Read Online The Counterfeit Cowgirl by Kathryn Brocato - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryn Brocato
Ads: Link
Aaron was waiting to hoist her up. “That’s very good, Joey. You really know your stuff. I’m sure your uncle is very proud of you and Pete.”
“They’re good students,” Aaron said.
Felicity gave him a suspicious glance. His smile was so bland, she could have cooked it over water and called it custard.
“I can see they are,” she said.
She refused to look at Rhyolite. If she did, she might lose every bit of nerve Aaron’s knowing smile gave her. She placed her foot reluctantly in his locked hands and felt her body rise impossibly high in the air.
“Now throw your leg across,” Aaron commanded. “Not that one. The other leg. That’s it. You’re on.”
Felicity balanced numbly on the saddle. She was mounted, for what that was worth, but she didn’t think she’d be there for long. This was even worse than the last time she’d attempted riding a horse. Rhyolite was so big, she felt like a marble balanced on a two-by-four. Any minute now, she’d roll right off.
“Here are the reins.” Aaron passed her the two thin strips of leather that were supposed to control the behemoth. “Don’t start without us. I’ve got a path picked out that’s easy and unobstructed.”
She clutched the reins so tightly, poor Rhyolite turned in a circle in an effort to obey whatever strange command she was giving him. Felicity gasped and dug in her knees in a vain effort to cling harder. Rhyolite’s forelegs rose off the ground in a half-rear. He danced back then shot forward a few steps. Felicity almost somersaulted off; she dragged back so hard on the reins.
“My,” she gasped, when the great horse halted. Her teeth chattered with terror. “He sure is spirited.”
“Quit tugging the reins,” Aaron shouted. “He doesn’t know what you want him to do.”
With Aaron’s sharp navy eyes on her, Felicity hastily put on her professional smile and assumed a relaxed posture.
“You forgot to put your feet in the stirrups,” Pete observed. “Isn’t she supposed to put her feet in the stirrups, Uncle Aaron?”
“I — uh — used to ride Indian style,” Felicity said. “I’m not used to stirrups.”
Conscious of Aaron’s stare of disbelief, Felicity bent over to look for the stirrups. When she did, she almost slid sideways off the horse. She located them at last, one on each side, and carefully thrust her booted feet into them as tightly as she could manage. They might help hold her in place.
Aaron picked up his horse’s left foreleg and examined the hoof. “Corsair has picked up a stone. I thought something was wrong with his gait.” He looked up at Felicity. “Would you be very disappointed if I asked you to ride Quiche this afternoon? She isn’t quite up to my weight, and I don’t have another saddle horse available, so I’ll need Rhyolite.”
Felicity was ready to faint with relief, even though she strongly suspected Aaron was trying to find a face-saving way to get her off the big horse and onto a smaller, gentler mount.
“I’d be happy to,” she said graciously. “I can always ride this wonderful horse another time.”
Not if she could help it. Felicity loosened her death grip on the reins and prepared to draw her feet from the stirrups. Unfortunately, she had thrust her boots in so deeply, they wouldn’t slide out.
“Hold it,” Aaron called. “I’ll help you get down.”
Felicity didn’t think she could sit there knowing Rhyolite — a veritable mountain of muscle and sinew — was beneath her another minute. She jerked back with her heels. The stirrups released their grip and Felicity’s heels banged solidly into Rhyolite’s flanks.
“Felicity, stop!” Aaron yelled.
The big horse gathered himself and she sat on a heaving mountain. The next thing she knew, Rhyolite launched his body forward. She jerked back and dropped the reins in her desperation to grab his mane. She dug in with her knees and clutched Rhyolite for dear life.
Rhyolite took off like a bottle rocket.
She
“They’re good students,” Aaron said.
Felicity gave him a suspicious glance. His smile was so bland, she could have cooked it over water and called it custard.
“I can see they are,” she said.
She refused to look at Rhyolite. If she did, she might lose every bit of nerve Aaron’s knowing smile gave her. She placed her foot reluctantly in his locked hands and felt her body rise impossibly high in the air.
“Now throw your leg across,” Aaron commanded. “Not that one. The other leg. That’s it. You’re on.”
Felicity balanced numbly on the saddle. She was mounted, for what that was worth, but she didn’t think she’d be there for long. This was even worse than the last time she’d attempted riding a horse. Rhyolite was so big, she felt like a marble balanced on a two-by-four. Any minute now, she’d roll right off.
“Here are the reins.” Aaron passed her the two thin strips of leather that were supposed to control the behemoth. “Don’t start without us. I’ve got a path picked out that’s easy and unobstructed.”
She clutched the reins so tightly, poor Rhyolite turned in a circle in an effort to obey whatever strange command she was giving him. Felicity gasped and dug in her knees in a vain effort to cling harder. Rhyolite’s forelegs rose off the ground in a half-rear. He danced back then shot forward a few steps. Felicity almost somersaulted off; she dragged back so hard on the reins.
“My,” she gasped, when the great horse halted. Her teeth chattered with terror. “He sure is spirited.”
“Quit tugging the reins,” Aaron shouted. “He doesn’t know what you want him to do.”
With Aaron’s sharp navy eyes on her, Felicity hastily put on her professional smile and assumed a relaxed posture.
“You forgot to put your feet in the stirrups,” Pete observed. “Isn’t she supposed to put her feet in the stirrups, Uncle Aaron?”
“I — uh — used to ride Indian style,” Felicity said. “I’m not used to stirrups.”
Conscious of Aaron’s stare of disbelief, Felicity bent over to look for the stirrups. When she did, she almost slid sideways off the horse. She located them at last, one on each side, and carefully thrust her booted feet into them as tightly as she could manage. They might help hold her in place.
Aaron picked up his horse’s left foreleg and examined the hoof. “Corsair has picked up a stone. I thought something was wrong with his gait.” He looked up at Felicity. “Would you be very disappointed if I asked you to ride Quiche this afternoon? She isn’t quite up to my weight, and I don’t have another saddle horse available, so I’ll need Rhyolite.”
Felicity was ready to faint with relief, even though she strongly suspected Aaron was trying to find a face-saving way to get her off the big horse and onto a smaller, gentler mount.
“I’d be happy to,” she said graciously. “I can always ride this wonderful horse another time.”
Not if she could help it. Felicity loosened her death grip on the reins and prepared to draw her feet from the stirrups. Unfortunately, she had thrust her boots in so deeply, they wouldn’t slide out.
“Hold it,” Aaron called. “I’ll help you get down.”
Felicity didn’t think she could sit there knowing Rhyolite — a veritable mountain of muscle and sinew — was beneath her another minute. She jerked back with her heels. The stirrups released their grip and Felicity’s heels banged solidly into Rhyolite’s flanks.
“Felicity, stop!” Aaron yelled.
The big horse gathered himself and she sat on a heaving mountain. The next thing she knew, Rhyolite launched his body forward. She jerked back and dropped the reins in her desperation to grab his mane. She dug in with her knees and clutched Rhyolite for dear life.
Rhyolite took off like a bottle rocket.
She
Similar Books
