Chapter 6
They burst through the door, faces raw, and heated from the run back. Turning the light on and quickly washing their hands, they proceeded to grab each other and kiss, with Whitney being pushed up, gradually and inevitably towards the bed. She snatched in details, like the simple furnishing of the cabin, not so different from her own. Extra pieces, such as a bookcase stuffed with novels bulging prominently in the living room. A cow-skin rug, speckled black and white covered the wooden floor. Sheepskin rugs lay on either side of the bed. All this information flashed through her brain, grouped with: we ain’t even dated three times yet! Followed by don’t care, enjoy the moment. Enjoy him.
Twitches of excitement attacked her limbs. This was amazing, crazy, and unprecedented from anything she’d experienced in her life. Dating usually went slow, a few meals, getting to know each other, to talk and to introduce to the family. She considered herself too sensible and bashful to take the plunge and give into passion, lust and longing. That wasn’t her.
Yet, somehow, this was. It felt right and good. It convinced her down in every cell of blood.
Jack peeled off her jacket, kissing over her cheek, lips and chin. His eyes sparkled in desire, regarding Whitney as she helped him shrug off his coat. They kicked off their boots awkwardly, stamping on them to tug their feet out.
“I kinda don’t want to spoil the moment, but right now I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you,” Jack said, his words rushed. “But I also know though that this is probably whirlwind fast and at this point I should be a gentlemen and make sure you don’t feel like you’re being forced or coerced in any way –”
“Jack,” Whitney said, placing a finger to his lips. “Shut up and take me already.”
“Yes ma’am. With pleasure.” Jack steered them some more, until her legs bumped into the bed. She threaded fingers into his hair, ruffling it up, their lips kissing in wild abandon, all residual chill from outside gone. In fact, things were heating up fast, making their clothes a little bit too uncomfortable and hot. Jack kissed her on the cheek as he tugged off her blouse, making Whitney gasp in anticipation. She wanted to see Jack’s body laid bare before her. She wanted to kiss every inch of him. The thoughts and feelings swirled inside like an intoxicating storm, drugging her sense of reason, and she didn’t care.
Everything was fast and yet it was too slow. She needed his clothes off and she needed him now. Before she could say anything, or start unbuttoning his top, Jack ran one rough hand under her blouse, caressing the hidden skin, to pause against the contours of her breasts. Whitney pressed herself into him, detecting a noticeable bulge of arousal, adding pressure between her thighs. They toppled onto the bed and scooted backwards, hurtling further and further to the point of no return.
Insanity, she thought. Every muscle in her quivered, every individual fiber of her being reacted under the immediate presence of Jack. His beard rubbing over her cheek, rough, tickling and relieving at the same time, made her hum in happiness. He gently nibbled at her ear, breathing deliciously warm air behind it and onto her neck, triggering her body to explode in a series of shivers, making her heart pound faster.
Any protest forming in her mind vanished. Within seconds, both had seized each other’s tunics and yanked them off. Buttons flew from Jack’s top, unable to stand the force. She stared hungrily at Jack’s sculpted, smooth chest, and he did the same to her, openly admiring the lacy bra, her curvaceous body and the breasts, which he could cup in both hands comfortably. Whitney hooked fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, dragging him closer to share their warmth. Jack met her mouth with his, lips parting wider and wider with each kiss until their tongues began to probe, plumping their lips, bolts of arousal shooting through.
Jack’s bulge became more apparent, chafing against its confines. Whitney found herself rubbing against him, arousal sending her mind to dizzying heights, body moving of its own accord. Jack groaned into her lips, fast and shuddering, and she moaned in response, clinging more powerfully to him, hips teasing further.
“You are driving me… crazy,” he whispered, hoarse, hands trailing over the sides of her breasts, constantly gliding over her smooth skin, over her shoulder blades, the bra straps to her hips, and journeying over again. “I love how you feel, how you look, how you smell… it’s like peaches and cinnamon. You look so damn hot.”
