Read Online Impulsion: A Station 32 Fire Men Novel by Jamie Magee - Free Book Online
Authors: Jamie Magee
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the ring, on Danny Boy. Wyatt was leaning against the fence, and Camille was in the center of the ring.
Danny Boy was high strung today; they had expected him to be after being in his stall all day yesterday, which was why Wyatt was at the gate and not lingering in the barn or moving through his morning chores.
Harley was doing her best to listen to everything Camille was yelling at her, but every few steps Danny Boy would rear up. Without warning, Harley lost her seat and was tossed from the saddle. She landed on her feet, but the weight of that fall caused her to fall back on her hands, on the wrist Danny Boy had already broken once.
Wyatt had jumped the fence and was at her side, pulling her up and grabbing Danny Boy’s reins at the same time.
“Give it a go, Wyatt,” Camille said as Harley made it to her feet. She moved her wrist and her neck, found a way to catch the breath that was knocked out of her.
Her eyes only met Wyatt’s for an instant, but it was her way of telling him she was fine without uttering a word.
Wyatt was on Danny Boy the next second.
“I told you that you’re too tense,” Camille scorned.
“He was in all day, Mom,” Wyatt grunted as he pushed Danny Boy into a canter. All the while, Danny Boy was protesting, bucking left and right, rearing up.
Wyatt was trying to do a human lunge, wear Danny Boy down, work through the aggression, teach him to play his role in the ring.
“In or not, Harley, that horse has nothing but power. You got on him today twice as tense as any other day because you were expecting him to act out, and he gave you what you asked for. If you continue to ride tense, he will give you every reason to be tense, and that is a tragedy waiting to happen.” She looked up at Wyatt. “I’m going to get the lunge. Lesson is over for today. I have a ring full of horses due here in half an hour.” She glanced back at Harley and said, “You’re going to have to listen to me or sell this horse to someone that can let him be who he needs to be,” then left the ring.
Those words cut through Harley; they were too close to what her mother had said the night she signed her name to Clandestine’s papers.
Wyatt was at a solid gallop at that point. Danny Boy had stopped his protest and was gliding through the wind with Wyatt. Both of them were looking powerful and regal.
All at once, he stopped beside her and hopped down. He was only vaguely out of breath, but it was enough to cause his broad chest to rise and fall. He held out his hand for Harley to climb up.
“She said the lesson was over.”
“And she’s not here right now,” Wyatt asserted.
Harley mounted, feeling every muscle in her body tense. She loved this sport, loved this horse, and because she loved them so much she was afraid to do something wrong, anything wrong.
One of Wyatt’s hands reached to hers on the reins; the other was on her calf, slowly rising past her chaps to her knee.
“Soft hands. He fights against the constriction; give him his mouth,” he said as his hand brushed against hers. She let out a sigh.
“You let him know you are in charge here,” he said as his hand rushed down her leg. “A lot of leg.”
Harley nodded, letting out a breath.
“Look at me, Harley.” Her eyes fell to his. “He loves you, he respects you, he feels connected to you, and he is responding to every subtle move you make. Don’t try to force that connection , learn to entice the impulsion; soft hands, strong leg, relax. You’re safe.”
Impulsion is building momentum, built so that when you approach the jump, it empowers the horse to fly.
Harley’s issue was that she was always too hard in her hands, holding back too long, giving Danny Boy no choice but to rebel.
Wyatt was trying to teach her to gracefully combine power and speed as one. Impulsion. Something the two of them managed to fight daily in their love affair, holding everything back, only stolen glances and brushes of touches, so much so that
Danny Boy was high strung today; they had expected him to be after being in his stall all day yesterday, which was why Wyatt was at the gate and not lingering in the barn or moving through his morning chores.
Harley was doing her best to listen to everything Camille was yelling at her, but every few steps Danny Boy would rear up. Without warning, Harley lost her seat and was tossed from the saddle. She landed on her feet, but the weight of that fall caused her to fall back on her hands, on the wrist Danny Boy had already broken once.
Wyatt had jumped the fence and was at her side, pulling her up and grabbing Danny Boy’s reins at the same time.
“Give it a go, Wyatt,” Camille said as Harley made it to her feet. She moved her wrist and her neck, found a way to catch the breath that was knocked out of her.
Her eyes only met Wyatt’s for an instant, but it was her way of telling him she was fine without uttering a word.
Wyatt was on Danny Boy the next second.
“I told you that you’re too tense,” Camille scorned.
“He was in all day, Mom,” Wyatt grunted as he pushed Danny Boy into a canter. All the while, Danny Boy was protesting, bucking left and right, rearing up.
Wyatt was trying to do a human lunge, wear Danny Boy down, work through the aggression, teach him to play his role in the ring.
“In or not, Harley, that horse has nothing but power. You got on him today twice as tense as any other day because you were expecting him to act out, and he gave you what you asked for. If you continue to ride tense, he will give you every reason to be tense, and that is a tragedy waiting to happen.” She looked up at Wyatt. “I’m going to get the lunge. Lesson is over for today. I have a ring full of horses due here in half an hour.” She glanced back at Harley and said, “You’re going to have to listen to me or sell this horse to someone that can let him be who he needs to be,” then left the ring.
Those words cut through Harley; they were too close to what her mother had said the night she signed her name to Clandestine’s papers.
Wyatt was at a solid gallop at that point. Danny Boy had stopped his protest and was gliding through the wind with Wyatt. Both of them were looking powerful and regal.
All at once, he stopped beside her and hopped down. He was only vaguely out of breath, but it was enough to cause his broad chest to rise and fall. He held out his hand for Harley to climb up.
“She said the lesson was over.”
“And she’s not here right now,” Wyatt asserted.
Harley mounted, feeling every muscle in her body tense. She loved this sport, loved this horse, and because she loved them so much she was afraid to do something wrong, anything wrong.
One of Wyatt’s hands reached to hers on the reins; the other was on her calf, slowly rising past her chaps to her knee.
“Soft hands. He fights against the constriction; give him his mouth,” he said as his hand brushed against hers. She let out a sigh.
“You let him know you are in charge here,” he said as his hand rushed down her leg. “A lot of leg.”
Harley nodded, letting out a breath.
“Look at me, Harley.” Her eyes fell to his. “He loves you, he respects you, he feels connected to you, and he is responding to every subtle move you make. Don’t try to force that connection , learn to entice the impulsion; soft hands, strong leg, relax. You’re safe.”
Impulsion is building momentum, built so that when you approach the jump, it empowers the horse to fly.
Harley’s issue was that she was always too hard in her hands, holding back too long, giving Danny Boy no choice but to rebel.
Wyatt was trying to teach her to gracefully combine power and speed as one. Impulsion. Something the two of them managed to fight daily in their love affair, holding everything back, only stolen glances and brushes of touches, so much so that
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