Leaping Hearts

by Ward, J. R.

  “Better eat up, girl,” Chester said. “That stallion a’ yours is goin’ to be a lot to handle today an’ breakfast is the most important meal a’ the day.”

  “Hey, I’ve got to ask,” she said. “How many years have you been eating that same breakfast?”

  “Since fifty-nine.”

  “What’d you have before that?”

  “Bananas.”

  “Just bananas?”

  “Yup.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nope.”

  “You are what you eat,” Devlin offered.

  “Have you always had such odd eating habits?” A.J. inquired.

  “Like to start m’ days off simply,” Chester explained. “Life gets complicated real quick on its own. No need to anticipate chaos with a breakfast a’ confusion.”

  “But you eat spicy things in the afternoon. Those chili dogs I saw you wolfing down at the fairgrounds could melt paint off a car door.”

  “Look, you’re talkin’ to a man who ate white food for m’ first twenty-three years. The tan color a’ peanut butter’s about as far as I like to go in the mornin’ but I’ve got a lot of eatin’ to make up for.”

  “You only ate white food? How’s that possible?”

  “White bread, rice, potatoes, the insid’a apples, spaghetti, chicken, turkey. Although not the dark meat, a’ course. There’s really a lot to choose from.”

  Devlin laughed. “Now, I’ve always thought of poultry as more of a bisque color.”

  “I was willin’ to grant certain leniencies.”

  “Generous of you.”

  “No sense in bein’ rigid.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You’re amazing,” A.J. said.

  “Don’t I know it. Almost seventy an’ in great shape. Ya find something good, ya stick to it.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” Devlin said, nodding at Chester’s bowl. “You’ve been eating out of the same dish here for the past five years.”

  “And a damn fine piece a’ pottery she is.”

  They all laughed.

  When they were finished eating, Devlin disappeared upstairs briefly and Chester leaned across the table toward A.J.

  “You know,” the man said softly, “it really wasn’t the same around here without you.”

  “You don’t have to say that, but thanks.”

  “It’s true. He missed ya somethin’ fierce. Was a god-awful terror. You two belong together.”

  A.J. smiled. “You know, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

  Down at the barn, Sabbath was beside himself with excitement, unable to stand still as A.J. groomed him on the crossties. While Devlin and Chester were out in the ring, dealing with the jumps, she talked to the stallion and was struck by how much she’d missed him.

  When Chester came back inside, he said, “All set for ya out there.”

  “Thanks.” A.J. returned the hoof pick to the groom box. “Say, I notice that loose shoe’s looking really good.”

  “Can’t say the same for the blacksmith. But then, no man’s at his best with a picture of Garfield over one eye.”

  “Come again?”

  “It was on the Band-Aid we gave ’im.”

  “And he needed the first aid because…”

  “Twinkle toes over there decided to reach out an’ touch the guy.”

  “You’re kidding me.” A.J. shot the stallion a glare.

  Sabbath stared back at her, the picture of innocence.

  “Don’t give me that look,” she said to the horse. “When he comes back, you better behave yourself.”

  “He won’t.”

  “Of course he will. I’ll be here to hold his head.”

  “Not the animal—the blacksmith.”

  “Huh?”

  “Man’s not gonna come back.”

  “Ever?”

  “I don’t want to use his exact language, you bein’ a lady an’ all. Let’s just say it’ll be a long time an’ a different horse before he’ll set foot back in this stable.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Wish I was.”

  Devlin came into the barn. “Are we ready to go yet?”

  “Just about,” Chester said as A.J. went to get her saddle and bridle.

  She was muttering something under her breath about meatheaded Thoroughbreds as she went into the tack room. And walked right into a stack of grain bags as tall as she was. She poked her head out into the aisle.

  “What’s all the feed doing in here?”

  “I’ll get your stuff,” Devlin said, marching past her and meeting her inquiring look with one of nonchalance. While he banged and crashed around in the little room, she glanced over to Chester, who rolled his eyes.

