hands on the reins. Now her right held the horn and her left the strip of leather; she flipped it again, spoke to him and leaned to the left as he dropped the alternate shoulder and dug into the dirt. Cass’s face was a mask of concentration as she brought him out of the turn and aimed him at the point of the triangle.
I held my breath. Preacher slid around the last barrel in a cloud of dust and came home, running for all he was worth. Cass was a female centaur, hunched forward in the saddle as she urged him on. My hands gripped the top rail as they approached the end of the arena at a speed that precluded a halt. She sat back in the saddle, popped the reins and told him to stop. As her knees shifted forward and she took a deep seat in the saddle, I saw the big horse tuck his rear legs underneath his haunches and literally sit down. Preacher plowed two furrows in the dirt, but he came to a dead halt with room to spare. And Cass smiled.
She walked him at once, allowing him to work the tension out of his body. Around the arena they went again, and this time she noticed me. I saw her teeth as she grinned.
“What’d you think?” she called.
I shook my head. “I’m impressed! I thought you’d hit the rails for certain.”
She patted the dark neck beneath her hands. “Not him. Preacher turns on a dime and stops dead the instant you tell him to. He’s a natural athlete, this horse. It’s why I know we’ll be a winning combination. ” She angled him over in my direction and paused long enough to push some loose strands of hair out of her face. Preacher snorted and shook his head.
“When do you plan to go on the circuit?”
She shrugged. “Soon as I can, but it’ll be a while. He’s won everything in this part of the state, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for the pro circuit. It takes seasoning, and that’s something we haven’t had a chance to get yet. Not while I’m tied to Smoketree.” Her eyes were masked by the sunglasses, but I heard the tension in her voice.
“Tied how?”
For a moment she said nothing, concentrating on the nail she had chewed ragged. “Oh—you know. Family responsibilities. Uncle Nathan can’t really afford to let me go just yet, not until things are a little better. We’ve laid off so much of the help.” The lenses were pointed in my direction. “I’d like to hit the road tomorrow, but I guess it’ll be a year or so before I can load him up and go. And Uncle Nathan wants me to go to school.”
“And you don’t want to go to college.”
“I do want to go,” she said briefly. “Vet school, so I can work on horses on the inside as well as the outside. But it takes a lot of money, and it’s hard work… and right now—” She stopped short and shrugged, as if she were unwilling to say more. “Someday.”
I knew better than to comment. Instead I put my hand through the bars and touched Preacher’s nose, liking the velvety texture of the skin. He wrinkled his lip and grasped at my fingers as if I held a treat. “He’s gorgeous.”
“He’s a big baby,” Cass said fondly, “but he works hard. And one of these days he’ll earn back what I spent to buy him.”
I looked at the saddle, a Western saddle so small and rounded it resembled the English style. “Did you lose anything in the fire?”
“No. We only keep—kept—the tack for the guests in the barn. All of my stuff—and Harper’s and Uncle Nathan’s—is locked up in the tack room.” She waved an arm. “That little building on the far side of the pens, up closer to the Lodge.”
“Lucky,” I commented. “How much did you lose?”
Cass shifted in the saddle and dipped her head enough to peer at me over the rims of her sunglasses. She studied me a moment, then sighed. “We saved enough of the tack to keep the riding program alive, thank God, since that’s what most people come here for. If this were the old days we’d be hurting, because we couldn’t tack out very many horses all at once… but now it doesn’t matter much.”
“Old days?”
The head raised defensively, I thought, and the glasses once again hid her eyes. “The old days,” she said