HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) (8 page)

Megan gave Barney a rueful pat. Everyone else had ridden at least two horses, but so far, she’d only been assigned one mount. Maybe Peter was right and she would be able to two-point on a different horse.

“Would you switch?” she asked impulsively. “We still have an hour before lunch. And Lydia didn’t give us any instructions.”

“That’s because we already know it’s taboo to switch horses.” Peter peered over his shoulder as though afraid Lydia might reappear.

“But she’s gone. No one will know. Besides she likes you. She even lets you carry a stick.”

Peter flipped his reins and looked smug.

“I’ll give you two chocolate bars,” Megan added, watching his face. She could tell he was almost swayed. “Plus I’ll groom both your horse and Barney after the ride.”

“All right.” He sighed and reluctantly dismounted. “But make sure you’re back before the jockeys return. I don’t think Ramon talks to Lydia much, but she seems to hear everything.” His voice lowered. “I would have switched without the chocolate. You know I’m glad to help.”

She dismounted, pretending not to hear. Peter was helpful to all the girls, especially to her and Tami, but he was too nice to lead on. Giving him something in exchange made it okay.

“Look at Barney,” she joked, hoping to lighten the conversation. The horse’s lower lip was slack, his eyes drooping. He seemed oblivious to the rider change, and when she legged Peter up, the horse still didn’t move.

However, Peter’s gray circled and pulled at the reins, confused by this unusual procedure. He called to his receding line of stablemates, his shrill neighs blasting her eardrums.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have switched. He looks upset.” Peter’s eyes widened with alarm. “And how the heck are you going to mount?”

“Like this.” She grabbed mane, hopped once and vaulted into the saddle, ignoring the gray’s crow hop.

“Damn, Megan. You really can ride.” Peter gave a relieved smile. “You’ll be fine then. Want me stick around?”

“No, go on back to the barn. I’m going to trot and practice standing in the stirrups. No problem.”

But two minutes later, it was a problem. The gray—Megan didn’t even know his name—was panicky at being deserted, and his half-hearted crow hops had turned into aggressive bucks.

She pulled her feet from the short stirrups, clamped her legs around his barrel and pushed him forward, trying to keep his head up. Clearly he wasn’t used to being without his buddies, and even more clearly, she wasn’t going to be able to practice her two-pointing. It took most of her skill just to stay on.

His ears flicked, tracking movement to the right, and he briefly settled. Ah, another horse, a confident-striding bay. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping the new horse and rider would remain in the field. The gray obviously lost his mind when separated from his friends. Fortunately the bay’s rider seemed to understand her predicament and he halted, watching her from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.

“Thanks,” she called. “My horse was rather lonely.”

“Megan?”

She swung around.
Scott?
The gray took advantage of her attention lapse and sidled toward the muscled bay, eager for company.

She was too stunned to do anything but stare at the rider—and wow, it really was Scott, looking every bit as good on a horse as he did on the blacktop. He rode in a western saddle, and his big bay looked like he’d been chiseled from a Breyer Quarter Horse model.

“Hello, Megan.” His deep smile made something kick deep in her chest. “I’m surprised to see you. Not making jewelry today?”

“No…actually, I’m taking a riding program here. What about you?”

“Teaching.”

Her gray was already bored with the new horse and began to sidestep. She turned him in small circles, wishing he’d stand still so she could talk. Scott. Right here. This was too good to be true.

“Teaching massage?” she asked.

“No massage.” His voice rippled with wry amusement. “That phone ID was my assistant’s idea of a joke. I’m supposed to be taking it easy.”

Ah, yes. She remembered the mark on his head, hidden now beneath his hat or maybe not. Darn. The gray wouldn’t stand still long enough for her to see, although Scott didn’t appear to have a similar problem. His horse stood on a loose rein, seemingly as relaxed as his rider.

“But your name really is Scott?” she asked, still circling her horse.

“Yeah. Scott Taylor.”

The gray snapped out a sneaky buck. She pushed him forward, glad at least she had something to do and Scott wouldn’t see how flustered she was. She simply couldn’t believe he was here. Couldn’t believe how her heart hammered.

“Your horse sure is herd bound,” Scott said. “I noticed him from the track and wondered if I could help.”

