Chance Meeting (45 page)

Steve was next. The other female rider besides Cassie Miller in the jump-off, the Olympic veteran, had, with exceptional generosity, offered to switch her order-of-go with Steve, thereby giving him an extra minute or so between Macintosh and Gordo.

No stopping this time to salute the judges. A brisk canter brought Steve and Macintosh into the ring. They continued down to the opposite end, circling wide, bringing Macintosh’s rolling canter steadily up to pace, stoking the engine, as they headed for the first jump and the buzzer sounded for them. Steve’s mind was clear of everything except the eight fences laid out before him like a map, the turns and angles he planned to make bright dashes showing the way.

The first fence was a tall brush jump, Christmas-like with arborvitae and poinsettia clustered around its wings. Macintosh’s ears were swiveling, listening as Steve talked to the horse over the pounding of his heart and the thundering of Mac’s enormous hooves. Holding him steady, then loudly clucking his encouragement and driving him forward with his seat. Steve unhesitatingly asked Mac to take the jump long, because he knew Mac wouldn’t disappoint. In the air, Steve already shifting his weight, his head turning, looking for that line, the sharp left inside the oxer, so Mac could shave seconds off in the gallop over to the triple combination.

And so it went, Mac listening, responding with heart, courage, everything in him. A ride so fine Steve was almost sorry to clear the eightth and last fence. But not that sorry, he acknowledged with a happy grin as he and Macintosh galloped triumphantly, Steve patting Mac’s braided neck in affection and gratitude while excited applause sounded all around them.

“Nice round, Steve,” “Good going, Shepp,” voices called as he left the ring through the gate. Bubba was waiting for him, smiling from ear to ear. Next to him, Enrique was holding Gordo’s reins. Steve went straight over to them, dropping his stirrups, dismounting before Mac had even come to a stop.

“Way to go, Shepp.” Bubba gave Mac a quick pat and a kiss on his velvety muzzle before stripping Steve’s saddle off. Enrique was waiting, Gordo’s saddle pad already lying on the bay’s back. He held Gordo’s girth at the ready. The three men’s movements were as efficient as those of a pit crew in the Indy 500.

Bubba handed Steve a cold bottle of water. Steve uncapped it, chugging down a few quick gulps. Gordo was already saddled, Enrique just double-checking his boots. Steve helped Bubba straighten the cooler over Mac’s steaming body, then walked over to Gordo, pulling himself into the saddle with fluid ease.

“Go get ’em, Boss. Gordo wants that ribbon bad, I can feel it.”

“So do I, Enrique, so do I.”

Steve arrived at the in-gate just as Cassie Miller negotiated the last two fences of the course. Aquick check revealed no poles down. She was going like a bat out of hell, too.
Figures,
Steve thought, shaking his head in a mixture of admiration and annoyance.

Gordo was impatiently pawing the dirt footing with his left foreleg. Through his fingers, Steve could feel the gelding’s teeth grinding the steel bit in his mouth, the vibrations running up the leather reins. Gordo knew the score, all right. And Steve wanted a win for him. Badly. If only he could keep him balanced through that triple combination, they might be able to out-gallop that son of a gun Cassie Miller was riding right now. Eight perfect fences were all that stood between them and a blue ribbon and a real neat chunk of cash.

The spectators were clapping, their excitement growing, knowing Steve was the final rider of the night. But Steve wanted more, because this time, he and Gordo were going to rock the Garden.

* * *

“Damn, he’s going to do it, and I was so sure I had him,” Cassie Miller muttered, shaking her blond head. Standing beside her was her husband, Caleb Wells. They were by the in-gate, his arm wrapped about her shoulders. He gave an encouraging squeeze. “It ain’t over till it’s over, Slim.”

“Yeah, but look at him go, Caleb. He’s easily matching Orion’s stride, and those corners he’s taking! My God, do you see that? Sheppard’s hunkered down like a barrel racer!”

“Yeah, but here comes the triple,” her husband warned. “Maybe this is where his horse’ll run out of steam. That’s a long, tough line, Cassie.”

