Tacked to Death (3 page)

She certainly didn't want Sterling to
spot her. He was the last person she wanted to talk to, so she
picked up her pace and headed to where the horses awaited. Who
really cared what that had been about? She'd met her stress quota
for the day.

The three horses were lined up at a
long hitching post. Her favorite was a bay mare named Rebel. The
mare had the kind of eyes that Michaela liked on a horse:
intelligent.

"Hey, Rebel," she said, patting her on
her rump. "You look good." The horse glanced at her with a baleful
eye, and then turned back around. "Uh-huh. That's what I like about
you. Not one for small talk." Michaela laughed. She knew the horse
had no clue what she was saying—for the mare it was probably like a
Charlie Brown cartoon where the kids listen to the teacher and all
they hear is "Waa, waa, waa, waa, waa, waa." But she did know that
horses liked to be talked to. They were social animals, and the
sound of their rider's voice could put them at ease, or wind them
tight—depending on the person and the tone.

She gave the other two horses a pat and
a few words of encouragement—again knowing they could care less
what she had to say. She headed over to the office on the grounds—a
decent-sized trailer—needing to get her helmet.

Robert sat inside the trailer on a
tattered, blue velour couch, pulling on his boots. "Oh hey,
Michaela. You ready for this?" He pulled up his other boot and sat
back, running his hand through his light brown hair, which appeared
to be thinning on top. Michaela guessed him to be somewhere in his
mid to late fifties. He was known for his intensity on and off the
polo field but he'd been nothing but nice to her, and she found the
rumors of his brusqueness to be just that so far. She'd had a soft
spot for Robert and Paige ever since she'd learned that their only
son had been killed in a car accident a few years earlier. She
couldn't imagine ever enduring that type of pain. Although she
tried not to let it bother her, she still wondered why Paige had
left the grounds in such a hurry, either trying to get away or
leaving Sterling Taber behind. Again, Michaela reminded herself
that it was none of her business.

"Uh, no. I doubt I'll ever be ready."
She laughed.

"You're a good rider. You'll be fine up
there. Don't let any of my guys intimidate you. Plus, you got a
couple of your buddies out there, too."

"Yeah, but I'm the only
woman."

He waved a hand at her. "You'll be
fine. Got your helmet?"

She picked through the bin where the
school helmets were kept, and held one up after making sure it was
the right size. "I do now."

They walked out of the trailer together
and back over to the horses. Dwayne had shown up and she saw Ethan
pulling into the parking area.

She wondered if his wife, Summer, was
with him and breathed an audible sigh when she didn't see anyone
else get out of his truck. Michaela loved Ethan. They'd known each
other since they were little kids. Camden insisted Michaela was in
love with him, but that wasn't true. It couldn't be true, because
Ethan was a married man. Married against Michaela's wishes, but
that was only because she knew Summer was not right for him. The
woman had strung him along, left him at the altar where Michaela
picked up the pieces left behind, and then had the audacity to
strut back into his life, get pregnant, and manipulate him into
marriage. Now Ethan was the proud daddy of little Joshua, who was
also her godson, most certainly against Summer's wishes.

"Hey, Mick, Robert," he
said.

Robert shook his hand. "Good to see
you, Ethan. I'm going to make sure everything is a go. Looks like
all the riders are here. I don't see one of the umpires,
though."

"Sure. Do your thing. This is gonna be
fun," Ethan said, "even for an old guy."

"Old guy? Please." Ethan was only a
couple of years older than her. Michaela had noticed him aging a
little in the last year, but he was far from old—a wrinkle here and
there above the forehead, a few around his eyes. She liked it. It
added character. Not that he needed any. Ethan had plenty of
character with a slightly crooked nose from a pony kicking him in
the face, but he was still a good-looking man.

He looked at her with his dark green
eyes. "I don't know about going against you, Bancroft. You might
kick my ass."

"Sure." She laughed. "Who else is on
your team? I know Sterling Taber is, and Tommy Liggett is the other
pro rider, right?"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, and I got a buddy
of mine…do you know Lance Watkins?"

