Beauty & the Beasts by Anne Weale, Janice Kay Johnson Page B

dapple gray,” Madeline said between bites of her hot dog. “The one with the boy—thatone.” She pointed as the pair passed in front of them, the canter perfectly collected, the horse’s neck arched and the pale mane foaming over-the boy’s quiet hands.
    Eric took a swig of his coffee and nodded. “And the bay.”
    The gray took home the huge blue rosette, while the bay inexplicably got left out of the honors. Eric grumbled amiably while they argued about who ought to win out of the next batch, a yearling halter class. The lanky youngsters fidgeted and rolled their eyes and flared their nostrils as the judges solemnly circled them and made notes on their clipboards.
    After studying the program and agreeing that they wanted to be back in time to see Jess and the costume class afterward, Eric and Madeline followed the yearlings out, watching them dance skittishly on impossibly slender legs while their trainers or owners made soothing noises.
    “What fun,” Madeline said a little wistfully. She’d been as horse-crazy as any other girl, but instead of having a chance to indulge in her dream, she’d spent her childhood as far from green pastures as you could get: among the concrete building blocks and freeway cloverleafs of Southern California. She’d spent it, not on horseback, but in front of a camera.
    “Do you ride?” Eric asked.
    “I’ve only been a few times,” Madeline admitted. “You know, rent a horse for an hour. The kind of thing where you plod along a trail in a dutiful line behind the wrangler. Or do I mean baby-sitter?”
    “Want to learn?”
    She studied him warily. “Do you mean it?”
    “I have a horse, you know. A quarter-horse mix, nothing fancy, but she’s easygoing. When you get a little more confident, I can borrow one of Teresa’s or Jess’s and we can go trail riding. The real thing, not a plod.”
    Excitement bubbled in her, as if she were a girl again being offered this same chance. But she wasn’t a girl anymore; his offer sounded so long-term, as though she’d be over at his place—or wherever he kept his horse—often. As though he took for granted her compliance.
    And she still didn’t know why he wanted to spend time with her. Was it only her face and figure that interested him?
    “I…wouldn’t mind trying it,” she said, figuring she wasn’t committing herself to anything.
    “Good.” He smiled, took her hand and drew her into the first long barn.
    She’d always liked the smells of manure and wood shavings and hay and leather soap. Absurdly conscious of the warmth of his hand engulfing hers, she wandered with Eric down the aisle lined with stalls. Horses popped their noses inquiringly through the bars, and Madeline used their lure as an excuse to withdraw her hand from Eric’s. Wary of the horses’ big yellow teeth, she tentatively stroked velvet muzzles.
    Show ribbons festooned some stalls, and a few silver bowls were proudly displayed on wooden chests. Owners groomed the handsome animals cross-tied inthe sawdust-floored aisle. A few of the riders, wearing flowing robes, were tying ribbons into their horses’ manes and loading them down with jeweled tack and tiny silver bells and colorful satin draperies for the costume class þo come.
    Eventually they found Jess, already leading a dainty gray mare out of the barn.
    “Hi!” she called. “Did you come to cheer me on?”
    “Absolutely,” Madeline said warmly. “Are your girls here? Oh, there they are. Hi, Sarah. Hi, Steph.”
    Teenagers now, the two dark-haired girls smiled and said, “Hello, Ms. Howard. Hello, Dr. Bergstrom.”
    “Either of you showing?” he asked.
    “I am tomorrow,” the older and taller of the two said. “It’s my first time in anything bigger than the Stanwood Fair.” She made a face. “I’m really nervous.”
    “I’ve seen you ride. You’ll do great.” His smile would have brought a blush to the cheeks of any female between ten and eighty. It didn’t fail with