on the roan mare. She watched every muscle, every ear twitch, every flick of mane.
Katie’s arms ached, and the muscles in her shoulders bunched into hardened knots under
the strain. Every cell was focused on one thing . . . Sweet Thing.
Time unraveled in the swirling dust and the pounding play for supremacy. Katie sensed
rather than saw the ranch hands line up along the fence, and resigned herself to wrestling
control from the horse before all and sundry.
As God is my witness ...
Hours, days . . . minutes.
Then the dance changed. It was small. If Katie’s whole body hadn’t been focused on
Sweet Thing, Katie would’ve missed it. The tiny rotation of an ear, the loosing of
bunched muscles, a slight easing into her place. Sweet Thing’s silent acquiescence.
Katie turned off her mind, and instead allowed her body to mirror what the horse told
her. Katie stepped back and allowed Sweet Thing space. Allowed her freedom to choose.
Come to me. Trust me.
With a grace only the powerful possessed, Sweet Thing turned and faced Katie. Large
dark eyes reflected Katie’s image, an acknowledgment of the better horse. Sweet Thing
trotted up beside her, lowered her head, then came up, completing a bow.
Katie forgot to breathe, forgot to think. And with no guidance but what felt natural,
she grabbed the mare’s mane and swung herself up. She twisted her hands in the flaxen
hair and squeezed the horse’s muscled body with her legs. She felt the power in Sweet
Thing as the horse quivered beneath her. Felt the mare’s back legs push, front legs
reach, and her head lower with the urge to run. Katie had ridden her first horse at
five, and barely a day had gone by without horseflesh beneath her. With other horses
there was a sense of control, a sense of forcing your will upon another creature.
But this time was different. Katie didn’t merely sit on top of Sweet Thing as a separate
being; rider and horse fused and became one like some mythical Greek character.
And they flew. Wind in her hair, dust stinging her eyes. Katie knew she could ride
Sweet Thing forever.
But forever was short-lived. A sound of hinges creaking as a gate opened. A blur of
blue plaid in a cloud of dust, then a man’s low yell. “What the hell are you doing?”
Katie’s head jerked up. She might be one with the horse, but her body had long ago
been claimed by Cole. She felt him. His anger. Her insecurities. And Sweet Thing,
demanding the exclusive devotion of the better horse, wouldn’t allow it.
Sweet Thing bucked. Katie flew. And in space there was nothing but the whistling of
air and the undeniable law of Newton. And then, of course, the umph of the inevitable landing. Katie caught a glimpse of the fence line, and not knowing
where Sweet Thing was, rolled out of the way. A fence post to the middle of her back
stopped her momentum. Katie opened her eyes, and watched as Sweet Thing reared with
teeth exposed, in response to Cole’s presence in the pen.
Cole stood with his body between her and the horse, arms flung wide as he chased Sweet
Thing away. He glanced over his shoulder at Katie, but she barely noticed. Her whole
focus was on Sweet Thing as the mare screamed in anger and fear.
“Get in here. Somebody help me tie her up,” Cole yelled.
And for a second Katie didn’t know which her he was talking about.
Soon ranch hands in dusty jeans and even dustier hats came running in with ropes.
Then Cole was bent low over her, his face blocking the sun. “Honey, are you hurt?”
She moved her head. He stood between her and Sweet Thing. Katie scooted forward and
watched two ropes swing high and settle low around the mare’s neck.
“No, stop! You’re hurting her.” But Katie’s voice was lost in the cursing and grunts
of grown men as they fought to stay out of range of Sweet Thing’s hooves.
The ropes snapped tight; Sweet Thing screamed. Katie looked away.
Cole’s eclipsing body was
Katie’s arms ached, and the muscles in her shoulders bunched into hardened knots under
the strain. Every cell was focused on one thing . . . Sweet Thing.
Time unraveled in the swirling dust and the pounding play for supremacy. Katie sensed
rather than saw the ranch hands line up along the fence, and resigned herself to wrestling
control from the horse before all and sundry.
As God is my witness ...
Hours, days . . . minutes.
Then the dance changed. It was small. If Katie’s whole body hadn’t been focused on
Sweet Thing, Katie would’ve missed it. The tiny rotation of an ear, the loosing of
bunched muscles, a slight easing into her place. Sweet Thing’s silent acquiescence.
Katie turned off her mind, and instead allowed her body to mirror what the horse told
her. Katie stepped back and allowed Sweet Thing space. Allowed her freedom to choose.
Come to me. Trust me.
With a grace only the powerful possessed, Sweet Thing turned and faced Katie. Large
dark eyes reflected Katie’s image, an acknowledgment of the better horse. Sweet Thing
trotted up beside her, lowered her head, then came up, completing a bow.
Katie forgot to breathe, forgot to think. And with no guidance but what felt natural,
she grabbed the mare’s mane and swung herself up. She twisted her hands in the flaxen
hair and squeezed the horse’s muscled body with her legs. She felt the power in Sweet
Thing as the horse quivered beneath her. Felt the mare’s back legs push, front legs
reach, and her head lower with the urge to run. Katie had ridden her first horse at
five, and barely a day had gone by without horseflesh beneath her. With other horses
there was a sense of control, a sense of forcing your will upon another creature.
But this time was different. Katie didn’t merely sit on top of Sweet Thing as a separate
being; rider and horse fused and became one like some mythical Greek character.
And they flew. Wind in her hair, dust stinging her eyes. Katie knew she could ride
Sweet Thing forever.
But forever was short-lived. A sound of hinges creaking as a gate opened. A blur of
blue plaid in a cloud of dust, then a man’s low yell. “What the hell are you doing?”
Katie’s head jerked up. She might be one with the horse, but her body had long ago
been claimed by Cole. She felt him. His anger. Her insecurities. And Sweet Thing,
demanding the exclusive devotion of the better horse, wouldn’t allow it.
Sweet Thing bucked. Katie flew. And in space there was nothing but the whistling of
air and the undeniable law of Newton. And then, of course, the umph of the inevitable landing. Katie caught a glimpse of the fence line, and not knowing
where Sweet Thing was, rolled out of the way. A fence post to the middle of her back
stopped her momentum. Katie opened her eyes, and watched as Sweet Thing reared with
teeth exposed, in response to Cole’s presence in the pen.
Cole stood with his body between her and the horse, arms flung wide as he chased Sweet
Thing away. He glanced over his shoulder at Katie, but she barely noticed. Her whole
focus was on Sweet Thing as the mare screamed in anger and fear.
“Get in here. Somebody help me tie her up,” Cole yelled.
And for a second Katie didn’t know which her he was talking about.
Soon ranch hands in dusty jeans and even dustier hats came running in with ropes.
Then Cole was bent low over her, his face blocking the sun. “Honey, are you hurt?”
She moved her head. He stood between her and Sweet Thing. Katie scooted forward and
watched two ropes swing high and settle low around the mare’s neck.
“No, stop! You’re hurting her.” But Katie’s voice was lost in the cursing and grunts
of grown men as they fought to stay out of range of Sweet Thing’s hooves.
The ropes snapped tight; Sweet Thing screamed. Katie looked away.
Cole’s eclipsing body was
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