by Toni Mari
My breath stopped in my throat, and I grabbed Brenda’s arm. “Huh?”
“Stand up, silly.” Brenda shoved me up, grinning and whooping along with the people in the stands.
I rose slowly as heat flooded my face and gave a shaky wave. My eyes flew to the big display screen where my image appeared. I reached up to smooth my messy ponytail and watched my hand in giant detail. My oversized sweatshirt wasn’t as flattering as it was comfortable. I stood a little straighter, tugging down the hem, and smiled wider. Luckily, my image disappeared before that awkward expression was up there too long.
“There she is. Jane, you may not ride a quarter horse, but we love you anyway. Congratulations.” His chuckle trickled out of the speakers.
There was polite applause. My smile grew as I looked around. I sat as the cheering faded, my body humming, and I found it impossible to stop grinning.
That was totally unexpected. Brenda put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
“My very own celebrity friend.” She threw her head back and laughed. “I love it!”
I grinned at her, willing my heartbeat to return to normal. I loved it, too. Celebrity. I glanced around. People were still watching me. I brushed the nacho crumbs from my shirt and rolled on some lip gloss. I assumed a serious expression, deliberately sitting tall and straight. I hoped the glow I felt was charisma radiating out to my fans, not just nacho breath.
When Cory rode out of the ring, I told Brenda I was going to find him. I stumbled past knees and tried to avoid stomping feet as I made my way to the end of the row, mumbling, “Ooh, sorry. So sorry.”
They answered, “That’s okay, Jane. And congratulations.” “No problem, Jane. Good job.” One woman whom I had never seen before even said she was proud of me as she yanked her foot out from under mine.
Straightening my ponytail when I finally reached the end of the row, I admitted that I radiated klutz more than charisma.
I slipped through the back gate, looking for the gray horse or Cory’s hat. He was just sliding off when I reached him.
“Hey.”
“The look on your face was priceless. Just saying.” Cory quirked an eyebrow.
“I was surprised, that’s for sure. Did you put him up to introducing me?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.” Cory pulled the leather girth strap through the ring on the saddle, dropping the girth, and lifting the saddle off the gray’s sweaty back.
“Right. Like you really hate when people cheer, screaming your name.” I was proud of the attention Cory drew; I liked walking with him as people called his name.
Picking up a handful of hay, I rubbed at the gelding’s matted, moisture-darkened hair.
“I don’t like it. They expect too much of me. I’m just me.”
“Yes, but you won a World Championship and that makes you special.” I ducked under the horse’s neck to rub the other side.
Cory stopped moving and looked at me over the horse’s withers. “Is that what you think? I don’t think the gold medal changed anything. I’m still at the same rodeo, and these people have been cheering like that every time I made the bell or roped a steer since I started.”
“Right, and that’s why they love you because you’re a winner and more talented than the others.” I gave the silver hair one last swipe and patted the quiet gelding’s shoulder.
Cory led him through a gate and released him into a holding pen. Shaking his head, he stared at me as the horse sauntered away. “That’s not it at all. It’s not about one big show, or one shiny medal. It’s about being here, week after week. It’s about blood, sweat, and guts.”
“I know.” He didn’t have to tell me how hard it was to train yourself and your horse to win something like that. He didn’t have to tell me that the actual medal wasn’t what was important. It was a symbol of what a person was capable of. It showed that they had put in the blood, sweat, and guts. It was the proof. How could I explain to him what I meant?
Before I could find the right words, Cory’s intense face smoothed into a polite mask as he spotted someone over my shoulder. Easing me to the side with one hand, he held out the other. “Speaking of sweat and guts, here comes a real cowboy. Congrats, dude. Dinner on you tonight?”
Chuckling, Len grabbed Cory’s hand and pulled him close for a man hug, slapping his back. He was six inches shorter but wiry and tough; his simple happiness radiated from his face. “Yeah, dinner for two. It’s our one-month anniversary.” He reached for the hand of a beautiful, glittery barrel racer, her felt hat as red as her rhinestone-studded chaps. Fringe swung from her red vest as she hugged Len’s arm to her chest.