“This… oh hell, Jack! I’m so turned on.” Whitney arched slightly, to fight with the clasp of her bra. He helped take if off and tossed it to the side, giving a tender kiss to the corner of her lips. “I feel myself getting wet. I wouldn’t… didn’t expect… to be this attracted… so fast…”
“Me, either,” he breathed. His scent struck her, that beautiful earthy, natural aroma, turning her on more. “I… I’m struggling to keep my composure. I don’t think I have any at this point.”
“I need you.”
Jack reacted instantly as if punched by the statement, a hiss escaping his throat. He pushed forward, so Whitney’s back pressed into the soft mattress and covers. Her legs angled upwards, allowing him to fall between.
“You’re mine.”
If her words had an effect on him, they were nothing compared to the spasm that went through Whitney at his – almost like a miniature orgasm. She whimpered out loud. He kissed her neck, breathing spine-tingling heat into it, his mouth traveling downward. It tickled across her collarbone, around her breasts, which his hands circled, yet never brushed over the nipples, which at this moment stood hard with excitement. Eventually, Jack ran one calloused hand over her left breast, and latched his lips onto the other, gently pulling at her nipple.
Whitney moaned, squeezing her eyes shut, bringing a palm to press into his head, encouraging him to pinch harder. After a minute of sheer, devoted worship to her breasts, he then tugged off the rest of her clothing. Jeans and panties came off, and Jack stepped backwards to shove off his, the bed shaking from the furious and vigorous movement. Completely exposed now, Whitney trembled in excitement. Jack with his smooth, unblemished pale body hovered before her, arousal thick and throbbing. He leaned into her body, penis pressing onto her stomach, teasing her as he focused again on the kisses, tongues eagerly dancing, their breaths and saliva mixing.
Wetness seeped out of Whitney’s core. She wanted him to take her now, and dug her nails into his back, hard enough to leave bruises. Jack groaned at the tension, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. His mouth trailed down to her breast and clamped on her nipple harder, almost but not quite hurting. His heart stuttered fast, faster than hers, as he flexed his hips backwards, allowing his penis to trail and brush over her clitoris, causing her to jerk from the pleasure it sent. He rested against her entrance, but couldn’t hold it still. She was so wet, he needed to readjust himself so his penis rested partly into her folds. They locked eyes, her brown with his blue. He stared at her, irises completely dilated in arousal. Whitney braced herself, gasping in excitement, as he, without breaking eye contact, buried himself inside her.
Feeling him there, in the most intimate part of her, sent all sorts of interesting emotions through her body. He deeply embedded himself, mouth trembling as he resisted the urge to groan. He stopped moving, letting Whitney grow used to the feel of his shaft pushing the walls of her core.
“You feel…” He then hesitated, suddenly shy. “Of course you feel good. Everything about you is amazing.”
Whitney smiled, embarrassed and flattered. She flexed her lower muscles, so they contracted around his penis. She felt it twitch inside, and giggled when a moan escaped his throat. He recovered in a second.
“That was mean,” he grinned, a fiendish glint in his eyes, and rocked his hips, starting with tiny motions. She adjusted herself to let her body raise up into his. He gradually increased the motions, until adopting a regular, thrusting rhythm, both of them devolving to primal desire and passion. Time became meaningless. There were just too many things to focus on. The way their skins rubbed into each other, stirring the individual hairs, the crumpling bedsheets underneath her, their moans of excitement, she wanted to absorb everything at once, but could barely concentrate on one single sensation before another overrode it, making her mind flit to that one instead. Her toes curled as the pleasure intensified, and he angled himself subtly, changing the way he thrust into her, increasing the wonderful spread of feelings within.
Their burning bodies craved each other. Nothing mattered but the moment and the rhythm of their love-making. She felt Jack deep, deeper than what could be explained on a physical level. She felt as though somewhere, he had found the hidden part where her soul lived.
Something formed in her stomach, coiling tight. That pressured, taut sensation grew stronger, more urgent as Jack continued moving, turning up his speed, now reaching down a hand to touch her clit, slipping over it often due to how turned on she was. He stopped moving in her for a moment, focusing on finding the perfect, right stimulation with his fingers.
