Every Second Counts

by D. Jackson Leigh

  They are gone, but a blond-haired figure remains splayed in the street, unmoving below her. Blood, crimson blood pools around it. She is numb. No. That’s not him. That’s not HIM. Stephan!

  Her paintbrush and palette clattered to the floor as she sank to her knees, sobbing. She hadn’t relived that nightmare in years. Why had her torment returned? Why now?

  *

  “So, why rodeo?”

  Ryder grinned and settled back into an overstuffed leather chair in the den at Skyler and Jessica’s house. “I feel sexy when I put on my chaps.”

  “I’m going to quote you on that, but you need to dig a little deeper if this interview’s going to be worth publishing,” Leah said, tapping her fingers impatiently against her laptop.

  “You want me to expose myself? How about if I strip naked to set the mood?”

  “Believe it or not, that’s not the strangest suggestion I’ve had from someone I’ve interviewed.” Leah’s gaze met hers. “So, if it helps you, go right ahead. It won’t change the questions I’m going to ask. In fact, I could snap a photo or two of the scars on your leg.”

  Leah’s message was loud and clear. This was business. When Ryder was nervous, flirting was her fallback because it usually put her in control. And Leah made her nervous.

  She was very attractive, with a mesmerizing syrupy accent. No wonder Tory had fallen in love with her. Her five-five height was fairly average for a woman, but she was so fine-boned that she appeared physically small. Small, but not fragile. When Leah walked into the room, she wielded a sharp intelligence and carried an alpha-sized attitude that made people step back. Ryder wasn’t accustomed to someone who was so direct, so unaffected by her charm.

  Leah seemed to read her discomfort and softened a bit. “Just be yourself, Ryder. That’s how you prefer to be addressed, right?”

  She shifted uncomfortably but dropped the flirty act. “Yeah. That’s what my friends call me.”

  Leah waited for more, and she finally nodded.

  “Okay. My friends all started calling me by my last name when I was a teenager because all I wanted to do was be a professional rider, from the first time I climbed up on a horse. It just kinda stuck and I got used to it.” And using her last name helped her keep people at a safe distance. Even her best friends.

  “What do your parents call you?”

  She frowned. “That subject is off-limits. My parents dumped me on my grandmother when I was six and pretty much walked out of my life.”

  “How about I just say your grandmother raised you?”

  “Good enough.”

  “How did you start riding horses? Or more specifically, what was your first experience with a horse?”

  “Well, I guess I was sort of a handful when I hit my teen years. My grandmother was friends with Leigh Parker, who started the Young Equestrian Program for kids who needed to focus their energy on something positive. So, one day when she was trying to paint and I was underfoot—”

  “Painting? Are we talking about a picture or a room?”

  “My grandmother, Eleanor White, was an artist.”

  “I’m not big into art, but I’ve heard the name.” Leah typed it into her notes. “I’ll look her up later, and I may have a few more questions after I do that.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “So, tell me about your first time on a horse.”

  She was warmed by the memory. “Eleanor was at her wits’ end with me, so she put me in the car and we drove over here to the equestrian center.”

  “Back up. What exactly were you doing that was irritating your grandmother?”

  “The usual teen stuff—blasting rock music over my stereo, slamming doors, smoking pot in my bedroom and not even trying to hide it.” She grinned at Leah. “I think she was mostly pissed that I’d found her stash and helped myself.”

  “I might leave that part out. We wouldn’t want to sic the cops on Grandma.”

  She shrugged. “Eleanor died about five years ago. It’d be hard to arrest her now.”

  Leah looked up from taking notes and raised an eyebrow, but she held her gaze in challenge. What was Leah expecting? Tears for the woman who couldn’t bring herself to comfort a child crying for her absent parents?

  “What happened when she brought you here?”

