Long Shot

by D. Jackson Leigh

  Leah watched and charted the information on each horse as Tory meticulously checked heart rates, listened to lungs, peered into eyes, ears, and mouths, and studied legs and feet. Then she handed over the vaccination shots she kept prepared. Leah was amazed at Tory’s lightning reflexes. She could administer an injection so quickly, the horse barely had time to react before it was over.

  It took two beefy firemen to drag over a stubborn little pinto mare who could have easily been the direct descendant of the famous Misty. The mare stood rigidly and glared at Tory throughout the examination.

  When Tory bent to examine her hooves, the mare kicked out, narrowly missing her shin.

  The little horse vainly struggled against the men’s tight hold on her, but still refused to let Tory examine her hooves. Leah could see the terror in her eyes at being restrained, and couldn’t bear to watch it any longer.

  “Wait,” she ordered, handing her chart and syringes to one of the firemen. “She’s just afraid, aren’t you, sugar.” She approached the mare slowly, crooning to her. She stroked the mare’s neck and took the lead rope from the fireman, nudging him out of the way. She continued talking and stroking until the mare began to relax. Her head dropped lower and her ears twitched forward to catch the soft cadence of Leah’s voice. “Now, try her feet,” she said, careful not to change her tone.

  The mare stiffened again at Tory’s touch on her leg. “No, sugar, Tory won’t hurt you. She just wants to look at your feet,” Leah crooned.

  The mare relaxed her leg and allowed Tory to lift it to examine the bottom of her foot. They went slowly, hoof by hoof, with Tory taking extra time on one of the front feet.

  “Put this one in the auction pen,” Tory instructed the men when she was finished.

  “You sure, Doc?” It was an unspoken rule that any mares appearing to carry the Misty gene should be kept with the herd for breeding.

  “Yeah. See that front foot?” Leah stared at the hoof Tory pointed out to the man. It was a bit oddly shaped, but looked otherwise okay. “This horse carries the gene for a club foot. Hers isn’t bad, but you wouldn’t want her to pass that gene along in the herd. You’d run the risk of a badly crippled foal or two.”

  Leah watched them lead her away. “So what’s going to happen to her now?”

  “Somebody will buy her for their kid and she’ll live the cushy life that her ancestor Misty did.”

  “Will her foot be a problem?”

  “Nah. She’ll be fine. A good farrier can trim it so it doesn’t give her any trouble.”

  Tory pulled off her ball cap and ran her fingers through her sweaty hair. “That was the last one. Are you hungry? We can walk over to the carnival. There are lots of food booths with just about anything you want to eat.”

  Leah was hungry. Tired and dirty, but very hungry. “That sounds like a great idea to me. After that, I want to be the first one to get a long hot shower.”

  Tory laughed. “Only if you beat me to it.”

  *

  After they ate and showered, they fell into bed and went promptly to sleep. Unlike the night before, they didn’t toss and turn from sexual frustration.

  They dressed and ate quickly the next morning so they could beat the crowds to the eight o’clock auction. Still, the area teemed with people staking a claim in the limited bleacher seating.

  Tory was waved through to park her veterinary truck in a huge lot where horse trailers waited to haul away the purchased ponies. She pointed out that a few of the really large trailers belonged to professional haulers who would deliver a pony to its new home for a fee. A grizzled older man stood next to a trailer that touted Ride a Real Chincoteague Pony and had the metal rigging strapped to the top that would assemble into a giant wheel, the kind that ponies were hooked into at the fair so they walked in circles for hours with children clinging to their backs.

  The auctioneer’s nonstop chant blared over the loudspeaker, and people crowded around and hung over the four-foot chain-link fence of the small enclosure where the horses were brought one by one for bidding. Almost all of those auctioned were yearlings or younger. Only a few older horses were brought up to be sold.

  When Leah’s mare was dragged in, she reared and rolled her eyes in fear. The announcer dutifully noted her club foot and cautioned that she should not be bred. He started the bidding at $3,000, but nobody took the offer.

  The mare bucked and planted her feet, refusing to be led around the paddock. The auctioneer dropped the price to $2,500, but there were still no takers.

