Chapter 12 #2
Sierra turned to see Skye leading Smokey into the round pen, Bandit on her other side.
With a simple hand signal, the wrangler told her dog to stay outside.
Bandit backed up as Skye closed the gate, but he didn’t sit or relax.
He rested his head on the corral fencing and watched his owner with an intense look of love.
‘I figured I’d watch you do some groundwork with her first,’ Sierra replied as she pushed Benji to the back of her mind with an ease born from practice.
She studied Skye’s mare as she drew nearer.
The American Quarter Horse was named because they were typically the fastest horse breed – but only for the first quarter mile.
After that, the Thoroughbreds took over.
Still, considering a standard barrel pattern in a full-sized arena covered just over four hundred linear feet, Quarter Horses were often favoured in barrel racing for their explosive speed.
Smokey had the compact Quarter Horse build. Her chest was broad and muscular, her back relatively short, her hindquarters well defined. She was a horse that should have had no issues turning tightly around the barrels.
Sierra watched as Skye started Smokey at a brisk walk, first in one direction and then the other, before she moved on to neck stretches and hindquarter yields and, finally, through the faster gaits.
‘Her left side’s weaker,’ Sierra said loudly as Skye drove Smokey to the left at a canter.
‘Yeah, but not by much.’
‘Barrel racing comes down to split seconds. Every bit counts.’
‘So, strengthen her left side?’
‘Always a good idea.’ Sierra tipped her head. ‘Take the left barrel first instead of the right, so that you get her weak side out of the way. Then you have two right turns and the straight for her to pick up speed on.’
‘Huh.’ Skye stepped backwards and raised one hand, bringing Smokey to an abrupt halt. ‘That’s so obvious I’m embarrassed I never thought of it.’
As Skye brought Smokey over, Sierra asked, ‘What are you coming in on?’
‘Late nineteens, some twenties. Once, we got eighteen-nine-nine.’ She sighed. ‘Nothing faster.’
‘Yet,’ Sierra reminded her.
‘Yet,’ Skye affirmed.
They walked side by side, Smokey and Bandit between them, from the round pen towards the arena, past a string of five resort horses that were tied to the hitching rail outside the barn, waiting to be saddled.
A few guests had filtered down from the resort in preparation for their ride, and Sierra played her part, smiling and greeting each of them by name.
Benji patiently showed a teenaged girl how to groom Zephyr, Mav’s Mustang, and although his back was to her, Sierra followed his big hands as they moved in long strokes down the horse’s neck.
It wasn’t a stretch of her imagination to imagine those capable hands on her skin again – not after last night.
When she had climbed onto his lap in the truck, all she had wanted was for him to snap and lose control.
Just once. Just one last time, so that she could have momentary relief from the heavy emptiness.
Still, she hadn’t been surprised that he’d stopped given how drunk she’d been.
Benji wasn’t one to take advantage. But, strangely, and though the moment had passed, Sierra sorely regretted the last few tequila shots that had pushed her from tipsy to intoxicated.
Because the need had been real and raw – and it hadn’t stopped since.
But the problem, the red flag she couldn’t ignore, was that it would mean more to Benji, who couldn’t seem to accept the fact that Sierra-Before, the woman he had loved, was well and truly gone.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Benji looked up from grooming Zephyr.
Their eyes met.
Sierra looked away almost immediately, but that didn’t stop the zing of recognition, of hurt, between them.
And even though she tried to ignore it, it hounded her.
His voice was in her head, telling her that he hadn’t been with another woman in seventeen years.
His scent surrounded her, clinging to the jacket she wore.
And try as she might, Sierra wasn’t entirely sure that she would ever escape him, regardless of how much she wanted to.
And she wasn’t sure he would ever escape her, irrespective of how much he should try to.
‘Start her on the pattern at a gentle trot first,’ Sierra instructed Skye.
‘Left barrel first?’
‘Let’s start right, then try left and see how she does. We’ll do the same at a lope and then at full speed once she’s warm.’
Skye grabbed the reins and put her left foot in the stirrup, but not before Sierra saw the saddle she was using. It wasn’t a barrel saddle. It was a trophy roping saddle, with the name ‘Jesse James Jones’ laser engraved on the fenders beneath ‘Arizona High School Rodeo Association’.
Sierra knew TJ relatively well. He had been a team roper during the same time that Benji and Mav had been competing. Before he had made the switch to bull riding, TJ and his parents had even stayed with them at Hunt Ranch back in their Junior Rodeo days.
‘Nice saddle. I’m surprised TJ parted ways with it.’
Skye ran her left hand gently over the wrapped horn, and for the first time since meeting the wrangler, Sierra noticed the middle and ring fingers on Skye’s left hand.
They veered off slightly from what, Sierra knew, could only have been a bad break that hadn’t set properly.
‘It was a gift – back when I couldn’t afford a saddle that fit. ’
‘It’s probably a little heavy for barrels. Feel free to use one of mine next time.’
