Chapter One
It's midafternoon and the air hangs heavy - humid and muggy, it clings to the skin although the Georgian heat has lifted somewhat today. Something Veronica is incredibly thankful for as she shoves a hand through her thick, brunette hair, the reins of her young stallion's bridle still in her hand.
To be honest, it still wasn't cool enough for her tastes but sitting in the air conditioning in her bedroom at home all day wasn't going to earn her any medals. So here she was, waiting patiently for her turn to enter the massive arena at Rosenthal and NORMALLY it was more or less free use.
Except for when his HIGHNESS was comandeering the arena.
Bitterly, she rolled her eyes at the figure standing quietly in the center, dim light filtering through the opening windows at the sides. Without the normally vibrant lights on, the effect was almost ethereal - the legs of the Friesian rhythmically impacting the ground as she was lunged around the centerpoint. Every strike of hoof into the ground conjured a small wisp of dust, the combined effort of her gate bringing a soft haze to the arena, dust motes hanging like snowflakes. The picture would have been beautiful - had it not been tainted by her contempt for the man dominating the center of it.
And so because she had chosen to arrive at the barn at 11:30, instead of noon, she would have to stand and wait until his lordship was finished.
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Ughhh! God, I'm late. I'm so late.
Practically leaping from inside her car, Elena felt the gravel part under her boots as she spun to quickly close and lock the driver door of her car. The damn thing was getting old now and the 'lock' button no longer worked on her key fob.
Sprinting toward the tack room, Elena passed a few recognizable faces in the pasture nearby. Bryony, the eight year old Selle Francais, jerked her head up as Elena ran by, strands of mane flying over one of her eyes. Beyond her, sunbathing and ignoring the world, was her pasture-mate, Adele, the modestly fat German Riding Pony.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee, mixed with the oh-so-familiar aroma of horses and leather, reminded Elena of how at home she felt when she was at Rosenthal. She had been riding here for six years now, and it was definitely the best parts of her week, a nice break from Ethan drama and work.
But...it wasn't until about two years ago when a very enigmatic and bitter trainer arrived at Rosenthal with his beautiful friesian mare, The Guardian (or as Elena likes to call her when she sneaks her treats, "Nova"), that Elena made it her goal to show up exactly at 11:30 in order to catch him working with her. It was hard to deny he had a way with horses, but his connection with Nova was unmistakable. Elena dreamed of the day he would offer to train her and Matchbox...
As she approached the arena, quietly and sure as not to disturb Cain and Nova, Elena was surprised to see Veronica here so early, standing impatiently with her horse just inside the arena. Normally she wasn't here until noon, and it was amusing to see Veronica in such a state of annoyance, with her eyebrows furrowed together as she glared in the direction of the Cain, or as she liked to call him, "His Highness."
"Hey you, I don't even have to ask why you're making that face, but I'm surprised to see you out and about before noon."
Veronica rolled her eyes passionately. "Oh you know, I thought I'd actually try and join you daywalkers for a change" she drawled as he flipped an errant strand of hair over her shoulder.
"Besides. Contract work this evening - someone's scheduled model quit and if I can fill this contract. MOOCHAS CASHOLA...and unless I got it out of the way, Indy wasn't going to get worked today. And SOMEONE gets an attitude if we don't stick to the schedule." Despite her bitter tone, the young woman affectionately caressed the muzzle of the young stallion peering over her shoulder - her voice assuming the adoring coo of a woman smitten.
Indy was about four years old, and as Veronica claimed "the love of her life." Veronica had many loves. Shopping. Designer boots. Particularly if one couldn't pronounce their brand names... but Indy was particularly special.
"Unfortunately, if Mr --", she glanced around to make sure Ana Rosenthal hadn't planned a suprise visit for 'inspiration' as she called it...more like stopping by the make sure her facility was running the way she wanted - and the woman loathed cursing - "Jackass doesn't abbreviate his session, it's not going to happen".
Elena found it difficult to make eye contact with Veronica. She was so pretty, so feisty, and obnoxiously materialistic. They ran on different wavelengths, that was obvious to most, but something about their paradox relationship drew them together in ways that even they didn't bother to try and understand.
Indy's coat glistened in the Georgia sun, his dapples shining through on his lean neck, eyes focused on Nova in the ring, ears perked in her direction, flickering as the friesian moved about in circles. Elena extended her hand to touch his compellingly beautiful coat. It was warm under her fingers, silky smooth as her fingers traced his muscles. It was hard to believe that Indy ever got an attitude, but Veronica knew him better than anybody.
"Well I'm here until probably five, so I could give Indy a workout..but I think Cain should be about finished with Nova. He's as punctual as he is precise i his training queues.." Elena trailed off as she rested her arms on the half-wall, hiding her upper body in the shadow of one of the arena's archways. She watched Nova, graceful and elegant as ever with the longest mane she'd seen on a horse at this barn.
