Foaling Season: Briar Hill Farm, #1

By Natalie Keller Reinert

A place for horse-people. And a new series for fans of The Eventing Series.

In a hidden corner of rural Florida, there's a place where gleaming horses graze on green pastures, a round pool of clear water shimmers with the brilliance of a blue diamond, and majestic live oaks stretch their tangled branches over an old white cottage. A place where friends gather, children play, and riding skills are honed. A place which feels like a lifetime in the making for the people who have made it their home. This is Briar Hill Farm.

 

This is foaling season.

 

Spring is a time for renewal…and in horse country, it's a season of late nights, early mornings, and fresh beginnings. At Briar Hill Farm, professional event rider Jules Thornton-Morrison knows a thing or two about starting all over again. But getting back in the saddle after having a child is an emotional battle she can't fight on her own. Fortunately, Jules has friends at her back.

 

There's Alex Whitehall, half of a legendary horse-racing duo who is hoping to carve out her own identity with Jules's help. There's Kit Parker, accidental eventing prodigy, who is struggling under the weight of her rise to the international competition arena before she was ready to take it all on. And there's Gigi Whitehall-Wallace, a whirlwind of nervous energy who comes to Florida's horse country in search of a happy ending she can't seem to define yet. Together, they can make their dreams a reality — if old rivalries and prejudices don't split their unlikely group apart.

 

Along with the students, employees, and friends of Briar Hill Farm, these women will come together for one tumultuous spring in horse country. It's foaling season in Florida, and fresh starts and new lives are spilling into riotous existence.

 

Discover Briar Hill Farm

 

Briar Hill Farm is a new series featuring characters and settings from beloved novels by Natalie Keller Reinert in the Ocala Equestrians collection. These include The Eventing Series, Alex & Alexander Series, the Show Barn Blues Series, and more. You can read these books in companion with this series or enjoy each series individually.

For more information on how these series work together, you can visit the author's website at nataliekreinert.com, and choose Ocala Equestrians Collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Natalie Reinert
• Release date: Jul 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201406509

Book preview

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 Natalie Keller Reinert

All rights reserved.

Cover Photo: Callipso_Art/depositphotos

Cover Design & Interior Design: Natalie Keller Reinert

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Foaling Season

Briar Hill Farm - Book One

Spring is a time for renewal…and in horse country, it’s a season of late nights, early mornings, and fresh beginnings. At Briar Hill Farm, professional event rider Jules Thornton-Morrison knows a thing or two about starting all over again. But getting back in the saddle after having a child is an emotional battle she can’t fight on her own. Fortunately, Jules has friends at her back.

There’s Alex Whitehall, half of a legendary horse-racing duo who is hoping to carve out her own identity with Jules’s help. There’s Kit Parker, accidental eventing prodigy, who is struggling under the weight of her rise to the international competition arena before she was ready to take it all on. And there’s Gigi Whitehall-Wallace, a whirlwind of nervous energy who comes to Florida’s horse country in search of a happy ending she can’t seem to define yet. Together, they can make their dreams a reality — if old rivalries and prejudices don’t split their unlikely group apart.

Along with the students, employees, and friends of Briar Hill Farm, these women will come together for one tumultuous spring in horse country. It’s foaling season in Florida, and fresh starts and new lives are spilling into riotous existence.

Briar Hill Farm is a new series featuring characters and settings from beloved novels by Natalie Keller Reinert in the Ocala Equestrians collection. These include The Eventing Series, Alex & Alexander Series, the Show Barn Blues Series, and more. You can read these books in companion with this series or enjoy each series individually. For more information on how these series work together, you can visit the author’s website at nataliekreinert.com and choose Ocala Equestrians Collection.

Also by Natalie Keller Reinert

Briar Hill Farm

Foaling Season

Friends With Horses

Outside Rein

The Ocala Equestrians Collection

Alex & Alexander: A Horse Racing Saga

The Eventing Series: A Three-Day Eventing Saga

Sea Horse Ranch: A Beach Read Series

Ocala Horse Girls: A Romance Series

The Hidden Horses of New York: A Novel

Grabbing Mane: A Duet Series

Show Barn Blues: A Duet Series

Catoctin Creek: Sweet Romance

Sunset at Catoctin Creek

Snowfall at Catoctin Creek

Springtime at Catoctin Creek

Christmas at Catoctin Creek

Learn more and find bonus stories at nataliekreinert.com

Dedication

For all my readers, who always ask me for more…

…of every character I write!

