When Happily Ever After Ends

Hurled backward, Shannon strained to see around her mother. What horror had happened? Where was her father? Instantly, her gaze found him at his desk. His body was slumped forward and blood puddled on the gleaming wood surface. Shannon gagged and tried to force her way past her mother, who struggled to push her out of the room.

Shannon heard someone screaming and screaming, and until her mother stopped shaking her, she didn’t realize it was her.

I would like to thank Mary Peiz, Signal Mountain, Tennessee, for her generous sharing of time and materials about horses and hunt seat equitation. Also, appreciation to Sue Holtkamp of Something More for her input
.

“Happy birthday, honey,” Shannon Campbell’s parents announced in unison. “What do you think of Blackwatch?” her father asked. “Did we surprise you?”

Speechless, Shannon Campbell stared at the horse in the stall. Her horse. A gift from her parents. She turned toward her parents. “He’s mine? Really and truly mine?”

“Really and truly,” her mother confirmed, smiling. “We’ve been looking for just the right horse for months. Your dad found him at auction in Kentucky last spring. We’ve been boarding him there until today.”

Shannon could tell from the look on her father’s face how pleased he was by her total surprise. “But you never said a word!” she cried, throwing her arms around her mother, then her father. His flannel shirt was soft against her cheek. “Daddy, I love him! I just
love
him. You too. Both of you.” She bounded to the stall, opened the door, and stepped inside. The horse, munching on feed from a bucket, pricked his ears forward.

His coat was a deep shade of chestnut, almost black, and his large brown eyes were bright and intelligent. “He’s got good bloodlines,” her father explained as he entered the stall and stood beside her. “Thoroughbred and Morgan. He’s registered under the name of Blackwatch—that’s also the name of a Scottish fighting brigade. I thought it fitting.” He ran his hands along the horse’s thick, well-muscled neck, across the sleek flank and down one long, perfectly proportioned leg. “He’s five years old and sixteen hands high. He’s had some jump experience, but he’ll need plenty of work before he’s ready to show.”

“When can we start?” Shannon asked eagerly.

“Can we eat birthday cake first?” her mother asked. “Your grandmother and your friends from the Pony Club are up at the house waiting for the guest of honor.”

Shannon had all but forgotten. Right now, she didn’t care if she skipped the rest of her fifteenth birthday party. All that mattered was
her
horse. “Does Grandma know about him?”

“Of course.”

“And you
all
kept it a secret from me?”

“It was difficult, but we managed,” her father said with a conspiratorial look toward his wife.

“This is really great. We can spend the whole summer working with him. Maybe we can enter him in some of the events at the Nashville horse show. Can we?” she pleaded with her father.

“That’s only three weeks away. You’ll do better on Pippin. Blackwatch is hardly ready for a meet
yet.” Shannon noticed fine lines of strain around his eyes as he spoke. “I’ll do what I can to help you, but I can’t work miracles.”

“Yes you can, Daddy,” Shannon said. “Who taught me to ride my first pony when I was two?”

Her mother slung her arm over Shannon’s shoulders. “We
do
have other students here at the stable, you know. Business is good right now. You’ll probably have to start working Black without your dad.”

Shannon refused to feel disappointed. Her parents owned Scotland Yard, one of Chattanooga’s best riding and boarding stables. They gave riding lessons and trained students and horses for southern riding meets and horse shows. Shannon had been riding and competing on the circuit for years. But now she had a horse that was worthy of genuine training effort.

“I only have three years before college,” Shannon said. “There’s a lot to do.” She stared longingly at the big, dark horse.

Her father gave her a bemused smile. “I think we can work something out. You can start him in the ring on the lunge and side reins. You won’t need me for that. But right now, we’d better head up to the house where your guests are waiting.”

Shannon didn’t want to leave her horse for a minute, but she also wanted her friends to see him. They’d all be excited. Especially Heather. Her best friend had had her own special jumper, Fantasia, for over three years. And only Heather knew how much Shannon had wanted a special horse to train. A horse worthy of the time and dedication it took to produce
a championship jumper. “All right,” Shannon said. “I’ll be right there. I just want to spend a few more minutes alone with Black.”