Cory’s grin dimmed as he turned toward her. “Hello, Doreen. Jane, do you remember …?”
“I remember,” I interrupted him, surprised by the instant hostility that clenched my fists. “I didn’t realize you two were together.” My eyes met Len’s, and I smiled warmly at the genial cowboy. “Hi, Len.”
He dropped Doreen’s hand and gave me a hug, squeezing my shoulders and making me glad he didn’t do the whacking thing on my back.
I whispered in his ear, “Guess the big checks got her attention, huh?”
He rolled his eyes but gave a tiny nod. When Cory and I had first started dating, Len was chasing Doreen all over the rodeo, and she wouldn’t give him the time of day, having her sights set on Cory. But now, she was further proof that people liked a winner.
When he stepped back, Doreen wrapped herself around his arm again. Her lashes, thick with mascara, swept down, and she pursed her crimson lips. “I heard them say you won something too, Jane, but I don’t pay much attention to anything outside the rodeo.” Her gaze slid over me and landed solidly on Cory. The spidery lashes fluttering down again, and her shiny lips parted in a slinky smile.
“Hi, Doreen.” I said pointedly in an icy tone, sliding an arm around Cory’s waist again. “Good to see you. You had a good ride tonight.”
When Len looked like he was going to start more conversation, Doreen pushed him to walk. “Thanks. We’ve got to get moving. Time to celebrate. See you later, Cory.” With one last slow, inviting blink toward Cory, she tugged Len’s arm and flounced away.
I watched as she kissed Len’s cheek, her rhinestones sparkling in the bright lights. I murmured, “Len is probably happy he picked up the winner’s check tonight.”
Chapter 9
I slammed the heavy door of Cory’s truck and slid over the bench seat until our thighs touched. He flicked the headlights on and eased the truck over the bumpy grass of the nearly empty parking lot, heading toward the road. As I glanced out the back window, the arena lights blinked off, leaving only the dim light of a few street lamps. “See you next year, bulls and broncs,” I whispered.
Once we were on the smooth macadam cruising to Cory’s, he lifted his arm, letting me snuggle in under it. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I struggled to keep my eyes open. I was pretty sure if I closed them, I would be instantly asleep. “I got a taste of your life of fame tonight and I liked it,” I murmured, wiggling closer to Cory’s warmth, inhaling the leather and dust smell of him.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” His arm tightened around me, his fingers stroking a slow rhythm up and down my bicep.
“I liked when people recognized me and congratulated me. No one asked for my autograph, like you, but I don’t think that would bother me. Don’t you like that they all think you’re great?”
Cory was silent as he switched the blinker on and turned into the trailer park.
Sometimes I wondered why Cory didn’t take advantage of his looks and talent. After he won the World Championship, he had had sponsorship offers and had been asked to represent equine products, but he had turned them all down. At the time, I thought it was because of his grief over losing his horse, Jet. He had even stopped riding for a while. But now, something about his thoughtful look told me there might be more to it than I originally surmised.
He eased the
truck into his regular parking spot between the trailer and his mom’s economy car. He pushed the gear shifter to park, turned off the headlights, and shut the truck down.
I tipped my head back to look at him, not sure if he was going to answer my question.
The curtains to the tiny living room of his white mobile unit were open, and blue light from the television flashed across his features, making his serious expression spooky. He shrugged the shoulder I wasn’t leaning on. “I’m not the same guy that I was when I won my medal. Things happened that changed me, and I don’t want to be that guy—the one who sacrificed everything for a competition. Back then, I rode to please the fans, to get the win. Sure, I worked hard, but did I pay attention to what my horse needed? If I had, would I have been able to save Jet? The truth is I hate that medal.”
I sat up, putting a hand on his cheek. “There is no way that you could have known Jet would colic. You know there was nothing you could have done. Right? You know that.” He couldn’t still be blaming himself after all this time.