He caught it. The pleasure roared in, thundering out of nowhere, springing the coil loose. The release launched the orgasm through her body, flooding it in delicious warmth. Jack, seeing and feeling the tension wash over her, moaned at the sight, moving again as her core contracted around him.
He came with a shuddering groan, slowing to a dead still, before gently pulling out of her.
“Oh… my… God,” Whitney whispered, feeling utterly boneless, unwilling and possibly unable to move an inch.
“He’s not here at the moment. But maybe I can take a call?” Jack quipped, rolling beside her, grin threatening to split his face.
“No. You don’t start making stupid jokes. Let me just… let this sink in. Forever.”
“Forever is a long time to wait,” Jack replied, kissing her shoulder, slipping one arm over her stomach, after forcibly tugging the bed covers over them, to protect from the night chill.
Whitney, more than a little frazzled, just kept her eyes closed, indulging in the glow of her orgasm. Sweat trickled on her brow, she felt the same on Jack’s. “My limbs. Like jelly.”
“I see. Let me assist with that.” Jack helped move them around until they lay draped comfortably into each other.
Whitney groaned. “Don’t wanna… move.”
“Don’t have to,” Jack smiled.
“Should go back. To… cabin. We wake up… early for breakfast.”
Jack brushed her nose with his. “Stay with me. Spend the night. You can return in the morning. Besides. It’s way too cold out there. And I want you here. Preferably to never leave my sight ever again.”
“Mmm…” Suddenly, Whitney felt very, very sleepy. She opened her eyes to see a beaming, radiant Jack Brook. He reached out to stroke her cheek, unable to stop touching her.
“I need to pee,” Whitney said.
“Erm…” The smile turned into amusement. “That’s romantic.”
“Seriously. Sex makes me want to pee.”
He laughed, but helped her scramble out of bed and wobble to the toilet. When she had finished, she re-joined Jack in bed.
“You feeling alright, Whitney?”
“Perfect.”
“Did you… I mean. It looked like you were enjoying that.”
“Loved it. Felt amazing.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed, placing his cheek against her hand.
“Can you… hold me?”
Jack looked extremely happy to comply. “Do you want it as a spoon or a normal hug, or to rest on your back?”
“Doesn’t… matter. Just hold me.” Her voice turned drowsy. Her eyelids fluttered.
Jack snuggled into her, his warmth vibrant, like the source of life itself. She sighed contentment, and closed her eyes, weariness settling into her bones.
“Sleep tight, angel…” was the last thing she heard whispered into her ear.
*****
Waking up content, Whitney felt glorious. She stretched like a cat, bathing in the sunlight streaming through the window. Their clothes lay strewn across the floor from the antics of last night, and the heady smell of sex lingered. Naked, Whitney turned to her side to explore Jack’s sleeping face, and examined the arm draped over her stomach. She stared at him like this for several minutes, before he cracked an eyelid open, spotted her and yawned, then pulled her in closer for a warm embrace, naked bodies locked together.
“Not moving,” Jack breathed, face buried into her neck and hair. “Not letting you go.”
“Aight. So what happens when we get hot and sticky from overheating?”
“Mmm…” Jack nuzzled her earlobe. “That’s a problem we don’t have to think about for ten minutes.”
Whitney chuckled, the vibration of it thrumming through her body and transferring into Jack. She felt him harden slightly against her thigh. “Would love to know more ‘bout you. Not something to talk about in the morning, though. Still need to wake up. And remember… certain things from last night.”
“Oh. I remember them very well. If you want though, we can remind ourselves of the better moments…?” He gently bit her ear, sending shivering arousal through Whitney’s spine. She pressed into him more urgently, before calming herself.
“Didn’t we remind ourselves? Two more times?” Whitney grinned. On two more incidents in the night, they had woken up, engaged in some conversation, only to have each attempt end up in more sex. The moment they woke up and saw each other, they grew excited at the thought that they shared the bed, and could reach across to touch.
Too excited.
“What about a fourth time?” His arousal grew harder, becoming solid as it rubbed her thigh.
“Oh, I’d love to be reminded yet another time. But what time we got before breakfast in the hall?”
