Home for Christmas (16 page)

Lauren

“LAUREN,” QUINN, A COORDINATOR, SAID
to me. “I'd like you to exercise ride one of the horses. Does that sound okay?”

“Definitely!” I said. “I'd love to ride.”

We had just arrived at Safe Haven. On the way over, I'd gotten a text from Kim about a bonfire Saturday night. I'd told everyone, and they seemed as excited as I was about hanging out at Briar Creek.

Now, though, there was zero time to even think about Saturday. The minute we'd walked into Safe Haven, the coordinators had been ready for us to start our shift. Like, immediately. Quinn had already assigned tasks to the rest of my friends, and they'd headed off in separate directions. I was the only one who Quinn had asked to ride. It
felt like I hadn't been on horseback forever, even though I'd ridden Whisper a couple of days ago.

“Great,” Quinn said, looking at a clipboard. “I'd like you to groom and tack up Reeser. He's one of the fresher horses off the track. He needs a good workout. If you are up for it, I'd like you to take him for a gallop on our track.”

Excitement shot through my veins.

“That sounds great,” I said. “I'd love to be on the track.”

“Perfect,” Quinn said, smiling. “You'll be riding with another horse and rider. The rider's actually from your school and said she knows you.”

It wasn't any of my friends, so . . .

“Do you know Sasha?” Quinn asked.

My excited feelings took a nosedive. Nerves replaced them.

“Yes,” I finally answered. “Sorry. Not enough tea this morning. Sasha's a grade ahead of me.”

“I gave you both serious tasks that require extreme caution,” Quinn said. “I've told Sasha to let her horse gallop too, but not kick into that drive mode where he feels he has to win. It's not a race, although I want both horses to be allowed to stretch their legs.”

Quinn pointed me in the direction of Reeser's stall, and I felt as though I was walking on a treadmill. I kept walking,
but not getting anywhere. I wasn't worried about handling Reeser. Instead I was focused on the fact that I was about to go up against Sasha on the track. We weren't racing, but I'd be comparing my riding to hers the entire time.

I got off the imaginary treadmill and stopped in front of Reeser's stall. “Hi, boy,” I said in a soft voice.

A copper-colored gelding turned his head away from a green hay net and looked at me. He had a crooked stripe down his face. His ears, alert, pointed at me. Reeser stepped up to the stall door and stuck his head out to me.

“Aw, you're a friendly guy, huh?” I asked. “You're gorgeous. Wow.”

Reeser was nothing but muscle. He was trim—so fit that it was easy to tell he hadn't been off the track long.

“I'm going to get a grooming kit and tack, and I'll be right back, mister,” I told him.

No one's going to be watching you and Sasha,
I told myself.
So
you
are the one with the complex. She's not competition. It's not a race. You're partners, and you've met Sasha! She's not going to be judging your ride the entire time.

I shook it off and made friends with Reeser while I groomed and tacked him up. I held his reins in one hand and fastened my helmet. I tugged down my blue wool peacoat and wiggled my toes in my brown paddock boots.

“Lauren?”

I turned and Sasha stood, smiling, with a beautiful bay beside her. Sasha wore a peacoat too, except hers was plum. She had fawn breeches and worn-in black riding boots. Her helmet showed evidence of a few falls.

“Hey,” I said. “I didn't even hear you guys. These rubber mats are good.”

I wanted to smack the top of my helmet. Like Sasha wanted to talk about
rubber mats.

Sasha smiled, nodding. “This is Watson. Quinn told you we're exercising them together, right?”

“She did. I'm excited to go out on a racetrack. It's been a fantasy of mine, but I'm way too tall to be a jockey.”

“Omigod,” Sasha said. “I
dreamed
about being a jockey! I don't have the right build. Getting to race on the track is insane.”

“Do you want to race?” I asked. Goose bumps covered my arms.

“No, we're not supposed to,” Sasha said. “I didn't really mean race. Galloping as fast as we want, though, is pretty close.”

Watson yanked the reins through Sasha's fingers, jerking her forward a step.

“Whoa,” Sasha commanded.

Watson stilled immediately. He blew out a breath, clearly frustrated, and I saw hints of red inside his nostrils.

“Let's get out there,” I said. “Before Watson tears your arm off.”

Sasha nodded. For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt or fear on her face. But this was Sasha Silver. No way was she scared. Reeser stood quietly, shifting his weight. He wasn't getting rattled by Watson.

“Just FYI, even though you totally don't need me to tell you, Watson's pretty new off the track,” Sasha said. “Quinn said he's a handful. I need to let him work out his energy and do it where he was born to be, but I can't let him get out of control.”

I nodded. “You won't let that happen.”

“Reeser seems so much calmer, so if things get out of control, could you help me set the pace?” Sasha asked. “Only if you're able to do it safely. If not, only worry about yourself.”

“If you need help, I'm there if I can,” I said.

Watson let out an ear-shattering neigh. His ribs vibrated as his trumpetlike call made other horses whinny back.

Sasha and I nodded at each other and without another word led the horses toward the exit.

Reeser kept a quick walk, almost trotting in place beside me as we walked toward the track. His breath was visible in the cold air.