Quietly, almost as if he didn’t want me to hear him, he said, “I guess, but I’ll never really know.”
I cozied back into his side. “Well, I intend to make a career out of my riding.”
Cory shifted so that I would sit up and face him again. “I’m just saying that maybe you should listen to your father and take the school thing more seriously.”
“Are you saying quit riding?” I couldn’t have heard him right.
“Maybe. Just for a few years. Time away from competition puts things in perspective. I speak from experience.”
“Are you saying that I don’t have things in perspective?” My hand dropped and I slid away from him, laying my head on the seat back. Where was this coming from? I thought Cory supported my riding, and now he was sitting here telling me to quit? “I know what’s important,” I spit out.
Cory picked up my hand. I tried to twist it out of his, but he held on to it. “I don’t want to argue with you. Just think about it.”
The next weekend as I was bumping down the barn driveway, I sucked in a deep, intoxicating breath of clean air, warm sunshine, and horse. In the dimming afternoon light, Windsong’s black form was clearly visible from across the farm. His head lifted and he gazed at my car. I comforted myself thinking he recognized me and gave him a little finger wave. My anxiety lowered a notch.
This familiar, routine approach to my favorite place reminded me that I was doing everything I could to prepare for Regionals and protect Windsong’s health. One more weekend before we went and only one more weekend of evading my parents. Because they believed I was at school, I didn’t have to directly lie. I was just omitting the details of my whereabouts.
I loved the smell of fresh shavings, like newly cut lumber. As I walked down the barn aisle, I called out, “Has anybody seen Cory?” The two girls tacking up their mounts shook their heads, and I kept moving out the end of the barn.
Scanning the outdoor arenas as I jogged up the dirt path to the second barn, I looked twice at a cowboy-hatted rider in the higher ring. It wasn’t Cory; the rider lacked his erect and effective posture. Besides, no horse Cory rode would be slouching along like that one was.
The barn was like a ghost town. I poked my head in each of the tack rooms full of western saddles and the tiny office between them. Blocking the glare of the sun with my hand, I stood at the other end of the aisle scanning the farm as it sloped away into more pastures and the round pen.
Hoping the dust rising in a drifting cloud of gray above the circular pen was Cory and a horse, I picked my way down the hill. The walls of the round pen were wood planks and sloped outward like a salad bowl. I peered through the slats and glimpsed Lakota, the two-year-old colt Cory had adopted from EMA Rescue the year before.
I watched for a few minutes as Cory used his body and a coiled rope to urge Lakota around the pen. Cory’s firm voice offered encouragement as the colt trotted, his hooves thudding on the loosely packed footing.
Neither horse nor man could see me, and I wasn’t sure how to announce myself without startling either of them. Lakota solved the problem by skidding to a stop in front of me and snorting at the crack where my face was. I poked my fingers through. “Hi, boy. How are you doing?”
Cory opened the gate with a smile. “You might as well come in here. He won’t pay attention with you out there.”
I slid through the opening, and Lakota came right up to me, pushing his soft nose against my ribs. I stroked his delicate little head and he licked my arm with a hot, wet tongue. I pushed his face away from my arm. “I’m not a salt lick. He looks magnificent,” I said to Cory.
The colt’s coppery brown coat glistened in the bright sun, no ribs showing on his rounded sides. He was starting to look more like a grown-up horse than the gangly, undernourished teenager we had loaded on the trailer months ago.
“His confidence has grown and he’s smart as a whip.” Cory stood, feet apart and arms crossed on his chest. He was watching me and Lakota from under his hat.
Running my hands over the colt’s smoothly muscled neck and back, I marveled that he allowed my touch. “You’ve done so much. I remember when he wouldn’t let us within ten feet of him.”
“Watch this.” Cory put an arm around me, drawing me away from Lakota. He lifted the coiled rope in his hand, and Lakota leapt away, bounding across the pen. He kicked his heels out and loped around the perimeter, sending chunks of dark sand flying. Cory took control, waving the rope to keep Lakota moving and using his body and arms to signal him. He soon had the colt stopping and turning on command.