Caleb had a point. The triple
had
been a bitch; it had gotten Limelight, after all. The first part of the combination, the in-and-out, was big, bigger than before, the jump crew having raised it a notch. Then came a distance of five long strides for the horses to reach the third fence, vertical rails now set at six feet. After a night of jumping, a lot of horses’ legs simply didn’t have enough spring left to clear it. There it loomed, huge and unforgiving.

Cassie Miller and her husband watched Steve Sheppard coming closer and closer to the in-and-out. “Up and over. That’s it!” Cassie encouraged. As soon as Vanguard landed safely, she was counting the strides left to the vertical. One, two, three, four . . . a split-second hesitation, and then Vanguard was going for it, jumping out of Steve’s hands, propelling himself up, his hooves skimming the top rail. At that moment, it was as though every single person in the entire Garden held his breath. Twenty thousand eyes tracked Steve Sheppard on his horse.

He hovered, suspended, his legs no longer even touching the saddle, balancing on the balls of his feet as he threw his body forward, helping his straining horse. Hands high over Vanguard’s neck. Doubt warred with hope. Could they possibly make it? And then the thrilled, ecstatic cheer resounding throughout Madison Square Garden when Steve and Vanguard proved that indeed they could. The crowd was on its feet, roaring, clapping wildly as Steve and Gordo cleared the final fence. Ty’s cheeks were wet, glistening in the floodlights as Steve cantered over to where she stood. His eyes, too, were moist. He wiped at tears of elation with the back of his hand.

Christ, that had been a hell of a ride. He leaned down, clapping his hand against Gordo’s shoulder and reined him to a trot, then a walk. He stopped in front of Ty.

“Hey, Ty, got that ribbon you wanted.”

She’d never seen him look happier. “So I see.” Ty laughed, wiping her eyes, her smile lit with a thousandwatt force. “That was beautiful, Steve. Look at the crowd, they’re still on their feet.”

Steve grinned at the fans applauding even now, then leaned over to pat Gordo’s neck once more. “He put on a show, didn’t he?”

“With a little help,” Ty said, shaking her head, still in a state of disbelief. One didn’t see riding like that very often. “Go on with you. They’ve got to haul out the red carpet and present you with the trophy.”

“Okay, but meet me back at the stalls directly afterward. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”

A long blue champion ribbon fluttered from the side of Gordo’s bridle, the horse’s body covered by the cooler that the director of the National Horse Show had presented Steve with. Ty had rushed back to Mac and Gordo’s stalls ahead of Steve. Catching sight of that flutter of blue, Ty gave Enrique the signal and the cork on the bottle of champagne she’d had cooling in an extra water bucket popped out. Ty held four plastic cups ready and waiting. Two more were produced with exclamations when Sam Brody and Lizzie Osborne appeared a few minutes later.

“Hope we’re not interrupting,” Lizzie said, planting a smacking kiss on Steve’s cheek and one on Gordo’s, too. “I’d been planning on leaving before the end of your class, Steve, but you had me glued to the seat right to the very last second.”

“Don’t believe her. When I showed up, she was already on her feet, jumping up and down. You must have heard her, she was the one shouting, “GO, STEVE, GO!”

Steve grinned at Sam’s description, at the annoyed look on Lizzie’s face. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I think I did hear someone who sounded awfully like Lizzie.”

Outlandish toasting and praising, mixed with hearty laughter, continued while Gordo and Mac were painstakingly rubbed down, their tired legs and muscles soothed with liniment. Ty had a bag of carrots she passed to Sam, who divided them equally between Mac and Gordo. Then Bubba and Enrique left, taking the horses to walk some more. Afterward, they’d be bandaged, watered, and fed. After that, everyone, horses and humans, could finally rest.

A voice broke into the revelry. “Steve, just wanted to congratulate you. Those were awesome rounds you turned in. The Garden doesn’t see a shutout every day.”

Cassie Miller was still in her breeches, with the sleeves of her rat-catcher rolled past the elbows. Her hair was unpinned. It fell in golden waves down her back.

Steve’s face split in a happy grin. “Thanks, Cassie. Ty, I’d like you to meet Cassie Miller. Cassie’s that rider I was telling you to watch for. Cassie, my partner, Ty Stannard.”

Ty shook Cassie’s hand. “You had some fine rides yourself this evening,” Ty offered graciously.