For a moment, she could almost feel the horse's movements, making a mental connection between her experiences with Matchbox and what it would be like to ride Nova…
Elena's thoughts were interrupted abruptly when in her peripheral vision, Cain's face was obviously turned in her direction, eyes upon her like an owl's on a field mouse.
Oh God, he's not looking at me. He's not.
Bravely and uncontrollably, Elena's gaze quickly moved over to Cain's face, taking in his vague expression. Their eyes met, only for an instant, before the beat-red girl forced her eyes toward Veronica, who was turning Indy so she could mount and enter the arena as Cain made his exit.
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Quietly, he raised an arm - a small gesture, but the one the Friesian was waiting for. Easy. Stop. Rest. Her feathered feet spring lightly to a halt, delicate ears pricking in his direction.
Half an hour. No more, no less. 6 days on, one day off. Like clockwork. It wasn't true for every horse, clearly, but the mare thrived on routine. Miss a day and she was hell. More raw talent than you could shake a stick at though - she made his job look easy.
Atleast that was just his opinion - Ana Rosenthal seemed more than still seemed more than pleased in her effusively flowery letters. Cain thought it was the novelist in her talking, rather than the realist but kept his mouth shut.
After all, there weren't many jobs available for a crippled eventer. his thoughts turned to a bitter snarl as he turned, the ever present limp hindering what should have been an effortless movement - his eyes catch hazel ones, bright and clear, watching him intently before darting away. Of course he'd noticed the woman. Despite...or perhaps in spite of his carefully crafted air of indifference, he had made a point of carefully cataloging what was going on around him.
Quiet. She was always quiet, drifting in to do nothing more than watch, sometimes an almost dreamy look on her face. It was random at first, he'd catch her peeking around the arena entrance - and he'd snarled at her, that he wasn't here to run a peep show and get the hell out. But in a couple of day time she'd drifted by again. And he'd let it go.
She'd been present more and more often over the last few months.... until these days it was more surprisingly to him to glance over and not find her small frame leaning against a wall or the doorway. And she was almost always kind enough to find some excuse to flit away just before the end of his session - leaving him to carefully, measuredly pick his way across the arena without an audience to gawk at the faltering step that should have been a languid stroll. He barely even gave it a thought these days, his progress across the arena absolutely radiating a vague hostility.
But Elena would have caught the purely appreciative look he gave Veronica's stallion - his bitterness reserved only for the human's present and in Elena's case, measured indifference.
"And Veronica. I'd like to remind you that that horrifically grating rendition of a voice you have carries. Shut the hell up." His lean frame eases past the pair, guiding the mare down the aisle.
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Elena subconsciously raised a hand to her mouth, as if it had been punched by Cain's crass remark. It wasn't at all surprising for him, but, Elena still felt a sting of displeasure prick her gut. His eyes had glared upon Veronica's face with something just sort of hatred - or maybe it was hatred, but Elena tended to think optimistically.
He hadn't even bothered to look at her, either. But, in a way, Elena was glad to have been in the shadows of that encounter.
Veronica spun around so fast that poor Indy had to jerk himself out of her way. She stared at me, her expression unmistakably lacquered with embarrassment and anger. Elena prepared herself for an earful of cursing, but instead, Veronica simply turned back around and flipped Cain off, not caring who saw. Without a word, she hopped on Indy and trotted into the arena.
Elena watched as Veronica tried to find inner peace. Indy was antsy beneath her, feeding off her negative energy. Leaning against the archway, Elena watched them together, working out their frustration, transitioning from laborious to languid as they both relaxed in the quiet of the arena.
With a sigh of relief, Elena turned and headed towards the stable. One of the things Elena loves most about this stable is that it has a fully equipped kitchen in the feed room. Grabbing a bucket, she scooped in some of Ana's family-recipe-made granola. It was time to go see Matchbox.
The black gelding nickered delightedly as Elena approached him, shaking the bucket of granola. Without hesitation, Matchbox dove his head into the bucket, his mane falling about it, eyes half closed in pure satisfaction of the sweet crunchiness of his favorite snack.
Whispering to him about her morning, Matchbox's ears flickered with awareness, as if he could understand what she was saying. The subdued munching of granola filled the silence after Elena paused, recollecting her feelings from earlier. She couldn't stop thinking about Cain's remark. It was literally, maybe, the third time she'd ever heard him address a person, and it just wasn't entirely what she had expected. He seemed so...indignant towards everything and everyone.
With a shrug, Elena set down the empty bucket and made her way towards the storage room to grab a pitchfork and the wheelbarrow.
Time to get these chores out of the way!
Labels: blog
December 15, 2013 at 7:02 AM
I check your site daily for new pictures. Have you ever considered making a tutorial on how to edit pictures. I absolutely love the adjustments to the manes, tail, eyes, reins and riding gear.
Could you tell me where to find the shrubs you use in the picture of your stable?
http://rosenthalstud.blogspot.be/2012/07/index.html
Thanks in advance and keep up the great work because those pictures are true works of art,
Saskia
saskia.queen@hotmail.com