Throw Your Heart Over

Chapter Two Part 3

Chapter Two

The farm was dark as Nicholas turned off county road 8. He was tired and more than glad to be home. It had been two grueling weeks - the long drive to Florida, competing, and then travelling to look at more horses. The shows had gone well, and the looking around, not as well. Like any show jumper, he was looking for that next great horse who could carry him to the top.

He pulled into the yard, and was surprised to notice an unfamiliar car. The accountant, right. Chris. He'd forgotten. He'd mostly forgotten about his accounting issues, and focussed on his riding. He hadn't found the horse of his dreams, but he had done well in the competitions and he'd enjoyed his time with other jumpers. It was difficult, sometimes, to make people understand what drove him. The other showjumpers didn't think he was obsessive, or try to convince him to move to the city. And now he was back home, with the Canadian jumping season ahead of him. He was optimistic that he could do well - his horses were healthy and doing better all the time.

Since there was now someone living in the house, he tried to be quiet while he unloaded the horses. The students who were due to arrive for the summer were deep sleepers, but he considered it possible that Chris, having been unwell, might be more easily disturbed. Catspaw, his speed horse, was nervous but happy to be home. She moved restlessly, but always unloaded better than she loaded, and he soon had her in her stall. The next horse, Max, never caused trouble. The Rocket, of course, thrived on being contrary. As if he sensed the need for quiet, he balked, shook his head, tried to rear, and clattered down the trailer ramp with as much noise as he could muster.

Getting the horses unloaded was only the first step, and it took Nicholas a while to get everything put away. He was tired - but that he was used to. He was a one man operation, and that wasn't easy, but he knew his horses inside and out, and everything was done the way he liked it. He believed that helped him compete. He was willing to trade off some fatigue for that.

The nights were still chilly, but Nicholas took a moment to breathe in the fresh clean air.

This was his place. This was his home, his place to put down roots. There had been a time as a kid when he'd been uprooted, and constantly moving. When he'd finally been left here with his grandparents, he'd been so accustomed to moving around that he had taken a while to unpack and feel safe and settled. Now that the place was his, he was never leaving. He may never had been part of the community around the farm, but as long as he had his horses, and could follow his dream, he didn't need that.

Bit by bit he was building the old farm up to be an enviable facility. Someday he hoped it would be a place where he could have students, and staff, a place where people and horses came to excel at show jumping, but for now, it was just him, and his horses - and now, the accountant. He pulled the truck and trailer into the shed, and entered the house quietly.

He could feel a difference in the house. Different smells, things moved slightly. He wondered how she'd done, this waif like woman he'd gambled on. He decided to take a quick look and see. He flicked the light on in the office and almost dropped his duffle.

The piles of paper were gone. He wondered if she'd just hidden them, and opened a file drawer, and saw rows of neatly labelled folders. There were a couple of folders by the computer with names like "To be Posted" "To be Paid" and "Questions" on them. Even the folder of questions was fairly thin.

Whatever else Christine Rickard might be, she was a good filer, he thought. And organized. He hoped the rest of her work would be equally impressive.