Jack gave a disgruntled sound. “Sure there’s plenty of time. I think. Curse responsibilities. Let me check… since the clock is behind you…”
“Oh. Sorry. Too busy staring at you.”
“Shush.” He was silent a moment, likely squinting at the clock to make out the time. Then, he dropped back with a huff of annoyance. “We’re late.”
“Oh, okay.” Whitney paused. “Wait? Late? Late? Shit!” She became wide awake, eyes bulging out of her head. “We got a meeting after breakfast! I shouldn’t be here! What if people spot me coming out?”
“Hey, hey! No need to panic. There’s enough time to get yourself there. Though I suppose we better go separately and you don’t want anyone seeing you come out of my cabin. Erm.” He sat bolt upright, running a soothing hand over Whitney’s coffee-colored back. “I’ll go out first. If you give me your number I can text you when it’s safe to come out. You can head to your cabin or straight to breakfast. I should have been up with the dawn-herders to rein in the horses. I’ll come up with something.”
He rolled out of bed, quickly washed himself down, then placed on some clothes. Whitney did the same in a frantic, trying-not-to-panic rush, enveloped once more in her evening clothes. Though the sun dazzled, the morning emanated coldness through tiny gaps in the cabin. Exchanging numbers, which also sent another hum of delight inside – they hastily kissed goodbye before he opened the door. “This was worth it,” he said. “Whatever happens.” He strolled out to the ranch with a spring to his step.
Whitney watched in her familiar clustering of emotion. Attraction, happiness, worry and amazement mingled. A small stab of fear intruded as well, when she thought about Natalie discovering this.
Flirting was fine. But knowing they went to bed together – having that particular rumor spread around the ranch like wildfire and confirmed – Whitney couldn’t guarantee getting stabbed in the back at some point in the future. There were things she should and shouldn’t do.
There were also things she wanted to do, despite hearing the warning bells rattling in her skull. Of course, she hadn’t heard of any of those bells with Jack. What happened between them didn’t feel wrong. It only felt bad afterwards, when she started considering the results and consequence. When anxiety and fear began gnawing at her from the inside out.
Her stomach growled. She sat on the bed, feeling less like a mature thirty-one-year-old and more like a bewildered teenager as she examined her cellphone, waiting for the all-clear text. With nothing better to do, she scouted Jack’s cabin, trying to spot his personality in the furniture, and the possessions held. The bookcase was stuffed with different books of various authors, many whom Whitney had never heard of. There were many foreign names – so he liked reading international authors. There was an Isabel Allende, a Cody Mcfayden and a Stieg Larsson – that one she did recognize. She remembered those books being a little too boring for her taste, and ran her hands over the Mcfayden book. Crime novels. Forensic novels. Fantasy. Children’s. Even a few language learning dictionaries, and others on economics.
Jack clearly had a curious mind. She wandered over to the bathroom. Barely anything resided inside it, apart from essential toiletries, and an expensive aftershave. She checked her hair and patted it down as best as able, looking less like she had just rolled out of bed. His wardrobe held one very fine tuxedo, but mostly filled itself up with practical, ranch-hand clothes. There was a patched-eye teddy bear seated by the window, face turned towards the fields where the horses roamed. Peering out through that window, Whitney saw ranch workers reining in the last of the horses, the last two being led by ropes around their necks.
Upon inspecting the kitchen top, where only basic cooking utensils lay in the drawers, her phone buzzed.
Everyone’s at breakfast. You won’t be seen by the people in the fields if you go dead right from when you leave the door. Just say you overslept. Look forward to seeing you.
Jack.
Whitney rapidly texted back, to confirm the sent message.
Great. See u soon.
Taking a deep breath, Whitney stepped out into the cold morning. She made it to the dining hall ten minutes later, planning to keep her jacket on inside and change clothes after breakfast and whatever short obligatory meeting their group would have.
Entering the hall, she spotted Natalie leaning over Jack, her hair almost brushing his shoulder as she murmured something.
“Look who took their sweet time showing up!” Gracie declared. Whitney shrugged apologetically.
“Breakfast over or still time to get some bites?”
