The Glory Game by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online

it. With the way clear, they both started forward, leading their horses. The swish of horses striding through the grass was accompanied by the muffled thud of hooves and the odd rattle of a curb chain or lead shank. They were faint echoes of the game, played at a slower speed, and his thoughts started to wander back.
    â€œWhat did you think of the game?” Again her voice intruded on his thoughts.
    He’d already recognized the horses she was leading, especially the gray from Jake Kincaid’s old string. Raul had played against Kincaid many times, but never for him. Kincaid had approached him in the past when he was putting together a team for a particular tournament, but there had always beena conflict of schedules. The old man had been a tough competitor, playing the game well into his sixties, and had continued to sponsor teams after he could no longer play. The string of ponies was testament to the quality of teams he put together, and the grandson had ridden the best of them today, playing the Number One position.
    â€œIt was a good contest.” Politically, there was little else he could say to someone on the losing side.
    â€œIt would have been a good contest if you throw out the fifth chukkar,” she mocked good-naturedly. “You spoiled an awful lot of Rob’s shots. Of course, your horses were better than his.”
    â€œHe has an excellent string of ponies, especially that gray.” The best money could buy or train.
    â€œI’m afraid the old gray ain’t what he used to be.” She shook her head to reinforce her opinion. “He’s seventeen years old.”
    â€œIs that why he was afraid to ride him?” Raul wondered absently.
    â€œRob? Afraid?” The young girl came to an abrupt stop, a sudden anger flashing in her dark eyes. “What do you mean by that? My brother isn’t afraid to ride anything.”
    Pausing, he arched a brow in surprise. “Your brother? Then you are—”
    â€œA Kincaid, yes.” There was something more than indignant anger in the decisive snap of her answer, as if she resented the name. “Who did you think I was?”
    â€œThe groom.” Raul smiled dryly at his own mistake.
    She appeared frozen for an instant, then the temper that had flared so quickly dissolved into a laugh as she looked down at her stable clothes. “I guess I do look like a stablehand. I promised Rob I’d help with the horses today. It sounded like more fun than sitting with the family.” She started forward, resuming the walk. “By the way, my name’s Trisha. Trisha Thomas. And yours is Raul Buchanan.” With a half-turn of her head, she eyed him. “Why did you say Rob was afraid?” This time there was more curiosity than demand in her voice.
    Since he had made the critical observation, Raul felt compelled to support it. “Toward the end of every chukkar, I noticed that he let his mount go wide on the turns, and he did not use his spurs or go to the whip. He saved the pony.”
    â€œSome of them aren’t young horses anymore. They weretired.” She was quick to come to her brother’s defense. “I don’t see that what he did was so wrong.”
    â€œGames are not won by sparing your pony. It is an athlete. A rider cannot be concerned whether his mount is tired. Whatever the command, the horse must obey, and if he protests, the rider must make him obey. The horse has to push itself the same way a man pushes himself to do more than he thinks he can. At no point should your brother have cared whether his horse was too tired to make a hard run. And if they were too tired to play competently, he should have switched to a fresh horse during that chukkar of play instead of waiting until it was over.” When he’d finished, Raul looked at her. “I am sure I sound very harsh to you.”
    â€œYes,” she answered frankly. “But it fits. You were relentless out there