The Boy Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series) Read online

  THE BOY WHO LOVES HORSES

  Pegasus Equestrian Center Series: Book 2

  By 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.

  The Boy Who Loves Horses - Copyright 2012 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

  Dedicated to my three sons, Jeff, Michael, and Matt, who never complained about all the time their mom spent with horses.

  Life is a short course

  Let me spend what days I have

  Astride a fine horse

  *****

  Also by Diana Vincent

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

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  1 Autumn

  2 Cobbler, Dumplings, and Basil

  3 Rogue Horse

  4 Allison

  5 Demon

  6 Laila

  7 Problems, Promises, and a Prom

  8 Homecoming

  9 Prom Night

  10 Corazón

  11 Homework

  12 Training Begins

  13 Diva

  14 Dressage

  15 Schooling, Soapsuds, and a Pharmacist

  16 School’s Out, Summer’s In

  17 Training Level Event

  18 Colic

  19 Season Ends

  20 Sophomores and a Senior

  21 Dean

  22 Going Out

  23 Jumping

  24 Cold Weather, Cold Relationship

  25 Valentine’s Day

  26 The Ball

  27 The Bet

  28 Competitions

  29 Father and Son

  30 The Marshalls

  31 Riding Cory

  32 Combined Training Championship

  Glossary of Equestrian Terms

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  1 Autumn

  No hour of life is lost that is spent in the saddle. – Winston Churchill

  *****

  Heart attack; what a stupid phrase. Sierra Landsing visualized a heart pulsing within a chest, bubbling into fists and punching out at the surrounding ribs. That shouldn’t happen to a man in his early fifties; there is medicine, surgery, all kinds of treatments. Her mother had told her so, and her mother was in training to be a registered nurse, so she should know.

  Yet João Mateus, her riding instructor, mentor, but most of all, a very dear friend; died of a massive heart attack just a few weeks ago.

  Sierra rolled over in bed and thumped her damp pillow. Sometimes she felt so angry at him for dying, and then she felt ashamed and guilty, and then tears came.

  João had told his friends not to mourn him, but to celebrate his memory. And he had bequeathed Sierra his horse Fiel, a beautiful dapple-gray Lusitano gelding. Sierra had won the Pacific Regional Combined Training Championship at junior novice level on his wonderful horse.

  “I miss you, João,” Sierra whispered into the darkness of the middle of the night. I love Fiel with all my heart, but I would give anything for him to belong to you again; just to have you alive.

  *****

  “Ready to gallop?” River, the rider on WinSome Gold (nicknamed Moose), a tall, rangy, bay thoroughbred; glanced over his shoulder. Beneath the shadow of his riding helmet, River’s dark eyes shone in anticipation of picking up the pace. The unruly ends of his black hair sticking out from the back of his helmet matched the high gloss of his horse’s black mane and tail, gleaming in the late afternoon light. The creamy brown of his complexion caught in a spot of sunlight, reflected the golden tones of the turning autumn leaves. His slender frame melded with that of his mount; boy and horse one harmonious body and spirit. River Girard was always at his best on the back of a horse.

  Sierra smiled, her own brown eyes shining in exhilaration, and answered, “Let’s go!”

  The bay jumped from walk to canter. Fiel snorted and flicked his ears back; clearly letting his rider know he did not want to be left behind.

  “Okay, Fiel,” she spoke softly to him and gave with the reins. She felt his powerful hind end muscles bunch underneath her as he sprang forward into an energetic gallop to keep pace with the long-legged thoroughbred.

  Early October has to be one of the best times of year to gallop a horse out in the open. The crisp scent of fallen leaves and the last cutting of hay filled the air. Flickers and jays scolded at the two riders from tree branches, in chorus with geese honking overhead on their southward flight. A flash of black darted through the trees as Storm, River’s dog, chased after squirrels, crunching leaves and branches as she ran. The cool temperature prevented the horses from working up much of a sweat in spite of their coats growing in thick for the upcoming winter.

  Fiel’s mood matched that of the young girl on his back. He galloped with easy energy, his strong legs propelling him forward with his shoulders uplifted and light on his front end. The dapple-gray of his neck gleamed in flashes of sunlight that poured in through the trees. He kept his ears pricked forward or flicking towards his rider, intensely interested in everything around him; but not fearful. His luxuriously thick, dark gray mane that hung past his neck, filled out like a sail with the speed of his gallop, and his tail flowed like a triumphant banner.

  Sierra imagined the crinkling blue eyes of their friend João watching her and River, and in her mind she distinctly heard his voice, as he so often said during her lessons, “Ahh, this is good.” She felt his spirit joining them as they rode, and she suddenly realized, I am happy today!

  Most of the trail wended through woods except for one stretch through an open field where a side path branched off and led to a log jump. The riders emerged from the woods into the field and River turned Moose onto the side path with Sierra following two lengths behind. Moose cleared the log.

