Doing her best to push everything else to the back of her mind, she concentrated on her horse. He hadn’t been getting enough exercise lately, she realized. Even though it was getting late, she vowed to give him a nice long workout. Beginning at a walk to stretch his long legs, she sent him around the ring.
She settled into the rhythm of the pace, her mind wandering back to the very first time she’d ever ridden Starlight. He hadn’t belonged to her then—she hadn’t even known that her father was thinking of buying her a horse that Christmas. Still, she’d felt something special about the young gelding. Looking back, it was almost as if some inner part of her had known that they were meant to be together, even though her outer self had no idea such a thing was possible.
That’s why it’s crazy even to think that Starlight might not be the horse for me anymore, she told herself as she signaled for a trot and her horse responded immediately, shifting to the smooth, swinging gait that she had always loved.
Now that she’d started thinking about the past, she couldn’t seem to stop. She remembered all the shows she and Starlight had competed in together. None of them had been nearly as prestigious as Colesford, of course, but each of them had taught her a lot about riding and competing. She had a whole wall full of ribbons and trophies to prove it.
She knew she deserved every one of them, too. Starlight had been quite young when she’d gotten him, but he had been smart and willing, and that, combined with her diligent work over the years, had turned him into a wonderfully responsive, well-trained mount. Training Starlight had taught her even more than competing with him had.
Of course, it hadn’t all been about teaching and learning and working. She’d had a lot of fun with her horse over the years, too. They’d played countless gymkhana games, covered innumerable miles of trails behind Pine Hollow, even gone on a foxhunt or two. Thinking back, it was hard for Carole to remember when she and Starlight hadn’t been a team.
She smiled, feeling a little better. Her weird mood would pass. In the meantime, she had some riding to do. Quashing her nostalgic thoughts and everything else that was rolling around in her head, she threw herself into the exercise session.
It was quite late by the time Carole finished putting Starlight through his paces, and when she emerged from the indoor ring she found that the stable was almost deserted. Starlight’s hoofbeats echoed softly as they walked down the aisle to his stall, and even most of the horses seemed too sleepy to care as they walked by. She slung his sweaty tack over the stall door and gave him a quick grooming, too tired to think anymore about anything but getting home and collapsing into bed.
But first she had some tack to clean. One of Max’s strictest rules was that riders had to clean the saddles and bridles they used right away to keep them in good condition. “Okay, boy,” Carole told Starlight wearily, dropping her grooming tools back into their bucket. “That’s it for today.” She gave him a pat, and he nudged at her with his warm, soft nose, snorting softly into her shirt.
She smiled and scratched him in his favorite spot, leaning against his comforting bulk. After a moment he turned away to snuffle at his water bucket, blowing droplets everywhere as he always did before settling down to drink. Carole smiled again, watching him for a moment before letting herself out of the stall and picking up the tack.
Carole had always enjoyed being the only human in a stable full of horses, and she walked slowly toward the tack room, savoring the feeling. There was a whole different mood in the place at this hour—a peaceful, sleepy, serene sensibility that was a contrast to the usual bustling, noisy level of daytime activity.
Still, as she walked along, some of her earlier discontent returned, lapping gently at the corners of her mind. She willed herself not to let it in, telling herself it was just a mood, not worth analyzing and worrying about. But she found her steps coming more rapidly, as if she could leave her weird feelings behind, perhaps somewhere back by Starlight’s stall.…
She was moving briskly by the time she reached the tack room and took the turn into the open doorway. But she stopped short, a small, startled cry escaping from her lips as she realized she wasn’t alone in the stable after all.
Ben looked up from the bit he was polishing. Only one of the overhead lights was on, and his eyes were hidden in shadow as he looked at her and nodded. “Hi,” he said, not seeming the least bit surprised to see her.
She swallowed back her own surprise and returned his greeting. “What are you doing here so late?” she asked. “I thought everyone had gone home.”
“Catching up,” Ben explained, holding up the bit. Then he lapsed into silence as Carole made her way over to a saddle rack and set Starlight’s saddle on it. As she hung her bridle on the hook above it, she cast a quick glance at Ben out of the corner of her eye. All his attention seemed to be focused once again on his task as he wiped the bit carefully. But as she was watching him, he suddenly looked up and met her eye.
She gulped and forced a smile, then turned away and busied herself with the dirty bridle. The last thing she wanted was for Ben to think she was staring at him. For one thing, he was such a private, guarded person that he would probably take it as an insult, or he’d think that she wanted to pry into his life. Besides, she still hadn’t quite managed to forget about that humiliating misunderstanding at the party. And she certainly didn’t want him to guess that she was still thinking about it.…
“Carole.”
She turned quickly, her heart in her throat, suddenly and irrationally certain that he’d read her mind. He was leaning forward, looking at her.
“Um, yes?”
He held up his hand, and Carole saw her watch dangling from his fingers. “Yours?”
“Thanks. I almost forgot about that.” Carole reached for the watch, her hand lightly brushing his as she took it and making her suddenly feel more awkward than ever about being there with him, all alone, late at night.…
Get a grip, girl, she told herself, annoyed at her own jumpiness. She turned away to buckle the watch back on. It’s not like this is any big deal. It’s not like it would ever occur to him that there was any difference between us being here now, by ourselves, and being here in the middle of the day with a million other people around.