“Thanks for coming.” Her voice was rather breathless and it wasn’t entirely from fighting with the gray. “I need to work on my two-pointing, but he’s too upset to listen.”

“I’ll pony you,” he said, reaching over and slipping a loop over her bit. And suddenly they were trotting, the gray happy to be moving forward.

“Stand up,” Scott said. “Keep all your weight in your heels. That’s it.” His voice was confident and encouraging, and he clearly had control of her horse. She bounced for a few strides, concentrating on her position, then suddenly nailed it.

She was actually balancing in the stirrups, butt in the air, head up. It wasn’t hard at all. Now the horse’s impulsion, the very thing she’d hated earlier, worked to her advantage. She glanced over at Scott. “Thank you. I’ve been trying all week to get this.”

“Often it’s harder for experienced riders.”

She grinned with delight. The gray moved freely, head arched, while she balanced over his neck in perfect rhythm. It was a different sort of riding but definitely exhilarating. No wonder Joey had loved it.

Scott moved his horse into a canter, and her gray stretched out gleefully. Lydia had never let her break from a trot. Her poor horse must have been so frustrated. And holy shit, Scott was leading her toward the track.

She scanned the oval but Ramon and his class were at the far end, obviously finishing up. Besides, she was having too much fun to tell Scott she was only a field rider. And he seemed to know what he was doing.

They slowed to a walk as they approached the gap. “We’ll do our fast work on the track,” he said. “The ground’s safer, unless your legs are tired. Want a rest?”

“No, they’re good. But I can see why they want us fit.” Her breath came in short gasps. “My horse is in better shape than me.”

His approving gaze slid over her, and she blushed, grateful she hadn’t indulged in too many chocolate bars. “You’ll still pony me…when we’re on the track?” Her breath was still ragged but she wasn’t sure if it was from lack of fitness or because of the odd crackle in the air.

“Megan,” he said, “I don’t intend to let you go.”

She glanced sideways, but his hat shaded his expression. She didn’t see the signal to his horse, but both animals moved smoothly into a ground-covering trot, making conversation difficult.

She yanked her attention back to her riding. At first, she was acutely conscious of his presence but he didn’t say anything more, and she was able to concentrate on the large oval.

Trotting was even easier on the smoothly harrowed track. Her horse didn’t stumble and moved straight, seeming to know his job and utterly accepting of the composed bay at his side. Obviously racehorses were used to being ponied, and it was a huge help to be able to concentrate on her position and let Scott control their speed.

A speed he was gradually increasing. And, wow, the horses were galloping now. She was doing it! She was actually galloping on the track. She felt like a jockey, balancing in the stirrups, moving in a natural rhythm with her horse.

They slowed much too quickly. However, her legs had turned to rubber and her breath was labored so maybe it wasn’t too soon, although her eager horse felt like he wanted to gallop another mile.

“This is great, thanks. Before, I was putting too much weight on my knees.” She shot him a delighted smile. “I don’t really want to stop.”

“Me neither,” he said, his eyes intent on her face.

She swallowed. Her face felt warm but that could easily be blamed on exertion. He wasn’t even doing anything, just looking at her, but he was so damn attractive it left her unsettled.

“Guess my horse is ready for lunch,” she said lamely.

“Why don’t you take him back to your barn and have lunch with me?” And then he smiled, so slow and intimate she thought she might hyper-ventilate.

“I’d like that,” she managed.
Boy, would I
. “But there’s not enough time,” she added, unable to look away from his mouth. “The cafeteria closes at one-thirty and I have a class right after that.”

“Dinner tonight then,” he said, so easily she could only nod. “What program are you in?”

“Exercise rider.”

“That explains why you wanted to meet at Santa Anita. But you said you made jewelry?”

“I do. I’m just here for a while…to improve my riding.”

He tilted his head and she caught a hint of puzzlement in his intelligent eyes. Even to her, the reason sounded lame. “Thanks for helping me,” she added quickly. “I’ve got to get back to the barn. Maybe now I’ll be approved to ride on the track.”

“I’m sure you will.” He gestured at the dirt trail winding over the ridge. “My horse is stabled in the cowshed. Is my number on your phone?”

