A Mare and Bilinguals Ch4

Ironically enough, the next time I saw Tristan was at the racetrack. No, not the raceway, the racetrack. The one with horses and betting and tiny people in funny outfits.

At sixteen, I still wasn't allowed to bet or drink or smoke. So, I did something that brought me back to my childhood on the farm. I went to see the horses.

There were jockeys all around the stables, so short they made me feel like an Amazonian warrior. On the other hand, almost all of the trainers were obnoxiously tall.

I passed the stables and walked straight to the small, fenced-in ring where a chestnut mare grazed on a small patch of grass.

Climbing onto the bottom slat of the fence, I leaned over, holding my hand out to the horse on the other side of the ring. "Here, lady. C'mere pretty girl." Slowly, she trotted over, cocking her head to the side as if studying me. I put my hand on her snout, stroking the small white patch that she had there. Closing her wide brown eyes, she leaned into my hand, nuzzling the sensitive flesh of my palm.

"What's your name, bella cavalla?" I whispered softly.

"You know, I don't think she's gonna be answerin' you. I mean, last time I checked, Starlight didn't speak English . . . or whatever that was."

Turning around slowly, I warily eyed the man speaking. Jumping down, I fisted my hands and propped them on my hips. "It's Italian, thank you very much. And of course she doesn't. She's obviously Arabian."

This sarcastic remark gained a slight grin from the blue-eyed man. Wait…

"Your eyes…" Unconsciously, I stepped forward to get a closer look. Tripping over my own feet, I began falling face-first toward the ground, but gravity suddenly stopped working and I was suspended about a foot off the ground.

"Whoa, there, little filly. Don't hurt yourself." Looking up into those familiar yet unidentifiable eyes, I realized that he had caught me.

Pulling myself free of his arms, I took a couple steps away. "Don't call me that; I'm not a horse."

"Is that so?" The tall brunette had a strong southern accent that authenticated his Stetson and flannel-shirt-tucked-into-jeans outfit. "Well, I'm sorry then, malyutka." Tipping his hat, he winked playfully. "You're not the only one who's bilingual, little' darlin'."

Blushing, I tried to cover up his affect on me by babbling. "Is that Russian? That is so cool! What does it mean?" Turning back, I resumed petting the horse.

"It means 'little' or 'little one,' I guess, but that's a rough translation." He grinned, leaning over to pat Starlight's flank. His twinkling eyes gazed right into mine. "So, you wanna ride her?"
________________________________________________________________________

Somehow, in the back of my mind, I knew that this question was just the start of a whole new adventure.