When she was sure she’d gotten herself back under control, she turned back to him with a grateful smile. “Thanks again,” she said. “I took it off when I was getting ready to give Samson his bath earlier, and I stuck it in here so I’d be sure to see it on my way out. But after the busy day I’ve had, I probably would have totally—”
“Carole,” Ben interrupted. She realized he was watching her, his hands and the half-polished bit resting in his lap. “I want—uh, that is—”
“What is it?” Carole’s heart leaped to her throat, though she wasn’t sure why.
Ben cleared his throat. His eyes wandered from her face to the wall behind her, and then to his own hands, still in his lap. “I don’t like to—well, I like to leave people alone,” he said slowly. “But I’ve been thinking.”
There was a long pause, and Carole suddenly remembered how Ben had seemed to want to tell her something the previous day, before Max had come along and interrupted them. “Is this—does this have something to do with Samson?” she asked uncertainly. “I mean, yesterday you started to say—”
Ben nodded curtly. “Samson.” His eyes flicked back to her face. “You and Samson. I’ve noticed, well … you’re pretty wrapped up in him.”
“Yeah?” Carole frowned slightly. Ben had said something to that effect to her a couple of weeks earlier. At the time, she’d thought he was implying that she wasn’t carrying her weight around the stable because she was spending too much time on Samson’s training. But suddenly she wasn’t sure that was what he’d been saying at all. “Uh, I mean, yeah,” she said. “I guess I have been working with him a lot lately. But, you know, the show …”
“Right.” Ben grimaced. “But it’s not just that.”
He didn�
��t seem inclined to go on at first. His eyes had returned to his hands, and he was staring at them thoughtfully, shadows once again obscuring his expression. “Yes?” Carole prompted after a few seconds of silence. “Um, I mean, is there something else?”
He glanced at her; his dark eyes looked startled and a bit wary, as if he were trying to figure out what to say next. “Starlight,” he said succinctly. “What about Starlight?”
Carole gasped, her earlier thoughts flooding back in a rush. “What about him?” she asked in a tiny, strangled voice, clutching the saddle rack beside her for support.
Ben shrugged, still watching her carefully. “Have you been thinking much about him? Since, you know, Samson came?”
“Sure,” Carole said quickly. But then she stopped herself. “Uh, sort of, I guess. What do you mean?” Ben was so hard to understand sometimes—she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions about what he was trying to tell her.
This time he was silent for so long that she was sure he’d decided to drop the whole subject. But finally he spoke again. “You can’t have it both ways,” he said. “It’s not fair. Starlight needs more than that. He deserves it.”
The words hit Carole like a sledgehammer. She wasn’t sure what to think, how to feel, how to respond. For one thing, she was amazed that Ben was sitting there telling her this. Ben Marlow, the guy who would probably be happy if every other human on the planet were wiped out by some kind of virus and he could be completely alone with his beloved horses. The guy who’d looked at her as if she’d sprouted three heads and tentacles when she’d suggested that they dance together at the party. The guy who was so protective of his own privacy that he’d stopped speaking to her for a while over the summer after she’d dared to follow him home, curious about where he lived.
But now here he was, involving himself in her life. Revealing that he’d been paying a lot more attention than she’d realized.
She would have to think more about that later. Right now, though, she had to figure out how to react to what he’d just said. “S-Starlight is fine,” she protested weakly. But his eyes, steady on hers now, revealed that he wasn’t buying it. “Really,” she added. “Um, I know I’ve been kind of busy with Samson and other stuff lately.”
“Other stuff?” he repeated.
She shrugged sheepishly. “Okay, mostly Samson,” she admitted. “But so what? I mean, what does that mean?”
Even before Ben could answer, she suddenly saw the answer to her own question. It flashed in her mind so clearly that she couldn’t believe she’d avoided seeing it until then. What it meant was that she loved two wonderful horses, two noble creatures that both deserved a rider who would make them number one, cherish them above all others. She had been concentrating most of her love and attention on Samson lately, glorying in their budding partnership even as she prepared for the big show. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d also been neglecting Starlight—emotionally, if not physically. That couldn’t go on. Even though she hadn’t spent much time with him lately, she still loved him so much.…
“You have a choice to make,” Ben said. He looked down at the bit he was still holding. After staring at it for a moment, he started polishing it again.
Carole’s head was spinning. Samson or Starlight. How could she choose between them? It was impossible. She couldn’t imagine her life without either one.
And why should I have to, anyway? she wondered, feeling defiant as she glanced at Ben, who was concentrating on his work. Who says I have to choose? After the Colesford show I’ll have more time to spend with Starlight. As long as Max lets me keep riding Samson, I know I can make time for him, too. There’s no reason I can’t love them both equally.…
She sighed, wondering if she was being naive. Her life had been awfully busy even before Samson had come to Pine Hollow. And that didn’t seem likely to change anytime soon. She had already promised herself that once the horse show was behind her, she would spend more time on her schoolwork. And Max had been asking her to help teach riding classes more often lately. With everything else she had to do …
“I don’t know,” she told Ben in despair. “I just don’t know what to think—what to do.” She glanced at him hesitantly. “What do you think?”
