Leaping Hearts

by Ward, J. R.

  That thought must have dawned on the stallion because, in the nick of time, he came about and shifted direction like a gale-force wind. It was too much, too late. They took the first oxer wide and scaled its mammoth girth at a thick angle. This meant they had to cover more horizontal distance than they would have if they’d approached the jump head-on.

  A.J. heard his back hoof strike a rail hard but didn’t have time to dwell on whether it hit the ground. They were so far off course, she’d have to steer them hard right so they didn’t make the second jump harder than it was, or worse, miss it altogether. Even more alarming, she had only one stride to correct their direction. She knew if she leaned too far or pulled his head too much, they’d take the jump off-balance, and that wouldn’t just be bad form; it was dangerous. They could both end up sprawling over the towering fence and, between their speed and its height, that could mean serious injury.

  In a split second, it occurred to her the only way they were going to get over the oxer without getting hurt was if she let go and gave him his head. If Sabbath wanted to take the jump, he would. If he shot around the side of the oxer, it was better than her face-planting in the dirt, bouncing off the oxer or him injuring himself.

  As soon as she loosened her hold on his head, Sabbath responded with a quick jab to the right. They sailed over the jump but lacked the good approach that would have let them clear it cleanly. As they landed, she heard the unmistakable sound of a rail hitting the ground.

  Crossing the finish line, A.J. felt a measure of relief. The round hadn’t gone well but it wasn’t a complete disaster, either. Considering that Sabbath was prone to be more trouble than just being genetically disobedient, she figured she’d gotten off pretty easily.

  But they hadn’t won. Not even close.

  The announcer proclaimed their time and their eight faults. With Philippe’s clean round and the other riders who had only four-faulted, she knew they weren’t going to place.

  Devlin was the only person she saw in the crowd.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, walking up to them. He took the reins to give her a break.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  He thought she looked discouraged and he sympathized. It had been an exhausting round for him to watch. He’d tracked every movement of the pair, willing them to clear each of the fences cleanly, his hands clenching and unclenching each time they left the earth and returned to it. He’d been caught up in the drama with the rest of the crowd but the stress had been compounded by a very special concern for her.

  “You did a good job.”

  A.J. tugged her helmet off. “Considering the potential for complete chaos, I suppose so.”

  Devlin knew just what she was feeling. She’d been born with a competitor’s need to win and, like the color of her eyes, it was immutable. Even though she and the stallion weren’t ready to take an event trophy yet, he could feel her disappointment at not winning as if it were his own.

  A.J. dismounted and they were walking Sabbath away from the ring when the final competitor finished and his results were read over the loudspeaker. As they headed back to the practice ring to walk the stallion out, the silence between them was filled by the noise of the crowd and then, shortly thereafter, the proclamation that Philippe Marceau had won.

  After Sabbath had been cooled down, and Chester went to work grooming him, A.J. took a break and went over to the various booths where tack and riding apparel were being sold. As she meandered through the velvet hats and leather boots, breathing in the smell of fresh leather spiced with a whiff of the barbecue being started for lunch, she ran the round over and over in her head. The stallion’s actions and her responses. The way he’d felt over one jump and another. The battle into that final turn. The stallion’s abrupt choice to take that oxer after she’d given him his head.

  A.J. knew Sabbath wanted to jump. That was what she’d learned again when she’d loosened the reins and left the choosing up to him. His abrupt correction, which she couldn’t have pried out of him by fighting in that short amount of space, told her he wanted to feel the clean air over those fences as badly as she did.

  The revelation troubled her. It meant he was fighting her for the sake of fighting and that was a bad sign. Locked in a battle for control, he seemed to value the warring over his instincts to fly. And that would put an end to her ambitions for them as sure as more of those rails bouncing off the dirt.

  A.J. was about to return to the trailer when she overheard two competitors talking.

  “No wonder they call that holy terror Sabbath,” one was saying. “That horse’ll put the fear of God right in you.”

  “He fought her tooth and nail,” the man’s companion agreed. “Every single jump. That woman’s got to have arms of steel.”

  “At least he didn’t fly off into the crowd. You hear what happened at Oak Bluffs?” Both men laughed.

  “I sure did,” the one said. “Even took a few steps back when they came around that last corner. I thought they were bound for the parking lot.”

  “Can you believe she left Sutherland’s for that kind of trouble?”

  “I don’t think the horse is the only reason.” The voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “McCloud’s no dummy. He may be out of the horse business but he knows a good-looking filly when he sees one. That leg of his is rusty but I’ll bet the rest of him is in working order, if you know what I mean.”

  A.J. paled.

  “Well, at least she’s out of commission. The woman’s no threat on the circuit as long as she’s on the back of that bad-tempered show-off.”

  “Bulls for her. She’d shown some promise.”

