Changing Leads

by Bonnie Bryant

  She quickly leaned over to adjust her stirrups, shifting her balance in the saddle as Samson pranced energetically and tossed his head. “Ready to get started, fella?” she said, gathering up the reins.

  She clucked to him and rode him toward the schooling ring, pausing just long enough to brush her fingertips over the battered old horseshoe—the lucky horseshoe, as it had been known to generations of riders at Pine Hollow—nailed to the stable wall.

  “Not that I need any more luck,” she murmured, leaning forward to give Samson a pat on the neck. “I’m already the luckiest girl in the world.”

  The horse let out a snort as if agreeing, and Carole laughed.

  “Conceited,” she accused him jokingly. Then she leaned over to open the gate, letting them into the ring.

  She spent the next few minutes warming up, walking, trotting, and cantering, making sure the horse was relaxed and limber at each of the paces. Finally, when she was satisfied that he was ready to get to work, she brought him to a halt and sat back to think for a minute.

  Max had told her a little bit about Samson’s training up to that point. The gelding had entered a number of show-jumping competitions with his previous owner, and Max had decided that Carole might as well continue conditioning him for that kind of event.

  “A horse like Samson is never going to make a good schooling horse, anyway,” Max had said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he and Carole watched the gelding eating his dinner on Sunday night.

  Carole had nodded her agreement. She knew that some horses responded well to a variety of riders and some didn’t. Samson needed a firm hand, but he was capable of a lot with the right rider.

  “Are you thinking about showing Samson yourself?” Carole had asked Max.

  He’d shrugged, his expression unreadable. “We’ll see.”

  Thinking of the possibilities made Carole shiver. With Samson’s talent, there was nothing he couldn’t do, no show he couldn’t enter.

  “Maybe Max is thinking about Colesford,” she whispered to the horse now, patting him once again. She hardly dared to think about that. It was just too exciting. In any case, it was time to get to work.

  She had set up a small jump course in the ring before tacking up. It consisted of three medium fences set in a serpentine pattern. The obstacles weren’t anywhere near as high as those Samson would be likely to encounter in a top-level competition, but Carole wasn’t concerned about that. She knew Samson could clear just about anything. He could probably jump the stable roof if he really wanted to. She was more interested in making sure he would do as he was told, trusting his rider to guide him around the course without questioning it. In show jumping, the difference between a winning ride and an also-ran often came down to a time difference of a few seconds—or fractions of a second. Riders often had to make difficult decisions regarding speed, turns, and angles, doing their best to get their horses through the course quickly but cleanly.

  Because it was only their second day working together, Carole was still taking it easy, simply trying to determine exactly what needed to be done. She took Samson through the course a few times, varying speed and direction. He jumped every fence with ease, seeming perfectly happy to do whatever she asked of him.

  “Your last owner did good,” she said, pulling up at one end of the ring and ruffling his mane. “You’re just as wonderful as you used to be—maybe even more.”

  She smiled, thinking back to the old days, when Samson had been younger and less polished but had already shown signs of brilliance. When Lisa had ridden him in an important show in Pennsylvania, several members of the U.S. Olympic Team had been impressed with the performance—so much so that the girls had been afraid Max would sell him on the spot.

  “Come on, big boy.” She clucked and tugged lightly on the reins to get Samson’s attention. “Time to get back to work.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Carole was riding Samson along the fence at a trot when she saw Ben approaching the ring from the stable building. She brought the horse to a walk and glanced over.

  She bit her lip as he reached the fence and leaned his elbows on it, his eyes following Samson’s every step. What was he doing there? She couldn’t help feeling a bit self-conscious, as she often did when Ben watched her with that thoughtful, penetrating gaze of his.

  “Oh, well,” she whispered, more to herself than to the horse. “I guess I can’t blame him for wanting to see your stuff, Samson. We’ll just have to show him what you can do. Right?”