‘I have a second-hand Billy Cook Barrel Racer I picked up off Marketplace actually. I just prefer the feel of this one.’ Skye chuckled without humour. ‘TJ was actually the one who got me interested in barrels; he paid for my first lesson.’
‘Small world; I didn’t even know you knew him.’
Sierra wanted to ask how he was doing after his accident, but before she could even open her mouth, Skye said, ‘I don’t. Not really.’
Sensing that there was more to it, but knowing how much prying questions could hurt, Sierra didn’t continue the conversation. ‘Let’s start. Right first.’
As Skye started guiding Smokey through the pattern, Sierra watched. While Skye was a great rider with a solid seat, it was immediately obvious that she was holding Smokey back.
Sierra didn’t stop the drill, just called out, ‘Good!’ when they had run the pattern twice, once from each side. ‘Take her through again, this time at a lope!’
As Skye pushed Smokey into a faster gait, Sierra saw those little subtleties Skye had probably missed from the saddle.
Even though Skye had worried that she was taking Smokey too wide, she was actually doing the opposite and pushing Smokey way too close to the barrel.
She also wasn’t completing each barrel, so that she lost seconds correcting her horse’s line of travel at each stage.
Skye loped down the centre line and came to a halt right in front of Sierra. She patted Smokey’s neck and looked up warily. ‘Okay, let me have it.’
Sierra smiled. ‘Not bad.’
‘But not good.’
‘You have the discipline, the heart.’ She regulated her tone when she added, ‘But there are a few things I think you could improve on.’ Unable to resist, she reached out one hand and stroked Smokey’s soft nose. ‘You’re coming into each barrel too close, for starters.’
Skye frowned. ‘But isn’t the pocket around each barrel supposed to be smaller to save time?’
‘Yes. But it can also be too small, to the point where you’re not giving her enough space to efficiently turn. Try to take the turn in fewer, bigger strides than what you’re doing now, which is about four smaller ones. Trust her with her feet.’
‘It seems so counterintuitive.’
‘Maybe, but your body knows I’m right. I can see that you’re instinctively holding her back because you don’t trust her to slow down in time.
Which brings me to my second point: Stop holding her back on the straights.
Before you take each barrel, check her and then lift that inside rein.
Once your leg is in line with the barrel, start your turn.
Bump that inside rein to bring her nose in if you have to and use your legs. ’
‘Okay.’
‘Last thing for today: In training, I want you to run about three hundred and fifty degrees around each barrel before heading to the next.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re not finishing your barrels. You’re ending up far wider than you have to be and then wasting time pushing her back in towards the next barrel.
If you finish the barrel, you’ll be lined up already and will only have to make minor adjustments.
It’ll also be a smoother lead change.’ Sierra took a step back.
‘One more time from each side. Try incorporating those three things for the next few weeks, and we’ll make a few more technical changes if we need to. ’
Skye took a deep breath. ‘Okay.’ She circled Smokey back to the start and then let the horse have her head.
As Sierra watched them work through the pattern, she yearned.
It didn’t matter how much time had passed, she would never forget the freedom of being in the saddle, of giving Ty his head and feeling his stride lengthen beneath her, of galloping over the ranch, the wind in her face, the sound of her horse’s hooves pounding on the ground.
Distracted as she was, it took her a few seconds to register that someone had come up behind her. She turned to find one of the resort guests hovering. ‘Cameron,’ she greeted him with a polite smile.
Cameron Taylor was a businessman from LA, who had come to Hunt Ranch to celebrate his sister’s fortieth birthday.
He was handsome, with thick black hair and brown eyes that were quick to smile.
Sierra had noticed him looking at her over the past few days, but she had kept that professional distance between them.
Now, he waved a hand in Skye’s direction and said, ‘Barrel racing is insane to me.’
Sierra laughed appreciatively. ‘It takes a certain type, that’s for sure.’
‘My sister bribed me with her Dodgers tickets just to get me to go on this trail ride. And I still checked with Benji to make sure it was walking only.’ He cast a sceptical glance towards where Skye was turning Smokey around the top barrel.
‘You’ll love it,’ Sierra assured him. ‘Benji’s the best guide we have. And a Hunt Ranch sunset on horseback is well worth the effort.’
He cleared his throat, raised one hand to rub at his nape. ‘You ever guide any tours?’ he asked.
Sierra heard the unspoken question, but she didn’t even feel a flicker of interest. She gave him a friendly smile and played dumb. ‘No, not anymore. The admin work takes up too much time and my wranglers are so good at what they do, I don’t really have a need to oversee them.’
‘Right.’ He paused perceptibly. ‘Well, maybe I’ll see you around at the barbecue tonight …’
‘Sure. I typically stop by for a few minutes every night.’
‘Okay.’ He nodded a few times, and when she didn’t say anything more, he repeated, ‘Okay. Be seeing you.’
‘Bye. Have a good ride.’ Sierra waved him off, glad that he hadn’t pushed the point, and then refocused her attention on Skye.
If she’d been cruel, she might have toyed with Cameron just to push Benji to breaking point. But she wasn’t cruel. She was empty and afraid, and no casual, emotionless fling would change that.