down, put him on the hot walker, and took Patches inside to tack up. Sheâd groomed him earlier.
âYou were one smart horse,â she told him at the end of the hour. âIf youâd tried to dump me today, I think Iâd haveââ
âDJ, your people are here.â Amy trotted up to the geldingâs stall.
âOkay. Can you put him on the hot walker for me? I donât have time to cool him down.â
âSure.â
DJ pulled off her riding gloves and stuffed them in her back pocket. She could see the dark blue horse trailer parked in front of the barn door. She glanced at her watch. She had to leave for home in ten minutes.
âRhonda Samson, I want you to meet DJ Randall,â Bridget said when DJ joined the trio by the trailer. âShe will be training Omega for you, like I said.â
âGlad to meet you,â DJ said, her manners securely in place. She shook hands with a round ball of a woman who looked as if she could be bounced across the parking lot by any NBA player. Her smile and the twinkle in her turquoise eyes told DJ they could be friends from the get-go.
âShe looks kind of young,â Mr. Samson said to Bridget after greeting DJ.
âAge and ability do not always go together. DJ has turned two green broke horses into good riding partners, and I know she will do the same again.â
âWell, if you say so.â He turned to begin unlatching the trailer.
The woman shook her head. âDonât pay any attention to him, DJ. He wanted me to buy an old plug, thought it might be safer.â
Her teasing tone made DJ even more certain Rhonda would be a great addition to the Academy. âSo what did you get?â
âA three-year-old half-Arab, half-Quarter Horse filly. If I had the time, Iâd train her myself, even though I havenât ridden for ten years.â
âAt least.â The mustached man lowered the trailer ramp.
âCome on, Bob, youâre just jealous because I didnât buy a Sea-Doo like you wanted.â
Bridget and DJ exchanged raised eyebrow looks.
âSo how much training has she had?â
âNone, but sheâs been handled a lot so she is gentle.â
It took all of DJâs willpower not to look at her watch. Come on, I have to leave. You want me to be grounded for the rest of my life?
Bob fussed with the tailgate a little more before Rhonda walked in and, untying the horse, backed a chestnut filly down the ramp. The horse picked up her feet like a ballerina, almost dancing down the incline. Her coat glinted in the sun, even with the winter coarseness. A white blaze ran from her upper lip clear to her ears, disappearing under a thick forelock.
âSheâs a beauty,â DJ said, walking around to check the other side.
âAnd smart as a whip.â Rhonda stroked the horseâs neck. âWonât take you long to get her in shape, I donât think. Meantime, Iâll take English lessons from Bridget. I always rode Western before, but if youâre going to have a dream come true, you might as well have it all.â
Bob slammed the gate back in place and dusted off his hands. âIâll move the trailer while you take her to her stall.â He glanced at his watch. âThen we gotta hit the road. Iâm late already.â
DJ checked her watch. âOh, fiddle. Sorry I canât go with you, but I need to get home.â
âI had hoped to see you work with her a bit. â¦â Rhonda looked at her husband and made a face. âAll right, I can tell when Iâm being ganged up on.â
âSorry.â DJ could hear her mother already. She turned and ran for her bike. At least she had taken a shower before she left home. She hoped washing would get rid of the horse smell or sheâd get growled at for that, too. She threw her leg over the seat when the thought hit her. Patches! Major! They were both still on the hot walker.
She dropped her
C. J. Cherryh
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