  Fiel, his ears forward, snorted in rhythm with his galloping stride, and gathered his muscles. Sierra felt his body arch underneath her as he sailed over the log. She let his motion push her weight forward over his withers, her hands moving to keep a feel of the bit in his mouth. “Good boy,” Sierra called out to him as he landed and her weight shifted back in the saddle. She reached forward to pat his neck as they galloped on.

  At the final bend of the trail, River brought Moose back down to walk.

  Sierra spoke words to help slow Fiel, “Easy, whoa up now,” and sat deep in her saddle, engaging her stomach muscles as she held her legs steady against his sides and squeezed her fingers on the reins. Fiel obediently transitioned down to trot and then to a walk behind Moose for the last stretch of trail.

  They stepped off the trail and onto an open field of rolling hills and cross country jumps, all part of Pegasus Equestrian Center, where both River and Sierra worked and Sierra boarded Fiel. Storm bounded out from the woods to follow behind at a respectful distance from the horses’ back hooves.

  “What a perfect ride!” Sierra exclaimed as she brought Fiel alongside Moose.

  River looked at her, and his eyes crinkled with warmth that spread over his face, twisting his mouth upward in a genuine smile; the first she had seen on his face since…before João’s death?

  His smile triggered a rush of warmth to erupt from deep within Sierra to diffuse outward into her limbs and up into her face, causing her to blush. It sur
prised her how happy it made her feel to see him smile; for he had been morose and withdrawn since her return to working at Pegasus a week ago; his moodiness enhancing her own sense of loss.

  She looked away and between Fiel’s ears to hide the flush of her face, and distractedly weaving her fingers throughout his thick mane, she prattled on to hide her embarrassment. “I have missed this trail more than I realized. It really is good to be back to work here. Thanks again for talking to Tess.”

  “I think Tess was relieved when I told her you wanted your job back.”

  They both laughed. Tess Holmes, half owner of Pegasus and its resident trainer and riding instructor, had fired Sierra last summer after Sierra had confronted her about an abusive training technique. Tess had hired a series of girls to replace her, but none had worked out, and no one had been willing to work in exchange for lessons the way Sierra had. Sierra never wanted to take lessons from Tess again, so now she worked in exchange for Fiel’s board.

  “She still hasn’t said one word to me since I’ve come back,” Sierra stated.

  “Yeah, well, she might have to say something like ‘sorry’, and I don’t think she knows that word.” They both laughed again.

  The laughter died away, and they rode on in silence, both with loose reins to allow the horses to stretch their necks forward and down. When they reached the upper edge of the field, they dismounted to lead the horses back to the stable.

  “River, what do you think I should do with Fiel now that show season is over. How much riding should I do?” Sierra asked.

  He thought for a minute before answering. “You trained pretty hard right up to the championship. I think trail riding him three days a week is good. He likes it out on the trail and it keeps him fresh. Then maybe thirty to forty minutes of flat work two to three days a week, and give him one or two days off. Just pay attention to his attitude. He’ll let you know if he’s getting overworked.

  “What about jumping?”

  “I’d back off on the jumping. You can do low jumps like the log we did today and maybe one or two of the field jumps when you go out on the trails. But I wouldn’t stress him anymore than that for a few months.”

  “Okay. It sounds like a good plan for him.”

  “Are you going to want to compete again next year?”

  “Yes, I would like to.”

  “On Fiel?”

  “Sure. Well, he is my horse now.”

  “Do you want to move up to training level?”

  “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I guess I would like to try.”

  “It’s just that I don’t know if Fiel can handle training level.”

  That was a surprise to Sierra. “I thought you said all horses can jump. João said so too.” She had come to believe her horse could do anything.

  “Up to certain heights. In training level, the jumps go up to three foot, three, and the combinations are more difficult. I’m sure Fiel can jump that height but it could strain him. He’s an Iberian horse. He’s not really bred for jumping you know. He’s bred for bullfighting and dressage.”

  “Oh, yeah; João did tell me stories about the horses on his father’s farm.” João had grown up in Portugal and had talked a lot about Iberian horses; the Lusitano of Portugal and the Andalusian of Spain. They were bred so that their conformation allowed them to easily learn and perform upper level dressage movements, which happened to suit in the bull ring as well.

  “You don’t think I should go training level with Fiel?”

  “He’s your horse. It’s up to you. It’s just something to think about.”

  “What would you do if he were your horse?”

  “Fiel is twelve years old and he’s already trained to grand prix level in dressage, and he does it well. I would stick to dressage with him. He likes jumping and it won’t hurt to do low jumps once in awhile. But if you want to compete, do it in dressage.”

  Sierra thought that over. She had really looked forward to eventing again next season. But she also didn’t want to take chances with her horse. She wanted Fiel to stay sound and live a long and happy life. She had already seen too many bad outcomes with horses that had been pushed too hard and at too young an age.