I hope Briar Hill Farm feels like home.

Author’s Note

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Briar Hill Farm!

In a hidden corner of rural Florida, there’s a place where gleaming horses graze on green pastures, a round pool of clear water shimmers with the brilliance of a blue diamond, and majestic live oaks stretch their tangled branches over an old white cottage. A place where friends gather, children play, and riding skills are honed. A place which feels like a lifetime in the making for the people who have made it their home. This is Briar Hill Farm.

The characters in this series are drawn from my previous books—but if you haven’t read them yet, don’t worry! You can read the Briar Hill Farm books without needing to have read the other novels in the Ocala Equestrians Collection. Just be warned, you’ll probably want to read them after you’ve finished this book!

You can read more about the main characters in this book in The Eventing Series and The Alex & Alexander Series. Check the previews after the end for first chapters and special offers to get you started.

Enjoy Briar Hill Farm!

- Natalie Keller Reinert

Chapter One

Jules

CLOSE, ALEX TOLD me, fighting a smile. But you’re missing something. Look at it again, Jules!

Beside me, Lindsay barked with laughter. At last, we’ve found something Jules Thornton-Morrison isn’t perfect at!

Well, as far as I know, she can’t train a racehorse, either, Alex replied smugly. "So that’s two things she isn’t the resident expert in."

Ouch, sick burn. Lindsay squeezed my thigh with mock sympathy. You gonna be okay, mama?

Teenagers are so annoying, I sighed, refusing to look at her. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. When do you turn twenty again? In a year and a half? I’m counting the days.

I let Lindsay shake back her hot pink hair in a show of unbruised pride while I dropped my gaze back to the striped beach towel spread on the concrete barn aisle before us. I couldn’t see anything wrong with the instruments, bottles, and boxes I’d set out for Alex’s inspection. What was I missing? I’d assembled this foaling kit following every instruction to the letter.

I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but prepping for the arrival of my first-ever foal was scarier than galloping up to an Advanced-level ditch and wall. Maybe even scarier than prepping for my own child had been. At least he was now asleep in his stroller, safely out in the world.

Carla’s foal was still waiting in the womb. And as usual, I was already far too attached to my pretty bay broodmare, even if she’d been an impulse buy at the Ocala Breeders’ Sale pavilion just a few months ago. She was just so endearingly no-nonsense on the exterior, with a secret, softie heart that melted for carrots. She reminded me of, well, me.

So, obviously, everything about Carla’s foaling had to go perfectly. Hence, the foaling kit inspection by Alex. She’d been one half of the Alex and Alexander Whitehalls, who ran their world-renowned Cotswold Farm in Ocala, for a very long time. After so many foaling seasons up at the broodmare barn, there weren’t many breeding scenarios she hadn’t encountered. For some reason, she’d agreed to oversee my foaling out Carla here at Briar Hill Farm. But now, I was beginning to think I should just send the mare to Cotswold Farm to foal. This was complicated.

Still, I wasn’t the sort of person who turned my back on a hard job. And it was annoying to know there was something in the equestrian universe that frightened me. I wasn’t easily scared. I decided to label this lost, helpless feeling as frustration, instead.

Alex was still smiling at me. A sphinx-like smile, an I have a secret smile. She could just tell me what was missing from my foaling kit, but I could see Alex liked having the high ground for once. She wanted to make me sweat before she gave me the answer.

Well, I couldn’t blame her. I was usually the expert in charge. Alex had been taking riding lessons from me for years. So, I guessed she saw this little lesson as her time to shine. While I was the more accomplished equestrian in the horse showing and eventing world, she was a respected racehorse trainer and breeder. Neither of us ever missed an opportunity to lord it over the other when we discovered we had some bit of arcane horseman’s wisdom the other didn’t yet possess.

But honestly, girl! How long could she stand there and smirk at me?