  With that, she urged the horse back into a trot, then eased him smoothly into a canter as she brought him around to face the fences again. She put him through the course she had mapped out, then stopped him with a flourish just a few steps in front of Ben, who was still leaning on the fence, watching.

  “Hi,” she said, a little breathless from exertion, though Samson himself was hardly blowing at all. “What do you think of him?”

  Ben let his eyes wander slowly from one end of the horse to the other before answering. “Nice,” he said at last. “Good conformation. Good form over those fences, too.”

  Carole smiled, pleased. Coming from anyone else, Ben’s terse words might have seemed like faint praise. But from him, she knew they were a glowing commendation. “Thanks,” she said, fondly patting Samson’s sweaty neck. “I don’t know if Max told you, but he wants me to work with this guy from now on. He’s a terrific jumper, and his sire was a Thoroughbred, so he’s got a lot of natural speed, too. He already won a bunch of prizes as a show jumper.” She realized she might be gushing, but she couldn’t help it. She had to share her excitement with somebody, and Ben was right there, looking interested. “Max hasn’t said so,” she went on. “I mean, you know how he is, doesn’t like to show his hand too soon. But he already said he didn’t plan to use Samson as a school horse, so I bet he’s planning to enter him in some shows, maybe as soon as this winter. I want to make sure he’s as ready as he can be.”

  Ben nodded. “Sounds good. If you want, I could help you out with him. We could map out a detailed schedule to get him into top shape. Like the one we did for Firefly.”

  Carole hesitated. “Maybe,” she said reluctantly. “But not right now. I think I need to spend more time alone with him first. You know—figure out where to go from here, what kind of schedule would work best for him.”

  If Ben was surprised at her response, he didn’t let on. “Fine,” he said, pushing away from the fence. “See you.” He turned and walked quickly back toward the stable, disappearing inside a moment later.

  Carole worriedly watched him go. “I hope he wasn’t mad,” she murmured. He hadn’t looked or sounded angry, but sometimes it was hard to tell with Ben. Carole knew he could be sensitive, and the last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him—especially now that he was being a little more friendly again.

  Maybe he’s finally forgiven me for what happened this summer, she thought absently. But she wasn’t really concentrating on Ben anymore. Her mind had already returned to her plans for Samson.

  “Does your mom prefer plain instant rice or chicken-flavored rice supreme?” Alex asked, staring at the two boxes he was holding.

  Lisa shrugged and pushed the shopping cart a little closer. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Get whichever one’s cheaper. Mom hardly notices what she’s eating these days anyway. I could feed her alfalfa pellets and she probably wouldn’t notice.”

  Alex tossed one of the boxes into the cart and gave Lisa a sympathetic look. “I guess she didn’t cheer up much over the summer, huh?” He turned to replace the rejected box on the shelf beside him.

  “No.” Lisa sighed. “I was hoping that having a couple of months to herself would give her time to think things through, maybe rediscover her own life and finally figure out how to move on.” She shrugged. “Obviously I was wrong. She’s just as bitter and angry as ever—though I think she was really happy to have me back home.”

  Alex reached over and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Well,
I can’t blame her for that. She’s lucky to have you,” he said. “For that matter, so am I.”

  Lisa smiled up at him. “Thanks,” she said. “Now let’s stop talking about my mother. This is supposed to be a date, right?”

  Alex laughed and glanced around the supermarket aisle. A few yards ahead of them, a harried young mother was trying to soothe two yowling toddlers who were doing their best to fling food out of the cart as fast as she put it in. At the far end of the aisle, an elderly couple was arguing over the best brand of canned beans, while a supermarket employee tried to maneuver past them, pushing a cart piled high with rolls of paper towels.

  “Some date,” Lisa said ruefully. “Sorry to drag you along here. But I knew if I didn’t get the shopping done today, Mom and I would be eating crackers and ketchup for dinner tonight.” Since Mrs. Atwood no longer showed much interest in maintaining her now diminished household, Lisa was left with much of the responsibility for the shopping, cooking, and cleaning. Fortunately, Lisa had always been capable and responsible, and she managed to juggle these new duties without letting them infringe on her own life—not much, anyway. Sometimes, like now, she had to be a little bit creative to fit in everything she wanted and needed to do.

