Page 37 of The Feud

“No. What you have on is fine.” She’s dressed in jeans, a lightweight sweater and tennis shoes. “Although if you want to get up on a horse, we’re going to have to get you some proper riding attire.”

“I’m not interested in riding the horses,” Sylvie says, but not with any disdain. “They’re a little big for me.”

“If you change your mind, we have the sweetest lesson horses that are very safe. I’ll even ride with you if you want.”

Sylvie shakes her head but stands from the table and repacks her bookbag. When she’s finished, I lead her out of the house where we get in my truck and head over to the lesson barn.

I check my watch as we get out and enter through the side office door. Trey is at the desk, his booted feet propped on it.

“There’s my favorite niece,” Trey says as Sylvie walks in behind me.

Sylvie looks flustered and isn’t sure how to respond, so I help her out. “She’s your only niece. Not saying much that you call her a favorite.”

Sylvie giggles and it’s music to my years.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask Trey.

“My four-thirty training got canceled so I’m just waiting on my next one.”

I nod. “Is Carmen here yet?”

Trey points toward the door. “They just got here. She came with her mom and aunt.”

This surprises me, because while Marcie and I had arranged for the girls to meet today, I assumed Carmen would be here with only her mother. I’m not sure what it says that I have a pulse of excitement over hearing that Marcie is in the barn, but I’m most certainly not displeased about seeing her again. I know the dinner we had together was nothing more than two friends talking, but I had a pleasant time.

More than pleasant. If I’m being honest, I didn’t want the evening to end. I can’t even remember the last time I sat down and had such an easy conversation with a woman. And not just any woman. One who is very attractive in all the right ways.

When we enter through the adjoining door that leads into the show barn, I immediately spot Carmen already mounted on Lady Beatrice. She is battling the classic double bridle that the show rider uses to control not only the direction of the horse but its bearing. The top rein helps keep the horse’s head held high, a natural extension of saddlebred DNA.

Marcie and Michelle are sitting on a bench and I walk over, Sylvie following behind. Marcie smiles at me in a way I like very much and I return it.

Manners dictate I acknowledge Michelle, so I give her a nod. “How are you doing, Michelle?”

She beams at me. “Lovely. Can’t wait to see Carmen on Lady Beatrice.”

“It’s a fantastic match. I expect great things from them in the show ring this season.”

Sylvie pulls away from me and sits down beside Marcie while I take the seat on her other side.

Marcie nods toward Carmen. “That’s my niece. If your dad lets you, I thought maybe we can go do something after Carmen’s lesson.”

Sylvie looks up at me and I nod my approval. “I suppose a pre-dinner ice cream or something to that effect is in order.”

Sylvie actually grins. “I love ice cream.”

For the next half hour, we watch Kat put Carmen and Lady Beatrice through their paces. Carmen rides in a division where the only two disciplines are walking and trotting. Kat calls out instructions and corrections in Carmen’s posture and the way she holds the double reins in her hands. Sylvie watches with interest, and at one time murmurs, “They look very beautiful together.”

When the lesson is finished, Marcie and I both stand. I motion for Sylvie and she follows me over to where Carmen slides effortlessly from the horse, landing solidly on her feet. As we approach, Carmen removes her helmet and turns to face Sylvie, clearly in on the plan. She smiles broadly as Marcie makes the introductions.

“Hi,” Carmen says.

Sylvie ducks her head shyly, uncharacteristic of the little girl who has been so brash with me and my family. “This is Sylvie,” I say, my hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

“Hi,” she replies, glancing to Marcie for assurance.

Kat, who is holding Lady Beatrice’s bridle suggests, “Carmen… go ahead and walk your horse to her stall and take her tack off. Sylvie can help you.”

It warms my heart when Sylvie lifts her face to me as if asking for permission or perhaps reassurance that it’s something she could do. I give her a tiny push. “Go on and have fun.”

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