Dagger's Point

Chapter One

Horse barns are all alike, I've been to enough to know. There are always the bitchy girls, the owners that don't know what they're doing, the rail side trainers, and of course the one's that are only there for the prestige. Our barn had been like that too, except there I ruled over everything with a superiority given to me because my father was the trainer and owner. But now, the barn that looks out at me, just like any other, sparks discomfort in my gut.

Dad grips the steering wheel a bit tighter, his eyes surveying the large equine complex that stretches out around us. It is impressive, with stone stables that resemble those from an older time, except on the inside it contains one of the most state of the art, equestrian facilities in the US. In the sunlight it would be more impressive, but the rain that falls makes it look gloomy and almost spooky.

"You ready kid?"

I don't answer, watching a gate on an empty paddock swing in the breeze, someone having forgotten to shut it after the rush to get all the high end horses inside. For a moment I wonder if they always do that, as according to Google, New Jersey gets an average of 46 inches of rain a year, much more than in Idaho.

"Are you going to sit in here all day?"

I look at him then, the tan lines running across his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes and his pepper grey hair. I sigh, reaching for the door handle, not wanting to answer him, preferring to keep my mouth shut, as it is always easier.

Dad sighs as well but joins me, as we stride to the stable entrance, the sound of horses coming from inside. That calms me a little, though it also forms a lump in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I shouldn't be nervous or upset, it's a good job for him, and a barn that someone would kill to have. They had contacted him as soon as they heard about our barn, offering him a large amount, and the promise of top-notch clients. It took him three hours to decide, and he did so without me, letting me know the next day. Of course I didn't have any say in it, as that is how everything goes.

The barn office is large, the walls a rich mahogany wood, that matches everything else. It is impressive, with a large desk sitting directly in the middle, while ribbons and professionally taken photographs decorate the walls. Dad sits in the padded chair by the desk, already in deep conversation with the woman sitting behind it. She is tall, almost awkwardly so, with pointy elbows and professionally dyed, blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her eyes keep darting to me as I lurk behind Dad's chair, she has already offered for me to sit, but I ignore her, opting for a quick escape.

I'm restless, my foot tapping against the tiled floor, my fingers picking at the leather while I study a picture of a boy on a dark bay performing a passage down center line. They look impressive, everything about his seat and the way he holds the reins is effortless. I study it for some flaw, but to my dismay there are none, even the braids are done to the highest of quality.

"Impressive isn't it?" the woman says to me, I don't remember her name, so I only nod, not wanting to get into a discussion about it.

"That's the owner's son Jasper, he's quite the stellar rider."

Her voice is bursting with pride and something else, I watch her face trying to find out why, whether she has a crush on him or if they are related in some way. All I find is the way her mouth turns down at the corner, betraying the happiness in her tone. I wonder if he still rides, or if he has gone off to bigger and better things, though not much is better than this barn.

"But I'm sure you'll be an excellent addition to our show team."

I smile, though it is more of a grimace while Dad shifts in his seat, he knows that I don't want to ride anymore. I even purposefully wore normal street clothes to the barn, something that I would've never done before. The lump in my throat is gone now, though in its place I yearn to walk down the aisle of horses, wanting to look at every one, seems how it has been so long since the last time I have even been near a horse. But at the same time, it's an acute form of torture born from old habits.