away.
She knew the drill. Let the owners unload the horse. Let the horse run free in the corral a bit. Then introduce her.
Tanna remained in the shadows and paced. She heard the horse kick the inside of the trailer. The sound of hooves hitting metal made her jump.
Eli was on hand although Summer had made herself scarce.
Tanna wanted Fletch here so bad she dug her phone out of her pocket.
You don’t need a man to be strong. You can do this.
She didn’t call him.
Late afternoon heat seeped into her bones. She ducked into the barn and let the cool darkness calm her. Breathing in familiar scents. Watching dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight like bits of fading glitter. She rested against the partition that held her tack, knowing she might not need it. Some owners preferred to use their own bits and training gear, especially in a situation like this one. She forced herself to zone out and wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the barn door creaked.
An arc of sunlight cut through the shadows. “Tanna?”
“I’m here.”
“Thought you might be. Gradskys are ready for you.”
“Okay.”
Eli’s boot steps thudded across the dirt floor. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I want to. I just don’t know how to tell them that even if they do lend me the horse for a trial period, I don’t know how I’ll pay for feed.”
“We’ll figure something out. I promise.”
Her lips flattened. “This isn’t Sutton’s doing?”
“We’ll talk later. They’re waiting.”
“What do I need to bring out?”
“Just your saddle and saddle pad.”
Tanna grabbed her stuff and headed to the corral.
Chuck and Berlin Gradsky were in conversation with Sutton.
Tanna came up on the back side of the corral. She thrust out her hand. “Hi. I’m Tanna Barker.”
The slender, dark-haired woman, fifty or so, smiled. “I’m Berlin Gradsky. This is my husband, Chuck.”
She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you both. Thanks for driving up here and for the opportunity to try out your horse.”
“We’re happy to be here. We’ve been huge fans for years. We watched you win all three championships at the MGM Grand.”
Tanna smiled. “Those were good times. Anything I oughta know about Madera before we get started?”
“She’s been brushed down. Since we knew you’d ride her right away, we left on her protective boots.” Berlin handed over a bridle. “We’ve been reintroducing competition bits, but for right now we’d prefer if you’d use this transition bit.”
“No problem.” Tanna fingered the smooth metal bit. Then she examined the headstall portion of the bridle, noticing it had a noseband tie-down. “She always use a noseband? Or is that new?”
“She’s always used one.”
“Great. I’ll just go ahead and get Madera ready, if that’s all right.”
Berlin said, “We can’t wait.”
She looked at Eli and Sutton. “If one of you wants to get the gate and the other set up barrels, we’ll get this under way.”
Madera trotted over as soon as Tanna entered the pasture. “Such a pretty girl.” The mare was a striking-looking horse—bluish-gray with a black mane and tail. Tanna looped a lead rope over her and loosely tied her to the fence where she’d draped her saddle and saddle blanket. Madera seemed smaller than Jezebel. But as Tanna double-checked Madera’s legs and swept her hand across her back, she realized the mare was all muscle.
Tanna stroked her neck, talking softly to her, reassuring her, petting the area between her eyes to calm her. When Madera lowered her head, Tanna slipped the bridle on without issue, tightening the buckles and checking the bit.
So far, so good.
But as soon as Tanna put on the saddle pad, Madera balked. Backing away. Acting like she was going to kick before she did a series of little crow hops. Tanna jerked on the reins and sharply said, “Hey. Enough.”
That stopped some of her antsy behavior.
Almost by rote Tanna finished saddling her. She led her half the length of the corral, stopped, backed her up and checked the cinch. Loose. No surprise that Madera had expanded her belly in anticipation of being ridden; most horses did. Tanna tightened the cinch, walked Madera forward another twenty paces and checked the cinch and the position of the saddle again. No change. They were good to go.
But when she mounted up, a shot of pain burned through her bad knee. She needed to adjust the stirrups. Tanna felt like a jack-in-the-box popping off and on the horse. Finally everything felt right.
Out in the pasture, she tested Madera’s stopping power. She was happy that the mare responded to verbal commands better than the reins. Then Tanna tugged out and down on the reins and the horse turned a tight circle. She tried the opposite side. Not as tight, but decent.
As soon as she kicked her heels, Madera jumped to life.
That was a nice burst of speed.
Tanna didn’t let her run far. She wanted to see how the horse would react if she let up on the reins.