  As the two left the tent, A.J. stood in stunned disbelief, feeling like she’d had cold water poured over her. She’d felt capable of standing up to curious looks and handling the vague idea that people were talking about her. She’d even resolved to ignore Marceau’s nasty commentary on the basis of his unpleasant disposition. But hearing firsthand such insinuations, from run-of-the-mill competitors, was different.

  Walking through the crowd back to the trailer, she couldn’t imagine being in a worse state of mind. She’d set an impossible goal, on a ridiculous timeline, and any progress she’d made could have been measured in inches, not feet. Her name was the favorite bone of the gossip hounds and her own horse was treating her like the enemy in the ring.

  To top it all off, she thought she might be falling in love with her trainer.

  How could things be worse?

  Then she saw Peter and her father standing nose to nose with Devlin. She looked up at the sky in exasperation.

  “That was a rhetorical question,” she said out loud. “I wasn’t really looking for a demonstration.”

  7

  THE THREE men were a tight knot of tension. Devlin, standing head and shoulders above the other two, was grim. Garrett wore the expression of someone in gastric distress. Peter looked offended and irate.

  And people think a coven of witches is a sign of trouble, A.J. thought.

  As she passed Chester and the stallion, who were standing at the back of the trailer, she raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

  “Don’t look at us,” Chester said. “For once, Sabbath’s been behaving in public and I was born in Switzerland.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You’re clearly taking advantage of her,” Peter said in a loud voice.

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Devlin retorted. “I’m her trainer, not her lover.”

  “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

  A.J. interjected, “If you’re wasting time speculating on that, you’re not too bright.”

  Her stepbrother wheeled around and she got a full view of the outfit. It was a tailored black suit with a yellow tie and shirt. He looked like a cartoon character, drawn in colors too bold for real life.

  “You and McCloud are ruining our reputation,” Peter pronounced. “I won’t stand for it.”

  “And
how exactly are we doing that?”

  “A newspaper reporter just came up to your father and me and demanded to know how long you two have been together.”

  “So? He’s been my trainer for almost three weeks.”

  “We’re not talking about jumping horses, A.J. He says he has an intimate picture of you two.”

  “What!”

  “You heard me.”

  “Wait a minute.” A.J. was shaking her head. “I don’t understand—”

  Garrett asked, “Are you really living with him?”

  She turned and met her father’s distressed eyes. “Yes, and sleeping on his couch. It’s easier for me to train that way and Devlin has been more than accommodating.”

  “I bet he has,” Peter said.

  “Don’t be so insulting,” she bit out.

  “I think you should come home immediately,” her father said. “It’s better for everyone that way.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  Peter snorted. “And you think staying with this guy is a better option? It’s hardly becoming to be involved with your trainer.”

  “We are not involved! And I don’t know anything about a picture.”

  “Well, then I guess all of us can be surprised at what’s going to be in the paper tomorrow morning.”

  Her father cut through their heated volley. “Please keep your voices down.”

  “But he doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

  “And you don’t know what you’re doing,” Peter countered.

  Garrett’s eyes implored her. “Darling, I want you to come home.”

  “And what am I going to do with my stallion?”

  “If you come back, Sabbath will be welcome at the stables.”

  “No, he won’t,” Peter cut in. “When I said I’d never allow that beast on Sutherland soil, I meant it. If she insists on keeping that animal, the least she can do is behave respectfully and stop shacking up with this limping has-been.”

  A.J. gasped and watched as Devlin, who had been silent, closed the distance between himself and Peter. Her stepbrother’s response was priceless. He looked like someone who’d stepped into the path of an avalanche.

  “I’m going to do you a favor,” Devlin growled, “and forget you ever said that.” Turning to A.J. and her father, he continued with a disarming softness. “I think this argument is best left between family members. However astounding it is to witness the collective wisdom of the Sutherlands, I’d rather do something more constructive. Like watch paint dry.”

  He turned and began walking away.

  A.J. immediately went after him, reaching out and taking his arm. “I’m sorry he’s such a—”

  Devlin carefully removed her hand. “I think you better settle this with your family first. Then we can deal with what’s going on between you and me.”

  After he’d dissolved into the crowd, A.J. wheeled on her stepbrother.

  “If I didn’t think he’d give you a shiner that would clash with your Day-Glo tie, I’d demand you go and apologize.”

  “After the trouble he’s caused, I wouldn’t spare the breath.”

  “Trouble? That man has done everything to help me after my own family pushed me out the door, and you just had the good graces to insult his character as well as his physical condition.”

  Peter’s hand slashed through the air with anger. “Spare me the Scarlett O’Hara, kindness-of-strangers drivel. Thanks to your antics, the Sutherland name is on everyone’s lips and not in a good way. You’re an embarrassment to the family, and if it weren’t for the fact that your lunacy is making me look like a hero for kicking you out, I’d really be upset.”

  “First of all, it was Blanche DuBois who said that. And exactly what kind of trouble are we causing the stables?”

  A.J.’s father jumped in. “Peter is just concerned that all the speculation could hurt business. People don’t want to be associated with a farm that’s considered controversial.”

