Romance Novels

 Chapter One

Some folks are born to play the piano, some are born to write, but others are born to ride to anchor their soul, to set their spirit free and to find peace in a topsy, turbulent world.

 

Riley thought back to the beginning as she caressed the neck of the yellow horse. She thought she must have been a baby when she fell in love with horses. Yet why. Why was she drawn to her current life, where she shared it with a horse? Parlee was ready. She shook her head, saying, “Let me go!” After two more runners, they would call Riley’s name, so she set the thought aside because she needed to be present and focused, living in the moment.

~

 Riley heard a familiar sound that rang clip-clop on the paved street. It occurred several times per week in the neighborhood. As she ran across squeaking floorboards to the window, still clumsy at three, she tripped over a rug to her knees. Scrambling to stand, she made it to the windowpane gripping the casement as she heard a cart approaching.

 

A well-known cry could be heard through the neighborhood.  Despite not understanding why a black man was singing “Wat-o-melons” while standing in the bed of a battered wooden wagon, she patted her hands together in joy.

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 Natalie knew her granddaughter well; she loved the mule. Mamaw grabbed her grandchild and rushed out the front door into the sweltering heat of the South. “It’s a horse, hon, a horsey.”

The creature’s horseshoes, the size of a plate, made the unusual metal notes on the pavement that Riley heard weekly. And the smell of sweat, dirt, and dung, the earthy smell of the old animal at the curb, made her grin with delight. Oblivious to its height, she wanted to climb on its back, but Natalie pulled her away.

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“I think yo’ chil’ like Henry.”

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Mamaw nodded. “I believe she does. Um, these vegetables are the freshest in town, Theodore. Here is your money.”

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Natalie smelled the fresh soil aroma of the produce that reminded her of the farm as she walked to the house. Riley ignored the brown sack. It was the mysterious, hairy thing with enormous ears that fascinated her. She watched it over her grandmother’s shoulder on the way to the door.

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She pressed her cheek to the window once inside home. The wagon glided past the huge juniper bush of their neighbor, and the sound of metal shoes scuffing against the tarmac subsided. Mamaw was singing in another room. Riley forgot the mule as she ran to the kitchen to see what the bag held.

~

Margaret Ann Davies pulled the net from her dark hair, shaking it till it fell to her shoulders. Still young, her skin was smooth and clear. Since her husband, Riley Edgar  Davies, had passed away two years earlier, leaving her a widow, she’d accepted the fact that she was alone with a child. She cherished her deceased husband and knew his memories would last a lifetime, but she wished he had known his daughter, who was a mirror image of her daddy. She thanked God every day for her mother, who had moved in to care for Riley. Life insurance money had paid for a car and supplied a down payment on the tiny house. Natalie, her mother, helped with moving their belongings into their new home. Now, being a live-in babysitter  for her granddaughter was a blessing that kept her busy in her retired years.

 

Doubly, it gave Margaret peace of mind for her baby daughter’s safekeeping while working odd shifts at the Kellogg’s plant. The pay at the plant was decent for running a piece of equipment, and the co-workers were congenial. Margaret was alone despite the company of her mother and daughter. She was only twenty-four and longed for someone else to come into her life.. Despite the time that had passed, she still had trouble sleeping alone.

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Bobby Joe was a shift manager at the corporation, a bachelor, and the last surviving member of no immediate family. Robert Sanders, often known as Bobby Joe, had blond hair that was buzzed in a military manner and was 35 years old. His impressive biceps were a clear sign he was a heavy lifter at the gym. His good looks drew women in easily, but none he wanted to tie the knot with. After laying eyes on Margaret, he knew he wanted to start a family with her and be together. Until he knew her better, he remained quiet to not complicate matters regarding the fact that she had drawn him in from the beginning.

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“Margaret?”

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“Hi, Bobby, is everything okay?”

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“Yeah. Fine. Just making sure you have no questions you want to ask. Uh, your shift going okay? Any problems with anyone?”

