Leaping Hearts (37 page)

By the time she and Devlin returned to the trailer, the crowd had grown to its full size and A.J. saw the first of the
socialites. The sight of haute couture made her think about her stepmother and she wondered where her family was. Scanning the grounds, she located the Sutherland trailer easily. She could see people milling around its exterior, unloading horses she knew well. Out of a field of some thirty registered competitors, three, including Philippe Marceau, were from the Sutherland Stables, a good showing by anyone’s estimation. Squinting against the direct sunlight, she could see Marceau’s roan mare being groomed by one of the staff.

Shifting her gaze to Sabbath, she was thinking their time had finally come. Chester was winding wraps around the stallion’s legs and she assessed the horse’s mood. He seemed upbeat and not particularly aggressive. She hoped it would last.

Going over to the trailer’s cab, A.J. grabbed her bag and her show clothes and went to the back, changing in the unused stall as she’d done before. When she emerged, Devlin was leaning against the back door.

“You all set?” he asked tightly, watching as her hand went to her throat and then fell back down to her side.

“I am.”

“How’re the nerves?”

“Calmer now that I’m in my show clothes.”

“Anything you need?”

She asked him a few questions about course strategy and then they reflected on the field of competitors and Sabbath’s good behavior thus far. As he spoke with her, Devlin thought once more that she would always be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and likely the only one he would ever truly love. As they stood in the sunshine, beneath a crystal blue sky that once again reminded him of the color of her eyes, he wished things were different between them. That the distance wasn’t there.

When they heard over the loudspeaker that the practice ring was open for competitors, A.J. gathered up her hat and crop. “Let’s see if his mood holds.”

“Wait,” Devlin said. “I have something for you, for luck.”

He buried a hand into the pocket of his coat and took out a small velvet bag. “Close your eyes.”

When she did, he emptied the satchel and then reached behind her neck.

“You shouldn’t have to open them to know what it is,” he said, next to her ear.

When her fingertips went exploring, they found home.

Her eyes flew open and she looked down at her mother’s diamond.

“How did you—”

“I have ways.”

“But this was to pay off my debt.”

“I thought you’d want it today. We can argue about the finances later.”

A.J. stared down at the stone, seeing light sparkle in the familiar facets. “This was my mother’s.”

“I knew it must have been significant. You don’t wear jewelry, not even a watch, and this you never took off. I can’t imagine why you sold it to pay the debt.”

“It was the only thing I had that was really mine.”

“Well, it’s yours again now. And I understand how important it is for you to cover your own expenses. We’ll work something out.”

“Thank you,” A.J. said, tucking the stone inside her shirt. The words didn’t go far enough. She hoped the love shining in her eyes went the rest of the way.

“You’re welcome.” He hesitated and then stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. In a voice that was rough with emotion, he said, “Take it easy over those fences, will you?”

A.J. grabbed on to his palm. “I promise.”

Chester interrupted. “What number are we in the field?”

“Sixteen out of seventeen,” Devlin responded, reluctantly looking away. “Course will be chewed up but at least we’ll be clear on where the bomb zones are.”

“Saddle him up?”

He nodded to Chester.

Just then, Garrett and Regina approached through the crowd. A.J. noted that her father looked at home around the horses. He was dressed in his club pullover and a pair of dark wool slacks and had a pipe gripped between his teeth. Fragrant smoke billowed behind him in cloudy puffs. Her
stepmother, on the other hand, was wearing a frown and a tangerine Ungaro ensemble. Her silk shoes, dyed to match, were already dirty. She looked like someone who’d gotten lost and didn’t like where the misdirection had taken her.

A.J. went forward to greet them, forcing a smile for their benefit.

“Good morning, all,” Garrett said, looking only at A.J.

She went into his arms and kissed his cheek. “Hi, Papa.”

“Are you ready for this?” he whispered in her ear.

“I think so.”

“Is he?” He nodded over at Sabbath.

“The stallion’s in great physical shape and his heart belongs to me. We’re going to do the best we can.”

“I’ll love you no matter what.”

“I know.”