  “I am not affiliated with Sutherland’s anymore.”

  “But you’re going to want to come back,” Peter interjected, glancing over at Chester and Sabbath, who were still standing by the McCloud trailer. “How long are you going to be satisfied being with a boutique stable? How long until you want a new piece of equipment that costs more than most people’s houses? What’s going to happen when that trainer of yours can’t cut the checks to keep you interested?”

  “You bastard.”

  Garrett stepped between them. “Peter, why don’t you head back to the car? I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Fine,” he spat. “Just don’t expect her to be reasonable. I don’t have the patience to wait that long.”

  After Peter marched off, Garrett took her hands in his.

  “Arlington, I know this is difficult for you and I’m sorry. But Peter has a good point.”

  “Peter’s had a lot of good points lately, hasn’t he?”

  “I know he can go too far but so can you sometimes. I just want us together as a family. I want you to come home.”

  “I can’t do that. Not now. Maybe not ever.” Her father looked like his heart was breaking so A.J. squeezed his hands with as much reassurance as she could muster. “I can’t go on living with my daddy forever. This break with the stables…I think it happened for a good reason and at the right time.”

  “I worry about you.”

  “I know. But I’m happy right now. I really am. I love that horse and I think I can make a difference with him. I’m anxious, scared and thrilled all at the same time. I’m alive. Even though I miss you, it feels good to be out on my own.”

  “Believe me, I’m grateful that you’re fulfilled,” he said carefully. “Still, I have to ask. Are the rumors true? About you and…”

  A.J. shook her head, meeting him square in the eye.

  He released his breath. “I didn’t think so.”

  But he was lying. She could tell because the relief in his voice was fresh.

  “Even if we were,” she asked, “why would that be so wrong?”

  “He’s your trainer.”

  “So?”

  “Well, he’s not…”

  “One of us? Are those the words you’re looking for?”

  “No, not at all. It’s just that his background is very different from yours.”

  As much as she loved him, A.J. lost her patience.

  “Look, I’ve got to get the stallion back to the stable. I need to get him ready for the trip.”

  “Arlington, please don’t turn your back on your family.”

  “I don’t feel like I’m the one doing that.”

  As she turned to go, he halted her with a request.

  “I want you to come to my birthday celebration. It’s in two weeks. It wouldn’t be the same without you,” he insisted.

  She swallowed a wave of frustration. It was the last thing she wanted to do but how could she say no?

  “All right.”

  “Thank you.”

  She went back to him and they hugged stiffly.

  “I love you,” he said to her. “Please remember that.”

  “It’s hard sometimes. I feel like you don’t understand me.”

  “But I will always try. You know that, don’t you?”

  A.J. looked deeply into his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I think I do.”

  With an awkward wave, she walked over to Chester.

  “Where is he?”

  The man shrugged. “Just disappeared into the crowd.”

  Unsettled, A.J. changed back into her barn clothes and helped Chester pack up. The two worked in silence until there was nothing left to hang, fold or tie down. When everything was arranged, she was stuck with nothing to occupy her while they waited for Devlin’s return. She filled the free time composing an explanation and apology for the family dynamic he’d witnessed but it was far from a relaxing distraction. She’d have much preferred cleaning something but had the feeling Chester was going to scream if she reorganized the b
rushes in the grooming kit one more time.

  A while later, Chester’s stomach began to growl and she volunteered to stay behind while he went in search of food. After he wandered off, she sat down on the back lip of the trailer bumper, the metal cold through the seat of her jeans. Sabbath, still moored at the side of the ramp, came over to her, his muzzle soft against her skin as he breathed on her neck.

  “You’re an unreliable ally but I appreciate the concern.” Slipping her arm under his neck, she gave him a stout pat. “And you’re surprisingly sympathetic.”

  They huddled together, the sunlight of fall battling an early gust of winter wind and winning. Above, a wide, clear sky went on forever, the seamless expanse of space tinted a safe, reassuring blue.

  She was worried what Devlin was thinking. About her family. About herself. Most of all, about the two of them.

  And then there was that nonsense about a reporter. She groaned as she tried to imagine the kinds of lies the story might contain. The last thing she wanted was more attention on her work with the stallion and she knew Devlin hated publicity, particularly of the personal variety. And, being confronted with it for the first time herself, she couldn’t say she cared for it, either.

  Why was everything hitting at once? It seemed like events were conspiring to pull Devlin and her apart when all she wanted was for them to be closer. In fact, she realized with clarity, what she really wanted was for them to be lovers. And to hell with everything and everyone else.

  When there was a shuffle of leaves created by footsteps instead of wind, she looked up to find Devlin standing in front of her.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello.” He ran a hand down Sabbath’s neck.

  “So how was the paint?”

  His look was confused.

  “You know, the whole paint drying thing.” She was shooting for levity and missed.

  “Sorry about that crack.”

  “Well, considering how far out of line Peter was, I don’t blame you.”