Read Online No One's Hero (Chadwell Hearts) by Kelly Walker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kelly Walker
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“I’m honored. I won’t let you down.”
“I expect not, Ms. Feron. But while I admire your dedication to your appearance, you don’t have to wear tall boots for regular classes unless we are giving tours on your class day.”
I might as well get it over with. “Actually, my roommate put my stuff in the hall, and it seems to have walked away. Including my boots and saddle.”
Professor Blessing frowns. “I see. Well, you can borrow one of our spare saddles for this week, but we’ll expect you to find yours or obtain a new one promptly. Each Chancellorsville student is responsible for his or her own gear.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Go on. The tack room is across from the locker room, just down the hall. Go ahead and grab Samurai’s bridle while you’re there. Grab a medium tree if you can, he’ll do better with it.” Her advice encourages me, since my own saddle—if I ever find it—is a medium tree as well. Although when possible it’s best to fit the saddle to the horse, it isn’t always practical to have a different saddle for each mount, in which case a medium tree often seems to be the best bet for a comfortable for both the horse and rider. Since I generally rode a variety of horses at Chadwell farms, it’s what I picked.
I pass my classmates in the hall. They’re already on their way downstairs to meet their horses, and once again I’m running behind, though it’s through no fault of my own. The locker room is spacious, with heavy wood cabinets lining the walls. Most are padlocked, but a few wait patiently for their new occupants to come claim them. I scan the name plates tacked onto each one, finding mine. But beneath the carefully printed Alexis Feron , a shiny new padlock bars my entrance. What the hell?
Not wanting to be late—again—I shove my purse into a locker without a name tag and lock it with my own padlock. I’ll have to sort out which locker I’m supposed to be in later. I know we’re responsible for our own lockers, or else I wouldn’t care. But the last thing I need is the locker the school thinks is mine being damaged, and me being responsible for the cost.
In the tack room, it takes me several minutes to find the bridle hook labeled Samurai, costing me more valuable time. By the time I grab a suitable saddle and carry it toward the steps I’m beyond flustered. In my haste, I nearly crash into one of my classmates in the hall.
“Watch it!” The petite girl smooths her pale cardigan until it’s as tidy as her fine blonde hair. “Oh, you’re the freshman. Alexis, right?”
“Sorry. And it’s Lexi, but yeah.”
“Cute. Whatever. Anyway, there’s no running in the barn.” She huffs, as if the inconvenience of having to school the stupid freshman on the rules is exhausting.
I force myself to smile, ignoring her patronizing tone. “Sorry again.”
“Oh, and some moron assigned you my locker, so I just went ahead and put my stuff in there. We’ll straighten it out later.” Before I can protest, she turns and heads down the stairs.
Professor Blessing is waiting at the bottom, and the other girl hands her a clipboard with several papers fastened to it. “Thank you, Madison. Not sure where my brain is today, forgetting that in my office. Okay, let’s see.” She quickly scans the papers. “Looks like you’re on Vandal.”
“But—” Madison begins.
“No arguments, Madison. Go on. You know where her stall is. Grab her bridle and I’ll see you in the arena once you’re ready. Follow me, Alexis. I’ll introduce you to Samurai.”
At the professor’s words, Madison’s indignant scowl deepens and she stomps back toward the second floor. Curious noses poke out of several stalls as I follow Professor Blessing halfway down the aisle, where she stops. “Here we are. You can use these cross-ties to get him ready, then meet us in the arena.” After indicating the pair of ropes used to secure a horse in the open aisle, she walks away without a
“I expect not, Ms. Feron. But while I admire your dedication to your appearance, you don’t have to wear tall boots for regular classes unless we are giving tours on your class day.”
I might as well get it over with. “Actually, my roommate put my stuff in the hall, and it seems to have walked away. Including my boots and saddle.”
Professor Blessing frowns. “I see. Well, you can borrow one of our spare saddles for this week, but we’ll expect you to find yours or obtain a new one promptly. Each Chancellorsville student is responsible for his or her own gear.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Go on. The tack room is across from the locker room, just down the hall. Go ahead and grab Samurai’s bridle while you’re there. Grab a medium tree if you can, he’ll do better with it.” Her advice encourages me, since my own saddle—if I ever find it—is a medium tree as well. Although when possible it’s best to fit the saddle to the horse, it isn’t always practical to have a different saddle for each mount, in which case a medium tree often seems to be the best bet for a comfortable for both the horse and rider. Since I generally rode a variety of horses at Chadwell farms, it’s what I picked.
I pass my classmates in the hall. They’re already on their way downstairs to meet their horses, and once again I’m running behind, though it’s through no fault of my own. The locker room is spacious, with heavy wood cabinets lining the walls. Most are padlocked, but a few wait patiently for their new occupants to come claim them. I scan the name plates tacked onto each one, finding mine. But beneath the carefully printed Alexis Feron , a shiny new padlock bars my entrance. What the hell?
Not wanting to be late—again—I shove my purse into a locker without a name tag and lock it with my own padlock. I’ll have to sort out which locker I’m supposed to be in later. I know we’re responsible for our own lockers, or else I wouldn’t care. But the last thing I need is the locker the school thinks is mine being damaged, and me being responsible for the cost.
In the tack room, it takes me several minutes to find the bridle hook labeled Samurai, costing me more valuable time. By the time I grab a suitable saddle and carry it toward the steps I’m beyond flustered. In my haste, I nearly crash into one of my classmates in the hall.
“Watch it!” The petite girl smooths her pale cardigan until it’s as tidy as her fine blonde hair. “Oh, you’re the freshman. Alexis, right?”
“Sorry. And it’s Lexi, but yeah.”
“Cute. Whatever. Anyway, there’s no running in the barn.” She huffs, as if the inconvenience of having to school the stupid freshman on the rules is exhausting.
I force myself to smile, ignoring her patronizing tone. “Sorry again.”
“Oh, and some moron assigned you my locker, so I just went ahead and put my stuff in there. We’ll straighten it out later.” Before I can protest, she turns and heads down the stairs.
Professor Blessing is waiting at the bottom, and the other girl hands her a clipboard with several papers fastened to it. “Thank you, Madison. Not sure where my brain is today, forgetting that in my office. Okay, let’s see.” She quickly scans the papers. “Looks like you’re on Vandal.”
“But—” Madison begins.
“No arguments, Madison. Go on. You know where her stall is. Grab her bridle and I’ll see you in the arena once you’re ready. Follow me, Alexis. I’ll introduce you to Samurai.”
At the professor’s words, Madison’s indignant scowl deepens and she stomps back toward the second floor. Curious noses poke out of several stalls as I follow Professor Blessing halfway down the aisle, where she stops. “Here we are. You can use these cross-ties to get him ready, then meet us in the arena.” After indicating the pair of ropes used to secure a horse in the open aisle, she walks away without a
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