Behind him, Regina said, “Darling, we really should get to our seats.” She looked ready to drag her husband off but then she caught sight of something that interested her. “Oh, look! There’s Winnie and Curt Thorndyke—she’s chair of the Borealis Christmas Ball for the second year in a row. Winnie!”

She tore off into the crowd as fast as her high heels could cover the ground. Her target, assuming an expression of abject terror, bolted into a tack room.

Garrett shook his head. “She wishes you the very best, as well.”

“Thanks.”

“Arlington, I know you have to start warming up. I just wanted to make sure you knew I’d be rooting for you in the stands. I hope you win this, if it’s what you want.”

He embraced her again and she was struck by how much he loved her. As her father went over and shook Devlin’s hand, she felt grateful. It was a sensation that continued as Sabbath was presented to her, tacked and ready to go. She felt lucky to have made it as far as they had. After all, they were at the Qualifier. She was going into the ring on the stallion.

As for the outcome? That was up to the fates. But she was going to do her level best to be lucky by trying to ride better than she ever had.

While Chester held the reins, Devlin gave her a leg up. Their eyes met and held.

As she settled into the saddle, the groom lectured the stallion.

“Now, listen here, ya big troublemaker. I’ll strike ya a deal. Be nice, mind your manners an’ there’ll be a bucket a’ sweet feed waiting for ya. Misbehave an’ I’m feedin’ ya nothing but dry grass for the rest a’ the month.”

Sabbath blinked and offered a snicker, as if he’d consented to the marching orders.

The first rider out on the course was disqualified after his horse refused the wall. The inauspicious start proved providential. By the time eight competitors had gone into the ring, two more had been disqualified for refusals, one had taken a fall and three had twelve-faulted.

It was the kind of competitive carnage that was expected.

In the warm-up ring, Sabbath was agreeable, jumping with sound mastery and becoming only a little rambunctious with the other horses. He seemed to accept the work A.J. was asking of him and this was a huge relief because she wanted to spare her injury as long as she could. She’d taken some Motrin just before she’d mounted, and her arm was feeling fairly strong, but the more energy she could save before their turn over the course, the better.

While practicing, she noticed Philippe Marceau cantering around on the roan mare. He was going tenth, she’d learned. Typically, he was paying more attention to the other competitors than to his own warm-up and he sent several pitying glances at A.J., none of which hid his calculation. Concentrating on Sabbath, she ignored the man and didn’t even watch his round or check his results after he finished.

Before she knew it, Devlin was leading her and Sabbath to the ring.

“Watch the mound,” he said. “That’s where they’re falling.”

A.J. nodded. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

Her name was called out through the loudspeakers and
Sabbath took his cue from her heels. With a flash of his black tail, they pranced forward into the ring. Overhead, the announcer went on to describe some of her recent accomplishments, the man’s aristocratic vowels and Rs rolling like croquet balls.

A.J. and Sabbath made a pass by the president of the club so she could doff her hat to him and the officials of the event. A minute later, she heard the all-clear sound and set the stallion into a canter. They took one last circle before facing off at the first jump and then crossing the start line.

The stallion took the opening oxers with such grace even A.J. heard the crowd’s swell of approval through her concentration. Cutting into the first turn, he didn’t fight her; rather he seemed to understand her thinking, and they ended up in perfect position for the next jump. With a stunning combination of poise and power, they soared over the wall and continued onward.

In the crowd, momentum for them grew with every fence they cleared, spurred by the strength of the stallion and A.J.’s firm control of him. Watching from the rail, Devlin heard the rapt sighs and gasps as each jump was mastered and knew he was seeing history being made. A.J. and the stallion were jumping faster and cleaner than any of the other competitors, than anyone would have dared expect.

As the two approached the water jump, A.J. reined in Sabbath, slowing them down, giving him a little time to collect himself. She could feel the stallion’s hesitancy, a faint stiffening in his legs, but he didn’t shy away and, when he leapt with surprising confidence into the air, they cleared the obstacle with room to spare.

It was, people would agree afterward, the round of a lifetime.

