Part 41 - Tally Ho

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~~This chapter dedicated to Martha Sitwell who always looks freaking amazing on horseback!~~


Samantha


Luckily for Harry, my sharp response—which might not have been very romantic—was cut off as we reached the meet.

For a few minutes everything was shrouded in fog, the red coats of the Masters glowing in the mist, the unearthly disembodied barking of hounds loud as horses appeared and disappeared around us. Simon rode off to find the Field Secretary and pay our capping fees and hand off our waivers, leaving Harry and I relatively alone for a moment.

"We'll ride in the second flight, behind the seasoned horses and riders. Choco can jump pretty much any obstacle we're likely to encounter, but if you're not feeling up to it you can just go around. There's no shame in taking it easy your first time out," Harry said, giving me a smile. "I want this to be a fun time for you."

"And where will you be?" I asked.

"At your side, of course. I can take the lead over the jumps if that will help you spot your distance. How much jumping have you done?"

I gave him a tight smile. "Some. But I get the feeling that this is nothing like a tame Handy Hunter class in a horse show."

"Probably not, but it's way more fun."

A gentleman in a red coat popped out of the thinning fog and stopped next to Harry. Touching the brim of his hunting helmet, he murmured something that sounded like "Your Royal Highness." Looking at me he asked, "This your first time riding with the hounds?"

"Yes, sir," I answered. "I'm looking forward to it."

The Master smiled.

"Lord Baybrooke, I'll take responsibility for Samantha and see that she gets around safely," Harry said, looking serious.

"You're in good hands, then," the Master told me. He nodded at Harry and rode off.

"You're looking nervous again," Harry observed.

"How can I be nervous, when I'm in good hands?" I asked. Dropping my voice, I added, "Actually, I quite like being in your hands, now that I mention it..."

In a matter of moments the fog cleared and I could see that we were in a group of 40 or so other riders—a medium-sized group, Harry told me, as he kept up a running commentary while the Masters prepared to release the hounds. "If you forget everything else, remember this. Don't get in front of the Field Master and by the gods don't let Choco kick one of the hounds."

And then the horn sounded, the hounds were loosed, and the hunt was on.


It was not nearly as dramatic and exciting as I thought it would be. We were far behind the hounds, so for a long time it felt like we were out for a simple ride across the countryside. We trotted down roads and cantered along the borders of fields, and every now and then the pace picked up and we galloped for a bit. True to his word, Harry paced the bay to Choco's strides and remained stirrup to stirrup with me. When we approached a brushy hedge or low stone wall he took the lead over the jumps, and Choco was only too happy to follow his stablemate over everything.

There was a lot of standing around too, and I didn't understand enough of the horn blasts to understand what was going on. The pace was a bit too fast to exchange more than a few words at a time with Harry, but I was having a good time. This hunting stuff was not nearly as scary as I thought it would be. It was positively tame.

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