  “When we got here, Leigh was at the outdoor ring, watching her daughter, Kate, work a new stallion. Kate was pretty much running the kids’ program by then, so Leigh waved her over to get in on the discussion about what to do with me.” Ryder chuckled. “I was thirteen and—”

  “Trouble with a capital T.” Tory stood in the doorway, smiling at Leah. “Sorry, babe. I was just here to check a few mares that are pregnant and saw your car. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I forgot you were doing the interview.”

  “Maybe you should tell this part,” Ryder said.

  Leah held out her hand to beckon Tory over. “You were there?”

  Tory entwined her fingers with Leah’s and bent down for a quick kiss. “Yep. Skyler and I both were. We were watching Kate ride Dante for the first time.”

  “Every good profile requires input from people who know the subject. Why don’t you join us for a few minutes?”

  She shrugged again and nodded her consent when Tory looked at her to confirm she didn’t mind.

  “Ryder, why don’t you start?” Leah, her hands poised over her laptop keyboard, scooted over to allow Tory to sit next to her on the sofa.

  “Well, Eleanor was talking the ears off Kate and Leigh about her problems with me, so I wandered over to Sky and Tory. They were looking all important and full of themselves because Kate had handed the stallion over to them to watch while she talked.”

  Tory cut in. “You were the one trying to look all tough and full of yourself.”

  She laughed. “Sky and Tory were both sixteen, and Sky was dressed in riding breeches and knee-high boots that I thought were really cool. So, yeah, I was trying to impress the older kids.”

  Tory said, “She sauntered over and said, ‘Nice horse.’ Skyler always had a chip on her shoulder about the rich kids who owned horses at the center because most of them looked down on the trouble-making kids in Kate’s program. And she hadn’t missed that Ryder and Eleanor had driven up in a Mercedes, so—”

  “So Tory jumped in before Sky could be a smart-ass and said, ‘You ride?’” Ryder smiled, and Tory grinned back at her as they relived the scene together. “I said, ‘No, but how hard can it be?’”

  “You were such a punk,” Tory said. “Skyler kinda snorted and says, ‘A lot harder than you think, kid.’”

  “I, of course, took that as sort of a dare. I didn’t like being called kid.”

  “Then Ryder says to Skyler, ‘So you ride him?’”

  “You two were so easy to play.”

  “Says you.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Okay, children, focus for me.”

  Ryder returned to the story. “Skyler puffs up and says, ‘Not yet, but I’ll ride this big guy as soon as Kate says it’s okay.’ I couldn’t resist yanking her chain, so I said, ‘You think he’s big? I’ve seen bigger horses.’”

  Tory reached over and lightly slapped her on the back of the head. “It was just the first time this instigator got us all in trouble by taunting Sky into doing something she shouldn’t.”

  “Anyway, Sky says, ‘You’d probably wet your pants if I put you up in that saddle.’ I said, ‘Try me.’”

  “Next thing I know, Skyler hands the reins to me and boosts this idiot into the saddle,” Tory said. “I’ll never forget her grinning down at us, grabbing a handful of mane, and saying ‘Tallyho’ right before she kicks that stallion hard in the sides and the reins jerk right out of my hands.”

  “Did you fall off?”

  Tory answered for her. “Hell, no. The reins were dragging and the leathers were too long for her to get her feet in the stirrups, but she hunched over Dante’s neck and hung on to his mane for dear life.�
��

  Ryder chuckled. “Sky was yelling her head off and Kate came running. It spooked the horse so bad, next thing I knew, he was sailing over the railing and we were headed down the driveway.”

  “Skyler ran across the road to the indoor ring where some kids were in the middle of a lesson,” Tory said. “She snatched one of them off a horse, mounted up, and went chasing after her.”

  “Actually, I was kind of glad to see Sky show up, because I didn’t have a clue how I was going to stop that stallion.”

  “I can imagine what she must have said when she caught you,” Leah muttered as she typed.

  “The weird thing was she didn’t say anything at first. She just grabbed the stallion’s reins and slowed us to a walk, then headed back.” Ryder ducked her head, surprised that the memory choked her throat and made her eyes tear. “We were halfway back before—”

  “Before I turned to her and said, ‘You’ve got the biggest balls I’ve ever seen on a girl.’”

