Dreaming of Tomorrow. Susan Kohler

competitors wind up in the burgers.”

      “You’re kidding!” Emily shrieked, laughing.

      “You’d better believe it.” David laughed at her expression, earning himself a playful punch on the arm. “These folks love their horses.”

      They walked over to where David had parked his small RV with the horse trailer. David pulled the bridle off Target and hung it on the saddle horn, then he hooked the left stirrup on the horn and loosened the cinch. He slipped a halter on Target. There was a big net filled with hay for him to munch on.

      “Don’t you tie him up?” Emily asked.

      “Nope. As long as he has some hay, he’ll stay put.” David grinned. “I wouldn’t recommend this with most of these horses, though.”

      “How is he?” She asked with concern. “Did the fall injure him?”

      “He’s walking fine.” David knelt and felt the horse’s legs, finding no heat, swelling or tenderness in them. “And I can’t find anything wrong with his legs. I’ll see how he is after lunch. Let’s eat.”

      David offered Target some water from a bucket and fed him a handful of grain and a carrot. Then he gave the big horse a pat and held open the RV door for Emily.

      “Why did you leave the stirrup up?” Emily asked as she followed him into the motor home.

      “So I remember to tighten the cinch up again before I remount. It’s one of my old habits.” He dug into the refrigerator. “You can wash up in there, through the bedroom.” David pointed. “Would you like another beer or some iced tea with your lunch?”

      “I’ll take a beer.” Emily followed the direction David pointed.

      The bathroom was large for an RV, and the counter was filled with cosmetics. There was a large, well-lit mirror above the counter with a swivel chair in front of it.

      Emily caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sighed as she began to wash her face.

      How could any man spend time talking to her, she wondered. Her self-doubt doubled as she looked around the motor home and saw a small framed picture sitting on the dresser. It was a picture of a woman, a woman with uncommon beauty. She realized it was Nicole without the dust and dirt. Still, she seemed strangely familiar. No way she could compete with that, she thought.

      Emily jolted with surprise. When had she stopped thinking of this as a pleasant interlude and started thinking of ways to compete for David? She might as well enter the Olympics. She made a face at the mirror and thought: Hey! I can be the Jamaican bobsled team of love.

      Was this the kind of woman he dated? Emily gasped as she finally recognized her. The woman in the picture was Nikki Silver, one of the top models in the country. She was on the cover of at least one magazine a month. Her good looks were pure and classic: perfect features, flawless skin, and dazzling almond-shaped eyes, brilliant blue eyes. Shoot! Emily thought to herself, I should have realized David would know a woman like that. Stunning, rich, and famous, it figured, three things she would never be. Emily knew she was a good person, not perfect but fairly smart, witty and caring. She also knew that her outer appearance hid her inner qualities. How could she ever hope to compete with Nikki Silver?

      When she walked back to the small kitchen table, David had already washed up at the kitchen sink. He had pulled several containers of food out from the fridge and had set out paper plates and taken the lids off most of the containers by the time she emerged.

      There was a beer sitting by her plate.

      “This officially doubles my beer consumption for the entire last year.” She grinned, holding up the bottle.

      “We’ll sign you up for A. A. next week.” He grinned back then said, “Have some chicken.”

      “I’d love some,” she said firmly, “but first I want to take a look at that cut on your forehead.”

      “It’s no big deal. That big clumsy lump out there just forgot to watch out for me when he was getting up,” David protested, but he sat still and let her look at the cut.

      “You’re right. It’s minor.” Emily grinned. “Now I can enjoy my lunch.”

      “But that’s not my worst injury,” David protested.

      “Oh really? Where else did you get hurt?” Emily was concerned.

      “Where I landed.” David grinned. “On my . . .”

      He stood up and reached for his belt buckle.

      “Never mind, in that case you’ll have to take care of the problem all by yourself.” Emily laughed, grabbing a piece of chicken.

      “Darn.” He grinned back at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Chapter Four

      Along with the fried chicken, there was homemade coleslaw and potato salad, and a crisp green salad, biscuits with honey and butter, and chocolate cake. There was also some carrot and celery sticks, and cottage cheese. They sat there talking companionably while they ate.

      “This looks fantastic.” She sipped her beer then asked, “Do you always eat this well at horse shows?”

      “Not usually,” David smiled back at her. “I just had my sister’s RV this time. She travels a lot. She also cooked the lunch, by the way.”

      “Then shouldn’t we save some for her?” Emily asked.

      “Not much, she cooked it for me.” He smiled. “She loves to cook but she has a really small appetite. Thank goodness.”

      “I’ll echo that.” Emily grinned at him.

      “So what do you think of your first horse show?” David asked her.

      “Well, it’s hot, dirty, long and yet fast paced.” She paused. “I like it except for these darn jeans. I thought they were supposed to be comfortable but these are stiff as a board.”

      “Wash them several times with lots of fabric softener.” David paused for a long swallow of his cola. “Not all horse shows are like this. Apart from gymkhana events, there are equitation events where horses are judged for their manners and riders are judged for their seat and hands. Those events are run in both Western and English divisions. They can be almost boring to watch unless you know what to look for. Then there’s also show jumping, dressage and so on. This is just the tip of the iceberg.” He looked at her with mischief in his eyes. “I already told you about the differences between horse shows and most other sports.”

      “Well, yes, you sit on poor innocent animals while you compete,” Emily teased, then continued, “and men and women compete against each other as equals.”

      “It’s a bit different in the judged events. There are trainers involved, and the trainers get clients by having their students win. So, of course, in some cases there can be favoritism. Still, there’s a feeling of fair play for the most part. Most of the judged events have all the riders in the arena at once.” David smiled. “That makes it harder to cheer on your competition.”

      “Back to gymkhana, do you like competing against women?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.

      “I don’t mind competing against women unless they beat me,” David grinned, “and believe me, that happens more often than I care to admit.”

      “What do you do when you’re not riding in horse shows?” Emily asked.

      “I’m a lawyer, mainly corporate these days but I also do a bit of entertainment law.” He shook his head ruefully. “I used to do criminal defense, but I got tired of defending so many people who really did the terrible things they were accused of doing. Many times I thought they should be in prison or worse, which made it hard to give them the kind of defense I was