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“Not that I know of. Can’t think of any. But if I do, I’ll tell you first.” After a week of being on the job, she noticed her attractive line manager would come by every day after she was done with her shift, smiling and chatting with her. They had no personal conversation, nor did she know his intentions. He was a fair boss and a good-looking one. He seemed nice, and she enjoyed his attention, but she prayed that the other personnel wouldn’t see it as preferential treatment.

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Two months later, he followed her as she left the building. Before he opened her car door, he asked her out.

A year later, they married, and Margaret became a stay-at-home mom. Bobby adored his new daughter as if she were his own. Thankful, Margaret believed she was the luckiest woman in the world. Life was brief, she had learned. She would do her best to make Bobby happy. And he was.

 

Chapter Two

There seemed to be no cure for the itch, therefore,

there’d be no peace until they scratched it.

 

Riley’s fourth birthday had passed. Ever since, her favorite dialog was, “Please, Daddy, I want a horse.” Her parents finally gave in to her repeated requests for a horse when she was seven years old. Since they had no prior horse-care expertise, they went to a nearby stable and quietly introduced themselves to the owner. After a few questions, they learned that owning a horse or a pint-size pony involved lots of work and expense to keep.

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Months later, her dad received a call from a new acquaintance they had met at the horse facility. “Hey, Bobby, found your kid a pony. He’s a nice one. The owner’s son has outgrown him. They say he is gentle and has no habits of biting or kicking. The owner guarantees the pony is a babysitter and safe for a child.”

Bobby and Margaret discussed it at length and decided this was the one. Taking their friend’s advice, the previous owners delivered the pony, and they presented Snowman to Riley on her eighth birthday. “Happy birthday, Riley! Look what we have for you!”

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Riley uncovered her eyes, looking from the pony to each parent, a look of joy on her face. Speechless, she hugged the pony’s neck, then Bobby and Margaret.

“The pony is your only birthday present this year, honey, because he’s a big one! Daddy and I believed that this big gift would make you happier than several little ones.”

Riley understood, happy with the one thing she had ever wanted.

~

By junior high school, Riley was too tall for Snowball, so they sold him to another family. Riley’s new horse was Biscuit––a small horse––but a horse. Bobby Joe built a barn to store the lawnmower, hay, weed eater, the horse, and bought a trailer. They were full-blown horse owners now. With Biscuit, Riley’s natural training talent grew, too. It wasn’t long before Biscuit could bow, pick up obstacles on command, pivot, and spin. In the summer months, Riley spent days with the young girls at the stable, helping them with their horses.

~

Bobby set the mashed potato bowl on the table. “Hmmmm, yeah. What’s a barrel run?”

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“It’s a sport, mostly a girls’ rodeo event. Cynthia—you remember from the stable, showed me an article about it in a magazine, and we’ve been practicing barrel runs. The boys ride bucking horses, bulls, and rope calves. The other girls at the stables have been learning to run  barrels. It’s so much fun.”

“Bobby, you’ve seen it on television, hon, horses run into an arena, turn around three barrels, run back to the start, and the fastest one wins,” Margaret explained.

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“Oh, yeah.” Bobby Joe commented between mouthfuls.

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“There can be ten or five hundred runners, Dad. It takes a fast horse to win. I’ve decided I want to do that and, of course, want to win. Did you know you can win money?”

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Margaret stared at Riley, knowing where the conversation was going.

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Encouraged that her father was still talking and listening, Riley continued. “A boarder brought a different horse to the stable. After a week of riding Money—”

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“Money?”

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“His horse’s name is Money. He said it’s too fidgety, and that’s why he’s selling it. Strange name for a horse, isn’t it, Dad?”

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“Well, I dunno, Biscuit—”

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“I asked to ride him, and after an hour, I couldn’t find any bad habits or physical issues with the horse. I need something faster than Biscuit to teach to run barrels. He’s a registered gelding and has a Thoroughbred background. He’s fast, Dad.”

​

Her parents weren’t rich. Her only card was convincing them she’d take care of the horse by herself.

“Please come with me to see him, Dad. I know he’s going to make a good barrel horse. I’ll clean the stall, feed, do all the work. You won’t have to care for it, I’ll even brush it. I’ll do everything. We can sell Biscuit and use the money to help pay for Money, so he won’t cost too much.”