  “I understand.” Alex put one hand on the handle of the cart, helping Lisa steer around a stray toddler. “It doesn’t matter. Anyplace we can be together seems like the most romantic place in the world to me. You know that.”

  Lisa just smiled at him again. She knew there was no need to put what she was thinking into words—Alex could read her complete agreement in her eyes. Maybe she wouldn’t have chosen a crowded supermarket as the ideal spot for a date, but that didn’t really matter. What mattered was that they were together.

  That’s what it’s really all about, she told herself. Being with the people you love. She was thinking of Alex, but then her thoughts widened, unbidden, to include Carole and Stevie. And as soon as she thought of them, she remembered Callie. Callie, who always seemed to be around these days. Callie, who was now as much a part of life around Pine Hollow as Lisa herself. Maybe even more …

  “What?” Alex had just looked at her face and noticed her frown. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Lisa tried to laugh it off. But then she thought better of it. Maybe sharing some of her confusing thoughts and feelings about Callie with Alex would help her to sort them out in her own mind. “I was just thinking how friendly everyone has gotten with Callie these past few months.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Alex agreed. “I have to admit, she seemed like kind of a snob at first. But she grows on you.”

  “Uh-huh.” Lisa turned her face away, pretending to scan a shelf full of canned soups.

  She should have known she couldn’t fool Alex that easily. “What?” he demanded, reaching around to grab her gently by the chin. He turned her face back toward him. “Is something wrong? Is there some problem between you and Callie?”

  “Not really.” Lisa chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure out how to explain what she was feeling. “It’s just that … well, it’s weird, that’s all. Coming home and seeing Callie so chummy with people. With Carole and Stevie, especially. It’s kind of hard to get used to.”

  Alex shrugged. “That’s only natural. But remember, she was here all summer. They had plenty of time to get to know her.”

  … while you were away. Lisa finished his sentence in her mind. Why did all their conversations these days seem to circle around to that fact?

  Lisa shook her head. It was turning out to be a lot harder than she had expected to avoid this particular topic. “Never mind,” she said quickly. “Callie and I will be friends before you know it.” She searched for a way to change the subject before Alex started brooding over her time in California and the pleasant mood between them was ruined, or at least tainted. Suddenly she remembered a piece of news she hadn’t shared with him yet. “So did I tell you about what happened when I stopped by Pine Hollow the other day?”

  “You mean Sunday?” Alex shook his head. “You just said you went for a ride.”

  Lisa rolled the cart around the end of the aisle and grabbed a bottle of sale-priced soda. “I did,” she said. “I called ahead and Denise said no one else had signed up to ride Prancer that day.”

  She paused, still surprised at how unfamiliar those words sounded. There had been a time, not that long before, when she hadn’t needed to reserve Prancer. When the mare had almost always been available to her whenever she wanted to go for a ride. When she had almost seemed like Lisa’s own horse.

  Times have changed, Lisa thought with a sigh.

  Not wanting Alex to guess what she was thinking—like everything else these days, this change too could be traced directly to her summer away—she went on. “Anyhow, when I got there, Carole was riding Samson in the main ring,” she said. “I stopped to watch, and when Carole saw me, she came over.”

  “How did Samson look?” Alex asked curiously.

  Lisa smiled. Alex hadn’t had the least bit of interest in horses or Pine Hollow back when Samson had been sold. But he had certainly heard enough about the big black horse over the years—living with Stevie, he had hardly been able to avoid that. “Samson looked great,” Lisa told him. “We’ll have to go over there soon so you can check him out. He looks even bigger and stronger than he did the last time I saw him, and he’s still got all his old fire and spirit.”

  Alex nodded and pointed to a bin full of sponges. “Didn’t you say you needed cleaning stuff?”

