An Excerpt from Fur Mama

An exclusive excerpt from Fur Mama by Diana Dupont, coming October 14 from Trafalgar Square Books. 

Now secured in crossties, Blackie tried to stand still, but he could not help himself from twisting his lithe body ever so slightly left to right, assessing all that was going on around him. Meanwhile, I gently stroked his supple neck and massaged his firm withers as I spoke softly into his furry ears and kissed his velvety muzzle. With these small gestures, I wanted to see if I could build my own bond with him, to observe if, with time, he might respond to and trust me like he did Gail. Quickly realizing that there was an immediate connection, Gail embraced the opportunity, saying, “Would you like to try Blackie? He moves as good as he looks.” 

Of course, I wanted to ride him, but in refusing to acknowledge this instinctive impulse, I clung to some semblance of my rational self and respectfully declined the generous offer.  

“Thank you, Gail, but no, not today,” I said. “I don’t have that ‘I’m ready to jump on a racehorse’ frame of mind.” 

Even though Blackie had already gripped my imagination, I held back from mounting him upon that spur-of-the-moment invitation, because I was afraid of this undeveloped prospect, unsure that I should or could accept such a splendid dare. While concerned about compatibility, I was mostly preoccupied with where such a big step might lead me. Before experiencing that closest of rapports between horses and humans that riding represents, I needed to pause, to ask myself if I should curb my quickening fancy and first consider the implications of a spirited horse like Blackie. Would he be too much for me? On many levels? Could I handle him? Could I train him? I pondered privately. Most importantly, though, I wondered, Could I manage him and my demanding job at the same time? What if this capricious creature upset all that I had struggled to establish as a professional woman, risking the mighty foundation I had built up for myself and into which I had cemented my very identity?  

On the heels of these trifling rationalizations, I closed the matter at hand by saying to Gail, “While I don’t believe Twinkles is a match for me, please give me some time to think about Blackie, as you consider whether you really want to let him go.” 

Unconsciously, I must have known that mounting him then and there would have ripped open a floodgate of repressed emotions that I was unprepared to confront. But those hidden feelings were precisely the secret sentiments Gary was hoping I would tap back into by having a horse in my life again, convinced that any Sturm und Drang unleashed by this magnificent 1,200-pound ball of pure energy would be temporary and, in the end, all for the good. He simply paid no mind to my inner conflict about this whole horse thing. Instead, he capitalized on the fact that, ever since stepping foot in the barn at Altamira Ranch, I had been eyeing this mysterious black beauty. 

Naturally intuitive, Gail sensed the tug-of-war going on inside me and leapt at another chance to steer me toward Blackie. 

“I know Thoroughbreds can be intimidating,” she said. “They’re a lot of horse, but once you understand them, they’re truly the best.”  

Gail found herself encouraging my nascent attraction, because, if she had to part with her Blackie, she wanted to place him with someone like me who revealed an instant affinity, however much I was trying to deny it. Assuring her that we would be in touch again soon, Gary and I took our leave, and as we headed to our car, I looked back over my shoulder and saw Blackie’s eyes fixed on me. 

While retracing our path back over the Santa Ynez Mountains to our home in the Santa Barbara foothills, we each quietly considered our day’s adventure. The lulling sound of the car’s pliant tires rolling against the hard asphalt filled the tranquil space between us. For me, this rare excursion together had been a refreshing change of pace from my normal workaholic grind, and I enjoyed the sense of calm it brought. As it turns out, though, it was short-lived. 

When we approached home, winding slowly up toward Rattlesnake Canyon on narrow, curving roads bordered with gnarled oaks and craggy boulders, Gary broke our silent musings. Being a decisive person, he simply stated, “I think you’ve found your horse. Search no further!” 

“What!? Why do you say that? What makes you so sure?” I shot back defensively, fearing deep down that he might be right.  

“Well, for starters, he’s smart and good-looking. And it’s about time you had someone like that in your life,” Gary quipped. Smiling wide now, he added, “There’s already some kind of woman-horse communication thing going on between the two of you. It just seems like love at first sight. Put it this way: if you ever looked at another man the way you looked at that horse, I would know the marriage was over!” 

Laughing under my breath, I had to confess, “Yes! Blackie’s definitely in my head, and more importantly in my heart, but he’s so green.”  

Gary quickly countered, intent on influencing my deliberations, “His naiveté is not a detriment. Think of his rawness and need for attention as assets. Even I can tell he’s a force of nature, but by bringing him into your life, you will help him while also finding a healthy kind of absorption. You desperately need that. Something good and wholesome but also challenging to check your obsession with work.” As I let Gary’s words sink in, he gently pressed one last time. “Call Gail and get on his back and see what you think, before she changes her mind or someone else grabs him.” 

Pre-order Fur Mama here.

This excerpt from Fur Mama by Diana Dupont is reprinted with permission from Trafalgar Square Books.