  “Come on, folks, with a little work, this mare would make a good riding horse.”

  He dropped the price to $1,500.

  Tory could feel Leah shifting restlessly at her side.

  “What if nobody takes her? What will happen to her?” Leah finally asked.

  “Somebody will take her,” Tory reassured her. “They’re just waiting for the price to drop. Some go for less than five hundred dollars.”

  “All right, folks, somebody make me an offer for this little Misty look-alike.”

  The pony ride man held up five fingers.

  “Now we’re talking,” the announcer encouraged. “I have five hundred, do I hear seven?”

  “Tory, that’s the pony man. We can’t let him buy her.”

  “He’s here every year, but he never pays over twelve hundred. Somebody else will outbid him,” she said. Christ, I hope somebody does.

  “That’s five hundred going once, going—”

  Leah’s hand shot up.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not going to let him have her.”

  “Leah—”

  “I’ve got seven hundred, do I hear eight hundred?”

  The pony man raised his hand.

  “Eight hundred dollars, do I hear nine hundred?”

  Tory grabbed and held Leah’s right hand, so she flung her left hand up to signal a bid.

  “Folks, I’ve got nine hundred dollars from the little lady in the Dixie Chick cap. Do I hear a thousand?”

  The pony man glared at Leah and lifted his hand.

  “One thousand dollars, do I hear eleven hundred? How about it, Dixie Chick?”

  Tory grabbed both of Leah’s hands and shook her head at the announcer.

  “One thousand, going, going, one thousand dollars to the man in the blue jacket.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Leah spat, pushing Tory away from her.

  “What were you doing?”

  “We have twenty-five hundred.”

  “Half of that is mine.”

  “You said he never bids over twelve hundred. I still could have outbid him.”

  “Yeah, and then what? Did you forget that you’re planning to sell your grandmother’s farm? You already have to find a home for the three horses there now.”

  Tory watched as the fury on Leah’s face changed to defeat. She reached out to pull her into a hug, but Leah wheeled and disappeared into the crowd. Tory started after her, but the crowd was thick and she quickly lost sight of the Dixie Chick ball cap.

  “Christ almighty.” Tory headed back to the truck, hoping Leah would return there once she cooled off.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tory waited at the truck for most of the afternoon, the wounded look on Leah’s face burned into her brain. She felt so sick with guilt that she wanted to throw up. She had to do something to make this right.

  She combed the carnival area but found no sign of her. The crowds were thinning as the tourists loaded up and headed off the island. Deciding to leave the truck where it was parked in case Leah returned, Tory caught a shuttle back to the bed-and-breakfast. But Leah hadn’t been there either.

  She took the shuttle to the beach where the returning ponies were getting ready for the swim back to Assateague. The crowds were still thick there, and she talked an old guy into letting her stand on top of his battered pickup so she could scan for Leah’s cap. Still no luck.

  Growing desperate as the sun
sank lower in the sky, Tory jogged down to the jetty where they had talked the first night. Relief flooded her when she spotted a slender silhouette in the fading light, sitting on their boulder. It was definitely a woman.

  “Leah…”

  The person turned toward Tory and she could see it wasn’t Leah. Her heart fell.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I thought you were someone else.”

  She walked slowly back to the shuttle stop and boarded a bus to the holding pens. She didn’t know whether to stay there all night or go back to their room and hope Leah turned up. She was about to unlock the truck when a slight movement caught her eye.

  The mare stood in the corner of a temporary enclosure, nostrils flared to suck in the salty breeze as she stared longingly out over the sea channel. Leah stood close by, a shadowy figure in the soft light of the rising moon.

  Tory approached slowly. The iron railing of the pen was cool when she laid her hand on it. The shadows hid Leah’s face when she spoke.

  “She had everything going for her—a life of freedom, the shelter of the herd. As much as she looks like the original Misty, she must have thought she was golden. She would never be cut from the herd. Then she finds out she isn’t perfect. Suddenly her world is upside down. Her future isn’t open pastures full of sea grass, but a noisy fairground where she’ll be forced to walk in a circle hour after hour, carrying squealing children on her back.”