  “Thanks.” Lisa added a package of sponges to her cart. “Anyway, let me tell you about the weird part. When Carole heard why I was there, she got this really strange expression on her face.”

  “What kind of expression?”

  Lisa shrugged. “You know Carole,” she said, smiling fondly. “She’s terrible at hiding her emotions, but she thinks she can keep people from guessing what she’s thinking by tucking her lips into her mouth and raising her eyebrows. I think she thinks she looks innocent when she does that.” She shrugged again. “So anyway, she gets that look on her face, and then she tries to convince me to take Firefly—you know, that new gray—out on the trail instead of Prancer.”

  “That’s weird,” Alex said. “Didn’t she try to get you to ride her before?”

  Lisa shook her head. “No. Last time she wanted me to ride Calypso,” she corrected. “And I did, remember? But wait, there’s more. I told Carole to forget it and went inside to get Prancer. I found Max sort of hovering around outside her stall. He started rambling on and on about Barq—how I used to ride him back before I started riding Prancer, how well we always got along together, what a great horse he is, that kind of thing.”

  “Weird,” Alex said again. He kicked absently at the tire of the shopping cart as Lisa stopped in front of a display of breakfast cereals. “So what was that? Just an attack of nostalgia?”

  Lisa sighed and bent down to retrieve a box of cornflakes from the bottom shelf. “Normally I would think so,” she admitted. “But then when I made a move to start getting Prancer ready, he suddenly got all stern and told me I couldn’t ride her that day. No reason, just said she was off-limits for a little while, then looked at his watch and took off before I could ask him anything about it.”

  “That is kind of strange,” Alex admitted. “But Max can be kind of strange sometimes, you know. Anyway, what do you think is going on?”

  Lisa shrugged and kicked at one wheel of the shopping cart, which was doing its best to roll crosswise to the other three. “Probably nothing,” she admitted. “Max has been pretty busy lately, and I haven’t been spending as much time at the stable as I used to, so I’ve barely seen him, let alone chatted with him about how Prancer is doing. For all I know she could be in the middle of some kind of special training program or something.” She bit her lip, not wanting to sound paranoid or whiny. “Still, after what Carole said about riding Firefly …”

  “… you decided there was a co
nspiracy afoot,” Alex finished for her. He chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’s probably nothing, just like you said. Besides, I haven’t been riding there that long, but even I know that Max is always encouraging people to ride as many different horses as possible. Maybe that’s why he stopped by to chat about Barq and all the rest of it—because he thinks you need to branch out more. I mean, isn’t he even making Carole ride Samson now, and Firefly, or whoever else it is she’s supposed to be training? And she’s got her own horse.”

  Lisa knew he was trying to help, but she didn’t think much of his logic, and she said so. “Carole wants to work with horses professionally someday,” she pointed out, heading slowly down the aisle again. “Of course she needs to get experience with as many different horses as she can.” She shrugged. “But I mostly just ride for fun. And I have enough experience to know that I always have the most fun on Prancer.”

  “Hmmm.” Alex looked thoughtful. “Good point.”

  Lisa smiled. One of the many qualities she loved in Alex was his ability to take criticism or contradiction without getting angry or defensive. He didn’t have to be right all the time like so many of the other guys Lisa knew. It made him exceptionally easy to talk to, since she never had to censor what she was thinking. Unless what I’m thinking about has anything to do with those two months in California, a nagging little voice inside her added.

  “Anyhow,” she said, “I checked with Denise and she seemed kind of surprised. She didn’t even know that Prancer was off-limits that day. So she wasn’t really much help. She just told me that if I still wanted to go for a ride, Barq or Comanche or Checkers could use a workout. I took Barq out for a while, but it wasn’t the same.” She shrugged. “Still, if Denise doesn’t know what’s going on with Prancer, I guess it can’t be too serious. I mean, she is the stable manager. Right?”

  Alex shrugged and bent down to replace a fallen box on the shelf they were passing. “Who knows?” he said. “Why don’t you just ask Carole if you’re so worried about it?”