Bittersweet Farm 2: Joyful Spirit Page 14
“Lockie joined in,” Jules said.
My father looked up, surprised.
“I was the prop stable hand holding the prop horse,” Lockie explained.
I pressed his knee with mine under the table.
“Thank you for helping. It’s going to be a feature in Hauteur Magazine which has an influential readership,” my father said.
“It’s part of the job.”
Jules served fork tender short ribs and delicate, crispy potato cakes.
We talked about selling the pony, the horses in training and eventually got around to the hunter pace.
“Are you sure it’s wise for you to take Rogers’ place?” My father asked.
I wasn’t going to get involved since I knew Lockie had made up his mind and there was nothing that would persuade him otherwise.
“It will be little more than a trail ride,” he replied.
“At speed,” I added.
“Yes, cantering will be required.”
“And jumping?” My father asked.
“We will avoid every jump possible,” Lockie said.
“Wear your helmet and good luck to you both.”
“We’ll be home by lunchtime.”
“Then I’ll make something delicious.”
“How will that be different than any other meal?” Lockie asked.
“You’re so sweet,” Jules said as she went to get the dessert, a gorgeous dark red summer pudding.
Jules served the berries and soaked brioche then dolloped clotted cream on top. We practically licked our bowls clean.
I expected my father to excuse himself, get up from the table and go back to his den to work. Instead, he remained seated for a long moment.
“Would anyone like to play Gin Rummy?”
Lockie looked at me for a hint.
My mother and I had played cards together often, almost every night. It was less about the game and more about being together. I had adored those evenings with her. Later on when my father was more of a presence in our lives, he would sometimes play with us.
At first uncomfortable with my father joining us since he wasn’t part of the family I knew, I came to accept it as something my mother wanted. Now he was asking to revisit that time or maybe make new memories.
“It sounds like fun,” Jules said with her bright smile.
“Talia?” My father asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“I’ll get the cards,” Jules said as she went into the house.
“Do you play cards, Lockie?” My father asked.
“Everyone plays cards in the tack room when the day is done,” he replied.
“Probably poker.”
“Yes, mostly, or Twenty-one.”
“Have you ever played cards in a casino?”
“No, sir. I’m not a gambler by nature,” Lockie said.
I looked at him and he smiled back.
“Nor am I,” my father replied.
Jules returned with a deck of cards, placed them on the table and sat across from me.
“Why don’t you deal, Tali?” My father suggested.
I reached for the cards.
“You always could shuffle like a croupier.”
“A hidden talent,” Lockie said to me.
“I learned from my mother,” I replied shuffling the cards.
“The Margolins were always gamblers,” my father said.
“Were they?” Lockie asked.
“Tali’s mother gambled on me,” my father answered with a smile.
I began dealing.
“Are we going to keep score?” Jules asked looking at the cards dealt her.
“We never do,” I said, moving cards around in my hand.
Lockie leaned over to me. “If winning doesn’t count, then show me what you have.”
Laughing, I hid my hand under the table. “Are you insane?”
“I’ll show you mine.” He turned his hand quickly to me then turned it back.
My mother would have liked him so much.
Chapter Nineteen
I sat, huddled, on CB at the gate while Lockie walked Wing in a large circle around me. It had been raining since I woke that morning and there were drops of water falling off my helmet. We were soaked and the sod at the entrance to the hunter pace had been churned to mud.
Waiting until the last possible moment, Lockie had put mud studs into the horses’ shoes. They didn’t look nearly long enough to me for these conditions. I didn’t say that.
Rogers had held CB while I donned the body protector and fastened the helmet harness. I pulled on my gloves then she gave me a leg-up into the saddle that was already wet.
We were in a hold and the official at the gate explained that someplace on the course, the staff was rebuilding a fence. I could only imagine what had happened.
If there was any indication that Lockie had doubts about participating, I would have found an excuse to withdraw but the conditions didn’t faze him. He was energized by the event.
Lockie looked like his dream come true, he was one with his horse.
For me, I had never seen anything like Lockie on Wingspread. It was an image so perfect as to be breathtaking and as enduring as a photograph.
“One minute,” the starter called to us.
Lockie came up beside me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “Look at it this way. In a couple hours, you’ll be able to take a hot shower.”
“An upside so easily missed on a day when I can see my breath in front of me,” I replied.
“Ready?” The starter raised a small flag.
I gathered my reins.
“Go.”
