Gail pledged, "We'll always be best friends, and never jeopardize our friendship. No matter what, forever," and they hugged again.
After a while, Gail asked, "Next Saturday morning, let's go riding?"
On Saturday morning, after Barbara finished her breakfast work in the cafeteria, Gail drove her in her beautiful little red sportster to some stables not half an hour away. She said she went there as often as she got the chance.
Both dressed in bluejeans and sweaters on a bright early fall morning, Gail mounted her favorite, a black mare named Christie. Barbara chose a sandy-colored gelding that reminded her of Sam, the first horse she had ridden.
They did not speak as they rode down a trail bordered by elms and maples tinged with yellow and red in the early flush of autumn. It was not necessary for either to verbalize how wonderful the morning felt, to be riding together with the breeze through their hair and the warm sun on them. Despite the sun, the air was crisp. Barbara took in refreshing deep breaths as they rode, enjoying the silence except for some bluejays squawking high in some pine trees.
After a while, the sound of hoofs beating the path behind them caused Barbara to look over her shoulder.
"Gail, wait up!" a man's voice called out.
"Who's the Adonis?" Barbara asked before the young horseman approached from behind them.
"Oh, him!" Gail said offhandedly. "Chet Armstrong the Fourth. Not really a friend. More like an acquaintance. A sort-of friend of a friend of mine."
As he rode up to them, Barbara saw a tall, slender, dark-haired and very handsome young man in his early twenties, just a few years older than she and Gail. He was impeccably attired for riding, in tan gabardine jodhpurs, mirror-shiny high brown riding boots, and dazzlingly white silk shirt.
At first sight of him, Barbara thought he was Errol Flynn, the new movie star she had recently seen causing a sensation in his debut movie, Captain Blood. Flynn was beyond incredibly handsome; she had read in Movie Mirror and other fan magazines that every woman and movie reviewer who had seen the film thought he was beautiful. So did she.
After Barbara realized the young rider wasn't Errol Flynn but a very close copy, and with shorter hair than the actor had worn as a pirate captain, she thought Chet Armstrong the Fourth was no less beautiful. And he rode his gorgeous brown stallion like a prince; proudly but, she thought, a little arrogantly.
He did not wear a cap to tip to them, so he tapped a forefinger to his forehead upon pulling his horse up beside them. The three of them stopped their horses on the bridle path.