  Sierra sighed deeply. “Okay, good advice…dressage it is then. But I don’t know how to ride the upper level movements.”

  “You can learn them,” he assured her. “You know, you might be able to compete on one of the horses Tess has in training.”

  Sierra snorted a laugh. “Not very likely.”

  “No, really; she’s pretty sly when it comes to working things to her advantage. To have last year’s junior novice champion on the Pegasus team can only help her reputation.”

  “Thanks for that little bit of hope,” Sierra stated, somewhat bitterly. “She’d actually have to acknowledge that I exist.”

  “She knows you exist. Just wait; I’ll bet she’ll say something when it’s time to start conditioning for next season.”

  “Hmm, I’ll believe it when it happens.” She personally doubted it, but she appreciated the encouragement from River. Without thinking she suddenly blurted out, “River, you actually seem happy today. Are you feeling a little better?” Then she held her breath. River didn’t like these kinds of questions.

  He reached over to Moose and stroked his neck intently. Sierra knew he was thinking and she waited, unconsciously reaching up to stroke Fiel’s neck.

  Finally River answered, “I guess I am. This was a good day.” A few minutes later he added, “I miss him a lot. Him dying…it was almost like losing my mother all over again. But you know what he said about not wanting anyone to mourn for him, but to think of him with good memories. I have a lot of good memories of João.” He looked over at Sierra. “I thought it would be hard to have Fiel at Pegasus, but you know, I actually feel good when I see him. He’s happy and has an owner who loves him and takes great care of him. That’s what João would have wanted.”

  Sierra felt such relief to hear those words. Maybe they were both starting to heal. It brought tears to her eyes that she quickly brushed away. There had been far too many tears between them lately. She looked up to meet his dark eyes studying her and she smiled.

  “River, come to dinner tonight…please,” she pleaded. “My mother would like to see you.” Over the summer Sierra had started inviting River to join her and her mother after he finished his work at the stable. They both believed he did not get regular meals at his own home. But since João’s death, River had declined all her invitations.

  River still had his hand softly stroking his horse’s neck, and perhaps the contact with a warm, living creature unconsciously convinced him that being around other living beings was a good thing...comforting. “Okay,” he accepted.

  *****

  “Can you help me change the bandage on Morris’s leg?” River asked after they had finished untacking and grooming their horses.

  “Of course,” Sierra replied. Morris, one of the school horses owned by Pegasus, had been kicked by another horse, resulting in a deep gash on his hind leg that required Dr. Patterson, the stable’s veterinarian, to attend to the wound and place stitches. Dr. Patterson had shown River how to change the dressing every few days. It helped during the process to have someone stand at Morris’s head to distract him. “Do you want me to bring him to the wash stall?”

  “Yeah, thanks; I’ll get the stuff.”

  Morris stood sulkily in his stall, his head facing a corner. The vet had advised stall rest, and poor Morris demonstrated to everyone around that he was not happy about his confinement; in no way agreeing that it was for his own good.

  “Hey, guy,” Sierra called to him. He lifted his head at her voice and with a low whicker, turned slowly to amble toward her. He knew Sierra always had pocketfuls of treats. Sierra had a special attachment to this little bay horse. He was the first horse she rode at Pegasus, and she had spent many hours on his broad, comfortable back in riding lessons. She gave him a piece of carrot and sl
ipped on his halter.

  Sierra led Morris into the wash stall where River waited with the stable’s veterinary kit. Standing at his head, she petted him and fed him small bits of carrots to keep him distracted while River undid the vet wrap and removed the dressing covering the wound on his back leg. He spoke to Morris in soothing Spanish words while he worked, “está bien, es facil.”

  “It looks good,” he commented. Sierra stepped around to see and agreed that it looked like the swelling had gone way down from the last time she had seen the wound. “I think the stitches can come out the next time Dr. Patterson comes.” River applied an antibiotic ointment and redressed the leg. He stood and gave Morris a pat on the rump.

  “River, get Galaxy,” a sharp voice called. Both kids turned their heads as Crystal Douglas, daughter of the other half owner of Pegasus marched toward them. Dressed in a navy and red tank top, short denim skirt, and bright blue patterned cowboy boots that obviously had been designed for a dance floor rather than the saddle; it did not appear she had come to ride.

  River ignored her, repacking the veterinary kit.

  “I’ll take Morris back to his stall,” Sierra said, happy to have an excuse to escape a potentially unpleasant scene. Even though Crystal was the same age as Sierra and both freshmen at Firwood High School, they were not friends. She led Morris out and past Crystal, who never even once glanced at her.

  River finished packing up and stepped past Crystal, still not acknowledging her presence.

  “River, I gave you an order,” Crystal barked at his retreating back.

  “I heard you,” he stated without turning around.

  Crystal spun away, her professionally styled blonde hair undulating in waves as she strode haughtily back down the aisle where her best friend Gloria Sanders, and Kate Ogilvie, another girl from school, both waited, giggling together.