Forever, more than likely.

You’re holding out on me, I accused her, folding my arms across my chest and jutting one hip. Half power-pose, half pout. Whatever’s missing, it isn’t a textbook thing. I know, because I read everything you made me read and I followed all the directions. Admit it—you’ve got some kind of folksy, witchcraft thing up your sleeve, don’t you?

Of course I do, Alex agreed, her smile fully escaping and casting a sunny glow over her tanned face. She was loving this. Her grin was fit to bust her cheeks as she said, Trust me, it’s not in the books, but you still want this in your foaling kit. Want a hint? It comes from the soda and snack aisle at the grocery store.

I shook my head, mystified. There was nothing in my tattered copy of Blessed Are The Broodmares about picking up essential supplies for the birth of one’s upcoming foal in the soda and snack aisle. If there was, I’d know about it, because I’d practically memorized the book, at Alex’s insistence—and then I’d made Lindsay read it, too. She fit the extra reading in around her college classes and barn work, grumbling whenever I was in earshot, but I stuck to my guns. There were plenty of days when Lindsay was my only helper around the farm. If Carla foaled during the day, which apparently some mares did even though most liked the nighttime hours for labor, Lindsay would have to be my assistant.

I glanced back at her, hoping Alex’s clue made more sense to her than it did to me. Do you know what it could be?

Lindsay shrugged, her gaze on her phone. The only thing in my brain right now is this paper I’m currently not writing for my humanities class.

She only brought up school assignments when she didn’t want to work. Oh, would you rather be back at your apartment writing a humanities paper? Don’t let me stop you.

Lindsay rolled her eyes at my acidic tone. Once people knew me long enough, they started ignoring my sarcasm. And Lindsay could give as good as she got, anyway. She put her phone down and told me, Thanks for your concern, but I’ll get it written tonight. First I want to ride Jim Dear, and then stop by the co-op barn and visit with William. Ariel, that kid leasing him, is on vacation this week, so he needs extra carrots from me or he’ll feel forgotten.

William, Lindsay’s childhood show hunter, was enjoying semi-retirement as a cross-rail hopper with a new little girl. But Lindsay wouldn’t consider letting him go to another barn, out of her sight, so Ariel became one of my assistant instructor’s students. I loved Lindsay’s fierce protectiveness, the way even when she moved on to younger horses with more potential, she kept close tabs on William—and made sure he had plenty of treats.

Oh, that’s nice of you, I said. I really think Ariel’s doing a nice job with him. I completely forgot she was going on vacation, but it’s hard to keep up with everyone now that I’m only teaching a couple of nights a week, and of course she’s not my student, so—

Can we focus? Alex demanded. This foaling kit is not finished!

Did she miss the empty soda bottle? an amused voice called from behind us. Her crisp British accent made my head swivel so fast I nearly threw it out of joint.

A slim young woman with a baby in her arms stood in the shade of the stable overhang, and I momentarily forgot everything else in the world but my infant son.

Is everything okay with Jack, Gemma? I rose to my feet, steadying myself with a hand on Lindsay’s shoulder when my hips protested. More than a month after Jack’s completely straightforward birth, I still felt like my body was trying to readjust to post-partum life—and frankly, struggling pretty hard.

Gemma tipped her chin over the infant’s pale, wispy hair and gave him a little kiss. I felt a surge of jealousy ripple through me—entirely unnecessary, since Gemma was a relative of Pete’s, and our live-in nanny, and the nicest girl on the planet, but jealousy was apparently my response to everyone who came near my son. I’d turned into the broodiest of mares since Jack came on the scene.

Everything’s fine, Gemma assured me in a sing-song voice. Little Jackie-boy just wanted some sunshine, so we came outside to see what everyone was up to without us.

I also didn’t like it when people called him ‘Jackie-boy,’ but Lindsay had informed me I sounded like a crazy person when I made up a million rules for how to address my child, so I’d stopped reminding people, "His name is Jack," every time they added a cute suffix to the end.

I’ll take him, I told her, opening my arms. Thanks for watching him for a little while.

