Deleted Scene From “Forgotten Reins”

WHAT I’M CURRENTLY READING: A Soldier’s Devotion by Cheryl Wyatt.

WORK IN PROGRESS: 79,224 words

As you know, my current work in progress is coming to a close. It makes my heart pound just thinking about finally being able to flip over the last page of this story. But I’ve got to admit, I’m also anxious to move on to the next story that’s been floating around in my subconscious.

The log line for my current work in progress goes  like this, “Sometimes the cost of saving a life is worth paying the price of yesterday’s sorrows.”

Working title: FORGOTTEN REINS, although I’ve been leaning toward renaming it SEVEN DOLLAR BRIDE, we’ll see when I’ve finished up the current re-write. (I say “current” because there is no such thing as a “final re-write” until the story actually hits print.)

Today, I decided to delete a scene. It wasn’t really moving the story along. So, I decided to share it since it won’t be in the final version.

Sarah and Michael are my two main characters, they’re at dinner party hosted by Michael’s step-father, Harold Kingsley. Most everyone at this dinner party is affiliated some way or another in horse racing, and this scene takes place in Lexington Kentucky.

FORGOTTEN REINS – DELETED SCENE

“Sarah, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Michael placed his hand at the small of her back directing her through the crowd. 

They walked up to a small group of men laughing and listening to Harold Kingsley entertain them with another one of his horse stories. Michael wedged them into the circle. When Harold was finished, Michael tapped an older gentleman on the shoulder. “Mr. Wilkes, I’d like you to meet Sarah Colvert.”

“How do you do, Mr. Wilkes,” suddenly, Sarah felt the stare of a dozen eyes turn in her direction. She glanced at Michael. What did he think he was doing pulling her into the middle of all these gentlemen?

“Ah, yes, Robert and Hannah’s girl. My…what’s it been now…seven-eight years? A real tragedy it was.”

“Six,” Sarah said. She glanced around the crowd and took a step back. Michael’s hand wrapped around her waist and held her from escape.

“Still ride like your mother?” Mr. Wilkes inquired.

“I haven’t ridden in years.” Sarah confessed. Not since Ethan was born.

“But I reckon she’ll be getting back in the saddle again, real soon.” Michael added.

“Seems a shame to waste all that talent.” Harold said.

Mr. Wilkes took her by the arm and drew her aside. He reached into the pocket of his tux and pulled out a handkerchief. “If you’re interested in riding professionally again, I could use someone of your talents. Robert and Hannah only bred the best.” He winked.

“That’s very kind of you,” Sarah replied. “But I’ve recently founded the Silver Wind Equine Rescue.”

“Rescue?” Mr. Wilkes’ eyebrows shot up as he dapped sweat from his forehead. “What possibly could a horse need rescued from?”

Several members of the crowd gathered close.  Sarah pressed the urge to flee down and smiled despite the catastrophic tremble in her arms. Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She tilted her head up. “What do they need rescued from?” she asked. “How about abuse? Abandonment? Have you ever considered what happens to a prize race horse when it’s no longer bringing home blue ribbons? And what happens to the foals whose mothers are too busy racing than to raise them?

You ask what kind of horses need rescued–those are just a few of the types of horses that are saved, rehabilitated, and given a second chance at my stables.”

Mr. Wilkes appeared taken back, he and all the rest of them made mumbling sounds and some turned away.  “Isn’t that what you are doing, Dr. Wolfe?”

Michael grinned, pulled Sarah closer and responded, “Rehabilitate, yes. However, I’m afraid I’ll leave the rescuing up to Sarah.”

Several members of the crowd shuffled away. Harold and another gentleman lingered. “Now about that clinic of yours…” Mr. Wilkes moved away from Sarah and dragged Michael along with him.

Michael held up his empty glass and Sarah pointed toward the balcony. For a moment, at least, she’d retreat. A waste of talent. She shook her head. It didn’t matter what anyone thought, anyone but Michael.

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Daughter of a dairy farmer, this crafty mom has a heart for all things handmade. When she's not writing or crafting, you can find her creating memories with her family.

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Posted in Susan's Muse

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