For The Love of Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center) Read online

  FOR THE LOVE OF HORSES

  Pegasus Equestrian Center Series:

  Book 3

  Diana Vincent

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons is purely coincidental.

  For the Love of Horses - Copyright 2013 by Diana Vincent

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without prior written permission of the author.

  Cover design: Kimberly Killion

  www.hotdamndesigns.com

  Cover photo by Dee Dee Murry;

  www.deedeemurry.com

  Dedicated to all my unforgettable and wonderful instructors: Patti, who introduced me to the classical masters and to the training pyramid; Georges, who helped me experience passage and piaffe, Erin, who taught me to ride forward and straight; and Roxanne, who made me painfully aware of my core.

  Timeless eye, dark, wise.

  Squeal! Hooves strike; head and mane tossed.

  Gleefully, he runs.

  *****

  Also by Diana Vincent

  The Girl Who Loves Horses, Pegasus Equestrian Center Series: Book 1

  The Boy Who Loves Horses, Pegasus Equestrian Center Series: Book 2

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 Court Order

  Chapter 2 Shoulder-in, Travers, and Renvers

  Chapter 3 Delia and DNA

  Chapter 4 Oberon

  Chapter 5 Lessons and Schooling

  Chapter 6 Trust

  Chapter 7 Shopping

  Chapter 8 Secrets

  Chapter 9 Resistance

  Chapter 10 Appearances

  Chapter 11 Ben Jeffers

  Chapter 12 Eighteen

  Chapter 13 Trailer Incident

  Chapter 14 A New Season

  Chapter 15 Spring Break

  Chapter 16 A Break-in

  Chapter 17 Thieves

  Chapter 18 Rescue

  Chapter 19 Questions

  Chapter 20 Delia’s Team

  Chapter 21 Delivery

  Chapter 22 A Judge’s Decision

  Chapter 23 Senior Year and After

  Glossary of Equestrian Terms

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Dressage Arena

  U.S. Equestrian Federation Rules for Eventing, 2010: Appendix 5

  Chapter 1 Court Order

  Gypsy gold does not clink and glitter. It gleams in the sun and neighs in the dark. - Gypsy Saying

  *****

  Tess Holmes unbuckled the strap of her riding helmet and slipped it off. She ran fingers through the ridge in her short hair and brushed away the dampness at the hairline; both caused by wearing the helmet for three hours straight. Three horses ridden, one lunged, and two to go, she thought to herself, satisfied with her productive morning. Now it was time for a break; a second cup of coffee and a granola bar, and work on training schedules while the morning rides were fresh in her mind.

  “Thanks, Enrique,” she said to the young Hispanic man as she handed him the reins of Meridian, the eight-year-old Trakehner gelding she had just finished working on the flat.

  “Sí, Mees Tess,” he answered agreeably.

  Very smart move, hiring Enrique Robles, she thought to herself as she watched him lead the dark chestnut gelding toward the crossties. A few months ago she had hired the cousin of Manuel Robles, her stable manager, as an extra stable hand, primarily to clean stalls and help Manuel with the never-ending work to maintain the stable and grounds. Then, noting his calm and capable manners around horses, she started asking him to tack up her scheduled rides and when she finished, take the horse away to cool down and untack. He would have her next horse tacked up when she finished each ride, saving her an incredible amount of time. By not having to get horses ready herself or take care of them after each ride, she was able to fit two and sometimes three more horses into her daily schedule. And she needed that time, for business was flourishing at Pegasus Equestrian Center, her boarding and training stable.

  Sometime ago in a business meeting, her partner Walt Douglas had advised, “Tess, I admire and appreciate your frugality. But in business, sometimes you have to spend more money to make more money. With River as your apprentice, you can double the number of horses in training. Hire an extra hand; you’ll need the extra help to take over his chores. The money you’ll make in training fees will compensate what you spend on a minimum wage salary.” She had followed his advice and offered an apprenticeship to River Girard, the stable boy working for her the past eight years. Then she hired Enrique, and had no regrets. The barn was full with a waiting list not only for training but also for riding lessons.

  She walked away from the indoor arena and outside into the September morning on her way to her office, thinking over the morning rides. Meridian competed last season at training level; I’ll have River start him at training next season but he should be able to move up very quickly to preliminary – a talented horse. Tess had bought Meridian for Pegasus, to replace WinSome Gold (nicknamed Moose), the horse River had competed on last year. Moose’s owner had accepted an offer for the ex-racehorse, from a stable that competed internationally. Maybe I’ll let Sierra try her hand with Felicity at novice level. Raider, Pan, and Moonshadow should all be ready to compete. These last three horses belonged to student-boarders; their horses all in training for eventing. Laurel, Pan’s owner, should have a jumping lesson this week...