  “Let’s just say, things didn’t run so good when you weren’t around.”

  “I guess so,” she murmured, trying not to laugh as Devlin took a header into a pile of blankets.

  “Did you see the truck?” Chester whispered.

  A.J. nodded, covering her smile with a hand as Devlin emerged with his hair messed up and hay hanging off his sweater. He looked like he’d been through a war.

  “You okay there, champ?” Chester asked. “Those there grain bags can be tough when they come atchya in a pack like that.”

  Devlin shot the man a look as he handed the tack over to A.J. “Say what you will. At least the stuff is dry. Now, when you two are finished giggling, you can join me in the ring. I’ll be waiting out there to get started.”

  “He gets so huffy when he’s embarrassed,” Chester remarked after Devlin left. “Always has.”

  “You really shouldn’t tease him.”

  “It’s the only exercise he’s been gettin’ lately.”

  Once the stallion was saddled, A.J. tugged on a pair of gloves to keep her hands warm and accepted a leg up from Chester. Before they even entered the ring, Sabbath started tossing his head and prancing.

  “Let’s get him working on the flat,” Devlin called out as Chester closed the gate behind them. “Before he jumps out of his skin.”

  A.J. nodded. It felt good to have a pair of reins in her hands again but immediately she recognized the pain in her arm. The stallion was strongheaded under the bit and every time he arched his neck forward, she felt like she was getting stabbed in her shoulder. Telling herself the limb only needed to warm up, she set her teeth and struggled not to show the difficulty she was having.

  As A.J. and the stallion approached the center of the ring for a gait change, Sabbath caught sight of the water jump. Rearing in protest, he stopped short. It took all of her patience and control to get him to trot past and he did so reluctantly, all the while looking as if something were going to pop out and get him. Up on his back, she realized they had a big problem.

  Devlin called out, “For now, let’s steer clear of the water. We’ll all feel better after he calms down a little.”

  A.J. nodded and continued to work the stallion on the flat, staying at the rail. When Devlin and she decided it was time, she took Sabbath over some smaller fences. He was energetic and strong but not as interested in a good battle as he usually was. Even when they tried a combination of jumps, the stallion responded well, biting into the corners and accelerating like a slingshot into the straightaways when she asked him to.

  It would have been one hell of a training session, if it hadn’t been for all the pain she was in.

  After an hour, Devlin called them over.

  “Now, that’s what I call jumping!” he said. And then sensed there was a problem. “A.J., what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she answered with a forced smile. Her arm was throbbing to the beat of her heart and she felt queasy. “Should we go through the round again?”

  “No,” he said slowly. His eyes were measuring her intensely. “You sure everything’s okay?”

  “Absolutely. I think we should do it again.”

  He shook his head. “That’s enough for his first day back.”

 
; Nodding, A.J. tried to keep her relief to herself as she took Sabbath out to the rail and cooled him down. When the stallion was ready to go in, she walked him over to Devlin, who was waiting by the gate. Aware she was being watched closely, she dismounted as smoothly as she could and led the stallion back to the barn, careful to put her good hand on the reins.

  12

  AS SOON as A.J. had Sabbath secured on the crossties, she told Chester and Devlin she needed to run up to the house for a minute. Devlin was tempted to follow but didn’t want to seem overbearing. Settling himself against the barn door, he began to write out his notes but he couldn’t get far because his mind was on A.J. About twenty minutes later, she came back looking more like herself.

  “I think I know how to get him over it,” she said as she went over to the stallion. Chester had finished grooming him and his coat shone like black ink.

  Devlin looked at her blankly. His mind was still dwelling on how pale and shaky she’d looked coming off the course.

  “The water jump,” she prompted.

  “Oh, yeah. What’s the plan?”

  “Y’re gonna teach ’im to swim?” Chester quipped, throwing a blanket across Sabbath’s back.

