Page 34 of Gift Horse

I’m notsure if the worst part of my new life is that I’m going to work for The Raging Harridan or that I’m selling Velveteen. Yeah, well, when I lay it out like that, it’s obvious which is worse, but it’s the only way I can even afford plane fare for Mr. Wiggins and me.

I’ve tried tellingmyself it’s better this way, that even if Icouldspring for shipping Velveteen across the Atlantic, the stress of that kind of travel isn’t something I’d want to put my sweet filly through—not at this point in her polo career, and not when Mummy Dearest’s resort is only a temporary place to lay my head. She’ll be happier staying in Florida. Home is in the States. Or it was supposed to be.

I’ve donemy best to turn a shit sandwich into a gourmet one. But you know what they say, “You can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit.” It’s just an all-round tragedy and we both know it. I kiss Velveteen’s soft, sweet muzzle and drag myself back to the club’s lounge to make it official.

“Ready to sign the contract?”Esther Fitzwilliam is all brisk efficiency. From her spot in one of the wicker chairs overlooking the pitch, she passes a clipboard to me, a pen dangling from a string tied to its clasp.

Bill of Sale,the paper says at the top, and I have to shut my eyes so no tears fall on the document.

Esther puts out a hand.“Darling—a word of advice?”

Who amI to tell the reigning queen of polo that no matter how sage her wisdom is, I can’t hear anything over the roaring of my heart telling me I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.

“There isn’ta single one of us at the top whose plans haven’t gone sideways at least a hundred times. There’s no such thing as an overnight sensation, and there’s not one of us—not me, not Mariano, not Alex—who hasn’t given up more than most people will have in a lifetime. You will lose friends, be estranged from your family, travel until you don’t know what city you’re in, and all for the love of the game. You’ve got to work for it and keep working for it. All of us have sacrificed everything—more than we ever should—to get where we are. You get to the top with a combo of blood, sweat, and tears. This is just one of thetearsmoments.”

“Sure.”Monosyllabic responses are all I can manage without straight up blubbing in front of another one of my polo heroes.

“Don’t letyourself be blinded by the real opportunities in front of you.” Esther’s eyes have lost their sparkle, and instead they’re glossed with a sheen that looks like tears. A ripple goes through her, like she’s shaking off an unpleasant feeling. “If you want to make it in polo you don’t just need talent—which you have, sweetie, up the wazz, if what Mariano tells me is true—”

A record screechsound goes off in my head. Mariano has talked to Esther about my riding talent? I don’t even know how that could be possible, unless he’s been spying on my late-night training sessions with Teena, or the exercise rides I’ve done on the club and client horses. I make a mental note to ponder the fact that Mariano Arias thinks I’m talented later. No, scratch that.Delete. Delete. Delete.What he thinks of me is immaterial. I refocus on what Esther is saying.

“—youneed bank. Someone, somewhere, has to roll out the dosh.”

There it is.The cold truth of the matter. I need to make money. Exactly what Mariano said he needed to do—and exactlynotwho I want to be thinking about.

I makesure the description of Velveteen is accurate—2017 Jockey Club registered dark bay filly with white star and right hind sock—and read through the list of all the things Esther intends to do with my horse while she’s in her care, “not limited to training, lessons, trailering off-site, local and national competition.”

And then,one last time, I read the most important part of the contract of all. The buyback and first right of refusal clause. It clearly states that I will buy Velveteen back from Esther at the same exact price I sold her for, no higher or lower, regardless of her training, accomplishments, or potential injuries, and Esther may not sell Velveteen to anyone without first offering first rights to me. Obviously, I will never refuse to buy Teena back. But Esther has also agreed to add on an extra sentence, stating she will sell Velveteen back to me no later than December 31st. The contract is airtight, and it’s the only reason I’ve been able to let Velveteen go—because she is Esther’s in name only, and she will go back to being truly mine by the end of the year.As soon as I’ve earned enough to pay Esther back and set us up for a whole season,I pulse a mental message to my darling Teena:We’ll be together again.May you hear me, my lovely, no matter how far apart we are.I am done being beholden to the Stephanies of the polo world, or being manipulated by Mariano, and I’m determined to gallop back onto the polo pitch and prove to everyone that this is where I’m meant to be.