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Margaret leaned forward, raised fork in hand. “Riley, please don’t start at the table.” She could hear an intense yearning in Riley’s plea,  and was aware that Riley would press Bobby until she had her way.

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Riley usually bode her time when her mother became stubborn. But this day was different. She stirred her food around on the plate, then lay her fork on it, seeking the right words to convey to her parents they needed to buy Money before someone else did. The stable manager  agreed the dark sorrel was an impressive mover, with a calm manner, but  plenty of energy in reserve. Riley  was convinced that this horse was the perfect choice.

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Clinching her jaw, Riley swallowed half the words she was going to say. Disrespect would get you nowhere with her mother. “Mom, I didn’t try out for cheer leading, ask for a new car for graduation, or need Saks Fifth Avenue blue jeans. I’m sixteen now, and having horses in my life is important to me, if not to you, and it’s not a whim.” Riley sent an appeal to Bobby with a glance.

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“My first year of senior high is looming ahead. I’m thinking of majoring in Agricultural Business and Production. Working outdoors is something I enjoy, and in college, there’s Business or Animal Science. I can pick up a scholarship at school-sponsored rodeos. Like a football or track scholarship. Did you realize that, Mom? My plan is to find a fast horse to win me a pass to a university.”

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Margaret gave Bobby Joe a suffering expression. “Dad and I will support whatever career you choose. But decisions can change if you make them too early. Think again about your college plans. There’s no hurry.” Margaret refilled her tea glass, hoping they’d ended the conversation.

Bobby knew Riley would not give up; she and Margaret were peas in a pod. A teenager asking for a horse was not bad. He believed it kept many young girls occupied and away from boys. With only one income, the downfall was the expense.

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“Riley, honey, we want you to have all your heart’s desires, and the things you’ve wanted . . . blankets, saddles, bridles,” her dad said. “We help from the sidelines every weekend, take you to barrel races near Jackson. Even gone to Kentucky to a few. Can’t wait till you have your own driver’s license.”

​

Bobby laughed, but did not get the response he wanted. Riley’s mouth formed a thin line, not giving him the response he wanted.. Had her mother set his mind against her, too?

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“When we purchased the second horse, I was afraid you or your mom might get hurt,” Bobby said. “Snowman and Biscuit taught us a few lessons. Your mom’s learned to avoid the back end of all large four-legged animals with hooves.”

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Had her mother set his mind against her, too? Frustrated, Riley repressed the urge to tell him the horse was not for her mother. She withheld the comment, knowing aggravating her parents would not solve the issue. Dark brows lowered in a frown; she pushed her chair from the table. 

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“Dad, Biscuit is at his peak. He’s a great little horse. The keyword is little, and he’s too slow to win anything. There are kids at the stable whose family would buy him. The barn owner also wants him for his young students’ riding classes. It won’t be a problem to recover your money. I’ve done more reading on barrel horses, and I want to do it well. Doing it correctly requires a swift horse that I’d keep for a long, long time. I’m not asking any more than a change in horsepower, just one horsepower.”

​

Natalie carried on eating as her family discussed the possibility of getting a new horse. She heard yearning in Riley’s voice, same as John’s. And like her grandfather wanted to play baseball, Riley wanted horses in her life. She nurtured a crazy, do-or-die passion that, if lost, could forge lifelong regrets. She listened keeping her thoughts to herself. Her input would only fuel the fire.

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“Thank God it’s not a Ferrari.” Bobby Joe heard Margaret’s under-the-breath comment as she shrugged her shoulders.

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Riley heard it, too. Hopeless, she exited the house through the patio door.

~

A week later, Bobby invited his daughter to join him at the table, saying, “Honey, come sit with me, and we’ll have a talk.” He knew his daughter was almost grown and that their time together was limited while she was still a child. Who knew what else would happen in her life? College was approaching, as she pointed out.

 

Riley followed her dad without a word. . . .

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Excerpt from The Four Steps by permission of Cam Locke Copyright © 2022. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.