  “Just about. It’s the same way we got my cousin to go on airplanes. Well, almost got her on planes.”

  “Drugs?” Devlin asked.

  “Exposure over time. We shipped her off to a boot camp for people with a fear of flying. They actually managed to get her on a plane.”

  “So she flies now?”

  “Well, not exactly. But she did sit in one for twenty minutes before they had to give her a paper bag to breathe into.” A.J. frowned. “Maybe this isn’t the best example.”

  “I think we should give it a go,” Devlin said. “Desensitization works with humans and animals. It’s a good idea.”

  Pleased, A.J. took Sabbath off the crossties. “Then it looks like we’re going back into the ring, champ.”

  She led him out of the barn, carrying her injured arm close to her body so the stallion wouldn’t knock it as he craned his head around. The pills Dr. Ridley had prescribed for her, which she’d taken back at the farmhouse, had gone to work and given her some relief from the pain. Unfortunately, they also made her feel a little spacey, so she decided to stick to over-the-counters in the future.

  Anyway, it’ll feel better tomorrow, she told herself. She probably wouldn’t need to take anything else.

  Devlin opened the gate for them and she led the stallion into the center of the ring, halting some distance from the jump. Sabbath eyed the water nervously. After she gave him a moment to adjust, she walked him closer while speaking in soft tones, but he balked. Craning his neck away, his eyes began rolling wildly and his hindquarters seized with power. Digging into the loose dirt, he refused to get less than a couple yards away from the water.

  With two thousand pounds working against her, A.J. had to relent and she led him away, only to circle back and approach the jump again. They did this a number of times, getting closer to the water at each pass. All the while, she was calm and focused on the horse, trying to manage his fear, working with him patiently. When Sabbath would get really antsy, she’d give him a break and walk him over to Devlin, who’d offer them encouragement. By the end of the session, the stallion was looking to A.J. when he would get scared, drawing strength from her calm, soothing voice.

  Later, after they’d returned to the stable, A.J. found herself deep in thought. She felt a little better knowing they had a plan for getting Sabbath acclimated to water. It was another issue whether or not it worked but at least they had a direction.

  What was really on her mind was Devlin.

  While they’d been in the ring jumping, he’d obviously picked up on her discomfort and been worried by it. His concern for her had been in his face, in his words, in the intense scrutiny he gave every movement she made. When he’d asked, she should have told him how she was really feeling. Instead, she’d flat-out lied to him.

  But what could she do? If his expression was anything to go by, his first concern was for her and not the Qualifier. And she loved him for that. The trouble was, they needed to train. Considering how he’d reacted to her accident, she figured if he knew how much pain she was in, he’d probably demand she take more time off. They’d already lost a week. The stallion came unglued at the mere sight of water. And time was running out.

  The last thing she wanted was to pull out of the Qualifier, especially after announcing to everyone she was entering Sabbath in the event. With all the attention paid to her buying him and leaving her family’s stables, walking away from the competition would be a public pronouncement that she couldn’t handle the horse. That everyone had been right and she’d been wrong. That she couldn’t go the distance and meet her goals.

  But there was more to her determination than just a fear of being embarrassed. Now that she was on her own for the first time, she was eager to prove she could make it independently. She wanted people to know that she wasn’t just a figment of her father’s money, that she was talented and could compete at the highest levels. She was convinced that turning around the stallion no one else could handle, and taking him into the ring at the Qualifier, would establish her as a serious competitor in the sport she loved. It would put her career on the track she wanted it to be on. Hell, if they did well, she could be on her way to a spot on the Olympic team.

  One thing was clear. If they missed any more days of training because of her arm, she’d be forced to give up. Given the stallion’s reaction to water, and the fact that he still needed a lot of work over fences, they had to press on. Every second in the ring was critical and she was determined not to let up just because her body hurt. Besides, it would probably feel fine in the morning.

