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woods； lured by the hound song and the horn。 Behind her； the bulk of the field stretched out。
Out of the woods： she could see the scarlet coats ahead； the hounds now fifty meters in the lead across a field。 Tiger wasn't pulling as badly； but her
sentiments were with him； now； she would like to have charged at the next field as fast as he would go。 It had bee more than the physical delight of riding over fences at speed； it was a hunt； and she wanted to be part of it。
Now she could admit it to herself … she had not felt this pletely alive； this exultant； since she'd manded her own ship in bat。 And that had been tempered with grief and worry； knowing that she risked her crew； people who trusted her。 Here； she risked only herself； she had no responsibility for the others。 No wonder people liked hunting。。。 but she had no more time to think about it； and that； too； became part of the pleasure。
That run； her first full run； remained a confusion in her mind； when she tried to tell Cecelia about it。 Field and wood and field succeeded each other too rapidly； she had to concentrate on riding； on steering Tiger around trees and readying herself for the fences； walls； ditches； banks that came at her every time she thought she'd caught her breath。 It felt as if they'd been riding all day … a lifetime … when she heard the hounds' voices change； heard the huntsman yell at them； and realized that they'd caught the fox； out in the middle of a vast open bowl between the hills； with a little stinking marsh off to one side。 This time Tiger was willing to stop； she sat there panting and hoping she would not disgrace herself by slithering off his back to lie in a heap on the ground。
Breath and awareness came back to her even as the rest of the field came up。
〃You can ride；〃 said the woman with the wrist brace； again beside her。 〃Don't tell me it's all that horse； I've ridden him myself。〃
In the hunting frenzy of Lord Thornbuckle's establishment； Ronnie saw his panions change。 Buttons； who had been growing perceptibly stuffier over the last year； became a proper son of the household； and took over the red hunt without plaint。 He seemed almost a parody of his father； despite the difference in looks。 Sarah simply vanished； when they asked； Buttons looked down his nose and muttered something about wedding preparations。 Ronnie wished he had such a handy excuse。 The others had to undergo evaluation by the head trainer … a humiliating experience； Ronnie thought。 Raffaele rode better than he'd expected； though the trainer plained about her form； she never fell off； and was passed to the blue hunt after only a week's review。 He and George and Bubbles； though； were stuck with two daily lessons。
Ronnie hated the lessons； they spent nearly all the time at a walk or trot； with a sharp…voiced junior trainer nagging them about things Ronnie was sure didn't really matter。 The trainer wasn't nearly as hard on Bubbles； he figured that was favoritism toward a family member。 Afterwards； on the way back to the house to swim or play chipball； Bubbles would critique his lesson again； in detail。 When he finally burst loose and told her she had to be as bad； or she wouldn't still be having lessons too； she slugged him in the arm。
〃I could ride to hounds any day of the week； you idiot。 I'm babysitting you two。 It wouldn't be fair to make you stay in lessons by yourselves； Dad said。〃
She glared at both of them。 〃You ought to be grateful； but I don't suppose you are。〃
Ronnie wasn't。 That only made it worse； and his arm really hurt。 He hadn't asked for this。 She was supposed to be his girlfriend； and she'd been acting as if he were a nuisance。
The crisp； clear weather of the first few days ended with a cold front； clouds； and drizzle。 It made no difference what the weather was … lessons and hunts went out on schedule。 Ronnie hated the cold trickle down the back of his neck； the horrid dankness of wet boots； and he didn't want to get used to it。
Tradition be damned； why couldn't they wear proper weather…sensing clothing like the Royal Service did on maneuvers？
At dinner each day； the Main House crowd seemed to divide naturally along hunt lines。 The greens； his Aunt Cecelia quite prominent among them； had their favorite rooms and corners； and so did the blues。 The reds condescended subtly to those not yet assigned； but knew their place pared to the other hunts。
Bubbles left them； pointedly showing off； Ronnie thought； her ability to mingle with ease as well as her white shoulders。 The only young women among the unassigned were too young for him； and too gawky … a pair of earnest cousins so obviously overawed by their surroundings that they blushed if anyone came near。 Bubbles had introduced them as 〃Nikki and Snookie； they used to e a lot back when I was a kid〃 and then walked off。
When Captain Serrano showed up with a foxtail one evening （〃Not the tail； stupid； the brush！〃 Bubbles hissed） after her first hunt with the blues； Ronnie was disgusted。 He had spent five hours that day riding three different horses in boring circles； trotting over boring little fences in a boring ring。
He'd been told he might be allowed on the outside course in a couple of days； if he concentrated。 And she … twenty years older； if a day … had been allowed to skip the red hunt altogether； go into the blues； and had had a good first hunt。 It wasn't fair。 For the first time since his lessons on the ship； he thought of revenge； but he resisted。 It wasn't worth it。
His only solace in these trying days was Raffaele； of all people。 George dragged her away from a group of blues one night； and gave a humorous account of their day's lessons。 Ronnie felt humiliated … he didn't fall off that often； and George didn't mention any of his own mistakes … but Raffaele's glance at him was sympathetic。 After that she came of her own accord every evening； for a few minutes at least。 She asked once where Bubbles was； and Ronnie shrugged。 She asked no more； but he noticed that she talked to both of
them； not just George。 And when George was taken up by a group of older men who knew his father； Raffaele kept ing； chatting quietly with Ronnie in a way he found more and more soothing。
By the time he finally got his pass to hunt with the reds （two days before George； a minor triumph which by then he didn't enjoy）； he expected no pleasure。 The morning dawned murky and cold with vague clots of mist hiding the low places； Ronnie felt stiff before he even got to the stables。 Buttons； spruce and cheerful； grinned at him as he stumped into the yard where the hunt gathered。
〃Good for you！〃 he said； too loudly for Ronnie's taste。 〃I knew you'd beat George out of the lesson pit。 It's a good day for scent； anyway。〃 He wore the red coat and insignia of the M。 F。 H。 of the reds； and looked as if he'd been born in it 〃Oh。。。 George will be along soon enough；〃 said Ronnie vaguely； looking around。
〃Where's Bubbles？〃
Buttons laughed。 〃Taking a vacation。 She's riding with the blues today。 We decided George could survive without a family member for one lesson。〃
This reminder of his situation did not help。 Ronnie grunted； and looked around again。 A groom waved to him； and he went