Read Online Chance Meeting by Laura Moore - Free Book Online Page B

the two girls trotted side by side, both garbed in matching beige breeches and navy blue riding jackets. As the gray and dark bay horses trotted, the girls rose up and down, posting in unison.
    “Sure,” Ty replied, nodding. “Can you wait about fifteen minutes? Meghan wants me to take Charisma over a couple of fences before I finish.” Meghan Grimshaw was the trainer at the riding club to which both girls belonged. She was the closest thing to a mother figure Ty had. A no-nonsense kind of woman, Meghan had centered her life around the horses she trained and the riders she taught. Extremely perceptive with humans as well as horses, Meghan possessed an uncanny knack for understanding what made people tick, what motivated them. With Ty, she opted for brutal honesty, never offering empty praise, knowing Ty would see right through it. Ty thrived under her tutelage.
    “Cool,” breathed Lizzie. Cool was her new favorite word. She used it about a hundred times a day.
    “Maybe I’ll hang around to watch. Meghan told me to wait until just before my afternoon class to jump Rushmore. Hey, don’t forget, it’s my treat,” Lizzie reminded as she kneed Rushmore forward into an extended trot, slipping ahead of Ty and her mare so that they were once more trotting single file on the rail. A long-standing ritual, Lizzie and Ty took turns picking up the tab for the vast quantities of snacks they consumed at the shows.
    Meghan Grimshaw stood by the wooden wings of the jump, her eyes fixed on Ty circling the ring at a canter, urging her mare’s pace forward as they rounded the curve and headed toward the fence. Impatiently, Meghan dragged the long strands of fine blond hair that had come loose from her ponytail and were whipping across her face. Blasted wind, she muttered to herself as Ty guided Charisma straight to the center of the jump, a large double-oxer with a mass of dusty plastic flowers spreading out from the first rail. Between the horses’ hoofprints dislodging clumps of the sandy soil and the strong gusts of wind that were blowing this way and that, it was a good thing the practice fences had artificial flowers and not live ones. Real flowers wouldn’t have survived two minutes. Ty was almost at the fence now, about five strides away, her seat still close to the saddle, driving her mare forward with her legs. Her hands were raised slightly, keeping Charisma’s hindquarters rounded and underneath her, so that the mare’s powerful muscles would be in optimal position to propel them over the fence. They cleared it easily, Ty folding herself over her mare’s glossy dappled coat with graceful ease. The angles they created were just right, a direct line from Ty’s elbow to the snaffle bit attached to Charisma’s bridle, Ty’s torso following the subtly curved arch of the horse’s back and neck. Legs folded, knees in tight, horse and rider a pleasure to behold.
    “Okay,” Meghan called out. “Come at it this time from the opposite lead. I want to see you looking to your left as you clear the oxer, as if you’re going to make a sharp turn to the next fence, say right over here, where I’m standing.” Meghan walked away from the oxer, counting off the distance in terms of a horse’s stride. Satisfied, she came to a halt and looked up at Ty. “Right here, okay? I’d like to see you pick up the tempo a bit, too. Canter right on through, then take Charisma over the in-and-out,” she instructed, inclining her head toward the two fences on the other side of the ring. Ty nodded, gathered her reins, and approached the schooling fence one more time.
    “Nice job, Ty. That was a super round.” There was a broad smile of approval on Meghan’s tanned face as Ty trotted up to her on Charisma. All of Meghan’s riders reported directly to her after a flat or a jumping class to analyze any mistakes while they were fresh in everyone’s mind. Ty swung her leg over the saddle and dismounted lightly. One of the girls who worked