  “Leah…”

  When Leah looked up, the moonlight illuminated the tears tracking down her cheeks. “I grew up with my parents constantly telling me I was doing everything wrong, but when I started working as a reporter, people said I did everything right. I was the golden child. I worked my ass off to get on the investigative team. Do you know how long some reporters struggle to reach that level? Most never do get there. But I was golden. Then the economy went to hell, and the next thing I know, I’m standing on the street corner with a severance check in my hand.

  “I go home to tell my girlfriend, and she ditches me like a bad habit. So I run to the only other refuge I’ve ever had in my life, my grandmother. But even she’s checking out on me.”

  Tory pulled Leah into her arms and held her tight while she sobbed.

  “You were right about buying the mare. I don’t know what to do with Gram. I don’t know what to do about me. I’ve always had a plan, Tory. Then one day I wake up without one. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do. I sure as hell don’t know what I’d do with another horse, no matter how badly I want to rescue her.”

  Tory stroked Leah’s back and kissed the top of her head. “Shh. It’ll be okay. I’ve been looking for you to tell you something.”

  Leah sniffed for a moment. “What?”

  “I used our cash to buy her from the pony man. He made a thousand-dollar profit in just a few hours, and I had just enough left over to have her shipped to the equestrian center.”

  Leah looked up, hope flooding her eyes. “Jess’s farm?”

  “Skyler’s a great trainer. I’ll talk her into making the mare into a schooling pony. She’ll still have to haul kids around, but they’ll be well supervised and she’ll have plenty of pasture time with lots of horse friends.”

  “You are so damn sweet.”

  Leah pulled Tory’s head down. Her lips were hot on Tory’s, her tongue seeking. She tasted like the powdered sugar the carnival vendors sprinkled on the funnel cakes. When Leah pulled back and rested her cheek on Tory’s chest again, Tory was sure she would feel the hardness of her nipples, the frantic thumping of her heart.

  “I’m so tired, Tory,” Leah said softly. “Will you do one more thing for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Will you take me back to our room and hold me tonight?”

  “All night.”

  *

  They didn’t speak as they readied for bed. It was still early, but the emotions of the day had left them as exhausted as their physical labors had the previous one.

  When Leah emerged from the bathroom in a soft nightshirt, Tory had already pulled on the boxers and T-shirt she’d been sleeping in.

  When Tory held the covers up for Leah, she went willingly into the warm shelter of Tory’s arms, their legs tangling together as she snuggled against Tory’s side and nestled her head in the well of Tory’s shoulder.

  “Something about you makes me feel so safe,” Leah whispered Tory kissed the top of her head. “My mother told me that sometimes all you need to find peace is to feel another heart beating along with yours.”

  It was the last thing Leah remembered before she dropped off to sleep, her heart beating in perfect synch with Tory’s.

  *

  They had been asleep only about two hours because the clock read half past twelve. High and full, the moon poured so much light into their room Tory wondered if that was what woke her.

  Then she shifted, suddenly aware of the wetness, the throbbing between her legs, the warm hand that had found its way under her T-shirt, and the soft fingertips brushing against her painfully hard nipple. She looked down and into Leah’s eyes, dark liquid pools that made her want to drown herself.

  “Make love to me, Tory,” Leah said softly.

  It was a bad idea. It was the wrong thing to do. “Leah—”

  “Please, Tory.”

  God help her. She was powerless to resist. She pulled them both into a sitting position, then yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Tory gave Leah a moment to stare at her small, high breasts and tight bands of abdominal muscles. Then she gently lifted Leah’s nightshirt.

  She was exquisite. Where Tory was muscled, Leah was lean, but soft, so soft, and smooth.

  Tory brushed her lips against Leah’s, pressing her down to the bed. They moaned as their breasts barely met, nipples touching, caressing. The moments flowed like poured honey as they explored each other thoroughly, tongues swirling, mouths sucking, teeth nipping.