Anja, who again shared the table with them and Miles, jabbed her fork at the canteen area. “Hurry. They close in five.”
Miles poured a mug of coffee for himself, and offered one to Whitney as she seized jam packets, toast, butter, and an orange. Her stomach growled at the sight of the bacon, eggs and sausages, but ignored them for something she could shove down her throat.
“No talk before coffee,” Miles said, hugging his drink protectively.
“Aight. Sounds good.” She placed herself next to Gracie and Tia, settling to butter her toast.
“You slept long,” Gracie drawled, elbow on table, chin resting in hand. “What's that all ‘bout?”
Whitney didn’t bother looking as she replied, “Real exhausted after events. And my phone didn’t go off in the morning. Was annoyed as hell when I realized.”
“We saw you walking out quite late you see,” Tia added conspiratorially. “Got us curious.”
Whitney was careful to conceal her alarm, delivering the two women a nonchalant smile. “Saw a horse there when walking earlier. Wanted to see it again and give it sugar cubes. Really affectionate horse. Pretty cold night, though. Should have wrapped up warmer.”
“Hmm. Maybe you can point out the ‘horse’ when we go training today, eh?” Gracie obviously didn’t believe her.
“Sure.” Whitney placed down her knife. “Seriously, what’s up with y’all? Staring at me like it’s judgment day. Can’t a gal take a walk when she feels like?”
Tia folded more into her blue hoodie, shrugging as she sipped on a fruit drink. “Of course you can. We just… well. Jack’s been real friendly to you.”
“So? He’s been real friendly to everyone.” Whitney raised one eyebrow. “Yunno, I can just imagine you two gossiping together late at night about certain things…”
“Gossip’s how we pass the time,” Gracie smirked, giving Whitney a clap on the shoulder. “And true, dat. He friendly to all. Just hoped you be reeling something in that Natabitch can’t hook.”
“We’re here for a company holiday – not to take it in turns lining up to see who can pull the ranch owner into their bed or not. Should probably stop with that talk.” Whitney couldn’t believe her own brusqueness, but it did the job. Even if it contained a lie.
“Aight, aight woman. No need to snap heads.” Gracie raised up her arms in surrender, then turned to speak to Tia, pointedly turning her shoulder to Whitney. She continued to eat in silence. Miles joined their table, looking out of it as he tried to revive himself with coffee. Anja glanced at him, though seemed used to the spectacle. The Dutch woman engaged in conversation with Tia and Gracie, and they nattered away like excited children.
Whitney finished off her toast. Where was Faith? She received the answer to her question a moment later, when Faith stumbled out of a door – she’d been in the toilets. She skulked to the canteen area which was now gathering away the food, and seized a hasty drink, looking for all the world like a cornered animal.
Whitney waved to her, and saw the palpable sense of relief on her face as she took the invitation, joining them at the table.
“Sleep aight, Faith?”
The shy, dark haired girl twitched her lips upwards. “Better than usual. The beds are nice and soft.”
“Usual, eh?” The statement intrigued Whitney. She struggles to sleep at night?
Faith didn’t add anything more to it, instead examining Natalie with Whitney. The executive seemed to be making an excuse to reach out and physically touch Jack, laughing in the fakest, ugliest way Whitney expected. Natalie did genuine, beautiful laughs – but this one – it reeked of jealously and desire for possession. Not even a shred of warmth lingered in it. The thirty-year-old seemed completely oblivious to her actions and how they might appear to others. She ponced and put on an air of maturity, responsibility and success, but underneath that lay something indiscernible.
Almost as if she needed Jack Brook to see how successful she was. Notice how beautiful she was. Natalie let out a high pitched laugh, throwing back her head as she touched Jack on the wrist. He smiled as well, charming as ever, not showing a hint of discomfort with the situation. Shouldn’t he be? Wasn’t it sickeningly obvious what Natalie was trying to pull? What Sandra, laughing in tandem, was? Just a sycophantic cheerleader out to appease her boss? Whitney knew those types. Sandra by herself acted reasonable, if sometimes vapid and fixated on topics that had no weight to them – like celebrity pairings, fashionable shoes and soap operas. Put her together with someone with higher authority, and she scrambled to please them as if this was the only worthwhile thing that ever happened in her life. Sandra forgot her individuality. Whitney imagined Sandra as a freshly grown carrot, beautiful and well nurtured, then chopped up and dumped into Natalie stew, losing her unique quality in favor of making the stew delicious. The analogy made Whitney smile, before frowning darkly. Natalie Glenn needed people like Sandra to thrive.
