marked the course. One long whistle means that you have a horse or rider down. Two blows mean you need help locating the others. When you hear that, stop and wait for the leader to respond. Questions?” He looked at each person slowly. His gaze stopped at Jessica and he smiled. “Okay, now mount up.”
The other teams were already waiting at the starting gate. A large scoreboard had been erected, and each team was listed by color and leader name. A time clock ticked away the seconds to the start of the first wave. A team was to set off every four minutes.
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