Chapter 8
Aura
I was actually looking forward to grooming Flash again until my anxiety took over.
Anything can trigger it, but today it was the thought of getting discovered, of ruining my chance, that did it.
I’ve gotten adept at rushing out of public places, hiding in bathrooms, cars, or hidden corners.
It doesn’t happen that often, but more than I’d like.
But Quint introduced me to Dean, and he seems like a nice guy. Unimpressed by my celebrity status. It’s refreshing out here. He even said he’d sign an NDA. Quint said he’d get all the ranch hands to do it, so maybe I can try to relax again a little. Try being the operative word.
After I pass the soft bristled brush over the last patch of untouched hair on Flash’s rump, I linger a little longer. As much I’ve been rushing him to get on the horse, I’m not really looking forward to it.
“I think you’re about done there.”
“Mmm.”
“Come on. You said you wanted to get riding.”
“I do.”
“Good. First you need to put on the saddle.” He slips the brush from my hand and points to the monstrous hunk of leather hanging from the wall beside us—the obvious source of the leather smell that permeates the place.
Quint is carrying a thick striped pad with white fleece peeking out from the edges. “This is the saddle pad, we’re going to put it on first.” He drapes it over the dip in the horse’s back, adjusting it slightly. “The saddle is next.”
I run a hand over the softened leather. It’s got a beautiful sheen to it, and the middle part where you sit has a softer, suede texture.
“So, what you’re going to do is grab it underneath by the front and back here.” He demonstrates. “Lift it up. Then you’re going to carry it over to her left side and swing it up and over her back. Place it in the middle of the pad there.”
I follow his instructions, groaning at the weight of the thing. “This thing weighs a ton. And you expect her to carry it and me? Seems kind of mean.”
“Oh, she’ll be fine. She can carry a lot more weight than that comfortably.”
“If you say so.”
After the saddle, he shows me how to loop the long strip of leather under her belly to hold it in place. He comes up behind me as I’m holding onto the thing, wondering how the hell it will keep the saddle from slipping off. Flash shifts on her feet and I jerk back, right into Quint’s body.
“Steady, girl,” he says in a low tone. I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or the horse.
He doesn’t move from the spot right behind me, leaning in even closer as he takes the leather strap from my hands, and that soothing forest smell washes over me again.
“So, this knot you tie to keep the cinch tight is called a latigo.”
Something twinges deep in my belly as he leans over my shoulder to loop the strap—cinch—through a metal ring on the saddle, then tucks it under and through and over and back in a pattern I won’t remember tomorrow.
It’s fine, I’ll watch some videos online.
He won’t need to show me again, which is good because I don’t like this feeling stirring in my body. Not from him.
To be fair, I haven’t been with anyone since Brad betrayed me, so it’s been a while.
I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find someone to blow off some steam with, even with the black mark on my name.
But that seems to only lead to heartbreak for me, so I’ll pass.
And it’s not that easy to find a guy who’s interested in the same type of sex I am.
Where I’m in charge. Too many of the ones I’ve met have far too much fragile masculinity to submit to a woman.
“Okay, maybe she can take the saddle,” I say, “but doesn’t that bother her?”
“Ah, she’s fine. Aren’t you, girl?” His arm brushes my shoulder as he reaches past to give the horse another pat on the neck, and a shiver ripples down my back.
“You cold again?”
“I’m fine,” I snap.
“Okay, then.”
He backs away and I breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between us.
“Now the bridle.” He slips a metal piece into the horse’s mouth and she opens up, showing off her yellow teeth and huge tongue. Horses do seem kind of like giant dogs. I hope they don’t also like to lick humans, because no.
“You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” My stomach is churning with nerves, but I can do this.
He hands me the reins, and I follow him out of the barn to a small round pen with a dirt floor. Great. It won’t be a secret to anyone if I fall off.
Shutting the gate behind us as soon as Flash’s back hooves clear the entrance, he leads me to a set of black steps off to the side and takes the reins from me to park the horse beside them.
“I can teach you how to mount from the ground eventually, but for now you can use the mounting block. You good?”