Wingspread didn’t have to be asked. Setting the tone for what I expected of the remaining five miles, he shot through the standards leaving CB and me to keep up.
The first section was through a wooded area with a wide bridle path. That opened to a large field where Wing opened up a distance between us. At the top of the hill, Lockie slowed a bit so we could catch up.
I could understand why CB wouldn’t make a good cross country horse. This wasn’t his thing anymore than it was mine.
At the peak of the hill, we galloped down to the orange flag held by a scarecrow next to a fence comprised of logs. Wingspread flew over it and we followed.
After crossing a field, we jumped a red panel fence that brought us back into the woods where the path narrowed and Lockie pulled up into a trot. The ground was uneven and the path snaked through the trees. It would have been impossible to canter under these conditions.
The rain came down harder as the trail twisted and turned through the woods, with no way around some of the natural obstacles. We cantered down a hill, splashed through a stream and went up the rise.
Lockie slowed and turned in the saddle. “We’re lost.”
“How do you know?”
“I can feel it. We’re not on the main course.”
I looked at the ground. “The path is full of prints.”
“When did they hunt over this land last? I think the prints are from before. They don’t look fresh,” Lockie replied.
“What do you want to do? Go back?”
“I don’t know where we went off course.”
“I thought this was supposed to be marked.”
“The arrows may have fallen off the trees or stakes and we missed them.”
“So?”
“Do you know this country at all?
I shook my head and rain went everywhere. “Rogers hunted out here but I never did.”
“Okay. We’ll keep going. This is Connecticut not Outer Mongolia. We’ll get back to civilization eventually. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Of course,” Lockie said with a bright smile.
A moment later, we were racing through the woods, following the path of riders who had covered this recently if not that morning.
We jumped a low wooden gate that brought us to a cl
earing in the woods, where there was a passageway wide enough to be used by a farm vehicle.
“We have to go east,” Lockie said as he pulled up.
“How do you know that?”
“It’s part of my skill-set.”
“Why don’t we just keep going on this road or whatever it is?”
“Because we’re being timed.”
“We’re lost. It’s over for us.”
“No. Did you read the details for this hunter pace? There are two courses. We may be on the alternate.”
“I didn’t read the flyer,” I admitted.
“We have to look for a way to go east.”
Lockie started trotting away so I urged CB forward.
“There we are!” He called back to me and jumped into a field.
I pulled CB to a halt and stared at Lockie who realized we were no longer behind him.
“Come on, Talia!”
“That’s not a jump, it’s a stock fence!”
I was looking at a four-foot tall metal gate at the entrance to a cow pasture.
“Jump it.”
“No.”
“It’s a just vertical. CB doesn’t have an opinion on it.”
“No.”
“You’re wasting time.”
The rain was hitting my face as I stared across the distance to Lockie on the other side of the fence.
“Okay. Meet me at the van. I’m finishing the event.”
I glanced down the roadway. It had to lead somewhere.
I turned back to Lockie.
“Come on, Silly, you can do it.”
I closed my legs on CB’s sides. He took two strides and effortlessly cleared the gate. We cantered up to Wing.
Lockie leaned over and reached out to pull me to him for a kiss. “Good girl.”
We galloped to the crest of the hill where we found ourselves under power lines crackling with electricity.
“We’re going to get zapped,” I said.
“No, we’re not,” Lockie replied as he let Wing gallop down the hillside.
I braced myself in the saddle, envisioning CB sliding down on his rump but we made it to the bottom and picked up tracks other riders had left earlier. Snaking through the woods, we jumped an enormous fallen tree then a chicken coop into another cow field. We galloped through the herd who regarded us with minimal interest, then jumped a stone wall into another pasture. From there we could look down on the field where there trailers were parked.
“We’re unlost,” Lockie called to me as he galloped down to the bottom of the hill.
There was another chicken coop to clear and we turned to the left on the obvious track to the finish line where Rogers was waiting for us.
“Cool beans!” She shouted as we cantered through the gateway and the timekeeper clocked us in. “You did so well! How was it?”
“I don’t want to do it again anytime soon, okay? Get yourself another partner for Rombout or wherever the next hunter pace is.”
“She did fine,” Lockie said, dismounting and releasing the harness to his helmet. “I’m going to have a word with the committee and find out if we went off course or not. Would you take care of Wing, Rogers?” He held out the reins to her.
Rogers could barely answer. “Sure, yes.” She put her hand reverently on Wing’s neck, unable to believe the privilege given her.
