Rogue's Revenge - By Gail MacMillan Page 0,27
I’m going to take a week off and the three of us are going on one heck of a trail ride—tents, camp stove, the works.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.” She finished her coffee and stood. “Got to go. I want to be back in time to have a long chat with Mom before lunch.”
“Hold on just a minute, young lady.” Cameron Armstrong stood to tower over her. “No one leaves this house without a good breakfast in their belly.” He strode to the cupboard and brought a bowl, glass, and spoon to the table. “Cereal and juice before you hit the trail, my girl.”
Fifteen minutes later, Allison climbed into her mother’s sports car and took the half-hour drive to the stables where she kept her chestnut hunter. She’d ride Heath Oakes’ image right out of her mind, she determined as she swung into the flat English saddle and trotted the long-legged thoroughbred into the arena under the critical eye of Jake Morgan, her instructor.
The lesson didn’t go well. She couldn’t settle her mind to bring herself into harmony with the mare. She took her over the series of jumps poorly, and she knew it. A second round was no better. Nor was a third.
“Ease up on the reins, Allison. Relax and she’ll go easier. She’s sensing your tension.”
“I’ve been riding since before I could walk, Jake. I think I know what I’m doing.” For the first time in the seven years he’d been her riding instructor, Allison snapped at the tall, gray-haired man. She whirled Pride about and headed back at a jump too fast. The mare struggled to rise over the bars but, off stride and over speed, hit the fragile barrier and sent it scattering.
“Drat!” Allison reined the blowing chestnut to a halt near the fence and adjusted her helmet.
“Not her fault.” Jake Morgan came into the ring and took the animal by the bridle. “Time to call it quits, Allison.”
“Okay, okay.” She swung her leg over the mare’s rump, kicked her left foot free of the stirrups, and slid to the ground. She paused to brush a fleck of dust from her navy blazer and adjusted her snowy stock. “The fact that the stables are under renovation is throwing her off. All that hammering, and so many strangers around.”
“Well…” Jake rubbed the horse’s nose and avoided meeting his student’s gaze.
“What?” Allison looked sharply at her middle-aged coach. “Spit it out, Jake. If you think I’m a lousy rider, just tell me.”
“You’re definitely not a lousy rider, honey.” His lean, weathered face mirrored all the uneasiness he was feeling. “You’re a very good rider, with a heart of gold and the courage of a lion. English style just isn’t your cup of tea, so to speak. I’d suggest you segue into western pleasure and ride like your Dad.”
“Western pleasure! You’ve got to be kidding. You mean with a quarter horse and a stock saddle and jeans and a Stetson and…”
“Don’t be so quick to turn up your nose, missy. Your dad was a cowboy before he went to medical school and became a fancy doctor. Or have you forgotten his Alberta roots?” Jake released the girth and pulled the saddle and pad from the horse’s back.
“No, I haven’t.” She looked down at her polished riding boots and remembered how proud she’d always been of her father’s rise from son of a struggling rancher to one of Canada’s best neurosurgeons.
“Well, then.” Jake slid Pride’s bridle over her ears and replaced it with a halter and lunge line. “Give this mare to your mother—she’s retiring her old Princess this summer—and let me find you a good quarter horse.”
“Are you saying my mother is a more sophisticated rider than I am?” Allison watched the big, rugged man as he led the mare to the center of the arena and started her moving in wide circles at the end of the lunge line.
“No, just more suited to English than you’ll ever be” He clucked to the horse to keep her moving and cooling. “This pretty lady…” He indicated the mare. “Deserves to be with someone who suits her style.”
A shrill cry came from the paddocks behind the stables. The mare pricked her ears and answered with a sharp whinny.
“Baby still not ready to leave her mom?” Allison recognized the interchange.
“Pride’s a great mother, but she realizes she has to get back to work.” He stopped the mare, who stood with her head high, eyes searching, and handed her lead to