“Hi, girls,” Quinn said, waving at us from the entrance to the track. She held the reins of an older, sturdy appaloosa gelding. “I'm going to act as an outrider in case either of you need help.”

Races I'd watched on TV like the Kentucky Derby ran through my head until I remembered that outriders were sort of like pool lifeguards. Quinn wouldn't ride with us, but she would be on the track ready to get to us if we needed help. Her mount wasn't a high-strung Thoroughbred, but rather a horse that would calm the ex-racehorses. The appaloosa barely blinked when Watson tugged Sasha forward again.

“Easy, cool it,” Sasha said, giving the reins a quick tug.

Reeser started feeding off Watson and reached his muzzle toward the other gelding, bumping his shoulder.

“Hey!” I moved Reeser away from Watson and made him follow me through three circles before I halted him.

“Are you guys sure that you're okay?” Quinn asked. She mounted the gray-and-white appaloosa, watching Sasha and me the entire time.

“I'm ready,” I said.

“Me too,” Sasha added.

“All right,” Quinn said. “Warm them up, then let them go. Use your own judgment and pull them up before they overexert themselves or if they start to get overexcited. I'll be here if you need me.”

I turned my attention away from Watson and Sasha. The only way I would ride well was if I focused on my horse and myself.

I double-checked Reeser's girth, then gathered the reins in my left hand. I stuck the toe of my paddock boot into the silver stirrup iron. I bounced once before pushing up off the ground and gently settling into the lightweight English saddle. I put my other foot into the stirrup iron and stood, making sure the length was right.

Parfait.

Reeser stood still, only his ears swiveling. I lowered myself into the saddle, and he jolted forward at a fast trot.

“Whoa,” I said, bumping against the saddle seat and pulling him to a halt.

I knew my face was red. I'd just looked like a total beginner. I'd been warned: I had to be prepared every second.

At least Sasha and Quinn are the only ones out here,
I said to myself.

Then I looked over toward the older girls.

So much for a private ride.

Brielle.

Ana.

Carina.

Lexa.

Clare.

Khloe.

Drew.

Taylor.

Cole.

Garret.

Zack.

All of my friends were lined up along the track's white fence. They weren't alone, either. Sasha's group—Callie, Brit, Heather, Paige, Alison, Eric, and Jacob—stood near the fence too. I checked my watch. It was just after noon. Lunch break.

My stomach grumbled, and not because I was hungry.

20

Sasha

MY LEGS SHOOK AS I
Grasped watson's reins and a handful of black mane, and managed to get into the saddle before he crab-stepped toward Reeser and Lauren. I pulled on the reins and pressed my left boot against Watson's side, signaling him to move away from Lauren and her mount.

Watson jumped sideways as if I'd shocked him with my boot.
Your movements and signals need to be more sensitive,
I chastised myself.

I kept my hands low over Watson's neck, stilled my body in the saddle, and pulled ever so slightly on the right rein. Watson followed my cue, and we started to move through a large circle. My eyes, narrowed through Watson's ears, wandered for a second to the sight at the track fence.

Had a Chatter update gone out that I didn't know about? My friends, Lauren's friends, and several other volunteers from Safe Haven stood along the track rail. I half expected them to be betting on who would “win.”

But this wasn't a race. It was exercise. Unless Watson miraculously calmed down in the next several minutes, I was going to have a hard time keeping his speed in check. I was glad that Quinn had a mount saddled up and ready to come to my—or Lauren's—aid if we needed it.

Watson faced Reeser, and I nodded at Lauren. “Ready to get them on the track?” I asked in a soft voice. I didn't want to spook Watson or Reeser.

“I'm ready,” Lauren answered.

The younger rider could have been a jockey if she wasn't so tall. She was controlling Reeser without showing signs of forcing him to do anything. He was responding to her cues, and I envied her—I knew that my seat wasn't that secure when I had been her age.

We edged Reeser and Watson closer to each other. I kept Watson at a super-slow walk—wanting to make sure he was comfortable around Reeser.

“I want to let Watson feel out Reeser,” I said to Lauren, not shifting my gaze.

“Good idea,” she said. “Reeser is fine so far.”

Neither horse was bothered by our voices.
Ah, probably because of all the noise at the racetracks,
I thought.
These guys are used to announcers shouting and noisy crowds.

The group that had gathered along the wall, however, was silent. I spotted Jacob's red coat among the mostly black and blue ones, but couldn't look at him long enough to meet his eyes. I had to pretend the crowd didn't exist.

Lauren and I entered the track on our horses, and they moved comfortably at a walk. We kept a space of about four horses between them.

“This is like a dream,” Lauren said. “Can you believe what we're doing?”

I let out a half inch of rein. Watson bobbed his head, grateful for more room. “No, I feel like an announcer is going to call our names and we're going to load the horses into a starting gate.”

“Ooh, I forgot about that,” Lauren said. She let Reeser walk a little faster. The chestnut moved well under her, and he was calm. “I'm a little claustrophobic. I don't know if I'd like being in that tiny space.”

“It
does
look small on TV,” I said. “I bet that—”

Watson threw his weight forward, pulling hard on the reins. Leather seared my fingers, but I didn't let go. I
scrambled to regain the amount of rein I'd lost. Watson flattened his black ears against his head and shook it from side to side.