"Sure. He trains show jumpers. Wow.
He's going to ride today?"

"He is."

"Impressive."

"What do you say we get on the field?
Looks like the grooms have everyone ready," Ethan said.

"Ah, the luxury of playing
polo."

"Yeah, really. Good luck."

They both laughed, knowing that because
of the wealth surrounding the sport, it was a rarity that any of
the players ever actually groomed and tacked up their horses.
Today, even the locals like herself and Ethan were being treated
like kings—and supposedly polo had been dubbed the sport of
kings.

Michaela mounted Rebel and they headed
onto the polo field, which was three hundred yards long and one
hundred and fifty yards wide. She would be playing the most
conservative position as the number four, or back, player. Her job
was to play defense and guard the goal to keep the opposition from
scoring. Dwayne was playing first position, which was offensive,
along with the number two position, played by a longtime pro in the
sport and owner of the polo field, Ed Mitchell. He would have to
play aggressively, his goal to break up the defensive plays of the
opposition. In third position was Zach Holden, a young guy and good
friend of Sterling's, but totally opposite from the pompous ass.
Michaela liked Zach. He was congenial and generous—always giving
her tips and advice. Zach would be the pivot man, kind of like the
quarterback on a football team. He would be making the long-ball
shots and be the key playmaker for the team. Michaela admired his
playing ability. He was also the player who would most likely be
hitting any penalty shots.

The two umpires and a referee, all on
horseback, were ready to go, along with the scorekeeper and time
recorder. Michaela's heart pounded as a wave of nervousness coursed
through her. She looked out at the crowd, all in their designer
outfits, champagne flutes in hand, and couldn't help but question
her sanity.

Then, one of the umpires tossed the
ball into the center, and everything began to move. Michaela forgot
the crowd, the morning, what was on tap next, and just played the
game. Once the ball was in play it traveled at speeds upward of one
hundred miles per hour. The ball came flying toward her as she
guarded the goal. Sterling had hurled it toward her, and when she
stopped the ball with a forehand by swinging her mallet forward on
Rebel's near side, she almost whooped out loud. The pounding of
hooves drummed in her ears as clumps of dirt kicked up around them.
She had just sent the ball back into play when it came back down
the line, and before she could blink Sterling was next to her, his
mallet hooked with hers. She got it undone in time to save another
goal from being scored, this time on a shot from Ethan.

The ball had once again turned around
and Dwayne had it down the line. Michaela squealed when Dwayne hit
it past Ethan's pal Lance Watkins. She could have sworn she heard
Sterling down at the other end scream an obscenity at Lance. How
immature.

Before Michaela knew it, they were into
the last chukker and she had changed to her third horse, a white
speckled gelding named Snowman. Her team was ahead by two points
and Zach yelled to her, "Nice work out there!"

"Thanks." She wiped the sweat off her
brow and one of the grooms gave her a leg up onto Snowman. They
were back in play, horses going at a full canter, well-toned
athletes moving with grace and speed, carrying riders who depended
on the sound mind of their animals to keep them in the game. The
ball flew between thin, fine legs—riders bumping shoulder to
shoulder, mallets hooking and clanking around one another, red
nostrils of the horses flaring, and the smell of sweat and dirt and
grass hanging in the air. Shouts from the crowd and curses from the
riders who missed a goal contrasted the whoops of joy when one team
scored. Michaela wasn't sure she even breathed the rest of the
game, it was so intense. And in the end, her team won by one point
after Lance Watkins fouled and Zach was allowed to take the penalty
shot, zipping it past Dwayne.

The losing team congratulated Michaela
and the others. Sterling rode up next to her on a beautiful black
gelding. He had to have been from Argentina, where many of the best
polo ponies came from. "Looks like lady luck was the key, huh? Or
maybe the guys were just taking it easy on you. Granted, Watkins
plays like a girl, but that's what I'd expect from some guy who
trains jumpers."