The swirling thoughts took a new turn, settling on someone else close to her heart. Aniyah, Whitney’s mother – what of her? She needed people to care for. She was less than a carrot. She only existed through others. A body that worked, a hand that scrubbed, holding no dreams of her own.
Or was Whitney only looking at herself in the mirror, there?
Whitney finished off her food, in a blink noticing her negative, poisonous thoughts encroaching. The last reflection on her mother hit Whitney in a slap of cold-doused clarity. It also made her consider the other ruminations.
On Natalie, truthfully, Whitney wanted to be jealous. The feeling surged irrationally in her, but with careful picking apart of the emotion, it quelled. Jealously implied she lacked something, and that she felt insecure about her current position, and the people who co-existed with her. Right now, she didn’t feel like she lacked anything. The frustration contained for her mother also seemed needless. Aniyah may not ever do things for herself, but she worked fanatically to bind their family together. Even if it meant turning a blind eye to their flaws and ignoring the bigger problems.
Whitney couldn’t fault that. She just couldn’t. The mounting anger inside – had she really been accumulating such rage? – whittled away.
She certainly didn’t feel insecure. The activities of yesterday and the night romp stayed with her.
Acknowledging this was better than the alternative.
And she didn’t need to seek out Jack for confirmation he still liked her. If he didn’t like her, last night wouldn’t have happened. And if he was playing her, well. Last night still happened. Tainting that experience with jealously would destroy the discovered happiness. Even a fling, like holidays, could be short lived, fun and memorable.
The notion bolstered her. She found she could tear her eyes away from the attention, without the unease in her stomach.
She poked conversation with Faith, though the younger woman still kept her words close, unwilling to divulge anything juicy or substantial. Whitney respected it. People didn’t come out of their shells instantly. They needed encouragement and reason to leave the protective safety they created themselves.
People… were people.
*****
After breakfast, they gathered together for a small debriefing. It covered nothing essential, as they had all heard the speeches before – but it did remain a company requirement to make sure everyone participated. Alex and Natalie, the two main authorities of the staff trip, also were required to take part in a daily conference call to update their department CEO, Richard Larkland.
“There could be a possibility in the future,” Natalie informed them, before they broke up for the day’s tasks, “That Jack Brook may be interested in sponsoring Outback Bandits with us – via investments through our company. He expressed interest in the brand and thinks a hefty promotion of outdoor life will be beneficial to everyone, especially those stressed by inner city life and turmoil. So, remember. Best behavior! And, Faith. I’d like to see the pictures you’ve taken so far later, to see if you’re capturing the vibe of what we want. We can look into sending them to the department this evening. Okay?”
Faith nodded mutely, cradling her camera like a child.
Natalie had then sighed. “The last group was… less than proactive on this matter. One might say our men spent more time pretending to be cowboys rather than forging a connection with the ranch and the business here.”
After that, they broke up the meeting, and prepared for their first task. Horse riding. Making it to the stables, all the horses loitered in their stalls, already reined up, with their saddles placed on and tightened. A mounting platform in the middle of the clearing with steps showed where people stood, to position themselves to sit on the horses.
All the women from their company without exception were outfitted with riding helmets, for safety reasons. The ranch hands didn’t bother, instead preferring wide-brim hats and practical clothing. Once the instructors judged the skills of those they worked with, depended on where the guidance was directed.
Whitney, Tia, Alex and Sandra had all never ridden a horse before. Gracie, Natalie and Faith had. Sandra maintained she did have some lessons when she was five years old, but had forgotten most of them.
Standing on the platform, waiting for the horse as it was led to her proved nerve-wracking. Whitney was on display for all to see, and she dreaded most just slipping off the horse without even having a chance to sit down.
