players and ponies blocked and marked each other mercilessly, dancing around the ball to gain control before storming down the field at top speed, sparks seemed to fly from the ponies’ feet as horseshoes caught the light.
Alejandro was at the heart of it, the best of them all. He dove through the other players on a magnificent gray, man and horse in perfect communion, fused as a team. He was twisting and turning, galloping face backward to follow the soaring trajectory of the ball, all the while wielding his mallet like the right hand of Thor. All the pent-up energy that she’d noticed in the press tent yesterday suddenly made sense. This man was made to ride.
It took tremendous skill to move as nimbly as he did. Over and over again, he made the crowd gasp, taking huge risks, riding within inches of the other ponies but always managing to pull back just in time. It was riveting.
“It’s really dangerous, isn’t it?” she murmured to Billy, never taking her eyes off the field. “I mean, the speed—they could get seriously hurt.”
“Oh, polo players die on the field every year,” he answered casually.
Georgia turned to him, surprised. “Die?”
“Sure. I told you. It looks friendly, but remember when the game got started, it was played with the heads of your enemy. Polo’s savage as all hell.”
There was a break as the players swapped out their mounts, and Georgia stood to applaud. Not only for the players, who were impressive, but for the brave-hearted ponies themselves. Georgia felt the animals were every bit the athletes their riders were.
The players leaped onto their fresh horses. As Rory swung onto his pony, something caught Georgia’s eye, a sway in the gait of his incoming horse. She blinked, straining to see, but within seconds, they were moving so hard and fast it was difficult to be sure. Georgia glanced left and right, seeing if anyone else noticed anything off, but no one seemed to be concerned. Rory was quickly back out there, playing with giddy oblivion. While the rest of the crowd cheered another goal, Georgia craned forward as he and his pony raced past her. Her stomach clenched—there was that sway again.
Georgia looked to the sidelines, hoping to find one of the vets, but if they were in attendance, they couldn’t be seen from where she sat.
Another goal was scored, and the players bunched in a shifting knot in the center of the field, fighting for control of the ball. “Do you see anything funny about the horse that Rory is riding?” she asked Billy.
Billy squinted at the field. “Looks fine to me. Should I?”
Georgia bit her lip. “I—I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Billy patted her arm. “Rory’s a pro, G. They all are. Plus the price they pay for those ponies? They’d notice if something was wrong.”
Georgia slowly nodded. Of course Billy was right. She was being ridiculous. These were among the finest players in the world. They knew their horses better than she did.
Still, she kept her eyes on Rory and his pony while Billy caught up with her New York life. Work, her dad, the animals. People often made the mistake of underestimating Billy. They saw his good looks and designer clothes and thought he was all flash. But he didn’t miss a thing. He paid attention and remembered just about everything his friend had ever said.
“You haven’t succumbed to that cheating, reheated suitor, have you? What’s-his-name? Sam?”
“Yes, Sam. But no—”
“Ugh. I get bored just thinking about him.”
“You’ve never even met him.”
“Well, I know what you’ve told me—and he’s all sorts of deadly.”
Georgia shook her head, ready to argue, but just then, Rory’s pony stumbled on a tight turn. The horse righted herself immediately, but that was enough for Georgia. She felt positive that something was wrong. She looked wildly about again. Hoping that someone would step up. “Billy, I have to go down to the field.”
“What?”
“That pony—there’s
Alejandro was at the heart of it, the best of them all. He dove through the other players on a magnificent gray, man and horse in perfect communion, fused as a team. He was twisting and turning, galloping face backward to follow the soaring trajectory of the ball, all the while wielding his mallet like the right hand of Thor. All the pent-up energy that she’d noticed in the press tent yesterday suddenly made sense. This man was made to ride.
It took tremendous skill to move as nimbly as he did. Over and over again, he made the crowd gasp, taking huge risks, riding within inches of the other ponies but always managing to pull back just in time. It was riveting.
“It’s really dangerous, isn’t it?” she murmured to Billy, never taking her eyes off the field. “I mean, the speed—they could get seriously hurt.”
“Oh, polo players die on the field every year,” he answered casually.
Georgia turned to him, surprised. “Die?”
“Sure. I told you. It looks friendly, but remember when the game got started, it was played with the heads of your enemy. Polo’s savage as all hell.”
There was a break as the players swapped out their mounts, and Georgia stood to applaud. Not only for the players, who were impressive, but for the brave-hearted ponies themselves. Georgia felt the animals were every bit the athletes their riders were.
The players leaped onto their fresh horses. As Rory swung onto his pony, something caught Georgia’s eye, a sway in the gait of his incoming horse. She blinked, straining to see, but within seconds, they were moving so hard and fast it was difficult to be sure. Georgia glanced left and right, seeing if anyone else noticed anything off, but no one seemed to be concerned. Rory was quickly back out there, playing with giddy oblivion. While the rest of the crowd cheered another goal, Georgia craned forward as he and his pony raced past her. Her stomach clenched—there was that sway again.
Georgia looked to the sidelines, hoping to find one of the vets, but if they were in attendance, they couldn’t be seen from where she sat.
Another goal was scored, and the players bunched in a shifting knot in the center of the field, fighting for control of the ball. “Do you see anything funny about the horse that Rory is riding?” she asked Billy.
Billy squinted at the field. “Looks fine to me. Should I?”
Georgia bit her lip. “I—I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Billy patted her arm. “Rory’s a pro, G. They all are. Plus the price they pay for those ponies? They’d notice if something was wrong.”
Georgia slowly nodded. Of course Billy was right. She was being ridiculous. These were among the finest players in the world. They knew their horses better than she did.
Still, she kept her eyes on Rory and his pony while Billy caught up with her New York life. Work, her dad, the animals. People often made the mistake of underestimating Billy. They saw his good looks and designer clothes and thought he was all flash. But he didn’t miss a thing. He paid attention and remembered just about everything his friend had ever said.
“You haven’t succumbed to that cheating, reheated suitor, have you? What’s-his-name? Sam?”
“Yes, Sam. But no—”
“Ugh. I get bored just thinking about him.”
“You’ve never even met him.”
“Well, I know what you’ve told me—and he’s all sorts of deadly.”
Georgia shook her head, ready to argue, but just then, Rory’s pony stumbled on a tight turn. The horse righted herself immediately, but that was enough for Georgia. She felt positive that something was wrong. She looked wildly about again. Hoping that someone would step up. “Billy, I have to go down to the field.”
“What?”
“That pony—there’s
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