Excerpt: (Working Title) Young Riders

“Corinne. Are you ready?” A cup of steaming coffee was stuck under her nose, and a warm arm wound itself around her shoulder.
Matter of factly, she shrugged the arm off, offered its owner an icy look, and took the coffee. “Is Celede ready, coach?”
Greg didn’t even look bothered by her chilly response. “She’s in the warm up ring, Jamie’s been walking her around for about ten minutes.”
“Let’s hope she’s not as stiff to the right as she was the last time Jamie warmed her up, shall we?” Corinne asked, quirking an eyebrow up without humor. She sipped the coffee, the warm liquid scalding the top of her mouth as she swallowed. Without looking the handed the still-full cup back to Greg and approached a horse and rider pair along the dark painted wooden rail of the second warmup arena.
“Hey Corinne,” Jamie called out brightly. She was always too chipper for Corinne’s taste. “She feels fantastic today.”
The mare was still wearing her quarter sheet, so Corinne couldn’t see her body, but her eyes were bright and alert, her ears swiveling around in the chaos of the early morning show.
Corinne narrowed her gaze, and nodded curtly to Jamie. Jamie hastily picked up the reins and walked the dark bay mare in a figure eight. She knew that Corinne liked to watch her horses move before she got on. After the pair had trotted and the second figure eight, Corinne held up her hand. Jamie dutifully brought the mare back down to a walk, finally stopping directly in front of her.
“You use your spur too much. Learn to turn your toe in, or you won’t be riding my horse anymore.”
Jamie nodded curtly, though Corinne detected the slightest bit of hurt in her face.
“She looks good otherwise. Looks ready to go.” Jamie nodded again, this time more satisfied, and slid off the mare. She quickly changed her stirrup leathers for the ones that Greg carried under his jacket, and held the mare for Corinne to mount.
Greg, now all business, checked the girth for her once she was mounted, and the breatcollar too. “Good to go. I’ve set that fence over there at 3’6 as a warm up, I’d like to see it once both directions.”
She leveled a look at him that spoke the volumes that she refused to voice; that she knew how to warm up horses, that this one was no different than any other she’d warmed up. That this show was no different than the millions of other shows she’d been to. That this year was just another year, despite her deciding to finally go for the star in her tiara that she should have had years ago. That this was her last chance to get there; but she didn’t say anything. Simply picked up the reins, and pushed the lithe mare into a smart canter.
She relaxed ever so slightly as the horse moved purposefully below her, with her, through her. There wasn’t a step out of place, a twitch she didn’t anticipate, everything was perfectly and wonderfully and blissfully under control.