  Tory combed through Leah’s silky hair and traced the outline of Leah’s delicate ear with her tongue, then moved to the slender throat she’d been dying to taste for the past three days. While she kissed her way across the sculpted collarbone, she reached down and shed her boxer shorts, then shifted to a kneeling position between Leah’s legs.

  She paused to confirm the heat, the desire still burning in Leah’s eyes, and removed the black lace panties that were the last barrier between them.

  Leah pulled her back down for another deep kiss. Her lips moved to Tory’s breasts, her nails scraped along Tory’s back, her heels dug into Tory’s thighs, and her wetness coated Tory’s stomach.

  Desire, hot and consuming, thrummed through Tory, but she was determined to take her time. She tasted every inch of skin from Leah’s mouth, to her ear, to her neck and along her shoulders. She spent a long time sucking her full breasts and tonguing the erect nipples.

  Leah whimpered, her hands pushing downward on Tory’s broad shoulders. “Please,” she begged. “I need you now.”

  She felt the proof of her own arousal trickle down her thigh at Leah’s pleading. I need you. Her clitoris was distended, heavy between her legs. She ignored the hands pressing against her shoulders and moved up again to delve into Leah’s mouth. Her hips jerked at the warm tongue that bathed hers. She nearly came as she moved her hips to rub her engorged erection against Leah’s hot sex. Not yet. Too soon. So she released Leah’s mouth and backed away from their coupling.

  “No-o-o. So close.” Leah grasped weakly at her, her pelvis still thrusting, seeking.

  But Tory kissed her way down the soft abdomen, pausing to run her tongue across the sensitive navel. She could smell Leah’s arousal as she lay open to her, hips lifting in silent supplication. Her own juices dripped down her thighs as she lowered her mouth to feast on Leah’s turgid tissues.

  Leah’s moans became louder and she swelled under Tory’s mouth. She slid one finger, then two into Leah’s heat and kept stroking, her thumb replacing her tongue on Leah’s clit as she m
oved up to straddle and thrust against her thigh.

  “Don’t stop.” Leah whimpered, pressing her thigh harder between Tory’s legs and raking her nails sharply across Tory’s buttocks.

  “Come with me,” Tory groaned, lowering her mouth to swallow Leah’s cries when their bodies went rigid with the pleasure that rose and burst to flood through them.

  They had barely recovered their breath when Tory realized her orgasm had not slaked her passion for Leah. Touching her, tasting her had fed Tory’s need so that it burned even hotter, even brighter than before. She flipped Leah facedown and began again. She sucked her neck and earlobe, then kissed her way across the slender shoulders. “You have beautiful shoulders,” she breathed in Leah’s ear, drawing a shudder from the body beneath hers.

  Tory had been careful the first time, caressing gently, going slowly to savor each touch, each moment. But now she gave in to the urgent passion, the need to take, to claim this woman who seemed to have already claimed her soul.

  She drew a wet trail down Leah’s spine with her tongue, dipping into the dimples at her lower back before continuing her exploration. God, Leah had a great ass. Tory put her teeth and tongue to work nipping and sucking at the sensitive buttocks while she massaged her way up the inside of Leah’s thigh. Leah was hot and slick when Tory thrust her thumb inside and slid her fingers against Leah’s clit.

  “Oh, God, yes.” Leah lifted her hips as Tory penetrated her.

  Her blood pumping and her own clit throbbing, Tory bit down on the smooth buttock, then moved up to thrust herself hard against the faint teeth marks she had left there. She covered Leah’s body with her own. Sweat-slicked, she slid against her, breast to back, her stiff nipples raking against Leah’s shoulder blades with each thrust.

  Tory’s last bit of control disappeared as Leah’s whimpers grew louder. The hard, now-frantic pounding of her hips against Leah’s buttocks, the rough thrusting of her hand into Leah’s wetness rocked the bed and thumped it against the wall in cadence with Tory’s staccato grunts. Leah reached back, slid her hand between their bodies, and felt for Tory’s clit. When her fingers found their mark, Tory jerked and dug her teeth into the skin and muscle of Leah’s shoulder and neck, muffling her howl as the consummation of her heart and body flamed up and burned through her.