Leaping Hearts(2)

A.J. looked down at her own clothes. Scruffy but clean blue jeans, a polo shirt and barn jacket, leather boots. She had on a Sutherland Stables baseball cap, which was controlling the top half of her mane of auburn curls. The bottom half was reeled in by a tie at the base of her neck. Practical, comfortable. Unremarkable.

“Going three times.”

“You will regret this,” Peter announced.

It was a promise A.J. had heard before from him. What it meant was, if something bad didn’t flow naturally from her impulse, he’d make sure he took up the slack.

“I’d only regret it if I didn’t get him,” she murmured.

“Sold,” the auctioneer called out. “Lot number 421, a four-year-old Thoroughbred stallion, Sabbath, to Sutherland Stables.”

Peter’s frustration came back as the gavel hit wood. “When the hell is this going to stop! When are you going to grow up and stop behaving so rashly?”

A.J. watched his face grow tight with rage as he went into a full snit.

It went further than the partial snit, she reflected, which merely involved foot stamping and huffing, or the half snit, which was the partial with verbal backup. She saw that beads of sweat, highly characteristic of the full snit, had formed at his temples and across his forehead. With a detachment she found amusing, she noted that forehead seemed to be getting more pronounced every year, courtesy of his receding hairline.

“Peter, take a breath, will you,” she said in a calm voice. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Fine! You just paid thirty thousand dollars for a horse no one can ride!”

“He’s magnificent. Even you should be able to see that. And his bloodlines are impeccable.”

“Being distantly related to nobility hasn’t made him a gentleman.”

“He can clear any jump you put in front of him.”

“And usually without his rider! That personality of his is better suited for the rodeo than show jumping. Even better, put him in a ring with a red cape and he’d give any matador a run for his money.”

People were starting to gather around them, fascinated by her outrageous bid and the ensuing argument. A.J. didn’t care but it irked her to watch Peter get more flamboyant as their audience grew. He loved attention, and seeing him bloom under the eyes of strangers made her remember the one toothpaste commercial he’d been in as a child. He’d paraded around for months afterward like he’d won an Oscar, and the thirty-second spot had led him to believe he was destined for stardom. The afterglow of speaking the words Minty-fresh, Mommy! into a camera had lasted twenty years.

“You’re overreacting,” she told him, trying to get one more look at the stallion as the stable hands began to lead the horse away.

“And you’re out of control! I run a stable of winners. Some of the best bloodlines in the country are under our roof and I won’t let you bring a beast like that into their midst.”

“He’s not a beast—”

“That thing tossed his rider, ran out of the ring and trampled half the crowd at the Oak Bluff Jumper Classic.”

“That’s in the past.”

“That was last week.”

“He’s going to be a champion. You’ll see.”

“The stallion’s dangerous and unpredictable. What makes you think he’s suddenly going to turn into a winner?”

“Because I’m going to be riding him.”

Peter snorted. “I doubt you could hang on to him long enough to get both feet into the stirrups.”

A mix of bravado and frustration made A.J.’s voice louder than she’d meant it to be when she replied, “You’ll see. I’m going to take him into the Qualifier two months from now.”

People around them gasped.

At that moment, a shout of alarm rang out from up front. When she turned around, she saw several stable hands bolting in different directions, diving for cover. Then, just as suddenly, everyone in the crowd was scrambling for safety. The stallion had broken free from his handlers, leapt into the cordoned-off area where the crowd had watched the auction and burst into the throng of people, scattering them like marbles across a floor.

Not again, A.J. thought, sparing Peter a glance as they both ran for it. His face was vacillating between a self-satisfied I-told-you-so look and one of naked fear as the horse charged toward them with thundering hooves.

Most people, being of sound mind, ran out of the ring, but a few brave souls rushed forward, spreading their arms wide in a semicircle around the animal. They were going to try to corral the horse through an open gate that led into an unoccupied paddock, but the stallion seemed to know what they were after. The horse made a beeline at the men instead of falling for their ploy, and they fell aside, trying not to get trampled.

Mission accomplished, the stallion raced on, ready for more action, his lead line streaming behind him like a banner. Chaos reigned as people shouted and cursed and it dawned on A.J. that the horse looked delighted at all the trouble he was causing. He’d broken free of his captors, terrified the crowd and was enjoying himself thoroughly by chasing after stragglers.

If he were human, he’d be laughing, she thought.

Peter’s voice was furious in her ear. “I can’t believe you want to bring this demon home!”

She smiled as the stallion galloped by, a black blur. He was limber and graceful, with the strength of steel in his muscles. “Look at him go.”