When Cory allowed Lakota to come to a standstill, he turned me so we both had our backs to the snorting colt.
With our eyes connected and little smirks on our faces, Cory and I waited expectantly for the colt to come over to us on his own. He did not disappoint. Wet lips tickled my elbow, and he gave me a nudge.
A slow smile spread on Cory’s face, which made my heart speed up. “He came to you instead of me.” Cory’s voice was full of astonishment.
I turned and rubbed Lakota’s neck. “See, he trusts me.”
Cory snapped the lead rope on Lakota’s halter and slanted me a speculative look. “Maybe you should get on him then.”
I grinned. “You saddle broke him, too?”
“I haven’t, but I mean right now, bareback, just sit on him and I’ll lead you around once or twice just so he gets the feel of carrying some weight. With me on the ground, he should feel comfortable. Plus, he obviously likes you.”
Liquid brown eyes calmly studied me as I fiddled with his mane. “Are you sure? I don’t want to scare him or anything.” Lakota looked far from nervous, but my stomach was full of butterflies.
“Yep. He has to start somewhere.”
All of those butterflies took off flying at the same time. I had never been the first person to get on any horse. Images of the bucking broncos Len and Cory rode floated through my mind.
“Maybe you should go first. I could hold him. After all, you have experience with bucking horses.”
Cory rubbed his hand on my back. “He’s not going to buck.” But when I quirked an eyebrow at him, he added, “I don’t think.”
Swallowing, I nodded. While Cory held Lakota’s head, I laid over his back on my belly, patting his side and wiggling around. Other than turning his head and nudging my leg, Lakota just stood there nibbling Cory’s fingers.
With Cory’s help, I carefully put my leg over and sat up, gently stroking the thick, muscular neck and talking to the colt. He cocked his head sideways and looked at me but otherwise seemed relaxed and comfortable.
I nodded to Cory. With a light tug on the halter, he clucked so Lakota would step forward. The colt resisted, pulling his head back with a small hop to the side. He continued to hop around and Cory struggled to hold him still.
“Maybe you better slide off.”
“Let go of his head.”
“Are you nuts? He’ll dump you.
”
“Trust me, Cory. Let go of his head.”
Cory bit his lip but eased his grip on Lakota’s halter.
The colt twisted around, taking a few more sideways steps, until his neck was bent in half and he was looking me in the eye.
“Easy, Lakota. It’s just me up here.”
Leaning down, I held out my hand so he could reach it. He touched it with his nose, sniffing softly. The tension in his body eased. I stroked his neck and spoke in soothing tones, nodded to Cory to signal a walk. Straightening up, Lakota started forward with an awkward, slow gait.
Slowly, I let my calves touch his barrel and he stopped abruptly, cocking an eye back at me. “It’s okay. I won’t fall, you can move and so can I. See?”
Cory stood in the center, giving cautious signals to keep Lakota walking. After a lap or two around the small pen, I decided that was enough of an introduction and slid off. When my feet connected with the earth again, I let out a whistling breath that I didn’t even know I had been holding.
Lakota immediately spun around and put his head in my arms. I tugged his ears and scratched his poll. “Good boy.” I grinned at Cory.
“He is a really good boy. Won’t be long before he’s loping around with saddle, bridle, and rider.”
I clapped my hands together and pressed them to my lips. “That almost felt as wonderful as winning a championship ribbon.”
Cory’s gaze met mine. “I think it’s better, way better.”
Chapter 10
I had been keeping a notebook with Windsong’s vital signs. I had a good idea how high his heart and breathing rates would go when I worked him. And I even knew how long it took for them to return to normal.
As we pulled in the long dirt drive of the state horse park, I was hoping the three-hour trip hadn’t stressed Windsong too much. I brought Windsong into his stall and took out my stethoscope to check his numbers while Kate and Cory unloaded my equipment and took the trailer to the camping area.