“Scottie’s Massage? It sure is.” She smiled, and even though it was late, she wanted to linger. “I was expecting a massage.”

“Then I won’t dash your expectations. Call me when you’re ready to eat, and we’ll go from there.”

The undercurrent in his voice made her grip the reins, but she wasn’t quite ready to leave. She had more questions, like where they would meet and when, but he reached over, gently squeezed her shoulder, then turned and trotted toward the ridge.

Her horse tried to follow, and she certainly understood the urge. She’d like to follow Scott too. Her skin still tingled from his touch.

Sighing, she headed back to the barn. At least, she’d see him tonight and wouldn’t have to wait until April. From a more practical aspect, she hoped he knew the cafeteria hours. Probably, since he taught at the cowshed, but it was obvious they’d both miss lunch, and she didn’t want to skip supper too. However, ‘call when you’re ready to eat’ sounded rather vague, and she didn’t want to miss him.

She adjusted her reins, trying to keep her horse from jigging home, but the gray was alone again and desperate for company. He gave an ear-ringing neigh, and they both glanced toward the ridge. She thought Scott’s horse called back. However, her mount remained distraught and despite his hour of exercise, he pranced the entire way home.

By the time they reached the barn, sweat lathered his neck. She checked her watch, realizing she might miss her entire lunch. It would take at least half an hour to cool him out and she had to look after Barney too. Still, it had most definitely been worth it.

Smiling, she dismounted and gave her horse’s slick neck a reassuring pat. Poor fellow. If she were his groom, she’d take him for long walks. Show him that his world wouldn’t collapse when he was alone. It must be horrible to always need buddies. That was the good thing about a solitary life—it didn’t hurt so much when people left.

“Is this the despicable way you treat animals when I’m not around?”

Megan wheeled toward her teacher’s angry voice. Lydia’s eyes flashed and her mouth clenched so tightly that white dots appeared around the edges.

“It’s more of an emotional sweat,” Megan said. “He’s nervous when he’s alone. I’m going to bathe and walk him now.”

Lydia jammed her hands on her hips and stalked closer. “And who gave you permission to ride him?”

Peter hurried from the barn, stepping between Lydia and Megan. “I wanted to switch,” he said. “Edzo has so much energy and with the short lesson today he needed more trotting. Megan was kind enough to offer.”

“Were you present a few weeks ago,” Lydia snapped, “when I stressed no switching horses?”

Megan actually wasn’t present, but she didn’t think ‘no’ was the answer Lydia was looking for, and she wasn’t going to let Peter shoulder the blame.

“The switch was my fault,” she said. “I needed to practice two-pointing, and wanted to work on some of the other good stuff you taught.”

“But you stayed out by yourself.” Lydia’s voice turned icy. “Edzo is difficult to ride alone. You could have been hurt. And the school can’t afford any more awkward incidents.”

“Awkward?” Megan’s head jerked up. She forgot about looking contrite, forgot about everything but her mother’s anguish. “You mean Joey disappearing? You call that an awkward incident?”

“He didn’t disappear,” Lydia said. “He chose to remain in Mexico. And you’re suspended from my class the remainder of the week. That should give you plenty of time to practice on the Equicizer. Now go cool out that poor animal.”

Lydia jerked away, her back ramrod stiff.

Peter groaned. “She came back about twenty minutes ago looking very disappointed. I knew we were in deep shit.”

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

“It’s all right.” He gave a crooked smile and helped remove the saddle. “Lydia likes me. And I’m sorry too. I didn’t realize Edzo was a psycho when he was alone. I’ve only ridden him in a group.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Besides I wasn’t alone. Someone ponied me.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell her that? She might not have been so pissed.”

Megan shrugged and led Edzo into the barn. She didn’t want to cause trouble for Scott. If Lydia knew they had been on the track without permission, she might have been doubly mad. Besides, Lydia was obviously touchy about Joey’s disappearance and that knowledge was worth the price of punishment.

Still, four days on the mechanical horse would be torture. Just thinking of the Equicizer made her muscles groan. Lydia had surveillance cameras in the fitness room too so there’d be no slacking.

“There’s only ten minutes before the cafeteria closes,” Peter called, angling toward the barn door. “You’re not going to make lunch. Want me grab you something?”