Gemma gave me an amused glance as she handed Jack over. I think I had him for twenty minutes, she said, pushing her dark curls behind her ears. Tiny silver horseshoes glistened in each lobe. You sure you couldn’t use a longer break, mama?

She used Lindsay’s nickname for me, not knowing that my snarky working student had labeled me mama after she overheard some grooms at a horse show using that nickname for all the bitey, mean-faced mares in their stable.

Gemma was incapable of snark. She was my total opposite, if you didn’t count loving horses, Jack, and Pete as traits. Those three things, of course, we had in common.

I’m fine, I assured her, scooping up my baby. I let the feeling of holding Jack to my chest wash over me—a warmth which spread from my heart to my fingertips with just a few quick breaths. Even at my most exhausted, I felt better when I was clutching him close. Before he was a week old, my mom said I had the worst case of attachment she’d ever seen and told Pete to get me a nanny ASAP. I told her to mind her own business. It was the first argument I’d had with my mom since I’d gotten pregnant, and it felt like old times.

But that was the only thing which had gone back to normal since I’d had Jack.

Mentally and physically, I was a bit of a mess.

Some people might say a lot of a mess. And they wouldn’t be exaggerating.

Jules, Alex said. The missing piece of your foaling kit. Focus.

I turned around again, Jack’s cheek pressed to my shoulder. Lindsay and Alex were still sitting on the concrete barn aisle, looking up at me. Lindsay batted her eyes with exaggerated innocence.

Today, she requested. So I can move on with my life.

I don’t know, I sighed. Please just tell me.

Gemma gave it away, Alex informed me. It’s an empty soda bottle.

Good grief, how could I ever guess that?

Well, she said it came from the soda aisle, Lindsay muttered. As if she’d gotten it!

"But seriously—" I gave Lindsay a little shove with my foot. What could I possibly use an empty soda bottle for?

You just pour in some sand, Alex explained, and if the placenta is taking its time coming out, you tie the bottle to what’s hanging out with some baling twine, and the weight slowly helps the placenta work its way out. You don’t need much sand, she added thoughtfully, looking over the bottle. Just kind of balance the weight of the placenta in one hand and the weight of the bottle in the other until you get it right.

I felt my insides, still battered by childbirth, go crashing together. "You do what?"

Lindsay snickered. Like she’d had any idea.

Say the placenta is halfway out, Gemma began, but I held up a hand to my husband’s cousin, while silently acknowledging that she had more breeding experience than I’d realized. Could be useful.

I’m sorry, I told my amused audience, taking a step back and leaning against the nearest stall. I’m not prepared to talk about placentas yet.

Part of the process, Lindsay intoned solemnly. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.

"Let’s hear how much you want to chit-chat about placentas when you’ve just had a baby, I snapped. Jack stirred, shifting his face against my neck, and I lowered my voice. You won’t be so blasé then, Miss Lindsay."

A baby, Lindsay snorted. Never. Not in a million years.

That’s what I said when I was nineteen, too. Less than ten years later, here I am. This could be you.

I sincerely doubt it.

Alex shook her head, looking between the two of us in wonder. You two bicker like sisters, you know that?

Y’know what, they really do, Gemma agreed. "It’s quite funny. They look alike, too, if you don’t count the hair."

No, we don’t, Lindsay muttered, standing up and brushing sand from her riding breeches. People need to stop saying that. Well, bye. I’m going to ride Jim.

Alex set the soda bottle in the center of my foaling kit. Allow me to present your first-ever placenta bottle.

May it be my last, I said.

Only one foal, Jules?

I put my nose to Jack’s fuzzy head. It wasn’t the same thing, I reminded myself. Foals lasted a season and then they were naughty yearlings, lanky two-year-olds, and finally three-year-olds ready to start their lives.

Also, the mare did the carrying and the labor and the early months of discipline.

Maybe more, I allowed. We’ll see how this one goes.

I’m lending you an easy mare to be Carla’s mama buddy, anyway, Alex said, getting up and brushing off her jeans. Just waiting to see who seems to be on the same schedule. I have a couple due around her date, but sometimes they go long.