Madera immediately tried to bolt.
“So, you’re one of those kinds. Docile acting until the moment my guard is down. Then you pull a Pony Express imitation.” She patted Madera on the neck. “I’m onto you, sister. But I’m gonna wait to pass judgment on whether that’s a good or bad thing until I see what you can do.” She squinted at the gate and Eli waved his arms, which meant the barrels were ready.
She kept Madera at an easy trot until twenty yards from the gate. “Show me whatcha got. Let’s run.” She dropped her butt into the saddle and Madera charged forward. Once they hit the timer’s mark, Madera was all about speed.
Tanna directed her to the right and there wasn’t a hitch in Madera’s smooth movement even coming out of the pocket. Still, Tanna fought the urge to rein back on the second barrel and they cut it so tight they tipped the barrel over.
Five-second penalty.
But the race wasn’t over yet. They nudged the last barrel but it only teetered. Then Madera was on the straightaway and that burst of speed Tanna had felt wasn’t a fluke.
Madera hauled ass. Serious ass.
They cleared the gate too far. That’s something they’d need to work on—faster stops. Many rodeos were held in confined spaces with short alleyways so the horse needed to acclimate to that possibility every time.
She kept Madera on a short rein and yelled to Sutton. “Time?”
“Twenty-five point nine. With the five-second penalty.”
Which meant a base time of . . . twenty-some-odd seconds? On a first run? With a rusty rider?
Holy. Shit.
What could this horse do if she was properly trained with a rider who knew how to push her to peak performance?
She could win. And win big.
One thing Tanna hadn’t forgotten about the years she’d spent with Jezebel—the feisty mare hadn’t started out top-notch. It’d taken dedication on Tanna’s part to get her to that level. Jezebel’s owners wouldn’t have had a winning horse if not for Tanna’s perseverance to turn her into one. Yes, horses with high price tags almost always performed better. But a good partnership between horse and rider really made a difference.
Madera made a noise.
Tanna patted her neck. “You did good.”
Confidence pushed through the fog of doubt. She shouted at Eli. “I’m runnin’ them again.”
Each of the next six runs fluctuated between nineteen point five and twenty-one point one.
Tanna stopped to regroup. She hung back by the gate, tempted to dismount and let Madera roll in the dirt, eat some oats, because she deserved it. But she wanted to stay on just a little longer. She was excited about this horse. Had she ever thought she’d say that again? Had she ever thought she’d supplant her fear long enough to
reclaim her skill? The mechanics were coming back to her—if they’d ever really left.
She returned to the training area and stopped in front of Chuck and Berlin, who wore identical grins.
Chuck spoke first. “You made our horse look good.”
“Oh, I think the reverse is true. She is a sneaky one. Not balking at the bit, which I expected with the noseband, but balking at getting saddled. She’s got a wicked crow hop if you’re not paying attention. Her head needs to be higher in the turn but I think trying her with a browband instead of a noseband will help.” Tanna patted Madera’s neck. “This girl prances like an Arabian and turns like a Quarter Horse. But that burst of speed reminds me of a Thoroughbred.”
“You aren’t far off. Her dam was Red Rider, a champion cutting horse. Her sire, Fool’s Gold, also a Quarter Horse, but he earned his name by having that Thoroughbred streak.”
“You bred her?”
“Bred, born and broke at our place. We’d intended to train her as a cutting horse. The gal can run, so on a whim we contacted a barrel horse trainer and she worked with her for a year before Natalie took her on the circuit. You have no idea what a rush it is to see you riding her,” Berlin said. “It’s like handing your car keys to someone and them proving that your car isn’t a Ford, but a Ferrari.”
Truly touched, Tanna said, “There’s a compliment. Thank you.”
“So are you interested in training with her?”
“Training with? Meaning putting me in charge of getting her competition ready and then handing the reins to another competitor? No.”
“But you’d be willing to take her on yourself?” Berlin prompted.
“I’m willing to discuss it.”
Berlin and Chuck exchanged a grin. “That’s what we were hoping to hear. Tell you what. We’re staying in Rawlins. We’d like to take you out for supper and we can talk about it then.” Chuck looked at Eli and Sutton. “You’re both invited too.”
Sutton said, “Great! I’m in.”
Eli smiled. “I appreciate the invite. But me’n my lady already made plans for tonight.”
“If they aren’t set in stone, we’d be happy to have her come along too.”
