Free Chance Meeting by Laura Moore Page A

long for Meghan to figure out that the girls’ horses had to be placed in adjacent stalls back at her barn. Otherwise, Ty and Lizzie would have driven everyone nuts, scurrying up and down the aisle, wasting time that could be spent grooming and riding.
    “Maybe the jump-off for your class won’t be very big, and you can catch her in the hunter ring.”
    “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” Ty folded Meghan’s dollar bill in half. “Back in a bit,” she promised with a cheerful smile. Meghan saw Ty’s gaze travel over the crowded show grounds, locating her bodyguard with astonishing ease. Sam Brody had been standing off to the side, near a large group of spectators. With all the milling about of horses, riders, and grooms, it would have taken Meghan a good five minutes before she was able to spot him. But not Ty. It was as if she were equipped with some kind of sensor that told her where Sam was waiting, inconspicuous to everyone but her. What an unnerving existence this girl lived. When you were around Ty, she was nothing if not low-key about herself. Yet there were moments, sudden and illuminating, such as now, when you witnessed her ability to spot her personal bodyguard in a crowd, that it struck home how constant a burden such incredible wealth must be.
    Meghan had known Sam Brody for years now, ever since Ty had joined Meghan’s private riding club. In Meghan’s opinion, Sam was one of the chief reasons Ty had turned out as remarkably unaffected and unpretentious as she was. His presence in her life had helped her avoid the pitfalls Meghan had observed in so many rich kids. She hadn’t turned into a spoiled brat or a rebel, intent on getting the world’s (or, in Ty’s case, her father’s) attention by acting up, either with drugs or with wild behavior. She was a good, decent kid caught in a bizarre world of someone else’s making.
    It was another twenty-five minutes before Ty was back in the saddle, ready to test her skill in the jump-off. The whole concept of the jump-off was still novel to her, for it was markedly different from the way classes were won in the Hunter and Equitation divisions. In hunter classes, horses were judged in terms of their performance, manners, style of jumping, and conformation. In equitation, judges looked for the excellence of the rider’s technique, the skill and harmony horse and rider displayed over the flat and over fences.
    But the Jumper division didn’t rely on the judges’ subjective opinions; rather, the challenge lay in completing the jump course itself. In the case of the jump-off, the need for a clear round and a faster time than one’s fellow competitors increased the challenge that much more. Intermittent gusts of wind were blowing bits of litter across the show grounds. Leaves on the trees rustled loudly enough to make idle chatter impossible. Which suited Ty fine. She needed a moment to take a deep breath and steady her nerves. Her back ruler-straight as she sat astride Charisma, Ty waited for the show official to give her the sign to proceed into the ring. Her eyes were glued to the jump course in front of her, going over the order of the fences, picturing in her mind what she wanted to do at each point along the course, how her body would bend and shift with Charisma’s larger one, helping her horse as much as she could. She lifted a gloved hand to finger her silver medallion hidden underneath the cotton rat-catcher she wore. The official’s voice reached her.
    “Number 317,” the voice called, loud enough to be heard over the group of riders waiting by the in-gate. Seeing Ty’s raised hand, the man nodded. “You’re up.”
    “Go get ‘em, Ty,” Sam encouraged, a smile lighting his tawny eyes as she gathered her reins and headed toward the in-gate. Ty smiled briefly, but didn’t say anything, her mind focused exclusively on the task ahead of her.
    Charisma trotted through the gate, moving into a graceful, fluid canter as Ty increased the