Are you heading back to Ocala now? I asked, feeling a little lonesome already. Looked like our little lunch party was breaking up. It was nice to have my friends over for a bit, especially in late February when the north Florida weather was still pleasant. Soon enough, we’d be wilting in the summer heat. Although I had my hopes this summer would be more comfortable than some I’d spent at other, sunnier farms.

This new farm we’d called Briar Hill was delightfully shady, especially on the hilltop where the old house and barn had been standing since the early twentieth century. Over the winter, we’d added a shed-row style stable, with an open breezeway instead of a center aisle. A series of small paddocks marched in neat rows in front of it, making turnout easy to access for the horses in training and those who needed watching, like Carla. Now, we were working on an arena. Well, a noisy construction crew was working on it. When they showed up. Today wasn’t one of the days they wanted to work, apparently.

Afraid so, Alex replied, returning my foaling kit into its shiny steel bucket. I have things to do. Farm living never stops, even on a Saturday.

I know it. Once Pete gets back from Ocala, I’m leaving Jack with him and heading to the co-op to teach some lessons.

You should just let me drop Jack off with Pete. Alex grinned and shook her head as my smile vanished. I’m joking! I know you’d never trust me to drive Jack around.

It’s not personal, I protested. It’s just—

I know. Alex squeezed my free shoulder, the one which didn’t have a snoozing infant drooling all over it. It’s okay. You’re new at this. Maiden mares are the same way. Whinnying and spinning in circles while their foals learn to canter. By the third foal, they can’t be bothered enough to stop grazing.

I wished I was an experienced old mare, calmly working my way through a grass pasture while my foal learned to buck and play and tumble with friends.

Horses were so straightforward. Humanity was ridiculously complex. Teaching kids was tough enough. Raising entirely new humans? Forget it. I was losing my mind trying to balance the two. And I loved my students at Alachua Eventing Co-op. Who wouldn’t? An entire stable full of wonderful kids who doted on me, and parents who had come together and founded an entire boarding stable co-op because they wanted me to teach and train their children.

But it still wasn’t easy. Despite their supposed devotion, I’d had so many spats with the co-op’s board of directors that I’d lost faith in them and ultimately moved off the property, giving up the sweet little mid-century Florida house nestled next to the barn. I’d left my long-time barn manager, Lacey, in charge of the horses, and hired Kit Parker to teach the lower-level kids while I kept the advanced students.

It was just a few miles away; an easy enough drive to teach my afternoon lessons four or five days a week. But sometimes finding the energy to get into my truck and make that short commute felt impossible. Leaving Jack with Gemma (rarely) or with Pete (more often) sent my mothering instincts into overdrive. I spent entire riding lessons shouting about more leg and outside rein, but really only thinking about Jack.

That was the wildest thing about motherhood so far, the part I’d never expected: even when I was too tired to care what happened to me, I wanted Jack in my arms.

I didn’t know this would happen, although to be fair, I’d never stopped to consider what I’d do with a baby if I ever had one. Jack hadn’t been part of my life plan. But, by the time I realized he was coming, my plans had already been so shaken up that I hadn’t even second-guessed whether I could handle a baby on top of everything else.

I just accepted things were going to get a little crazier.

Sometimes it was hard to imagine that life could get any crazier. But it did. It always did. Just look at my life. You’d wonder how it could all shake out this way: from the top of the eventing world, simply rolling in sponsorships and upper-level horses, to new mom and the proud owner of just one (one, singular!) upper-level horse and one retired upper-level horse, in just nine short months.

Jules Thornton, ladies and gentleman.

Oh, right. Jules Thornton-Morrison. I still forgot about that hyphen, and the part which said I was married to Pete. Maybe once I was entering events again, filling in my entries and seeing my name on the boards, my new surname would start to settle.

I heard a deep bark and looked up the shed-row. It was just my beagle, Marcus, barking at a squirrel. He did a lot of that here, his beautiful hound’s voice echoing through the trees. In a nearby paddock, Mickey turned his head to look first at Marcus, then back at me. His dark gray forelock falling over his white face and button-black eyes, giving him a fairy-tale pony look.

