Free No One's Hero (Chadwell Hearts) by Kelly Walker Page B

why Madison is jealous that I’m assigned to him instead of her.
    I spare a brief glance across the ring, watching Madison guide a quiet gray mare through a lead change. The horse does as requested, but the movements are robotic and stiff. Her mare is older, she’s lost most of her dapples, and there’s not much spring left in her step as she plods along, doing only what’s demanded of her—nothing more, nothing less. Samurai attempts to slow to a walk, rather than the easy trot I’ve asked him for, but I keep my leg firm and give him my full attention once more.
    “Don’t let him get away with that, Alexis. He’s going to test you,” Professor Blessing reminds me from the center of the ring. “Right now, he’s got you working harder than he is.” Her reprimand stings, because I thought I was doing a pretty damn good job of handling him. I resist the urge to glare at Madison. Even though I don’t think Samurai would be nearly so antsy if she hadn’t upset him earlier, I refuse to make excuses. I’ll just have to do better.
    “Madison! Your legs are as sloppy as if you just fell out of a pasta press. I know you can do better than that.”
    “But it’s not my fault! She’s all over the place, tripping over her own two feet. I don’t know why you put me on this stupid nag.”
    The flippant way she blames her horse for her own shortcoming is the final straw, and I decide instantly that I hate her. So far, I’m seriously striking out. My illusions of making lots of friends at college is rapidly slipping away, and for a brief moment I’m glad Kevin is here, because at least I’m not totally alone. Then I remember all the annoying things he’s done in the short time I’ve known him, and the moment’s gone.
    “A skilled rider needs to make the best of whatever mount they’re given.” Professor Blessing’s voice is clipped, and I don’t blame her. I’m not sure yet if I like her—hell, I’m not even sure if she likes me—but I think she’s wise.
    “You can’t expect me to make up for a bad mount. My daddy’s going to hear about this, and I’ll be on a better mount before the end of the week.”
    The only thing more shocking than her audacity is Blessing’s response. “Alexis, ride in and dismount. You too, Madison. You’re right, I shouldn’t have put you on Vandal. You and Alexis can switch.”
    I’m at a complete loss for words as I ride into the center of the ring. Professor Blessing holds Samurai’s reins while I dismount, purposefully avoiding her gaze to make sure I don’t say or do something to embarrass myself. Unlike Madison, I can’t just demand and take whatever I want. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I’m not sure if it is only Madison’s outburst that changed the professor’s mind about our mount assignments, or if my own shortcomings played a role. I’ve never felt like such a failure as a rider as I do now, having the opportunity to ride a horse like Samurai ripped away from me.
    Madison dismounts and shoves her reins into my hands. “Hold her while I get my saddle off her.”
    I’m sorely tempted to knock that smug smile right off her face.
    Professor Blessing slides my borrowed saddle off Samurai’s back, putting it on Vandal’s instead. It might be wrong of me, but I can’t even look at my newly assigned mount. Instead, I gaze at the wall, blinking back stubborn tears.
    “Do you need a leg up?” Professor Blessing asks me as Madison rides away, looking confident and poised.
    I shake my head. Vandal’s a good hand—or four inches—shorter than Samurai, and I have no trouble mounting without assistance. Vandal is slighter all around, with a classic Arabian build. She moves away from my leg willingly enough, doing just as I asked without hesitation and trotting to the rail. She’s quiet, listening intently for my commands, ready to obey. And while that’s pleasant enough, she’s not Samurai.
    “Don’t over-ride her, Alexis. She’s not going to need