Sterling didn't realize that Lance
Watkins and Ethan were directly behind him and within earshot.
Michaela didn't reply; she simply turned her horse, walking him
over to Ethan and Lance. "That guy is an asshole," Lance said. "I'd
like to bump him off his high horse. I'm sorry, Michaela. I don't
mean to be rude. Nice to see you. Great playing out
there."

"Thanks." She didn't know Lance well,
but she couldn't blame him for being irritated with Sterling. "You
guys played hard, too. I don't know about this polo
thing."

"It's not for me," Lance replied. "I
need to take off. See you two later."

"You going to the fashion show and
lunch?" Michaela asked Ethan.

"I wish I could, but Summer has
something she needs to do and I need to get home and be with the
baby."

"Oh." She tried hard to keep the
disappointment out of her voice.

They talked for a few more minutes,
until Dwayne rode past and reminded her that they didn't have much
time to get back over to the shop for the rest of the day's
festivities. She said good-bye to Ethan and dismounted her horse,
giving him a pat and handing him over to one of the
grooms.

Zach Holden was over by the stalls with
one of his horses. "Good game out there," he said.

"Thanks. You did a good job yourself."
He couldn't have been over twenty-five and was from money, like
most of the people on the pro team.

"She did do well." Sterling Taber
approached them. "Lucky for her we had that pain-in-the-ass show
jumper on our team." He laughed. "That guy is clueless. He wasn't
on his game at all."

Michaela tried to maintain a smile, but
Sterling was such a jerk. Lance Watkins had an excellent reputation
in the show ring, and although she'd only met him a few times, he
was always pleasant and, as Ethan had indicated, he was a good guy.
She chose not to respond to Sterling's comment. Ignoring him was
taking the higher road, by far.

Funny thing: Sterling did seem to have
enough of something—be it charisma, charm, she didn't know exactly
what—and whatever it was, he always appeared to have plenty of
friends, like Zach.

Sterling swung his mallet back and
forth. "Well, like I said, dumb luck or lady." He winked at her.
"Just kidding. You did well out there. I gotta run." He pointed at
her. "See you at the show. Hey, anyone seen Tommy? He was supposed
to catch a ride with me over to the shop."

"Yeah, but I think he already went on
ahead."

"Okay. Thanks."

There was another friend that Sterling
had in his entourage—Tommy Liggett, who again, by all accounts, was
a decent guy. And he hadn't been born with a silver spoon in his
mouth like the rest of the crew.

Sterling waved at Michaela and Zach, as
if they wouldn't see each other in only a manner of minutes. They
watched as he slipped into his Porsche Carerra and zipped it around
the gravel road that led to the tack shop. She noticed Zach staring
after Sterling, a scowl on his face, and if she wasn't mistaken,
she could've sworn she recognized hatred in his eyes.

Three

“
Aren’t you in the show, too?”
Michaela asked Zach.

His expression softened. "Uh, yeah. I
just wanted to make sure the groom put this new liniment on my
horse's right front suspensory. He's sore and favoring that
side."

"I think Ethan already left. Do you
need to call him back?"

"No. I don't think so, but I'll come
back later and check. I should probably hurry, too. I'm sure Camden
is beside herself. We shouldn't be standing around
chitchatting."

She nodded. "Yep, you better go. The
makeup lady should be ready for you guys."

"Makeup?" Zach said.

"Camden's idea."

"Okay, I'm gone. Sure you don't need a
ride?"

"No. I'm good. I've got my truck. I'm
going to drop off the school helmet to Robert and I'll be right
over."

She headed to Robert's office. The door
was propped open a crack, but she still went the customary route
and announced herself before entering. When she didn't get a reply
she figured that she'd go in and drop the helmet in the bin. The
bin stood near Robert's desk, which was a mess. Piles of equine
magazines and books filled one side of the desk, and papers were
stacked high. She knew that Paige helped him with the business, but
it looked as if they were getting behind. God, how she could
relate.