That’s what he was, to me. Mickey, my one and only upper-level horse. He was tall, gray, and handsome—and wondering when he was getting back to work. Formerly competed as Alachua Danger Mouse, he lost the prefix when my client Clayton Spencer bought him from the Alachua Eventing Co-op’s Danger Mouse Syndicate, and presented him to me as a housewarming present.

But no one knew about the new name yet, because he hadn’t competed since last autumn. I’d had Kit ride him over the winter, but when the barn here was ready, I was so eager to have him back at home, I took him out of work. He’d been enjoying vacation since February.

A vacation that needed to end if we were going to get back to business.

Are you taking Mickey back to Alachua this afternoon? Lindsay asked, returning from the paddock with Jim Dear. She hooked the small bay gelding into cross-ties in the shed-row. He watched her with pricked ears, hoping for treats. He knew Lindsay was usually good for a couple of carrots and a handful of horse cookies. You said a few days ago that Saturday was the big day, remember?

Of course I remembered. Why did I announce I was taking Mickey back to the co-op? I shouldn’t have been so public about it. Because once he was back, I’d have to ride him. And I hadn’t been able to get myself back into the saddle post-baby.

I hadn’t ridden in months. And it wasn’t only because forking myself over a saddle would be asking my body to do things that childbirth had rendered terrifying. Although that was part of it.

But there other things, like an awful, nagging fear of getting tossed and leaving Jack motherless—which was understandable—and a bone-deep listlessness which felt impossible to combat, though I knew it wasn’t. The best cure for depression was riding. But I didn’t have the energy to ride.

Lindsay didn’t know all of that. She was just waiting for me to get back to being Jules Thornton-Morrison, Top Eventer, someone worth mucking stalls for. And I wanted to be that person. I just couldn’t remember how I’d done it before.

I really should take him over, I admitted reluctantly. I tried to come up with an excuse plausible enough to keep Mickey in his paddock and my saddle gathering dust for a while longer. Time, that was always a good one. There was never enough time. I put on a regretful face and said, I don’t know if today will work, though. Do I even have time? Pete will get back around three and I have a lesson at three-thirty. I have to hustle out as soon as he gets home.

I was carefully ignoring Gemma’s presence, still standing at the end of the shed-row, looking at her phone while she waited for me to hand Jack back to her. I was supposed to leave him with her and go about my day.

But that was crazy.

What might happen?

Who could even begin to imagine?

Me. I could. I could make up a million nightmare scenarios without even pausing to think.

Well, I can hook up the trailer before I go, Lindsay offered. That’ll save you some time. But you have to make up your mind now. I’ll get off Jim a few minutes early if you want me to do it.

Maybe not today, then, I said immediately. There’s no rush, anyway.

Are you kidding? You’re supposed to be taking him to Sunshine State Horse Trials in April. Lindsay made a big show of taking her phone from her pocket, opening the calendar app, and showing me the date. April tenth. Remember, we’re all going? And there’s a Barn Showcase competition for prettiest stable set-up? It’s going to be really fun.

I counted the Saturdays on the calendar once, twice, three times. There weren’t enough of them.

Sunshine State Spring Horse Trials was in six weeks.

Exactly.

Oh, God, Lindsay. Six weeks?

Yup! And you’ve done no real fitness work, he hasn’t jumped a full course since January, his dressage test is probably a mess. Lindsay glibly counted off my failings as a horse trainer on her fingers. "And we’re not even discussing your fitness in the saddle, which, frankly…" She trailed off, giving me a head-to-toe look so scathing, I felt myself blushing.

Are you picking on Jules? Alex was back suddenly. Where had she gone? Oh, right, she’d been putting away the foaling kit. My brain was basically a bottle of bubbles at this point.

We sure are, Lindsay assured her.

Can I join in? I haven’t picked on Jules in forever.

This seems unfair, I pointed out. Two against one. Also, you were picking on me like ten minutes ago.

No, you’re right. Lindsay, leave your boss alone. She’s trying her heart out.

I was. I really was trying my heart out.

The problem was, my heart was out here, curled up in my arms, instead of safe inside my body.

Listen, Jules, real quick— Alex had her own things to deal with. You know I entered Tiger in the Novice Rider division at Sunshine State next month. But we’re kind of struggling with our jumping again. I just need proper jumps and an arena.