  Now, Skyler stood in the doorway, and Ryder wondered if her two friends had appeared because they were curious or because they were being protective big sisters. She voted for the latter.

  “Then she asked if I was going to board a horse and take lessons here. I told her, ‘I guess that’s up to Ms. Parker. I think Eleanor is dumping me out here so she doesn’t have to deal with me anymore.’”

  Skyler nodded. “That told me she was going to be one of Kate’s kids like the rest of us, not one of those rich snots who always blamed their horses instead of their lousy riding when they didn’t win ribbons.”

  “Still, I know you must have chewed her out for taking off on that stallion,” Leah said to Skyler.

  “Nope. I told her the chewing out she’d get from Kate would be a lot worse than anything I could come up with.”

  Ryder nodded. “Then she told me not to worry about it. Just keep my mouth shut until she was done, then promise I wouldn’t do it again. She said Kate never stayed mad, and she was right.”

  Leah typed another minute, then looked up at Skyler and Tory. “This is good stuff, you guys, and I’m glad you popped in, but I need to finish the interview with Ryder alone.”

  Tory stood. “Okay. We get the message. Come on, Sky, I need to go over the foaling charts on the mares I just checked.” She gave Leah another quick kiss and the two of them disappeared down the hallway to the farm office.

  “Your background is—” Leah checked her notes. “Your background is dressage, eventing, polo and steeplechase racing in Europe. Those are really expensive sports, and people who participate aren’t exactly middle class. When you switched to rodeo and the tobacco-spitting crowd, did you find it difficult to fit in?”

  Ryder laughed. “Some of that crowd may have a chaw in their cheeks, but a lot of them aren’t exactly middle class either. There’s still big money behind it. It’s just a different culture. Besides, I’m not there to fit in. I’m there to be noticed.” The words were out of her mouth before she had time to evaluate them.

  “Like the kind of notice you get from stealing a stallion when you’re a kid?”

  “I meant that I have to stand out enough to attract sponsors and fans.”

  “And you have been successful at attracting several big sponsors. Was that hard?”

  “Not really. They back the riders they think will get their brand in front of the public the most. I do that.”

  “You have that many fans?”

  “Some people are there cheering for me. But probably ten times as many are watching because they’re waiting for the woman to get her butt kicked by a pissed-off bull. My sponsors don’t care why they’re watching, just that eight thousand people are in their seats with their eyes glued to the chute where I’ll pop out wearing a shirt with their logo on it.”

  They talked for several minutes about the protective gear she used, and then Leah returned again to the big question.

  “Why ride broncs and bulls?”

  Ryder realized that was the gold nugget Leah was digging for to up the article’s ante. She wasn’t sure she could give it up, though, because even she hadn’t been able to put her hands on it.

  “I don’t know. Maybe because they said I couldn’t.”

  “So, you’re out to prove women can do it, too?”

  “No. I don’t think I want to carry the weight of my entire gender on my shoulders. This is just about Marc Ryder. It’s just about me and the thrill I get from doing it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ryder scanned the area as she parked the truck Skyler had loaned her. Dusk had settled in, but racks of overhead lights illuminated three ball fields still teeming with players. Not much had changed. New paint brightened the cinderblock dugouts and small building that housed restrooms and a concession stand, but the sponsors advertised on the uniforms and many of the players on the fields were familiar.

  She grimaced when she dropped to the ground from the tall dually truck, taking most of her weight on her right leg. She’d been paying for her romp with Bridgette, but, damn, it was worth every ice pack and several excruciating therapy sessions she’d endured since. She slid the strap of her camp chair over her shoulder and walked slowly, careful to shift her weight to her cane until the muscles that had been torn and sewn back together loosened.

  She found the perfect spot between the fences of two fields and settled down to watch both games.

  “Oh, my God. Look what the dog dragged up.”