  Going over to Sabbath, who’d been resting in his stall, she stroked his muzzle. She told herself that she was just being an alarmist about her arm. She was coming back from an injury and she should have expected to be sore the first day. It didn’t mean that she was going to have continuing problems with it.

  With a hiss and a boil, the automatic water system kicked in and sent a stream into Sabbath’s trough. The stallion flicked his ears nervously and edged his body away from it.

  “I wonder why you’re so afraid,” A.J. said aloud.

  Chester, who’d started moving grain bags out of the tack room, answered for the horse. “Probably saw Jaws as a young colt an’ never got over it.”

  A.J. smiled softly. “I think it’s more than that.”

  “Well, that movie sure made a big impression on me,” the man said, coming out with another bag of grain. He dumped it in the wheelbarrow he’d parked in the aisle and rolled the heavy load into a vacant stall, talking as he went. “Haven’t been swimming since. Even in fresh water.”

  With a light laugh, A.J. scratched the special spot under the stallion’s chin that made him go limp with pleasure.

  There was something lurking behind his phobia; she was sure of it. He was a bad boy, prone to fits of showing off and random acts of playful mischief, but his expression when confronting that water jump was different. She knew naked fear when she saw it, in humans and animals.

  “Any chance you’re daydreaming about me?” Devlin whispered into her ear.

  She gasped. For a big man, he could move as quietly as a breeze.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He wrapped his arms around her and she relaxed against his body.

  “You can come up behind me anytime,” she murmured, rubbing her hips against his. His groan of need was satisfying.

  Suddenly, there was a crash in the adjoining stall. Sabbath let out a shriek as A.J. and Devlin rushed toward the sound.

  They found Chester facedown next to the wheelbarrow.

  “Chester!” A.J. gasped.

  She and Devlin crouched over the man, who was mumbling incoherently and clutching his chest.

  “I’ll call the ambulance,” Devlin said, and ran out.

  A.J. t
ook the stricken man’s hand, feeling for his pulse. It was erratic and fast.

  “M’ chest feels on fire,” he gasped.

  “Breathe slowly with me,” she instructed, watching for signs that he was losing consciousness.

  “Help’s on the way,” Devlin said as he came back in. “Just hang on.”

  The wait for the medics was interminable. A.J. and Devlin communicated through long, desperate looks, traded over Chester’s suffering. Marked by murmurs of support and the man’s rasping breath, the minutes drifted by far too slowly considering the urgency of the situation. When sirens were finally heard, Devlin got up and ran outside, directing the paramedics inside the barn.

  The two women entered briskly and cracked open their orange-and-white tackle boxes to reveal medical instruments that made A.J. shudder. As the medics went to work, she and Devlin stepped back, holding on to each other while they watched. Moving quickly, the women spoke in a foreign language of medical terms while trading plastic tubing and needles and, as soon as Chester was stabilized, they loaded him into the back of the ambulance. Devlin rode along and A.J. followed in her car.

  Once she got to the hospital, she parked and ran into the emergency room, finding Devlin right away. He took her into his arms.

  “How’s he doing?” she asked against his shoulder.

  “They’ll know more in a little while. All we can do is wait.”

  “Did you call his family?”

  “I left a message with his closest relative but she lives in another state. I’m all he has.” Devlin’s features were pale and tight with worry but his eyes were clear.

  “I can’t imagine going through this without you,” he told her.

  “I’m glad I can be here,” she said softly.

  He led her into a sparse waiting room and they took up a vigil on plastic thrones of worry. Besides a fleet of ugly orange chairs, the only other furniture around were a couple of exhausted-looking tables. Their chipped, laminated tops, done in a repeating fake wood grain, were covered by dog-eared copies of popular magazines. In the far corner, there was a vending machine and hanging from the ceiling was an old TV that had a black-and-white picture but no sound. On it, soap-opera characters were emoting to one another with mute intensity.