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“No, Daddy, That’s too soon. I want to be able to show off what I know. Give me time to learn something, okay?” Pat listened for another moment, said goodbye and handed the phone back to Liz. “He wants to speak to you again.”
“Miss Matthews, I apologize for my rude behavior this morning,” Whitten said. He didn’t sound one bit apologetic. Maybe he expected Liz to apologize in turn.
“Think nothing of it. Goodbye.” Liz clicked the phone off and met Pat’s high five in midair. “Go get your lunch. And laugh like he...heck.”
The moment Pat’s back was turned, Liz stuck out her tongue at the phone and handed it back to Albert.
“What you up to?” he asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t do to get between a daddy and his little girl. He finds out, he’s gonna whip your tail.”
“Him and what army?”
As she turned away she realized that Albert, as always, was right. She not only had to keep Whitten from finding out about her private session with Pat, she had to keep the other kids from finding out as well. And Pat Whitten did not seem like the most reliable ally. How did she get herself into these things?
As she turned the corner and saw Pat sitting on the sofa between Janey and Kimberly and laughing like a demented hyena, she grinned. Because she reminds me of me.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE VAN PICKED UP the campers at three that afternoon. At three-twenty Pat mounted Wishbone while Liz held his bridle. At three-thirty Pat allowed herself to be played out on the lunge line.
At a quarter to four Pat decided she could walk around all by hersetf—no lunge tine.
At ten minutes to four Liz sat down on a jump in the center of the ring while Pat walked around the perimeter all by herself. By four-fifteen she decided she was ready to trot. Pat didn’t bother communicating this to Liz. She simply kicked Wishbone hard in his sides. Surprised, he woke up, grunted and obligingly trotted forward.
Pat dropped the reins, dug both hands into the pony’s mane and yelped. Liz ran to her and grabbed Wishbone after five strides.
“Our deal is that you do what I tell you, young lady, and not what you think you’d like to try,” Liz said.
Pat threw her leg over the pony’s side. “I want to get down now.”
“No way. Quit now and you’ll never get back on.”
“But my daddy says...”
“Your daddy is not here. Get down now and don’t bother to come back tomorrow.”
Pat sniffled, picked up her reins and walked forward. She gulped when Liz let go and stepped away, but she stuck it out for another five minutes.
“Okay. Now you can dismount. It’s hot and the pony’s tired.” Liz instructed Pat in the proper way to dismount—a way that did not involve throwing the reins up in the air and yelling like a coyote. “Walk him in and give him a bath. Albert will show you how.”
Pat took the pony’s reins and began to move toward the stable door.
“Oh, and Pat?”
Pat looked over her shoulder.
“You did good.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Pat’s face glowed.
As Liz walked into the stable behind Pat she heard the telephone ring and raced to pick it up. “ValleyCrest,” she breathed.
“Hey, Liz,” a familiar female voice said, “This is Angie.” She sounded subdued. “Are you still speaking to me?”
“You mean, since you left ValleyCrest and went over to the competition? I guess so. What’s up?”
Silence, then a deep breath. “I need a favor. A really big favor. This afternoon.”
Liz waited.
“I don’t know whether anybody told you, but I decided to breed my mare Boop.”
“I heard.”
“Thing is, she’s due to foal any minute now and I have absolutely got to go to Europe for a few days on business. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m terrified she’ll foal while I’m gone. Kevin refuses to be responsible. Says he delivers human babies, not horse babies.”
“So, doesn’t Mark have a stall available?”
Another deep breath. “I don’t trust him to handle the birth, either.” Angie went on in a rush. “He’s never foaled a mare in his life, and he couldn’t be less interested. He’s furious that I even bred her.”
“So he won’t take her?”
“Oh, he’ll take her, all right, but I have no intention of leaving her with him unless I can’t con you.” The voice became a wheedle. “Please, Liz, please. I know I was a total monster to abandon you and Vic the way I did for Mark’s barn. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Liz felt a wave of elation. Angie Womack was an excellent rider who kept two very expensive hunters on board and training year round. Her OB-Gyn husband provided her with unlimited funds. If she came back to ValleyCrest, others might follow. The Womacks were good people. Besides, no way could Liz let that mare foal under Mark Hardwick’s tender mercies. “Sure,” Liz said. “Bring her on. I’ll have a double stall waiting for her.”
“Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” Angie said.
Liz smiled and went to tell Vic and Albert that they were back in the baby business.
Angie’s big two-horse trailer pulled into the yard ten minutes later and Angie jumped out. She wore baggy jeans and an Olympic T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out. Her hair was almost as short as Albert’s and nearly as curly. She was burned brown by the summer sun, and she was grinning from ear to ear. She ran to Liz and Vic and hugged them both. “Yell at me, I deserve it.”
“Let’s get that mare bedded down first,” Vic said and smiled at Angie. “Then we’ll yell at you. You did bring the foal predictor kit? I’m not sitting up with this lady every night until you get back.”
“I’ve got it in the car.” She smiled over Liz’s shoulder at Pat, who stood in the doorway. “Hey. I’m Angie.”
Pat nodded, obviously fascinated.
Two minutes later a broad chestnut mare backed out of the trailer.
“Wow!” Pat said and ran to pet the mare.
“Be careful, she’s pretty grumpy. She wants that baby out of there,” Angie said as she led the mare into the barn with complete familiarity. Vic winked at Liz.
