Living in that ivory tower, however, could be lonely. Her inflexibility and refusal to back down when she thought she was right had alienated most people in her sphere. Including—most especially—Elise. And now, too, Angel.
She just witnessed today that a strong ego or being right was ineffectual when dealing with a horse. If Whirlwind made a mistake, Karl’s correction was immediate and without a sense of right or wrong. It was a dialogue developed on a foundation of trust.
That was pretty phenomenal, when one thought about it. In nature, horses were a prey animal. Humans were predatory. That didn’t set up a relationship geared for success. And yet humans had six thousand years of history with horses. The horse had made a powerful impact on the evolution of the human world. If history taught her anything . . . if the horse taught her anything . . . it was that holding too tight to the reins, using spurs, and forcing one’s will on the horse would never create a bond or a partnership.
The rain began to fall harder. Gerta walked down the hill to the barn, careful not to slip and fall. By the time she arrived, her clothes were wet and her hair was plastered to her head. When would she learn to wear a slicker in weather such as this? Some of the horses were still in the paddocks. On entering, she inhaled the heady, welcoming scents of a barn and was welcomed with a few nickers. As she walked down the barn hall, Butterhead poked her head out from the stall. Gerta smiled and went to pet her but stopped when she spotted Angel in the stall.
He was bent over her rear hoof, picking out mud with a hook. On hearing her, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. His face immediately broke into a smile of such delight that it touched her heart. He released the hoof and approached her. They stood on either side of the stall gate. His hazel eyes searched her face and his smile widened.
“Look at you. Soaked through again. What am I going to do with you?”
“I’m going to get a towel,” she said, and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he called after her. He came out from the stall, closed the gate, and walked at a fast pace toward the tack room, removing his work gloves en route.
Gerta pushed a shock of damp hair from her face, cursing herself for being a fool to be caught in this position again. Instead of waiting, she walked to Jazzy’s stall and smacked her lips. The big dark bay immediately came and hung his head over the stall window. He nickered and blew air through his nostrils. Her heart softened again at seeing him.
Angel returned with a towel. He reached out to dry her hair but this time she took the towel from his hands.
“Thank you. I can do it.”
Angel raised his brows but relinquished the towel and put his hands behind his back.
“You are angry with me.”
Gerta rubbed her head vigorously. “Of course I’m angry with you. You lied to me.”
“When did I lie to you?”
She lowered the towel to glare at him through locks of hair. “A lie of omission.”
“What is this lie of omission,” he asked, not comprehending the English word.
“Omission!” she snapped. “Not telling me about the sale of the horse was as much a lie as telling me you knew nothing.”
“This is crazy,” he fired back, insulted. “I did not lie of omission to you. Yes, I talked to Elise about selling the horse. Madre de Dios, everyone saw that she was not right for the horse except for you. You had blinders on,” he said, putting a hand at either eye. “I told her I would make some inquiries. But,” he said louder to stop her interruption, “I told her she had to tell you before I did anything!”
“You dropped the bug in Charles’s ear about buying him.”
“What is this dropping the bug? I told him I thought he should buy the horse. Yes. Because he loves the horse.”
“And you don’t get a referral fee? A little off the top?”
He didn’t speak.
Gerta felt her fury bubble. “I thought so.”
Angel opened his palms. “I had planned to get a fee, yes. I need the money. I’m not rich like you. I’ve made some bad mistakes. I’m not so good with money, eh? But I am not selling Butterhead, and I need a horse. This is my career, Gerta,” he said with the hint of a plea for her understanding. Then he sighed and shook his head. “But that is not the reason I thought Charles should buy the horse. Did you not see him with Whirlwind? He pined for him. And,” he added with enthusiasm, “he just hired Karl to work for Freehold Farm. Not just as a trainer. But as a rider. He’s going to let Karl show Whirlwind.”
This took the wind out of her argument. It was the right thing to do. She should be happy. But she felt even more deflated.
“That is what I should have done,” she said softly. “If I had not had the blinders on.” She looked up at him and gave a short, desperate laugh.
“Gerta, I told Elise and Charles I am not taking the referral fee. Charles did not buy the horse, eh? Grace did. You should collect the fee.”
Gerta laughed, feeling a heaviness leave her chest. Angel did not make a deal behind her back. That cut had gone the deepest.
“Well,” she said by way of a declaration, stepping away and draping the towel over the gate. She reached up with both hands to comb her hair back with her hands. “I guess Whirlwind is going to the Olympics after all.”
Angel tilted his head. “Maybe not in 2020. They’ll just be starting to do shows.”
“Don’t underestimate them. You might be surprised. When I was Karl’s age, I catapulted to the Olympic team in months. And look at Charlotte Dujardin with Valegro. It’s possible. And I truly hope they make the team. And if not this time, the next.” She sighed. “I just wish it could have been Elise.”
“That wasn’t her dream.”
“No. It was mine.”
Angel drew near and took her hands. “You don’t need Elise. She’s not even a jumper. Like us.” He commanded her gaze and she held her breath. “You have me. I’ll take you to the Olympics. Let me be the one who gets you there.”
Gerta moved her right hand and placed it over his heart. “My gallant man. You have great heart.” Her smile was shaky. “Yes. I accept. I will go with you to the Olympics.”
“Not only go with me,” he said. “I will go with you.”
“Well, yes, of course.”
“No, I do not think you understand. You will be in the Olympics.”
“What are you saying?” she said, pulling her hand away. The dreamy atmosphere was suddenly lost. “You’re insane.”
“Hear me out. Maybe not jump. But you can do para-dressage. I know you. You have Razzmajazz back, you have the drive and the talent. You can do anything.”
Gerta blinked rapidly as this new possibility exploded in her mind like fireworks. She had Jazzy back. She could begin dressage training.
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” she said.
“No!”
“Do you think I could really do this? At my age?”
“Julie Brougham of New Zealand is sixty-four. And Mary Hanna in Australia.”
Gerta released a short laugh. “What are they eating down under?”
“There’s an old superstition at the track. If there is only one gray horse in a race, that’s the horse to bet.”