He shrugged without looking up from his task. “Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“It matters to me,” Carole insisted. “I mean, I don’t even know what my choices really are here. What can I do about any of this, anyway?”
This time he glanced up, his face somber. “It’s tough,” he said with a touch of sympathy in his gruff voice. “I wish I—uh, well. But it’s your life. You’ve got to figure out what you want. Otherwise it’ll never work out.”
Carole gave him a surprised glance. For Ben, it had been an eloquent speech. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit annoyed with him. Eloquent or not, his comments weren’t very helpful. “Whatever,” she said miserably.
He gazed at her. “No, really,” he said. Returning his gaze to his work, he cleared his throat. “Believe me, I know—it can tear you up. But, you know, you have to do it.”
“What do you mean?” Carole asked cautiously, catching a new note in his voice. A sad, thoughtful, slightly bitter tone she’d never heard before.
Ben shrugged. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “I mean—well—nothing.”
“Fine.” Carole sighed, wondering why she’d thought he might be able to help her with this. She should have known better.
“I was fifteen,” Ben said abruptly.
Carole was taken aback. “Huh?”
Ben scowled at her. “You can’t—uh, I mean, I don’t like to talk about—well.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Carole promised, guessing what he was driving at.
He shot her a suspicious look, but then nodded. “Okay, well, anyway. My mother had just died. That was—well, tough.”
Carole’s eyes widened. She had seen where Ben lived—when she had followed him home that day, he’d returned to a tiny, cramped, ramshackle house, where a feeble old man had struggled to retrieve a few pieces of dingy laundry from the line strung across the rocky, weed-infested yard. There had been no signs that anyone else lived there besides the old man and Ben. Carole had often wondered what had happened to his parents, but she’d never worked up the nerve to ask.
I guess we do have something in common besides horses after all, she thought, thinking of her own mother, remembering how devastated she’d been after she had died of cancer all those years ago. How much she still missed her.
“I know,” she told Ben quietly. “I’ve been there.” She wanted to say more, but she stopped herself, afraid that he might clam up again.
“Anyway.” He shrugged and tossed the bit, clean and shiny now, into the bucket in the corner of the room. “It wasn’t long after that when my old man … well, anyway, I found myself needing a new place to live.”
Carole crinkled her brow in confusion. Had Ben’s father died, too? Something in his expression made her think that wasn’t what had happened. She opened her mouth to ask, but he was already speaking again.
“I have an aunt and uncle,” Ben said. “In Philadelphia. Both accountants. Nice house, the works. They wanted me to live there.” He shrugged. “Even offered money for college.”
The last words were spoken quietly, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to Carole. Once again she felt a twinge of surprise. She knew that Ben’s dream was to enroll in an equine studies program. Only a lack of money had stopped him—except now it seemed that the money had been there if he’d wanted it.
“Why didn’t you—” she blurted before thinking. Then she gulped. “Um, I mean, I guess there must have been a reason you decided not to live with them.”
Ben’s expression was pained—Carole could tell it was a struggle for him to carry on this conversation at all. “Yeah,” he said. “It was a trade-off. I already knew, well …” He waved an arm to indicate the stable around them.
�
��You knew you wanted to be around horses,” Carole said. It was a statement, not a question. Ben had been born to work with horses, just as she had.
He rubbed his cheek, staring off into space. “That wasn’t going to happen. Not where they live.”
Suddenly it all made sense to Carole. “You mean if you’d gone to live with them, you couldn’t have worked with horses. So you came here instead, even though …” She let her voice trail off, blushing slightly as she remembered how she had sat in her car that day the summer before, shocked at the poverty of Ben’s home.
“Yeah. Besides, my grandfather lets me do my own thing.” Ben shrugged. “My aunt and uncle … well. Anyway, I didn’t really want to stick around so close to …” He shook his head and glanced at Carole again. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, people tried to tell me what I should do. Thought they knew what was best.”
“But they didn’t.” Carole nodded thoughtfully, pondering what Ben had just revealed about himself. He had given up a life that would have been comfortable, easy, secure—ignored the people who thought they knew what was best for him. He’d made a difficult decision about what was most important in his life. Carole looked at him with new respect. “Wow.” Suddenly it dawned on her how unusual this conversation really was. Ben had never before volunteered anything the least bit personal about himself, and now here he was, practically spilling his guts to her. It made her feel much closer to him all of a sudden. “This is great,” she blurted out. “I mean, you know, that you’re telling me this. Being so open and everything. Uh, wait. I mean—”
Too late, she saw his usual guarded expression return, as if a curtain had fallen over his eyes. She realized she’d said too much, intruded a step too far into his personal space. She gulped, wishing she could take back her words, knowing she’d said the wrong thing to him once again.
“It’s late,” he said in his usual brusque manner, not meeting her eye as he stood and dropped his rag on the counter by the sink. “I’ve got to go.”
Course of Action Page 7