  Her musings were interrupted by the appearance of an unfamiliar car driving into the stable yard and parking. A well-dressed woman in fashionable slacks, blazer, and short, thick-heeled boots stepped out from the driver’s side. A younger woman in jeans and a fleece jacket got out from the back seat, and a man in a business suit exited from the front passenger side. They gathered together, talking in low voices as they looked around.

  “Can I help you?” Tess called out to them.

  “Oh, yes, hello; I’m looking for Ms. Holmes,” the fashionable woman answered.

  “I’m Tess Holmes,” Tess answered crisply. An uncomfortable feeling began to niggle at her about the purpose of these visitors.

  “Of course; I’m Beverly Cormack,” the woman stated and stepped forward with an outstretched hand. Tess shook it as briefly as possible without appearing rude. “This is my lawyer, Patrick Cooper,” she introduced the man who stepped forward as if on cue and also offered a hand. “And this is Denise Sindoski, a veterinarian.” The younger woman had been looking around speculatively at the grounds, but turned her head at hearing her name and also reached out to shake.

  “What can I do for you?” Tess asked curtly. She sensed they were not here for anything that would benefit Pegasus.

  “We’ve come about a horse that I believe may very likely be the one stolen from me about five years ago; a solid black gelding with a white heart-shaped star on his forehead. He would be seven years old now.”

  “What makes you think I have him?” Tess asked. Hearing the description of the horse, her gut cramped into a burning knot of dread.

  “I saw him at the championship; a young girl from your stable was riding him. I have a court order that allows me to examine him and take a sample for DNA testing.”

  The lawyer held up a folder that Tess had to assume was the court order. She glared at the man as he fumbled inside the folder to hand her an official-looking sheet of paper.

  Tess read the document, her spine stiffening with each word and hot anger bubbling up. “Why did you think you needed a court order before you even talked to me?” She looked up from
the paper at Beverly.

  The woman stepped back from the look on Tess’s face. “It is my policy to take care of all possible complications from the beginning,” she stated defensively. “It saves time in the long run.”

  “Let’s not waste any more time. Just take us to the horse,” the lawyer interjected.

  “I think not. I believe I want my own lawyer to look at this court order,” Tess retorted.

  “Then I suggest you call him because we are not leaving until I at least see the horse and get a blood sample. I don’t see how you can possibly object to that. It’s not like we’re going to take him away today.” Beverly stood with arms folded, her jaw clenched, and she and Tess glared at each other.

  “Wait here,” Tess ordered, and scowling at the document in her hand, turned on her heel and left them standing in the stable yard while she went into her office to call her own lawyer.

  “What do you think, Jerry?” Tess asked over the phone, having faxed him a copy of the court order.

  “This looks legitimate, Tess. I advise you to let them see the horse. It’s best if you appear cooperative, and this may not amount to anything to worry about.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I understand. Take them to the horse, Tess, but give the woman’s lawyer my number and ask him to contact me.”

  “Very well,” Tess answered, her tone of voice laced with undisguised irritation, and she hung up. They will not get River’s horse, she vowed to herself as she walked back outside.

  The group had retreated to stand around their car. When Tess reappeared, they stepped up to follow her as she wordlessly headed toward the lane between paddocks. She felt as if insects were crawling up her spine as she led them to Corazón; the horse her apprentice had rescued from slaughter, rehabilitated, and trained. Sierra Landsing, another Pegasus rider, had ridden Corazón to win the Pacific Regional Championship at junior training level, just two weeks ago.

  Corazón raised his head, his posture wary as the strangers approached. Tess yanked his halter from where it had been draped over the gate of his paddock, causing the metal buckles to clang loudly against the steel bars of the gate. As she hoped, the commotion along with the presence of strangers frightened the horse, and he retreated to the far corner of his paddock. Tess wanted this process to be as difficult as possible and maybe convince this obnoxious woman that the horse was more trouble than he was worth.

  The Cormack woman stood by obstinately, watching Tess go through the motions of approaching the big black, just to have him trot off as soon as she came within a few feet of him. After the fourth or fifth time of Corazón trotting out of range of Tess and the halter, Beverly cried out in exasperation, “This is ridiculous. I know what you’re doing, and I will wait all day if I have to.”

  “He’s like this whenever he gets upset,” Tess said over her shoulder. “He doesn’t like strangers.” Horses have remarkable memories, and Tess believed Corazón would recognize the woman who had bred him if her story were true. It didn’t necessarily mean the horse would show any signs of recognition, but making the statement inferred she believed Beverly Cormack was lying.

  Manuel, her stable manager, having noted the group around the paddock, decided he better go see if his boss needed help, and at that moment he walked up. “Mees Tess,” he called out. “Do I help you?”