Her mother laughed and locked arms with her husband and started up the winding path that led from the barn to the house. “Don’t take all day,” she called over her shoulder.

Shannon watched them head out into the bright June sunshine, then climbed up the railing on the stall and clucked softly to the big horse. Black pricked his ears forward. She stared into his intelligent, dark eyes. She’d had other horses, but never one this special, this valuable. Her heart swelled with pride over the horse, with love for her parents, with excitement over the thought of molding a champion with her father’s help.

“He’s a nice horse.” Shannon almost fell off the rail at the sound of the male voice from behind. She felt her cheeks flush red and the air grow close as Zack Tyner came up beside her.

“Did you know he was going to be my present?”

“I drove up to Lexington in the horse trailer with your dad yesterday to fetch him.”

“Mom told me you phoned in sick yesterday and that’s why you couldn’t come to work.”

“Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if I told you about it,” he said, offering her a shy smile.

Zack was tall with black hair, dark brown eyes, and a reserved demeanor that Shannon thought mysterious and sexy. He kept to himself and didn’t speak much to her or any of the girls who hung around the
stable. Shannon knew that Zack was sixteen and lived with his grandmother. It was Shannon’s grandmother who had asked Shannon’s mother to hire him after she had met Zack’s grandmother at a social event.

“I’m not crazy about having a teenaged boy around my students all summer,” her mother had responded initially. “These parents are paying Paul and me to train their daughters for the hunt seat circuit, not to be distracted by some gorgeous boy.”

“The girls won’t pay him any mind,” her grandmother had persisted.

“Betty,” Shannon’s mom had joked, “I was a teenaged girl once. Next to our horses, we were crazy about any guy who hung around the stables. Where do you think I met your son?”

“Zack won’t be a distraction,” Betty had assured her daughter-in-law. “He’s had a hard life and he really needs the job. Won’t you give him a chance?”

Zack started at the end of May and worked hard doing very unglamorous chores around the stables. He was courteous and respectful, and sometimes Shannon caught him staring at her, but whenever she smiled, he busied himself. Now, alone with him, she shuffled awkwardly, trying to think of what to say. “Thanks for not spoiling my birthday surprise,” she told him. Quickly, she asked, “You like your job here?”

Zack nodded. “I like horses.”

“Do you own one?”

“No. Even though Gram lives on the mountain, we could never afford to keep a horse.”

Shannon was well aware that plenty of the people
who lived atop Chattanooga’s Lookout Mountain were either wealthy or had a lineage that dated back to the Civil War. That’s the way it was for her family. Her grandfather Campbell had been a prominent physician before he died, and Grandmother had come from a family that could trace its origins back to Stonewall Jackson. “Have you lived with your grandmother long?”

“Ever since I was seven.”

Questions crowded her mind and she wanted to know more about him, his friends, his life. Why didn’t he live with his parents? Of course, there was no polite way to ask. “I’ve always liked horses, too,” she said brightly, wanting to keep their conversation going. “Do you ride much?”

“Not fancy, like you do.”

“Oh, you mean hunt seat. That’s just a style. Actually, my dream is to ride for the U.S. Olympic equestrian team.” He didn’t respond, but she knew he was listening intently by the way he tipped his head. “It’s not impossible. The team is picked from the best college riders and their horses.”

“You can take your horse to college?”

“Sure. If I attend one that has a riding program like my mom did. It’s really important to have a great horse. We’re a pair and the horse is often as well-known as the rider.”

Zack’s dark eyes studied her and she felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’ve been riding since I was two. First I had a pony, then I got Pippin. I’ve won lots of ribbons with her on the circuit with the Pony
Club, but she’s not a top-notch animal. That’s what counts on the riding circuit.” Shannon returned her gaze to the horse in the stall, wondering if she was boring Zack. Was she talking about horses too much? “Now, I’ve got Black.”

“You’re lucky. It must have been fun growing up on a horse farm.” Zack gestured around the large airy building that contained six stalls, a feed room, and a tack room for storing saddles, bridles, and riding equipment.