  Ryder stood and turned, smiling. The past years had been kind to her old friend, whose thick mane of dark hair and smooth olive skin were a testament to her Honduran heritage. “Desiree, as gorgeous and sexy as ever.”

  Petite but strong, Desiree wrapped her in a tight hug, then kissed her firmly on the lips. She stepped back. “Still a smooth talker. Let me look at you.” She ran her hands down Ryder’s arms and squeezed the hard biceps. “Damn, woman, you are better than fine.” Desiree’s gaze dropped to the brace around her knee. “What’ve you done to yourself, sexy?”

  Ryder winked at her. “It’s healing nicely, but you might want to watch the kisses. I can’t run fast enough right now to get away from that big butch you married.”

  Desiree gave her a reproachful look. “We saw you on ESPN. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Skyler taught you to ride big, beautiful horses, not bulls. Riding bulls is stupid. That’s why men do it.”

  “The money’s good and women crawl over each other to get in my bed.”

  Desiree clucked her tongue. “Your bed has never been empty. I should warn you. More than a few of your old conquests are around tonight.”

  “Well, I figure the statute of limitations has run out on anything I did twelve years ago.”

  “A woman’s anger has no limitations.” She folded Ryder’s chair and tucked it under one arm while she hooked her other arm around Ryder’s. “You better come with me so I can protect you. Lou and everybody are playing on field three.”

  She laughed at Desiree, who was half her size but twice as feisty. She missed this. It felt strange but really good to see her friends again.

  *

  Bridgette shook her head at Lou’s call for a fastball. It was the top of the ninth inning with the score tied at five runs each. There were two outs and the count was two balls, one strike. Next up was the other team’s slugger, and she was certain this batter would bunt to get on base and give the clean-up hitter a chance to break the tie.

  Lou gave her the “whatever” signal and readied her crouch to catch the pitch, but Bridgette stared down the batter a second more, pleased to see her anxiously shift her weight toward the plate. Oh, yeah. She was going for a bunt.

  Her windup was smooth, and when the screwball left her hand, she knew it would break perfectly to the inside. It glanced off the small end of the bat near the woman’s hand to pop up and behind the plate. Lou scrambled after it without success and returned to the plate to signal for a curve ball. Bridgette shook her head. Lou’s shoulders slumped and she stood
and mumbled something to the umpire.

  “Time,” the umpire hollered.

  Lou was the calm, steady partner that anchored a very volatile Desiree. But her face was a picture of sweaty frustration as she trudged out to the mound.

  “I don’t know what has crawled up your ass tonight, but you’ve disagreed with every pitch I’ve asked for,” she said softly so the other team didn’t hear. “On top of that, old man Denny has kneed me in the back before every pitch. We’ve gone two extra innings and my knees hurt, Bridge. Let’s close this out.”

  She turned the ball in her glove and stared at the ground. Lou was right. She’d ignored some of the calls just because she wasn’t in the mood to play softball tonight. Angry with herself over her breakdown in the studio, she was feeling cantankerous and contrary. She knew she was wrong, but she wasn’t ready to lower her defenses. She gave Lou a hard stare.

  “I knew she was going to bunt. She would have nailed a fast ball down the third-base line and outrun it.”

  Lou wiped her face on her sleeve, her expression the same as when she had to handle one of Desiree’s moods. “I’m not implying that you’ve made bad decisions. You’re the only one on this team who played college ball on a scholarship. Just tell me what you’re going to throw so I’ll be ready for it.”

  “She won’t try to bunt because it’ll be an automatic out if she fouls. If she crowds the plate, I’ll give you that fastball you’ve been wanting all night. But I’m guessing she’ll back up and swing away. So I’m planning to throw an off-speed drop ball.”

  Lou nodded. “Good plan.”

  She started toward the plate, but Bridgette called her back.

  “You’re second to bat when we get up next. If I strike this girl out, you have to promise to nail it to the fence so we can go home.”