Free The Heart of the Lone Wolf by Montgomery Mahaffey Page A

gently.
    “Little miss,” he said. “Little miss, it’s all right. You’re safe.”
    I opened my eyes and looked into the purity of another soul. The Trainer was leaning over me. His face was pale, but in the depths of his eyes, I saw a kindness born from something other than pity, something beautiful I had never seen in my life. It was so stunning that I couldn’t bear it. I closed my eyes again and started to shake. The trembling was the most violent I’d ever known. It consumed every part of me and I couldn’t make it stop.
    The Trainer made soothing noises and pulled me close. His strength was a
    comfort when he rocked me back and forth. My head was pressed against his chest, the Trainer’s hand warm as he rubbed the length of my back. When I felt the beat of his heart, I started to cry. Nobody had ever touched me like that.
    I could sense my father’s presence when all fell quiet and the Trainer’s arms went stiff. Tension pierced the cocoon. I turned around.
    What I saw didn’t seem quite real. The only motion was the gray colt trotting back and forth with reins trailing along the ground. Several farmers were there, frozen in place. One held the mare by the bridle and another hung his head with rifle in hand.
    A slain dog was not far from his feet. Although they didn’t move, the farmers cast furtive glances between Papa and us. I looked up at the Trainer and saw him glaring at those men in disgust, his hand continuing to stroke my back. Somehow that reassured me.
    Papa scanned the scene for a moment before he dismounted. When his feet
    touched the ground, the farmer who shot the dog rushed to him, full of tears and remorse for his part in the accident. Papa consoled him that no harm had come of it.
    Then he approached us. His touch was strange when he brushed my shoulder lightly. I stared at his hand until he pulled it back.
    “Are you all right?” he finally asked.
    I opened my mouth, but no words came out. So I nodded.
    “Well, pull yourself together, Child. You can ride back with me.”
    Then Papa glanced at the wild gray colt still trotting back and forth and peered at the Trainer.
    “Excellent work,” he said. “I’d like to see you in my study as soon as possible.”
    When I got home, I was put to bed with soup and a thick mug of hot chocolate, my favorite drink. The Doctor came and examined me. He said he couldn’t find any injuries, but the Cook still boiled some hot compresses and my maid pressed them along my back. As I was drifting off, the Cook said the Trainer was given an increase in wages and the responsibility of escorting me on my rides. I frowned, but fell asleep believing that all I heard was from a dream.
    The next morning, when I found out that was true I was both offended and
    excited. I resented losing some of my freedom, but I still remembered how it felt when the Trainer stroked my back. Yet it was a week before I could go to the barn. I had never been afraid to ride in my life, but every night I had nightmares about those moments when I couldn’t control the horse. I always woke up shaking just when the mare threw me off her back. As the days passed, my restlessness grew stronger than my fear and I returned to the stables.
    The Trainer was waiting for me. He must have made even more progress with the wild colt, for the animal now donned both a saddle and bridle. When I saw the black and white mare made ready for me, the blood drained from my face and I had the sudden urge to retch.
    “You know you have to,” he said. “You will always be afraid if you don’t get back on this horse.”
    I nodded because I knew he was right. I also knew the Trainer was right when he insisted we ride along the peach orchard. But the mare tensed when he led us to the place where the dog had attacked, which made me even more uncertain. I had never felt precarious in a saddle before, but on this morning, I was teetering in my seat. The Trainer rode beside us in our first two passes along the