But every timeI think of what I’ve sacrificed—how I’ve sold Velveteen so I could get the necessary funds to get myself and Mr. Wiggins back to England without owing Mummy Dearest even more—I feel like I ought to sink into a manure heap and stay there. But the plain truth of the matter is selling Teena was the only way Esther would agree to take her on.

“Darling,you know how ridiculous the club’s insurance costs are,” she told me when I first suggested maybe she could lease Teena. That left selling Teena as the only way I could think to protect her from the likes of Stephanie. Sure, I could have let Donnie use her as one of the lesson horses, but I would never in a million years do that to Teena.

I scrawlmy name beneath Esther’s and take my copy, folding it in fourths and slipping it into my bag. Mr. Wiggins hops down from my lap because he is the cleverest dog that ever was clever, and he can hear my brain screaminggo go go gogogogogo.

And so,I go. Lump in my throat, coal in my chest, and betrayal on my mind. I have to explain to Teena that this isn’t her worst nightmare. Not at all. It’s just…

Okay,it is her worst nightmare and I have to own it. I’ve sold my darling to save my own hide, and I have to go now and beg her forgiveness.

SIGNED, SEALED, AND DELIVERED

Lolly Benoit. High Winds Polo Club. Palm Beach, Florida.

“You’ll be happy, I’m sure of it. She’ll take really good care of you.” I’ve only whispered this same exact sentence into Teena’s damp neck a trajillion times already, but it doesn’t feel any more true than the first time I said it.

Because there’s no one in the whole wide world who will ever love Velveteen as much as I do. Of this, I am five hundred million percent certain. “It doesn’t change anything. Not really. You know that, right? I’m still yours and you’re still mine. No matter what.”

Once, back when I actually had cash to burn and enough money to buy first class plane tickets without even blinking, I hired an animal communicator to talk to Velveteen. “I’m getting an image of a dark place with barred windows—a stall maybe?—and just a feeling of…loneliness. And despair.” When she told me how scared Teena was of being abandoned, how sad she was that no one cared for her, that her people before hadn’t evenlikedher, that’s when I made my vow: to never leave her, and to never, ever sell her.

But here I am doing exactly that. The tears well in my eyes, followed hard by a twisting sensation that starts in my chest and ends in my clenched jaw. It’s unbelievable that Stephanie could not only utterly obliterate my polo career in Florida but also make me betray the one promise I made Teena—and all with just a few taps on her ugly, rhinestone-encrusted cell phone.

Mr. Wiggins growls.Mind-reader. Good boy. You may bite her if you ever see her again. No penalties, just chomp her right in the calf…

“I’m going to be gone for a couple months, but not for good. I just can’t tell you the exact day I’ll be home, like I usually do.” That’s the difference. That’s what I need to get clear in my head—and Velveteen’s. I’mnotbreaking my vow. I’m only leaving her temporarily. Once I make enough money, Teena will go back to being my horse. If only Stephanie had paid what she owed, I wouldn’t have to resort to—but it’s past time to worry over that. The one thing I’ve made sure of is that Teena’s going to be well taken care of while I’m gone. “It’s going to be a while, longer than I want…”A few months.That’s all I told The Raging Harridan I would commit to, but it really depends on how much money I can bank, and how long Stephanie’s influence lasts. Which means I can’t do what I’ve always done whenever I’ve left her before—even just for a weekend. For the first time, I can’t tell Velveteen exactly when we’ll be together again. It’s the one thing the animal communicator told me I should do.

“What I can tell you is that when I come back, we’re going to kick ass.” I sniffle, and Teena looks up from her hay. Her dark brown eyes are so warm, so kind, and then she bends her neck around me, encircling me in a gesture I’ve seen some mares do with their foals but that no other horse has ever done to me. A horse hug is what it is. She squeezes me there, pressing me against her neck. Because she understands.

“Oh my god, look at the poor stable girl crying over leaving her horse.” The cackle comes from the barn aisle behind me. Stephanie. The bitch. From his bed, Mr. Wiggins snarls.Go for it Wiggs. I’m not going to stop you.“You know that horse only ever liked you because you were the one feeding her, don’t you? Just like all the rest of them.”

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