The Horsewoman Read Online Free PDF

” he said. “I have a rider in mind.”
    “Who?” Grandmother asked. Her voice may have stopped horses, but not Daniel.
    “Becky,” he said.

NINE
    Daniel
    AS SOON AS he’d heard about the accident, Daniel had decided that Becky had to be the one to ride Coronado.
    A trainer, he knew, dealt with what he had, not what he did not. He had learned that from old Buck Starr, a trainer in North Carolina. When the barn’s star rider, Wiley, had broken a leg before a big show at the Tryon International Equestrian Center, Starr had looked at Daniel and said, “Who’s Wiley?”
    If they were going to get Becky up on Coronado, they couldn’t afford to wait. So he told them.
    Mrs. Atwood was staring at him with that look she expected to scare not only the staff but the horses. Daniel was convinced that if you took away her bluster, she would merely be old.
    “You’re serious,” she said.
    “Always,” he said, “when the subject is your horses.”
    Always her horses, never his.
    Horses were so much more than just Daniel Ortega’s job, no matter who owned them. One day horses would give him the good lives they’d already given the Atwood women—if it wasn’t too late for people with stories like his own.
    “My granddaughter rides Coronado over my dead body,” Caroline Atwood said.
    “Took the words right out of my mouth,” Becky said.
    Daniel couldn’t repress the smile from his face. Never mind the wrath of the old lady of the house. “The two of you hardly ever agree about anything,” he said. “Until now.”
    Mrs. Atwood stood from her rocking chair then, nearly knocking it over as she took her first straight-backed, stiff-legged steps over to the trophy case. Maggie Atwood had won enough trophies to fill two cases, one here in the living room and a second in the den, along with two walls covered with ribbons. Becky’s awards were in a television room on the second floor. Mrs. Atwood studied Maggie’s trophies for a moment.
    “She can’t win often enough on her own horse,” she said.
    “She can,” Daniel said. “Just not lately.”
    “I’m here,” Becky said from the sofa. “I can hear you two.”
    Standing directly behind Becky, Daniel gently put a hand on her shoulder. He hoped she understood that the less she spoke right now, the better it would be.
    “Both of you hear me out,” he said. “Please.”
    As aware as Mrs. Atwood was of her place with Mr. Gorton, Daniel was even more aware of his place with her. And her daughter. And even her granddaughter.
    “I’m listening,” Mrs. Atwood said.
    “Same,” Becky said.
    He breathed deeply, feeling his shoulders rise and then drop as he slowly let the air out.
    “I know Coronado,” he said. “And I do not believe just anybody can ride him.”
    “Steve Gorton isn’t talking about just anybody riding the horse,” Mrs. Atwood said. “He’ll shop around and buy his top pick.”
    “But that is not necessarily what is best for the horse,” Daniel said.
    “Mom’s horse,” Becky said.
    “Not now,” Daniel said. “And not for a long time. And maybe, though none of us wants to speak of it, not ever again. But you can ride Coronado. I’ve seen you on him. You fit this horse better than you know.”
    “The horse could fit her like a pair of damn riding gloves,” Mrs. Atwood said, spitting out the words the way a horse spits a bit. “Even if I agreed to this, Gorton never will. See all the trophies in that case? This horse is his trophy. And he’s going to want a trophy rider.”
    Ahi esta, Daniel thought.
    There it is.
    “But he does not get to pick the rider,” Daniel said. “You do. It is in the contract.”
    “And how do you know that?” Mrs. Atwood said.
    “Because you asked me to look at it before you signed it,” Daniel said. “He agreed because we all thought Miss Maggie was going to ride him, all the way to Paris. She was going to be his trophy rider. He knew enough to know she was a star.”
    Daniel was right. So was