“Can I help?” Pat asked as she trailed along. “Daddy won’t be here for another thirty minutes—if he’s on time. Half the time he’s not.”
“Come on,” Angie said amiably.
“You do that, kiddo,” Liz said. “I’ve got to get on Trust Fund before feeding time.”
She was still riding when Mike Whitten arrived and found Pat sitting on a tack trunk helping Albert wash down stirrup leathers.
“You’re too early,” Pat wailed.
Mike checked his watch. “Actually, I’m five minutes late. Are you supposed to be that dirty?”
“Oh, Daddy. I’ve been riding and grooming, and come see the mare who’s about to have a baby.” She pulled her father down the aisle. Outside in the arena he glimpsed Liz cantering by on that same big horse.
“Daddy, I’ve got to finish helping Albert,” Pat said. “You go on outside and wait for me.”
“Pat...”
“Daddy! It’s my first day!”
He gave in, but instead of going to his car he walked out to stand beside the arena and watch Liz.
She hadn’t even acknowledged Mike’s presence, not that he expected her to. She turned the horse down the center toward a pair of big jumps. Mike felt his heart in his mouth. Trust Fund sailed over the first and cantered down to the second.
The horse stopped dead one stride from the fence and dropped both his head and his shoulder. Mike didn’t expect that. Apparently neither did Liz. She did a somersault in midair and came down on the far side of the jump flat on her back with a whump that raised a cloud of dust. She didn’t move.
Mike vaulted the fence, raced to where she lay and knelt in the dirt beside her. The horse shied away.
Liz was on her back, her eyes open and staring, her mouth wide. She didn’t seem to be breathing. As his knees hit the dirt she sucked in a huge breath that sounded like a death rattle.
“Don’t move,” Mike snapped. “You may have broken your neck.”
Liz turned her head on a neck that was obviously still in working order. “I’m fine,” she gasped. “Knocked my breath out.” She put both hands against her diaphragm and pushed. “Better.” She raised onto her elbows. “Nothing broken.”
Mike put one arm behind her waist and the other behind her knees and scooped her up. She was no lightweight, but at that point he figured he had enough adrenaline pumping to move Brooklyn Bridge. He began to walk as quickly as he could toward the stable.
“Hey!”
“Where are you hurt?” he asked, afraid for a moment he might have done her more harm than good.
“I’m not hurt, I’m mad as hell. I’m mad at Trusty, mad at myself, and if you do not put me down his instant I am going to be really mad at you.”
“Fine.” He dropped her legs.
The instant she touched down she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. “Oh, heck. Just let me stand here a minute until I get my breath back.”
Mike suspected that small request cost her dearly.
It cost him as well. She stood in the circle of his arm, her breast and hip against his side, her breath against his cheek. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of warm woman against him. Too long since he’d felt it.
After a moment she let go of his neck, but he kept his arm around her waist in case she should feel rocky again. And because he liked having her in his arms.
She disengaged herself carefully and took a couple of steps toward the horse, who stood at the far side of the ring eyeing her sheepishly. “Trusty, you old fool, come here.”
The horse meandered over. Mike caught his reins.
“Thanks,” Liz said. “Give me a leg up.”
“You’re not getting back up there!”
“Of course I am.” She sounded surprised. “If I let him get away with that nonsense, he’ll do it again.”
“You need to be checked over by a doctor before you ride again.”
“The hell I do. Now, are you going to give me a leg up or what?”
She bent her knee. Mike tossed her into the saddle so hard that she nearly tumbled over the other side.
“Wow!” she said. “You try tossing Pat that hard and she’ll come down in the back pasture.” She moved away and said over her shoulder, “Better get out of the way while Trusty and I have our little prayer meeting.” She trotted off.
He watched her bottom rise and sink in the saddle and discovered he was having visions that he should not have about his child’s riding teacher. He dusted himself off and walked to the edge of the arena. This time he used the gate. He turned to see Liz heading for that pair of huge fences again. He crossed his fingers and held his breath.
Trusty sailed over both jumps perfectly. Liz pulled him down to a walk immediately and came over toward Mike. “That’s enough. What you saw earlier, Mr. Whitten, was an example of ‘quitting dirty.”’
Mike opened the gate.
“Most of the time horses telegraph that they don’t intend to jump. Trusty occasionally stops with his toenails in the fence. This is the first time he’s gotten me off, but I’ve held on to his ears a couple of times.” She grinned and patted the big horse’s neck. “Quitting dirty is a very bad habit.” She smacked Trusty lightly on his thick neck. “Remember that.”
Albert came out of the barn and stood with his hands on his hips. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “You look like you’ve rolled in the dirt.”
“I did.”
Albert took the reins and glanced at Mike. “So does he. And he’s not dressed for it.”
Liz swung off and leaned against Trusty’s shoulder for a moment.
“You okay?” Albert asked.
“My bruises are having bruises as we speak, but yeah, I’m fine. Just rang my chimes a little bit.”
Albert shook his head and led the horse off. Liz put both hands in the small of her back and stretched, then took two steps toward the stable.
“Ow!” she yelped, and grabbed the back of her left thigh. “Ow, ow, ow, ow!”
Mike reached for her. She snaked her arm back around his neck and held on.
“Charley horse.” Liz grimaced in pain. “Ow, ow, ow,” she repeated.
