A Heartbeat Away by Eleanor Jones Page B

night before, until, as midnight approached, the starved mongrel I was nursing started to wag his long thin tail and eagerly lap at the milk I had been offering him for hours.
    Jane Whitfield, my boss, was so delighted that she told me to take the next day off. So here I was, raring to go. When I said as much to Daniel, however, he just laughed at my enthusiasm for work.
    â€œWell, Luce,” he told me, “it’s about time I had a day off, also. All the silage is in, and in another week we’ll be busy with the haying, so I think we’ll make the most of some free moments. Don’t you agree, Mother?”
    He turned to look at Mrs. Brown, who was cooking bacon in a pan on the stove, and she laughed.
    â€œI suppose so,” she concurred. “I’ll fix you a picnic.”
    â€œBut not until we’ve finished our bacon.” He grinned, wrinkling up his nose at the enticing smell. “And I’m sure Luce will manage one.”
    Almost an hour later, we set off along the back lane that led to the sweeping fells. The air was fresh and clear. Way, way above us, a buzzard soared in lazy arcs and the summer sun felt warm against out faces as our horses’ hooves echoed along the hard dirt track.
    Promise walked sedately beside Timmy, ears pricked forward, anticipating the gallop that she knew would come as soon as we hit the soft, tussock grass of the fell but as yet prepared to wait. Daniel caught my eye once or twice and grinned. We had no need of words as we wallowed in the beauty of the day. When we reached the gate onto the fell, he jumped down, led his mount through and waited for me to follow.
    â€œWell, do you want me to give you a headstart?” he asked, leaping nimbly back on Promise. I was so envious of the way he could vault into the saddle with such ease.
    â€œYou must be joking,” I retorted. “Timmy here can give your fancy filly a run for her money any day.”
    â€œThat’s what you think,” he yelled, urging Promise on and in one bound they were away at full gallop.
    In the time it took me to collect my wits, Promise was already way ahead of us, streaking up the fell. Timmy fought the bridle, losing precious moments by turning in a circle. I clamped my legs around him, and my heart soared when I felt the awesome power beneath me surging forward.
    â€œCome on, boy,” I cried, leaning low over his neck. The sheer elation I felt as his stride lengthened took my breath away.
    For almost a mile Daniel and I galloped side by side, the thunder of hooves in our ears and the soft sweet wind in our faces. But gradually, the steep slope took its toll, and despite Promise’s gutsy determination, her youth and lack of fitness showed. Her pace slowed just a little and she fell back, half a stride, one stride, two strides. The ground leveled off and I reined in, elated as I stood in my stirrups and whooped while Daniel slowed Promise to a trot and rode toward me with a broad grin on his flushed face.
    â€œBeat you,” I declared as he drew alongside.
    Our eyes met. I recognized the challenge in his, and then he was gone, heels digging into the filly’s sides as he urged her into canter again. He bounded toward a windblown gorse bush, where he reined her in.
    â€œHa,” he cried with a flourish of his hand. “This, I think, is the finishing post. Too bad, Lucy…last again.”
    â€œYou cheat,” I yelled. “We won that race fair and square.”
    â€œBut you didn’t finish it, did you?” he insisted.
    I leaned forward and ran my hand down Timmy’s warm, damp shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, boy,” I told the big bay gelding. “You and I know we won.”
    Both horses were content to idle after that, along the lower slopes of the fell. We could see Appleton town below us, sprawling along both sides of the winding river. And beyond it lay the majestic sweep of the fell again, etched against a