Burning Desire

Chapter Three

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"Keep the leg on right until the last second. Don't get into jumping position too early!" Holly's voice rang out across the arena. My trainer's dark, stern gaze traced my every movement as I pointed the gelding towards the fence.

Ricochet, a promising and classy nine year old Belgian Warmblood, pricked his ears towards the jump. The handsome dapple grey steed was a dream ride; an angel in both temperament and capability. He was a show jumper, so I rarely competed him, but Donna encouraged the riders at Belmont to exercise horses from every discipline in order to develop our range of skills. I collected Ricochet neatly, my focus ahead and positive. On the last two strides, I slipped the reins slightly and Ricochet propelled forward, launching into the air with a wave of sheer power and scope. He tucked his legs over the jump and the wind wove its way through my dark locks which had escaped from under my riding hat as we flew gracefully over the immense 1.45m fence.

We landed safely on the other side, the poles untouched. I gathered my reins and cantered Ricochet around the arena once more before I slowed the gelding to a trot and finally a walk. I glanced nervously at my hard-to-please trainer, anticipating her reaction.

"Perfect," Holly complimented shortly, her voice portraying no emotion. Holly Wayman, three time champion of the infamous and prestigious Kentucky Horse Trials and experienced international eventer, was comparable to a terrier dog; with a ferocious bark much worse than her bite. Everyone at Belmont admired Holly, and some were perhaps borderline scared of her. "Now cool him off and put him away. It's too hot to do much more."

Today was shaping out to be just as hot as yesterday, if not more. Although the heat in our little corner of North Carolina was rare and stifling, there was no use complaining. Even if it meant that we were limited on the amount of work we could do with the horses.

Still, I gazed longingly at Holly from her perch on her stool under the shade of a large tree, sipping a bottle of iced water with the lazy and obese barn cat, Pimms, dozing on her lap.

I rewarded Ricochet with a long-rein. "Good boy, Rico," I murmured, petting his dappled neck and dismounting.

"That can be your last ride for the day. Take a break," Holly said. "But I want you up early tomorrow so that we can get the riding out of the way before the day gets too hot."

"Alright," I replied. Immediately, thoughts of visiting the beach swelled inside me with a rush of excitement – it was one of my favourite places in the world, after the yard.

"But you have to do a job for Donna, don't you?"

I groaned. The 'new arrival' had fleeted from my mind, and any prospects of visiting the beach extinguished themselves.

"Yeah," I replied unenthusiastically.

Holly chuckled. "You'll be fine. He's a charming young man."

"You've met him?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I've seen him ride once or twice, yeah," Holly said concisely. "Now, go and give that poor horse a rest. He's boiling, bless him."

I took Ricochet back to the barn and untacked him swiftly, before using a damp sponge to wipe the sweat from his dapple iron coat. The gelding nuzzled my arm as I groomed him down and I sneaked him a polo.

"You're just a big sod, aren't you Rico?" I teased lightly.

Avery appeared out of nowhere and flashed me her blindingly white smile, leaning over the stable door. "He's such a gorgeous horse," she said dreamily, rubbing Ricochet's forehead affectionately.