Right up until the unthinkable happened.

Going cleanly into the last three jumps, Sabbath and A.J. approached the mound with its raised platform and rail fence. They had speed and a good angle in their favor. In the saddle, A.J. was feeling solid. With his hooves pounding over the ground, the stallion was bearing down on the jump steadily. They were going to make it.

Suddenly a brilliant explosion of light went off in
Sabbath’s face. A photographer, determined to get a picture of them, had forgotten to turn off his flash.

Blinded, the stallion lost his stride and leapt to one side. A.J. tried to correct their course by throwing her weight in the opposite direction and pulling back on the reins. Their velocity was too great, however, and the platform rushed up to them. Sabbath was forced to jump at an angle and they scrambled onto the grass, wildly off-balance.

To keep him from awkwardly leaping over the upright and plummeting to ground level with a landing that would hurt his legs, A.J. yanked back on the reins, trying to redirect them down the side of the platform. It was too much stress on her arm. A stinging pain shot through to her shoulder and she was crippled with agony. Sabbath jerked one way, to clear the rail, and she lurched the other, loosing the traction of the stirrups.

With a sickening dread, she felt herself losing her seat in the saddle and then watched, in the disorienting slow motion of impending injury, as the stallion cleared the jump without her. Her final thought, before she hit the ground, was how beautiful he looked as he sailed through the air.

A.J. landed hard and blacked out.

As medics ran to her, the crowd went silent with shock. Then a heavy, rhythmic pounding began to overwhelm the field. Starting with the feet of the club members, and spreading on a wave of sympathy and regret, the whole crowd beat the bleachers, announcing the awful news. The noise rose louder and higher, until everyone on the grounds halted whatever they were doing, their blood running cold. There was only one reason for the sound, a kind of static death march.

Someone had fallen. And could not remount.

D
EVLIN WATCHED
in horror as she fell from the stallion. With a leap, he cleared the rail and ran into the ring, just behind the medics. Raw fear was raging through him as they did a preliminary examination and ran an IV line into A.J.’s arm. As she was loaded onto a stretcher, her eyes flipped open. He rushed forward and took her hand.

“Sabbath?”

Devlin had forgotten all about the horse. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that Chester already had hold of the stallion and was walking him around slowly.

“He’s with Chester.”

“S’okay?”

He nodded to reduce her agitation. It wasn’t enough.

“His legs?” She began to rise.

Devlin put a hand on her shoulder, pressing her gently back down. He didn’t even look at the stallion. “He’ll be fine.”

“You’ll make sure Chester wraps him tight?”

“I promise.”

“Liniment. The foul-smelling one…”

“The one they both hate. I know.”

“Arlington!” Garrett Sutherland’s voice cut through the chaos as he ran to his daughter.

A.J. was muttering incomprehensible syllables.

“Are you her husband?” a medic asked Devlin while they slid her into the back of an ambulance.

“I’m her father,” Garrett interjected. “I’m going with her.”

Devlin opened his mouth to argue but the man was already climbing inside. As they shut the doors, A.J. lifted up off the stretcher, calling Devlin’s name.

Before the doors shut, he shouted out to her, “I’ll meet you there.”

When the ambulance left, he felt as if his world had ended. Again.

As he was standing there, a flashbulb went off in his face. It was a galvanizing event. He went from frozen shock to raging anger in the split second it took for the brilliant light to fade. Lunging in fury, he grabbed the camera out of the man’s hands and threw it to the ground.

“Hey, you broke my—” the man said.

Devlin gripped the photographer’s shirt in his fists and hauled him up close. “When I find out which one of you bastards let that goddamn flash go off, I’m going to crack more than a lens.”

“Easy there, boy.” Chester’s calm voice reached him in the nick of time. “Let ’im go. C’mon, now.”

Devlin pushed the man away. “Get out of my sight.”

The photographer didn’t protest any further, just gathered up the pieces of the camera and disappeared in a hurry. The rest of the press backed off.

Devlin turned and looked at Chester, who was standing with the stallion. He was finding it hard to string sentences together. “How’re his legs?”