The Fight

1.

Alexandra awoke to the sound of her alarm blaring, brutally jerking her from sleep. 
     She sat up, vaguely trying to recall the dream that had caused her to sleep so terribly before she caught sight of the time and groaned. She loved working with horses, but the 5:30 wake up proved to be exhausting 365 days a year. Alexandra got up, briefly stretching her limbs before stumbling out of bed and into the kitchen. Functioning on autopilot, she began the process of making coffee and slowly waking up.
The cottage she lived in was small—quaint at best—but Alexandra couldn't complain. Not when her boss had taken her on, a migrant girl looking for work at 15 years of age, and given her a stable income and a place to live. Not to mention boarding for Scipio. Granted, her paycheck was halved to accommodate such benefits, and Alexandra occasionally struggled keep her head above the water. But nonetheless, it was a good gig, and coming from her no-nonsense boss, downright generous.
Alexandra sipped her coffee and stared out the kitchen window in the silence of the morning. The mist had settled, dew drops sparkling against the thick green grass that flourished naturally in the UK, and Alexandra still marveled at it. It was so at odds with her homeland of rugged terrain and dry rocky soil, a place where mountain ranges met the sky. Her mother used to say that tough land made for tougher people. Alexandra couldn't say she was wrong.
She finished her coffee, and dressed quickly in her worn breeches and a long sleeve shirt before going outside.
The field next to the cottage was where Scipio resided. It was fairly large, equipped with a run in shelter, and he'd been quite taken with it when they had first arrived two years earlier. He preferred the open space to a stall, which Alexandra understood, and she preferred having him closer to her as well.
Alexandra walked out whistling, and Scipio bounded to meet her at the fence line with a buck and toss of his head.
"Well someone is certainly fresh this morning." She chuckled to herself as she observed his antics.
He was a well built horse. Although not the biggest, standing at 15 hands even, a prime example of what a Lusitano stallion should be. With a dun coloring, characterized by sooty dapples and a dorsal stripe, he truly was striking. Alexandra had always favored him, even as a young colt, she felt he had a better grasp on the world around him. His almond colored eyes seemed to shine with intelligence, and he learned far too quickly for his own good; both telltale signs of a wickedly smart brain that never failed to impress her.
She clucked her tongue at him, reaching to rub his face in his favored itchy spot and crooning silliness and nonsense in his ear. He shook his mane, snorting slightly and Alexandra gripped his head in her hands, kissing the velvet of his nose before continuing her walk to the barn.
By 9 am the horses were fed and their stalls mucked out. Alexandra was in the staff room indulging in her second cup of coffee when her boss breezed in. Nicola Dalton was a severe woman. With blond hair that she kept in a neat bun and blue eyes that seemed to peer directly into your soul, she could be a terrifying sight despite the fact that she was a petite 5'3 and close to 50.
Nicola had a clipboard in her hand, and glared at what was pictured there. Without looking up she started speaking, "There's a new boarder coming in today."
Alexandra raised a brow in question. "What time will that be?"
"Soon. And I don't have time to meet him," She paused, chewing on the end of her pencil before viciously scribbling something out, "...because I am seriously overbooked. I need you to do me a favor and show him around today." She finished, looking up with what might be considered a grimace.
Alexandra took a swig of coffee before she responded. "Of course. What's his name?"
"Callum Westcott." Nicola replied curtly.
Alexandra nearly choked. "Westcott?" she sputtered. "You mean he's one of the Westcotts? Extremely wealthy, equestrian family, world class horses Westcott?"
Nicola sighed, placing her hands on her hips and turning her head to stare up at the ceiling. "Yes, Alexandra, one of the Westcotts." she said, breaking off to jab her finger at Alexandra, "And I am trusting you with this. So don't you dare disappoint me."
"As if I've ever." Alexandra muttered, not entirely under her breath.
"Atta girl. I'll see you at feeding time." And without another word, Nicola strode out of the staff room.
Alexandra grumbled something about headstrong horsewomen before heaving herself off the chair she had been occupying to await the arrival of a Westcott boy. Vaguely, she wondered if he would just be another stuck up snob obsessed with winning without the work. She hoped not, as the world already had enough of those.
Steeling herself for what awaited her, Alexandra Silva exited the stable.