“Fantastic,” I say, and he smiles, not seeming to catch on to the sarcasm dripping from my voice. He’s got this kind of cheery optimism layered over his steady patience, and I can’t decide if it’s more sweet or annoying.
I put a foot in the stirrup as he instructs me, straighten my back, and slip into my acting skin, pretending this is something I’ve done a million times.
I’m barely aware of my leg swinging over her back, my heart is pounding in my ears so loudly, and then I lower myself onto the saddle. Shit, I did it. I’m up here!
I glance down and the dirt ground looks pretty far, but I’ve done stunt jumps from higher up. Of course, those were onto carefully placed mattresses and pads, but still, I survived.
Quint fusses around with the stirrups until my legs feel even, and I try to sit up tall like he told me to.
Things look different up here. I can see some of the other horses in the field off in the distance racing around or grazing. “Do you wish you were out there, girl? Sorry.” I give Flash a pat on the neck.
“How’s it feel up there?” He squints up at me.
“Weird.” I shift in the saddle, trying to get comfortable on the hard leather seat.
“You’ll get used to it. And eventually it just might be one of your favorite places to be. There’s a freedom to being on the back of a horse. You can’t get it anywhere else.”
There’s so much passion in his voice, I can tell he means it.
I admire that passion. When was the last time I felt like that about anything?
Acting used to do it for me. That’s the reason I wanted to make this my career.
But nothing can prepare you for the media, the fans, the intense scrutiny of your appearance and every action.
Sure, it’s the life I chose, but there’s got to be some sort of compromise.
Some way I can live my dream and have a meaningful life outside of acting.
The ground shifts, and I grab the saddle horn, clinging for dear life. But it was just the horse moving underneath me. Maybe she was bored with my self-indulgent contemplation.
“You’re right, girl. Most people would be grateful for the kind of success I’ve had so young.” I whisper the words under my breath.
“What’s that?” Quint asks.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
“Okey dokey.” He probably thinks I’m losing it. “You ready to go for a little walk?”
My fingers tighten around the horn until my knuckles turn white.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let go. You can ease up on that.” He nods at my hands. “I’ve never seen anyone break a saddle’s horn, but there’s a first time for everything.”
I inhale through my nose, exhale through my mouth then nod. “I think I’m ready.”
“Here we go. Try to sit tall, keep your back straight, shoulders back, but relax your hips so they move with the rhythm of her gait.”
That’s a lot to think about, and the more I try to concentrate, the stiffer everything gets.
“Come on, girl,” he says clucking his tongue and stepping forward.
The jolt this time is larger, my weight dipping to the left and then easing into a steady back and forth rhythm as she moves underneath me.
We make a few small circles around the pen until I start to feel a little more comfortable with the swaying rhythm of her walk, then the movement stills as he comes to a stop.
His eyes are shadowed by the brim of his cowboy hat as he tilts his head up to look at me. “How you doing?”
“Good.”
“You think you’re ready for a little trip on your own?”
My stomach does a flip-flop, but I ignore it. “Yeah.”
“Excellent.” He flips the long reins up and over the horse’s head and steps in closer to me. “Now this is how you hold the reins.” He places a rough, calloused hand over mine as he shows me how to hold them, and it sends a buzz of awareness up my arms. It’s probably just the nerves, I tell myself.
“Pull back gently when you want her to stop. As you learn, I’ll show you how to use your legs and seat more, but we’ll start with the basics.”
All of his instructions are racing through my head as he steps away, moving to the center of the small ring. It’s probably for the best. Concentrating on all the things to do and not to do helps distract me from the ever-present cloud of butterflies racing around in my stomach.
“Now go on.”
I squeeze my heels into the horse’s side gently as he told me to, holding my breath as she lurches forward.
But excitement starts to chase away the fear as we move along.
I try to follow her head with my hands like he told me, keep my shoulders back, loosen my hips.
In spite of all my efforts, he keeps calling out minor corrections to me, and I try to follow them all.
After several laps around the ring, he has me turn around and do the same in the reverse direction, and I ease up even more.
“You got this. Looking fine up there,” he calls out. “Love the posture, nice and tall, shoulders back. One of the most obvious problems for new riders is slouching.”