“Thanks. I consider third and fifth quite respectable, given the competition tonight.” Cassie shook her head. “I really thought I had you, Steve.”

“So did I,” Steve laughed. “I was already cantering into the ring when you came out. You looked so good out there, I never bothered to check the clock. I figured you were the one to beat. Earlier, Ty had insisted only blue would do, and Gordo seemed to agree. There didn’t seem any other way to ride it.”

“I don’t think anyone else
could
have ridden it like that.”

Steve waved the compliment aside. “Those horses of yours will have their night to shine real soon,” he predicted. “Cassie, let me introduce you to our friends. This is Lizzie Osborne, fellow equestrian. And this is . . .”

“Don’t I know you?” Cassie was already saying, looking quizzically at Sam.

“Yeah.” Sam smiled. “You do. I’m Sam. Sam Brody. A friend of your brother’s. We met a few years ago.”

“Sam Brody!” Cassie Miller cried with the same enthusiasm one might reserve for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. She rushed toward him, and hugged him enthusiastically. Watching, Lizzie’s eyes narrowed dangerously. It nettled that Sam wasn’t exactly unresponsive to this effusive display of affection, either.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for Greataunt Grace,” Cassie was saying. “It’s changed our lives! All last week, the kids were e-mailing her and sending their drawings to her with a click of the mouse. And that thing you had us download . . . the game? A major hit! Who’d have thought this would be a way for two sixyearolds and a ninety-one-year-old woman to connect?”

“Mrs. Miller took to it like a duck to water,” Sam replied easily.

“Well, Alex and I are eternally grateful. Great-aunt Grace means a lot to us.”

“Can we offer you some champagne, Cassie?”

“Oh, no thanks, Ty, really. I’ve got to be running along, get back to my own horses. You’ll be seeing Alex soon, Sam?”

“Hope to. Caught a glimpse of him in the stands, he looked busy with the kids. They’ve grown some.”

“At an alarming rate!” Ty laughed. “Another reason to get back. It’s an awfully late night for them.”

Cassie turned to Ty and Steve. “Well, so long, and once again, congratulations.”

“You’ll be seeing us sooner rather than later, Cassie.” Steve said. “Ty’s a firm believer in sharing good fortune,” looping his arm about Ty’s shoulders. “I’m guessing that means we’ll be making a side trip to your farm next week. See how much of our prize money we can spend.”

“And you’ll be welcomed with open arms.” Cassie Miller laughed.

While Steve and Ty were drinking what was obviously a
private
toast, staring deep into each other’s eyes, totally lost to the world, Sam turned to Lizzie. “What’s got your nose out of joint?”

“What are you talking about?” Lizzie demanded coolly.

“You know, the way your nose shot up in the air as soon as Cassie Miller showed up. She’s a nice kid, and has had some tough breaks. Too bad you didn’t say a word to her because she’d be a good friend.”

“She seemed far too busy being friendly with you. Such a touching reunion, by the way.”

“Lizzie! Is that a note of jealousy I detect? Impossible,” he concluded, his laughter pitched low, for her ears only. “But in case I’m wrong, any time you want to show me how happy you are to see me, you go right ahead.”

“Oh, Sam.” Lizzie stared up at his chiseled face, her lashes batting Scarlett O’Hara-like. “Would you please, please hold your breath until I do?”

30

T
y didn’t appear unbearably torn or conflicted in deciding whether to accompany Steve to Clyde Farrell’s place and look at horses or to stay where she was, with his mother and sisters in the Sheppards’

homey kitchen. When she opted to remain in the company of the Sheppard women, it couldn’t have pleased Steve more. Ty was clearly captivated by the flow of chatter and laughter his mother and sisters shared. Steve didn’t imagine she’d ever been exposed to a family this relaxed and easygoing. Steve and his father left Ty in the hands of Olivia, Maggie, and Kerry, Steve knowing everything would be fine when he received only a distracted “See you” after brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. Ty was practically oblivious to his presence, busily engaged in the task at hand: mixing the ingredients for an apple raisin cake and listening avidly to a particularly involved story Kerry was embellishing with her usual flair for exaggeration, something about Steve and her in a cross-country race on their father’s tractors.