Carolyn McSparren - If Wishes Were Horses

“I’ve got it in the car.” She smiled over Liz’s shoulder at Pat, who stood in the doorway. “Hey. I’m Angie.”

Pat nodded, obviously fascinated.

Two minutes later a broad chestnut mare backed out of the trailer.

“Wow!” Pat said and ran to pet the mare.

“Be careful, she’s pretty grumpy. She wants that baby out of there,” Angie said as she led the mare into the barn with complete familiarity. Vic winked at Liz.

“Can I help?” Pat asked as she trailed along. “Daddy won’t be here for another thirty minutes—if he’s on time. Half the time he’s not.”

“Come on,” Angie said amiably.

“You do that, kiddo,” Liz said. “I’ve got to get on Trust Fund before feeding time.”

She was still riding when Mike Whitten arrived and found Pat sitting on a tack trunk helping Albert wash down stirrup leathers.

“You’re too early,” Pat wailed.

Mike checked his watch. “Actually, I’m five minutes late. Are you supposed to be that dirty?”

“Oh, Daddy. I’ve been riding and grooming, and come see the mare who’s about to have a baby.” She pulled her father down the aisle. Outside in the arena he glimpsed Liz cantering by on that same big horse.

“Daddy, I’ve got to finish helping Albert,” Pat said. “You go on outside and wait for me.”

“Pat...”

“Daddy! It’s my first day!”

He gave in, but instead of going to his car he walked out to stand beside the arena and watch Liz.

She hadn’t even acknowledged Mike’s presence, not that he expected her to. She turned the horse down the center toward a pair of big jumps. Mike felt his heart in his mouth. Trust Fund sailed over the first and cantered down to the second.

The horse stopped dead one stride from the fence and dropped both his head and his shoulder. Mike didn’t expect that. Apparently neither did Liz. She did a somersault in midair and came down on the far side of the jump flat on her back with a whump that raised a cloud of dust. She didn’t move.

Mike vaulted the fence, raced to where she lay and knelt in the dirt beside her. The horse shied away.

Liz was on her back, her eyes open and staring, her mouth wide. She didn’t seem to be breathing. As his knees hit the dirt she sucked in a huge breath that sounded like a death rattle.

“Don’t move,” Mike snapped. “You may have broken your neck.”

Liz turned her head on a neck that was obviously still in working order. “I’m fine,” she gasped. “Knocked my breath out.” She put both hands against her diaphragm and pushed. “Better.” She raised onto her elbows. “Nothing broken.”

Mike put one arm behind her waist and the other behind her knees and scooped her up. She was no lightweight, but at that point he figured he had enough adrenaline pumping to move Brooklyn Bridge. He began to walk as quickly as he could toward the stable.

“Hey!”

“Where are you hurt?” he asked, afraid for a moment he might have done her more harm than good.

“I’m not hurt, I’m mad as hell. I’m mad at Trusty, mad at myself, and if you do not put me down his instant I am going to be really mad at you.”

“Fine.” He dropped her legs.

The instant she touched down she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. “Oh, heck. Just let me stand here a minute until I get my breath back.”

Mike suspected that small request cost her dearly.

It cost him as well. She stood in the circle of his arm, her breast and hip against his side, her breath against his cheek. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of warm woman against him. Too long since he’d felt it.

After a moment she let go of his neck, but he kept his arm around her waist in case she should feel rocky again. And because he liked having her in his arms.

She disengaged herself carefully and took a couple of steps toward the horse, who stood at the far side of the ring eyeing her sheepishly. “Trusty, you old fool, come here.”

The horse meandered over. Mike caught his reins.

“Thanks,” Liz said. “Give me a leg up.”

“You’re not getting back up there!”

“Of course I am.” She sounded surprised. “If I let him get away with that nonsense, he’ll do it again.”

“You need to be checked over by a doctor before you ride again.”

“The hell I do. Now, are you going to give me a leg up or what?”

She bent her knee. Mike tossed her into the saddle so hard that she nearly tumbled over the other side.

“Wow!” she said. “You try tossing Pat that hard and she’ll come down in the back pasture.” She moved away and said over her shoulder, “Better get out of the way while Trusty and I have our little prayer meeting.” She trotted off.

He watched her bottom rise and sink in the saddle and discovered he was having visions that he should not have about his child’s riding teacher. He dusted himself off and walked to the edge of the arena. This time he used the gate. He turned to see Liz heading for that pair of huge fences again. He crossed his fingers and held his breath.

Trusty sailed over both jumps perfectly. Liz pulled him down to a walk immediately and came over toward Mike. “That’s enough. What you saw earlier, Mr. Whitten, was an example of ‘quitting dirty.”’

Mike opened the gate.

“Most of the time horses telegraph that they don’t intend to jump. Trusty occasionally stops with his toenails in the fence. This is the first time he’s gotten me off, but I’ve held on to his ears a couple of times.” She grinned and patted the big horse’s neck. “Quitting dirty is a very bad habit.” She smacked Trusty lightly on his thick neck. “Remember that.”

Albert came out of the barn and stood with his hands on his hips. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “You look like you’ve rolled in the dirt.”

“I did.”

Albert took the reins and glanced at Mike. “So does he. And he’s not dressed for it.”

Liz swung off and leaned against Trusty’s shoulder for a moment.

“You okay?” Albert asked.

“My bruises are having bruises as we speak, but yeah, I’m fine. Just rang my chimes a little bit.”

Albert shook his head and led the horse off. Liz put both hands in the small of her back and stretched, then took two steps toward the stable.

“Ow!” she yelped, and grabbed the back of her left thigh. “Ow, ow, ow, ow!”

Mike reached for her. She snaked her arm back around his neck and held on.

“Charley horse.” Liz grimaced in pain. “Ow, ow, ow,” she repeated.

She hobbled to the mounting block with Mike’s help. Pity she had to be in pain before she’d let him near her.

Mike lowered her so that she sat on the block, and he knelt in front of her. “Stretch your heel down.”

“No way!”

He grabbed the heel of her boot and pulled down hard. She yelped again, but she kept it down when he took his hands away. He reached around her thigh and began to knead. He could feel the knotted muscle. After a moment it began to loosen. He heard her sigh.

He, on the other hand, felt other portions of his body tighten and hoped nobody would notice. He was entirely too susceptible to this woman. His attraction to her had been powerful and immediate. That had only happened to him once before—the first time he laid eyes on Sandi. Sandi, at least, had liked him—loved him, in fact. Liz Matthews made no bones about her dislike.

“You’re good at this,” Liz said and leaned back with a sigh.

“Tennis and handball are notorious for tying up your muscles. You either learn to unkink them fast or walk with a cane.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m sorry I snarled at you. I hate having anybody see me fall. Makes me feel like a fool.”