Chapter Four
The jingle of metal hardware, the soothing smell of leather and saddlesoap barely registered in the back of his mind as he wrapped his arms around the worn, faded leather of the jumping saddle. Slipping the familiar piece of tack over the crook of his arm as he carried it over to the bay mare, the gesture is rehearsed, a habit committed to memory a hundred thousand times until his body moves of it's own accord - the smooth, thoughtless motions only marred by the reluctance of his leg to complete the easy swing he was accustomed to.
Cain's lips momentarily set in vexation as the realization set in, that no matter how many time he's done this, or how many times may come that it will never, ever be the same, the easy slow languid grace of--
He shook his head, as if the simple gesture will fling the thoughts away as well. That's why he practiced in the night. The barn quiet, horses sleepy - empty. Perhaps it was easier to simply pretend that nothing had changed, to commune with old ghosts in the comfortable silence.
His gloved hands slide the saddle into place on the mares back, atop the fitted pad, slipping back into the old routine.
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Six o' fucking clock.
Flushed, cheeks many shades of crimson as a result of severe agitation, Elena released her sleeve back down from her wrist. Her watch was only proving what she didn't want to believe: Ethan had forgotten to pick her up.
ring, ring, ring, ring, ring...
He wasn't answering his phone, naturally, so there she sat under the glow of one of the last few lights on around the barn, eyeing the empty Rosenthal parking lot, glaring at the emptiness. Focusing on the darkness before her, she pondered why she'd chosen not to get a ride home from Veronica when she offered, insisting that Ethan would be a no show. Elena tended to give him the benefit of the doubt, and as a result, she usually suffered.
One would think you'd have learned your lesson by now.
In the distance, through a void of blackness, an arena light flickered on. It was a mere glow amidst the night and at first, Elena had thought she was imagining things.
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Both slate and brown eyes blinked as the subtle half light of the path transitioned into the brightly illuminated arena - hooves thudding softly on footing accompanied by a much more subtle crunch of riding boots.
Earlier on, the mare's ears would have swiveled back to the barn, calling in frustration for the sleepy warmth of a stall - but as the weeks had gone by, and habits formed she'd relaxed. Head lowered and with a slightly sleepy yawn she blatantly ignores the shiftings of tack, last minute double checks of keepers and girths, everything set in it's proper place. Finally satisfied, he absently pats her neck before stepping up onto the siderail of the arena, easing his scarred leg over her back.
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Elena shifted her weight from one leg to the other, crossing her arms, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes squinted to see through the night's darkness. Two figures stood just out of sight, the lazy wave of a tail catching her eye. Curiousity piqued, Elena broke from her static position --
After a moment's hesitation, Elena decided against her common sense and stepped out into the blackness.
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You never really forgot how to ride, the easy swing of hips unconsciously rising and falling with hoofbeats, no matter how rusty and far away the skill might seem.
Shaking off years of disuse, he quickly slipped into the easy rhythm, the slow collected trot raising delicate puffs of dust with every foot fall. The gentle pounce of the gait sent uncomfortable licks of pain through his knee, but gritting his teeth made it at least bearable - and after a few minutes, the dull aching burn settled to the back of his mind.
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As Elena moved in closer, the arena was all she could see, for it's lights held her vision captive against the blackness in her peripherals. The two figures were on the opposite end but would be making their way back this side soon enough…
Chestnut..three white socks..broad blaze...
Valentine? Elena only knew that the owner didn't come around much and typically paid off the trainers for putting in extra hours with her. Maybe it was Ryan working her this late..
Deciding that's who it must be, Elena picked up her pace into a jog, approaching the arena rather quickly. As the horse and rider made their way in her direction, though, Elena's heart sank. It definitely wasn't Ryan, she could tell by the chair.
Not wanting to disturb them, she moved into place behind one of the large brick columns. They had past her side of the arena again, so she'd have to wait for them to come back around before she could scan over the mysterious stranger's face.
Whilst waiting, Elena remained hidden, not wanting to disturb them. She took notice of the jumps set up in the arena, but shrugged them off.
Cain easily reins the mare around, urging her gently up into an easy collected canter. His movements as a rider are understated. Graceful. Not demanding, but quietly requesting... unobtrusive and graceful, it's quite the contradiction given his personality and the awkward forced movements caused by his limp when on the ground. After a few easy circles, his gray eyes flick up and over to the jump standards. He'd been coming to practice at night almost every evening after the last few months. The dressage had been painful at first but become bearable...perhaps...?
So Ana Rosenthal had decided he was a washed up has-been?
Cain quietly kissed to the mare, the high pitched noise sending her effortlessly towards the standards.
Elena watched on from the shadows of the archways, moving around to the side of the arena for a closer view of the pair. The way they moved was enviable, at least, for her, as an amateur. The arches would block her view momentarily and so, with each progressing step meant a new view of the rider and his horse. She could tell they were moving towards the standards, and with one last arch, she stopped, mouth agape, unsure of what was about to happen next.
