Fortune's Flame by French Judith E

Author:French, Judith E. [French, Judith E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-09-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Ridgeway’s sorrel mare leaped away at the starting gunshot, showering Bess and the little black in dust. A woman screamed and the crowd backed away as Bess’s gelding shied sideways and reared before breaking into a run. Once the horse stopped fighting the bit, Bess loosened the reins, letting him find his own pace.

She leaned low over his neck and spoke soothingly to the animal as she felt him gather his energy and really begin to gallop full out. Kincaid’s shouts and the cheering of farmers and their families faded on the wind. Now all Bess could hear was the rhythmic thud of the black horse’s hooves striking the hard-packed dirt road.

Bess had always loved riding fast. Since she was a tiny child, her greatest joy was clinging to a horse’s mane and seeing the ground float beneath her. The Carolina sun beating down on her was tempered by the feel of wind in her hair and the sense of power she experienced.

She moved with the horse, not demanding more than he wanted to give, letting her body blend with his, absorbing the animal’s fear and giving back love. “Good boy,” she cried. “Good Dandy.” The words didn’t matter. What was important was that the gelding feel her kinship with him and the steady pressure of confident hands on the reins.

When she sensed the horse’s fear being replaced with the pure joy of running, Bess dared to think of her opponent. She glanced briefly over the gelding’s head at the cloud of dust ahead of them and tried to figure the distance between the two horses. The race hadn’t been her idea, and she was furious with Kincaid for getting her into the contest, but now that she was here, she meant to do her best.

“Go! Go!” she urged the black. A barking dog dashed out at them, but the little horse didn’t hesitate. Without missing a step, he soared over the confused dog and continued after the sorrel. Bess looked up again at Ridgeway, and to her surprise, somehow the distance was much less than it had been. She looked again, certain that her imagination was getting the better of her, but it was true. They were gaining ground fast.

“Good boy!” she cried, and the last of her doubts drained away as the black’s hooves flew over the rough ground. His gait was hard—this was no blooded ladies’ horse—but he had the gallant heart of a lion and even more speed than she’d suspected.

As they rounded a curve, the black thrust his neck forward and laid back his ears. He seemed suddenly to realize this was a race and there was another horse in front of him. Bess laughed aloud as he leaped over a mud puddle, found solid ground with a bound, and took the bit in his teeth. There was no stopping him now. He’d accepted her as a rider, then ignored her as if she didn’t exist.

The track cut through a grove of oak trees and Bess saw Ridgeway veer his mare around a low-hanging branch.

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