Leaping Hearts(37)

Now, amidst the surging energy of an event, she was reminded of everything she’d left, including her father. The only contact with him had been a message she’d left on his business line, informing him where she was in case of emergency. It was a cold way to leave things and she regretted the distance as much as she felt relieved by it. She didn’t want to cut herself off from him permanently but she needed time to get over the hurt, and his decision to put Peter in charge without consulting her still burned.

Devlin pointed out a spot at the far end of the grounds and, when they all agreed on the choice, drove them over to the quiet corner. Shaded by trees and set away from most of the activity, it was perfect for them.

As A.J. stepped from the cab, she stretched and looked around. Beyond their secluded site, there was a practice ring with warm-up jumps, a bank of concession stands and merchant tents overflowing with riding equipment and clothing. Set apart from the retail activity was the show ring. With a set of bleachers and plenty of space around it for the crowd to sit on the grass, the arena was twice the size of the one she’d been training in at Devlin’s.

All over the fairgrounds, people were about, ambling around with cups of steaming coffee and programs tucked under their arms, if they were part of the crowd, or moving quickly, if they were involved with putting on the show or competing in it. There were groomsmen and trainers, judges with their badges, fresh-faced volunteers who would grow up to be the next generation of champions. For a moment, it was easy for A.J. to forget her worries and get lost in the sheer wonder of the human parade. And, in the midst of it all, she felt a thrill go through her. There was no place she’d rather have been.

“I’ll go check the start board and make sure you’re all set,” Devlin said to her. Chester had already gone back to check on Sabbath.

“The first round doesn’t go off until nine, right?” she asked.

“Plenty of time.”

It was a lie. They both knew the two hours would go like brushfire.

The jumping competition was being staged first and would be followed by dressage and novice events in the afternoon. She didn’t think they’d be staying for the full day, not with Sabbath in tow. Getting through the morning was going to be exhausting and the sooner they got him away from the crowds, the better.

A.J. came around the trailer just as Chester was backing the stallion out of it. The horse was antsy as he hit the ground, wrenching his neck back and forth with eyes that were a little wild. It wasn’t a good sign.

“This is a competition,” Chester was scolding him. “Not a time to be worryin’ about the ladies.”

A.J. laughed nervously, going to Sabbath’s head to try to soothe him. “I’m not ready for him to start dating.”

“Neither is he.”

Sabbath was prancing this way and that, his glossy black coat flashing like obsidian in the bright morning sun. Chester, on the other hand, was standing firmly in place, with an iron grip on the lead.

A.J. could feel the looks of the crowd as they walked by, their eyes measuring the horse with undisguised curiosity and then looking her over with a similar expression. She wanted to believe they were arrested by the sight of him and wishing her well, but she knew better and did her best to meet the stares calmly. She might be anxious about what was going to happen in the ring but she was going to do her damnedest not to show it.

When she was satisfied that the stallion was under some control, she decided to take a look at the ring. “I’m going to walk the course. Want anything?”

“I don’t think they’re sellin’ what I need,” Chester said as the stallion threw his head again. “An anchor to hang off this one’s forehead would be great. Last longer than m’ arm, too.”

“I think we’re out of luck on marine supplies but maybe I can scare up some other kind of deadweight.”

Would give me a use for Peter, if I run into him, she thought with humor.

Heading to the show ring, she wanted to find Devlin, get close to the billboard to check the order of riders, and study the jump course. Already, competitors and trainers were crowded around the board so she had to stand on the tips of her toes to see over all the heads. She was arching forward when she felt someone put an arm around her waist.

“And so you are back with the bronco.”

The French accent cut through her nerves like a chain saw. She turned to face Philippe Marceau and took a step away at the same time.

“Ah, but how the morning light suits you.” His wide, placating smile showed a lot of dental work.

She acknowledged him with a reserved nod and found it amazing how something so melodious as that accent could be so grating coming out of his mouth. Was it all the caps on his teeth?

“I see you come after me in order,” he was saying while striking a pose. His riding clothes were conventional and top quality but he was wearing a pair of extreme wraparound sunglasses. “You are a woman of great courage to bring that beast into the ring. But then, I hear you have help, non?”

“I have a trainer,” she confirmed while searching for an escape route.

Standing close to this man is like being stuck in an elevator, she decided. You’d bargain with God to get free.

“But not just any trainer. Not only does this woman tackle a stallion no one else can seem to tame but she resurrects the dead, n’est-ce pas? You have done wonders to stir McCloud’s blood again, or so I have heard.”