  With Manuel here and realizing Beverly was not going to give up and leave, Tess gave in. “Okay, Manuel,” she answered and with a tip of her head, beckoned him to enter the paddock. She handed him the halter, and he quietly approached Corazón, haltered him, and led him to a corner of the paddock where the veterinarian approached and collected a blood sample.

  “Que pasa?” Manuel asked first in Spanish, his concern causing him to revert to his native tongue as Beverly and her party drove away. “Wat ees ‘appening?”

  “I don’t know but I’m very worried, Manuel,” Tess answered. “Please don’t say anything to River. It may turn out to be nothing and no reason to upset him until we know for sure what we are dealing with.”

  *****

  At the knock on her open office door, Janice Montoya set down the file she had been reviewing and looked up. “Come on in,” she directed the tall, thin boy standing in the doorway, shaggy black hair shadowing his face.

  He stepped in, eyeing her and her office suspiciously.

  “Why don’t you close the door after you?” she suggested with a welcoming smile. “Please, have a seat. River Girard; am I pronouncing your name correctly?”

  He nodded as he sat down.

  “Good; I’m Ms. Montoya.” She extended her hand and he shook it briefly, his grip firm and his palm calloused. Doesn’t want to be here, she noted to herself, observing his frown and sullen attitude.

  “How can I help you, River?” she began.

  He shrugged, looking at something off to the side of her.

  Janice fingered the file in front of her. “You are here because it is part of the terms of your emancipation, am I correct?”

  He looked at her briefly and answered, “Yes,” and then returned his gaze away.

  “How are things going for you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  He looked back at her, still frowning. “Things are good.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Tell me what is especially good for you.”

  He shrugged and glared.

  Janice sighed inwardly. She hadn’t expected this to be easy. The reports in his file from previous sessions with counselors all described River as troubled, uncooperative, and unwilling to let anyone help.

  “Okay, River. You don’t want to be here. Perhaps you don’t have any problems I can help you with, and if that is so, I am truly happy for you; believe me,” she added, noting his frown deepen into a scowl. “Nevertheless, you are required to see me once a week for forty-five minutes. This is your time. I am giving it to you to spend however you choose.

  “I can’t solve your problems or take them away, but I can give you tools that may help you sort things out for yourself. But you will need to talk to me if I’m going to be useful to you at all. It’s your choice. We can talk or you can work on homework or even sleep if that’s what you want. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you want to spend your time today?”

  “I don’t care.”

  Janice raised her brow, and waited.

  River sat up straighter and folded his arms across his chest. “I’d sleep but I don’t think I could with you here in the same room.”

  “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

  “Could you sleep with someone looking at you?”

  Janice did not choose to play the question for question game. “Sounds like sleep is not an option then.”

  “Guess not.”

  She waited, keeping her expression neutral, ignoring the sarcasm in his tone. After several minutes of silence where River returned to looking over her shoulder, she tried another tactic. “What if I ask you a few questions?”

  He shrugged again.

  “Tell me about your day so far. How did it start out this morning?”

  “I got up and helped feed the horses. Then I came to school.”

  “How did you get to school?”

  “I drove.”

  “Do you have your own car?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “It’s my father’s old truck.”

  “Did he give it to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Before or after he shot you?”

  He whipped his head back to glare at her through narrowed eyes. “Since he’s in prison he doesn’t need it, so I just took it.”

  “Have you told him you’re driving his truck?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think he will mind?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m using it now.”

  “Have you communicated with your father in prison?
”

  “No.”

  “You are very angry with him.” She said this as a statement.

  “Of course,” River said, irritation accenting his words. “I don’t want to talk about him.” Damn counselors; he had no use for any of them and could see no purpose in this conversation. Of course he was angry with his father, who in a drunken rage shot him in the back, almost killing him. He spent a week and a half in the hospital and six weeks where he couldn’t ride or even work around the horses. What a stupid thing for her to say.

  “I’m sorry, River. What would you like to talk about?”

  “Nothing,” he stated with conviction, and then added, “I don’t have any problems.”

  Janice let the silence hang for several minutes. Most people became uncomfortable in silence and eventually would talk just to fill the void. She smiled to herself however, as River sat still as stone, his gaze again shifted to some point beyond her, and his face frozen without expression except for a clenched jaw. River apparently could handle silence.

  After a few more minutes she gave him another try. “How are you doing in school?”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you like your classes?”

  He shrugged.

  “Are there any classes you particularly don’t like?”

  “No, they’re all okay.”

  “Very well, River.” Janice gave up for now. First sessions often went like this. It would take time for her to figure out how to communicate with this child and earn his trust; for even if he was an emancipated minor in the eyes of the law, she recognized him as an emotionally immature adolescent. “That took all of ten minutes. I will leave you alone, but I’m here for you if you think of anything you want to talk about or ask me.” She purposefully set his file aside and picked up the next one in her stack. Referring to her notes, she began to write up her summary of the previous session. She might as well get some of her work done.