I slid off CB and ran up my irons. He was covered in mud. I kissed his nose and had to wipe the horse hairs on my lips. Then because he was sweaty and itchy, CB began rubbing his head on me so hard I had to brace myself against his pushing just so he didn’t knock me over.
“What’s this about going off course?”
The rain was abating as I started to lead CB back to the van. “It was ugly. There was a huge stock fence going into a field...”
“With the high tension wires.”
“Yes.”
Rogers nodded as we began untacking the horses. “I’ve been there. On one hunt, a weekend rider from the city fell off in front of that wooden gate. She made such a fuss you would have thought she was hurt.”
“Was she?”
Rogers pulled the saddle off Wing. “No.”
Lockie returned to the van with a smile. “We’re fine. That was the brave people course. Two teams took it—the whipper-ins and us. We came in second.”
“They went faster than we did?” I was astonished.
He smiled. “They didn’t have the time-outs for discussion like we did.” Lockie put his arm around my shoulders and drew me to him. “You were good out there. I’m proud of you.”
“If I didn’t do well, if I didn’t ride at all, would you still be proud of me?”
“Silly, it’s not contingent upon how you ride. I’m proud of you for the person you are.” He pulled me closer. “I’ve worked at the stables of really rich people and you know what they have? Hot tubs. We could have all go home and sit in hot water until we shrivel up.”
“My grandfather didn’t need a hot tub, so we don’t need a hot tub,” my father said as he and Jules approached.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
They were both wearing slickers and rain boots.
“We came to watch you. Then Rogers told us there was nothing to watch,” Jules said. “So we walked through tall grass up into the viewers’ gallery in a field where you could see the riders pass down in the valley for about ten seconds. You never went by.”
“We went in another direction,” Lockie said as he went to the tack trunk for the stud kit.
“You seem to do that quite a lot,” my father commented.
Lockie bent over and lifted CB’s hoof to remove the mud studs. “It’s a personal hallmark of mine. Is it a problem?”
“No, you fit right in with us,” my father replied.
“Define us,” Greer said as she appeared from the other side of the van.
“Everyone from the farm,” Jules said.
Greer shook her head. “So how did you do?”
“We came in second,” I told her.
“I drove all this way for nothing?”
“No,” I replied walking CB up the ramp. “I appreciate you showing up whatever the reason.”
“Let’s go home. You can get cleaned up and we have a fantastic lunch waiting for us,” Jules said. “You’re invited, too, Rogers.”
“Thank you!”
Lockie led Wing into the van and backed him into the stall. We lifted the ramp together and fastened it.
“Heading home,” Lockie said.
We said our goodbyes, see ya laters, and Lockie and I got into the cab of the van. I was not sorry to see the end of this hunter pace but it had worked out better than expected.
Halfway to the farm, it started to rain again.
“Talia, would you spend the night with me? We can listen to the rain on the roof.”
“I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“If you can’t, that’s fine, too.”
I reached over and put my hand on his breeches, soaking wet and smeared with mud from the stud removal. “You looked...beautiful today.”
“Beautiful? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say to you?” He put his hand on my hand. “Didn’t I tell you it was going to be okay?”
I nodded. Everything was very okay.
* * * The End * * *
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Bittersweet Farm 3: Wingspread
Available now
"Surprise!" Greer's mother says with her unannounced arrival. What Victoria Swope is doing in town is puzzling but they quickly learn the reason and no one is pleased.
When Greer demands to be home-schooled with Talia, the lessons at Bittersweet Farm aren't restricted to dressage, cross-country and show jumping. If the half-sisters can't get along, one of them will be sent abroad to finish high school. Unable to bear leaving the farm's trainer, Lockie Malone, or her horse, CB, Talia grits her teeth and tries to move forward.
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br /> It's soon obvious that everyone at the farm faces changes and challenges. Solving them is difficult and maybe impossible.
EBooks By Barbara Morgenroth
YOUNG ADULT/MATURE YA
Bittersweet Farm 1: Mounted
Bittersweet Farm 2: Joyful Spirit
Bittersweet Farm 3: Wingspread
Bittersweet Farm 4: Counterpoint
Bittersweet Farm 5: Calling All Comets
If Wishes Were Horses
YA
Bad Apple 1: Sweet Cider
Bad Apple 2: Burning Daylight
Bad Apple 3: Rise
Bad Apple 4: Certain
Flash
Flash of Light
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
EBooks By Barbara Morgenroth