White socked feet pound rhythmically towards the jump, three strides, two strides, one stride - her red body coiling , springing forward and -- red ears flash to the side as her large brown eyes catch the unexpected figure of the blonde, quietly watching. Violently spooking to the side as her front feet hit the ground, she torques to the side --
Elena watched on, eyes narrowing, naturally assuming that any confident rider would be able to recover. But in an instant, the rider was off balance, struggling to maintain his composure. He passed the threshold for regaining control and there was no going back...
Cain barks out a hoarse curse of pain as the force of twist plants all of his weight on the right side, and it's like a grenade goes off, the burn exploding in his leg. Elena was right, any experienced rider would have sat the juke, but the lance of pain prevented him from posting his weight. The mare continued her stride to the right, the dressage trainer's frame continuing on as he loses the stirrup, slamming into the ground shoulder first, the thud knocking the air from his lungs in one, brutal gasp.
A noise escaped from Elena's open mouth. She hadn't even realized it was agape in the first place, but there it was, hanging in the silence, paired with agitated groans from the injured man on the ground. The young horse had trotted off towards the gate of the arena, trotting back and forth, while Elena managed to hop the fence. She jogged over to the man, who was attempting to get up. A wave of terror washed over her entire body. Elena stopped abruptly, watching the rider, unable to use his leg to lift himself.
It could only be one person.
Cold, steel-gray eyes found her as a pride-injured expression grilled her in her tracks. She held her breath. Should she say something? What could she say? She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Elena...what the hell was she still doing here? How long had she been watching? -- the truth was, he shouldn't have been surprised. She'd taken to watching him train during the day. And how long did he really think he could keep his practice sessions a secret? It was just easier without pairs of eyes watching, waiting for the moment when he would prove Ana right and end up in the fucking dirt - maybe it's the pain, maybe it's the wounded pride...and maybe it's his winning personality but his voice comes out in a defensive snarl, biting out the words "What the fuck are you doing here".
Good lord...his shoulder feels like someone took a bat to it, the recent blow still ringing through the battered joint. He's bruised but as he wiggles the fingers, nothing feel broken.
"Uhh," she began, "Well..I..I was..Ethan forgot to come pick me up and the arena lights came on and I just wanted to know who was here.."
"Can..Can I help you?"
Help him. He looked like he needed help. The one thing he'd been fighting against, trying to avoid, the crippled has-been accepting the training job at Rosenthal because lets face it... what other job offers had come knocking down his door? He braces his weight on his good leg, hauling himself to his feet with a wince, gray eyes glittering "So you come and sneak around the arena in the middle of the night -- NO. Thank you. You've done quite enough"
Extremely uncomfortable, Elena watched Cain try to poise himself. Wanting to just crawl into a hole, to disappear, she continued, "I wasn't sneaking! I was just waiting on Ethan, and then I saw you..I didn't..I didn't know it was you."
"FOR FUCKS SAKE," he pauses to ruffle a hand across his hair, shaking dirt onto his shoulders "Who the fuck else would it have been, Elena?"
Each word was unbearable, like lashings against her conscience. She really hadn't known, it could've been anyone. She lowered her gaze, feeling foolish, and even worse, feeling scolded, "It could've been anybody," she whimpered.
"God fucking DAMN IT" he mutters, turning his back somewhat to her as he goes to fetch the mare and check her for damage, his leg shrieking in protest only makes his gait even more unnatural.
"Could I at least get the horse for you?" She called after him, voice hoarse from a developing lump in her throat.
"Elena, just fucking GO. HOME" The last thing he wanted, needed, was her giving him pity after watching him tumble into the dirt like a...like a... Maybe Ana was right. He was washed up. A has-been. He couldn't jump any longer. For fuck's sake he could barely ride, his bruise pride sharpening his tone, words coming out in a snarl.
He just wanted to lick his wounds in peace.
For a second, she attempted to follow him, to just..ensure that he was really alright, but, she thought the better of it. With a swift half-turn, she called to him, "I'm sorry, Cain," she muttered, turning to leave, tears in her eyes. She fought, fought to control her emotions, fought the urge to run, fought the anger bubbling from inside her. She wouldn't turn around; She just kept walking... Cain stops in his tracks, the sound of tears choking her voice draining the fight from his body, shoulders sagging. Exasperatedly, he rakes a hand through his hair - he hadn't meant to be such an asshole, to snap at her, and chew her out for simply being curious. And now he'd made her cry.
"Elena... I.." he slowly turned, but she had already gone.
"Fuck."
And suddenly, without the rage and damaged pride, his knee hurt more than ever - limping gingerly after the mare to make sure she wasn't injured.
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Elena had nearly forgotten..that she had been forgotten in the first place. Wiping away her tears, she glanced towards the arena reluctantly. Cain was making his way from the arena with Valentine. Elena lowered her head and leaned against the archway, once again under the dull illumination of the only light on at the barn. Pulling out her cell phone, all contempt for Ethan's lack of dependability seemed a minuscule concern now. She dialed his number...
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