“You'll be fine!” Gracie called from her horse – a stocky strawberry roan mare with ears flicked slightly backwards. The instructor by her side, Lamar, conversed, before letting Gracie walk the horse alone, heading towards the training paddocks. Reaching the paddocks involved walking through two bends in the stable area, and then a straight, stomped down dirt track to the selection of fields. Jack was saddled up on Graham Cracker – And Whitney honestly felt astonished at Graham Cracker’s attitude towards the other workers. When Miles passed too close, the horse actively whipped back his ears and snapped at Miles with blunt teeth, only held back by Jack resisting the reins. Because of Jack’s lateness, the other ranch-hands had tried leading Graham Cracker to the stables, only able to prevent serious injury to themselves by compensating with a trail of sugar cubes, which had distracted him for moments at a time. Miles confessed the story to her in a rueful mood, showing a mark on his palm where Graham Cracker hadn’t quite scooped up the cube properly.
Graham Cracker snorted, rearing slightly, causes the last three rider-less horses to shy away, alarmed. The huge bay clearly scared the others. Damn. Jack ain’t kidding ‘bout that one.
The horse given to Whitney was of a light dun color, the coat spots reminding Whitney of a Dalmatian.
“Is this like a Dalmatian horse?” She asked Anja, the one leading the reins. Anja halted the silver dapple at the mounting platform.
Anja tutted. “No. Flowerfield is a mustang with the silver dapple gene. So her coat is watered down to light dun with little spots.”
“You know of horses?” Whitney said, staring nervously at the saddle in front.
The Dutch woman nodded. “A little. Not as much as I would like. That beast over there,” she said, jerking her thumb to Graham Cracker, “Is from very expensive stock. He is impure. Jack Brook’s father keeps a small selection of what is known as Friesian horses. There are many breeds, but Jack’s father has a particular fancy for Friesians. Very graceful horses.”
“Impure?” Whitney grimaced as Anja coaxed her onto the horse. She had no clue about horses, their types or what kinds were considered valuable.
“His dam – the mother – was not Friesian. The Dam was American Quarterback, bay color. Jack took to the horse from an early age, he would have been sold cheap, but that was stopped.”
“Huh.” Most of the information flitted over Whitney’s head, though she tried hard to focus on Anja’s words. “Sorry. Really don’t know much.”
“It’s alright. I can get carried away,” Anja said with a smile. “All the horses are good here. That will be all you need to know. Now, foot in the stirrup. Lift your leg over carefully… yes. Use the front of the saddle for grip and balance. Do not sit on the cantle. The back part. A little ahead. Take the reins and hold them… not like that. Like this.” Anja demonstrated after Whitney had hunkered down on Flowerfield, lightly pinching them in one hand.
“This is different riding style from Europe. Hold with non-dominant hand. Touch rein to neck of direction you wish to go. Like so. And make horse walk… like so. See? Not so bad. Flowerfield has a wonderful temperament, too. You will get on fine.”
Nervous, Whitney mimicked Anja’s instruction as best as able. Nudging the horse gave her a start, as Flowerfield picked herself into a leisurely gait forward. The next instructor started moving their horse, as Faith clambered onto the mountain platform.
Although Whitney felt unconfident, and a little intimidated by the height of the horse relative to the ground, Jack Brook, on Graham Cracker, gave her a dazzling smile.
“You’ll be fine. Oh, I think Graham Cracker wants to say hello as well…”
Alex was the last one to mount up. She’d already observed Graham Cracker’s foul temper, and watched in bemusement as the bay horse trotted up to them. Anja stepped aside as Graham Cracker thrust his nose into Whitney’s hand, snorting eagerly.
“Awh, damn! Ain’t got any cubes for him. Sorry, big fella.”
“Why are you not being eaten?” Anja demanded.
Whitney shrugged. Alex mounted on hers, guided by Miles. “You won’t be catching flies like that when you see my performance in a minute,” Whitney warned her.
Bracing herself, trying to keep Anja’s instructions in mind, she gently nudged Flowerfield, who began walking again to where they would train.