Read Online Cowboy Crazy by Joanne Kennedy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joanne Kennedy
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actually.”
He paused and waited for her to catch up. “Sorry.”
He sounded like he meant it, but she couldn’t tell if he was going to fling another zinger her way because his eyes were hidden in the dark shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “You know, you’re right. This hasn’t exactly been the best of the West.”
He set off again, but this time he eased his pace so she could keep up. They passed the grandstand, heading toward the pens where competitors kept their horses. “Want to take a look at the horses?”
She shook her head so fast she almost gave herself a case of whiplash. “No. I’m…” Dang. What could she tell him?
Maybe it would be good to tell somebody the truth for a change. “I’m afraid of them.”
“Really? I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
She shrugged, suppressing a faint glow inside at the compliment. Fearless. That’s what she wanted to be. What she’d been, once. But fear ruled her life these days. Fear of poverty. Fear of losing control. Fear of failure.
Because she’d failed her family back when Roy died. All the way home from the hospital after his death, she’d listened to her mother rant about Flash, about how dangerous he was. He should be put down, she said. Sarah had convinced her to call the sale barn instead of euthanizing the horse, but her mother had still insisted that Flash would stay in the trailer until they came to take him away.
It was the one time in Sarah’s life she was glad her mother reacted to stress by drinking herself into a stupor. With her little sister asleep and her mom passed out, there had been no one to stop her from sneaking out to save Flash.
***
The stallion’s coat had been hot and damp, lathered with sweat from the stress of staying so long in the trailer. She’d whispered soothing words to him until he calmed, nudging her pockets for treats like his old self. Then she’d walked him to the barn and groomed him slowly and carefully in a slip of moonlight that slanted through the door. At first he’d spooked and sidestepped, but she’d stroked him until he stood quietly. Nothing but the tension rippling under his skin told her how the day’s tragedy had affected him.
“I’m scared too,” she’d told him. “But it’s going to be okay.”
She’d saddled him slowly, methodically, taking comfort in the familiar motions and hoping the horse did too. It seemed like it, because she could feel the knotted tension in his mind giving way as she slipped on a bridle with a sweet iron snaffle bit and led him outside. Then she’d slipped her foot in the stirrup and grabbed the saddle horn, just like she had a hundred, maybe a thousand, times before.
She’d visualized this ride all the way home from the hospital. She’d ride him up to the house, spin him right and left in the front yard, then holler to her mother to watch so she could prove he was safe as a child’s pony. Or maybe she’d ride him into the sunset like a movie cowboy, leaving her old life behind and taking him with her into some unknown future.
Somehow, some way, she’d save him from going to the sale barn.
But as she shifted her weight to the foot in the stirrup, Flash rolled his eyes back and whinnied, a hoarse scream tearing through the night. She’d clung to the reins, knowing that if she let him go he’d bolt off and run until a semi on the highway stopped him or a barbed wire fence cut his legs and tangled him to a stop.
He spun to face her and reared, and in that instant she could only think of Roy, broken in the dirt at the foot of the trailer ramp.
She’d been afraid of a horse for the first time in her life. She’d barely been able to hold him, but he’d finally bucked out and stood trembling, docile as a kitten. With shaking hands, she unsaddled him and led him back to the trailer.
He’d loaded without a fuss, just like he’d always done for her, and she’d thought again of how different things would be if she hadn’t been
He paused and waited for her to catch up. “Sorry.”
He sounded like he meant it, but she couldn’t tell if he was going to fling another zinger her way because his eyes were hidden in the dark shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “You know, you’re right. This hasn’t exactly been the best of the West.”
He set off again, but this time he eased his pace so she could keep up. They passed the grandstand, heading toward the pens where competitors kept their horses. “Want to take a look at the horses?”
She shook her head so fast she almost gave herself a case of whiplash. “No. I’m…” Dang. What could she tell him?
Maybe it would be good to tell somebody the truth for a change. “I’m afraid of them.”
“Really? I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
She shrugged, suppressing a faint glow inside at the compliment. Fearless. That’s what she wanted to be. What she’d been, once. But fear ruled her life these days. Fear of poverty. Fear of losing control. Fear of failure.
Because she’d failed her family back when Roy died. All the way home from the hospital after his death, she’d listened to her mother rant about Flash, about how dangerous he was. He should be put down, she said. Sarah had convinced her to call the sale barn instead of euthanizing the horse, but her mother had still insisted that Flash would stay in the trailer until they came to take him away.
It was the one time in Sarah’s life she was glad her mother reacted to stress by drinking herself into a stupor. With her little sister asleep and her mom passed out, there had been no one to stop her from sneaking out to save Flash.
***
The stallion’s coat had been hot and damp, lathered with sweat from the stress of staying so long in the trailer. She’d whispered soothing words to him until he calmed, nudging her pockets for treats like his old self. Then she’d walked him to the barn and groomed him slowly and carefully in a slip of moonlight that slanted through the door. At first he’d spooked and sidestepped, but she’d stroked him until he stood quietly. Nothing but the tension rippling under his skin told her how the day’s tragedy had affected him.
“I’m scared too,” she’d told him. “But it’s going to be okay.”
She’d saddled him slowly, methodically, taking comfort in the familiar motions and hoping the horse did too. It seemed like it, because she could feel the knotted tension in his mind giving way as she slipped on a bridle with a sweet iron snaffle bit and led him outside. Then she’d slipped her foot in the stirrup and grabbed the saddle horn, just like she had a hundred, maybe a thousand, times before.
She’d visualized this ride all the way home from the hospital. She’d ride him up to the house, spin him right and left in the front yard, then holler to her mother to watch so she could prove he was safe as a child’s pony. Or maybe she’d ride him into the sunset like a movie cowboy, leaving her old life behind and taking him with her into some unknown future.
Somehow, some way, she’d save him from going to the sale barn.
But as she shifted her weight to the foot in the stirrup, Flash rolled his eyes back and whinnied, a hoarse scream tearing through the night. She’d clung to the reins, knowing that if she let him go he’d bolt off and run until a semi on the highway stopped him or a barbed wire fence cut his legs and tangled him to a stop.
He spun to face her and reared, and in that instant she could only think of Roy, broken in the dirt at the foot of the trailer ramp.
She’d been afraid of a horse for the first time in her life. She’d barely been able to hold him, but he’d finally bucked out and stood trembling, docile as a kitten. With shaking hands, she unsaddled him and led him back to the trailer.
He’d loaded without a fuss, just like he’d always done for her, and she’d thought again of how different things would be if she hadn’t been
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