Page 28 of Ride With Me

I wrapped my arms around her. “That’s a perfect name.” I brought my lips to hers. Maybe it was too early, but looking at Savannah in dim light of the early morning barn, it seemed like maybe I was being given a chance to fall in love, too.

Epilogue

Savannah

WereturnedtoBlackstoneon Friday night. Lena and her foal were doing well, and Craig assured us that he’d take good care of them while we were gone.

Logan’s father was released from the hospital the day after Deuce was born. He was doing well in rehab. We’d gone to visit him there, and he’d been thrilled to hear about the new foal. I’d worried that he wouldn’t approve of me staying on the ranch—I hadn’t had the heart to leave just yet—but he’d just given me a wide smile and a wink of approval.

A few weeks after Deuce was born, Logan took a photo of me with the foal. I looked at the photo on my phone, flipping between that and the one of me with Henry.

I took a deep breath. Maybe we all deserved a second chance. I sent a text with the photo of the foal to Dan, the reporter who’d tried to take the photos of me on Henry.

Savannah:This is Deuce. He’s named after second chances, and I’d like to offer you one as well. If you send me your email, I’d like to share some photos and thoughts about my recovery and my own second chance.

Dan was grateful for his second chance. He let me work with him on every aspect of the article, and when it was published, Henry and I were on the cover of the magazine. I smiled at the picture before I flipped to the article and read my own words.

It took me a long time to come back to horses, even longer to come back to riding. I had always competed—showing was in my blood. I knew that the horse I’ve eventually ride, once I was able, would be another great prospect—a great jumper, one with great outlook for dressage, a cross country master.

What I found was Henry. He’s Ace’s clone, right down to the patch on his nose. But he’s not a great dressage prospect. He’s a little asymmetric, his halt not quite square. And he’s not a jumper, in any way. He shies away even from ground poles.

But Henry is what I need. Just maybe, he’s what I needed all those years. A horse that loves me for me, and a horse that I love for him—not because he can jump a certain height, or because of anything he can do for me in competition. But just because he’s him. Because when it comes down to it, it’s all about the connection. That’s the key to the perfect ride.