Of course, I said, trying to focus. Right. Do you—um—want a lesson? I can probably make it down to your place next week. I stopped short of making a commitment. Driving to Ocala right now was like driving to the moon. Baby bag! Baby carrier! Baby! Naps and nursing and the aching tiredness that crept over my arms as I drove, tingling in my fingers as the sixty miles between High Springs and Ocala ticked by slowly, so slowly. Gemma would be sitting in the back, next to the car seat, wondering why I wouldn’t let her stay at home alone with Jack, but too kind to ask what on earth was wrong with me.

Well, you can come to my place, but I still won’t have an arena, or jumps.

Oh! I hadn’t registered that part. Of course not. Um—okay. Should we— I couldn’t get my thoughts straight and trailed off, hoping she’d just make a suggestion I could agree with.

Alex looked me over, her eyes narrowing slightly. I recognized that look. It was the gaze of a horsewoman assessing a lame horse. Wanna walk me to my truck?

Lindsay snorted from behind Jim Dear. Why not just announce you don’t want me to overhear your conversation?

Doesn’t she wear you out? Alex asked as we fell into step together. The walk from the new stable to the driveway was crunchy with leaves; the live oaks were in their enthusiastic spring shedding season and the leaves fell constantly, in slow spirals, burying the dark sand and thin grass. "Just that constant college-kid angst and snark?"

She reminds me of me, I admitted. And I was the literal worst.

That’s what I’ve heard, Alex laughed. So—about Tiger. Her tone sobered. I’m a little embarrassed. I’ve been riding this horse for two years and we just aren’t getting anywhere.

Because you don’t ride him consistently, I reminded her, suddenly back in my element. Or you take him out for a jog on the training track when he needs to be concentrating on his transitions in an arena. It was easier when you had him boarded, wasn’t it?

It was, Alex agreed. Do you think I should move him again? I didn’t have much luck at the last boarding stable I tried, but it was a while ago. I have some new staff and some extra time. I could handle commuting to a barn. And I think I need the inspiration. Other riders around me, to push me.

It’s not a bad idea. Do you have a place in mind? We paused next to the white seashell of a cottage where Pete, Jack and I lived. Oh, and Gemma. You should go somewhere with a lot of teenagers, if you want to be inspired. They’re the hungriest riders of all.

Well, Alex said, what about the co-op?

The co-op? I looked at her in surprise. But it’s an hour from your place.

You said teenagers. Alex shrugged, looking embarrassed. There are plenty of them running around the co-op. And you’re going to be riding there, right? With Mickey? So you’ll be there a few hours a day, when you add in lessons and everything. I could do a lesson with you once a week, and just ride around with the kids the rest of the time.

I gently ran my fingers over Jack’s slumbering head, feeling cornered.

I knew Mickey had to go back to the co-op if we were going to prepare for an event in six weeks. I needed access to the jumps, space to gallop, a regulation dressage arena to practice our movements in. Briar Hill Farm was coming along, but slowly. Pete kept his upper-level horses off the farm right now, at a private stable in Ocala, where he was a partner with a sharp-eyed young trainer named Gomez Peña. He expected I would do the same.

Briar Hill Farm might be home, but it wasn’t a competitive-level training center for two professional riders.

Not yet.

This shouldn’t be so hard, I told myself. Get it together. What are the facts?

Fact: I had six short weeks to get myself and Mickey in good enough shape to run around a Training Level course at Sunshine State. Fact: it would be a low, easy return to riding for me, after six months out of the show ring. Fact: it would be a simple, restorative return to eventing for Mickey, after two months turned out to pasture. Fact: taking Mickey back to Alachua Eventing Co-op and riding him before I taught lessons each afternoon was the simple, logical way to get both of us back into condition.

Fact: I wasn’t ready.

And I didn’t know how to fix that part.

There’s Jack to consider, I said finally. "It will be tough to ride Mickey over there. I can’t just leave him in a pack and play while I ride. Not in Florida. There are bugs, and it’s hot—"

Jules, Alex interrupted. You have a nanny already. It’s time to use her.

Just then, Jack