“That’s kind of you to offer and I’ll pass it along to her. But I’ll still decline. She says she’s been sharing me all week and she wants a night to us.” Eli smiled and clapped Sutton on the back. “So feel free to keep this one out all night.”
Berlin laughed. “Deal.”
“You wanna leave Madera here? Or do you have arrangements for her elsewhere?”
“If you’re okay with it, we’ll leave her.”
“Cool. Tanna?”
“I’d be happy to take care of her.”
“I’m sure you will. Shall we say Cattleman’s Club at eight?”
“See you then.”
She unsaddled Madera and brushed her down. Such a beautiful animal and she knew it. She tossed her mane as Tanna groomed her. Then she handed the horse off to Eli to turn her out.
“You oughta ask Fletch to come to the dinner with the Gradskys tonight,” Eli said.
“I don’t want to put any pressure on him. He feels guilty if he has to break plans.”
“True. But I thought he’d be here today. Did he tell you he’d try and stop by for a little bit?”
“No.” Tanna petted Madera’s neck. “But he’s busy.”
“He’s always busy so that’s a piss-poor excuse. This was a big day for you. He shoulda been here.”
She’d thought the same thing but worried she might be acting like a bitchy girlfriend if she mentioned it, so she’d kept her feelings to herself. “It would’ve been good to have him here. But we have our own lives. He might’ve had an emergency.”
“You cut him entirely too much slack.” Eli smiled. “I’m really proud of you, girl. You’ve come a long way. I know you’ll credit Fletch, or Sutton, or maybe me, but at the end of the day, everything you’ve done—it’s all you, Tanna. Don’t let nothin’ or no one take that away from you today.”
That made her a little teary-eyed. “That means a lot. Thanks, Eli. For everything.”
“You’re welcome. Now git.”
On impulse, she called Fletch.
He picked up on the first ring. “This is Dr. Fletcher.”
“You won’t believe the great day I had! Madera can run. Lord, can that mare run. I pushed her hard, pushed myself hard and it paid off. Granted, she needs some work in specific areas, but we really clicked.”
He didn’t say anything, which wasn’t like him.
“Fletch? You still there?”
“Yeah. I’m here. Sounds like everything is working out exactly as you’d hoped.”
“The horse is better than I’d hoped, to be honest. The Gradskys want me to train with her, although it’s not a done deal. I’ve yet to nail down the particulars, but we’re doin’ that tonight.” She took a breath before she asked if he wanted to come along.
But Fletch beat her to the punch. “So you’re leaving? Just like that,” he said flatly. “You get a top-notch horse and then you’re gone.”
“No! It’s not like that.” He sounded angry. Really angry.
“Bullshit, Tanna. They must’ve liked what they saw in you if they’re willing to negotiate terms after just a couple runs. Don’t tell me you won’t be discussing a training schedule with them, and I’m betting that training will take place in Colorado.”
“So I should what? Say no?”
“We both know you won’t.”
Goddamn him. Now she was pissed.
“Look, Tanna, I’m swamped today. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. Calls to make—”
“And God knows you’d never say no to that, would you?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped. “I told you when we got involved that my job—”
“Is everything to you. Yeah, I get it. I just thought maybe I’d started to mean something to you too.” Dammit. Why had she said that? Now she did sound like a whiny girlfriend.
“Yeah? Well, same goes, sweetheart. You’re the one who’s packing up and leaving.”
Ugly silence stretched between them.
Finally Fletch spoke. “I don’t have time to do this right now.”
“There’s a surprise. Tell you what. I won’t bother you, bein’s you’re so busy. If you want to talk? You know where to find me.”
“Unless you’re already in Colorado.”
“Unless you pull your head out of your ass, Doc, don’t bother contacting me at all,” she shot back.
“Tanna—”
She hung up. And cried all the way back to the Split Rock.
How could one of the best days of her life in recent years also be one of the worst?
Chapter Thirty-four
“Fuck!” Fletch was shaking so hard he pulled to the side of the road.
He wasn’t mad at her; he was mad at the situation. He’d known from the start she wouldn’t stay in Wyoming and he’d assured himself he could handle it.
Yeah, you’re handling it real well. Getting pissed when she just wanted to share her good news with you?
His phone rang. He half expected—no, he hoped it was Tanna calling him back to slice a layer of skin off him like he deserved.
But it wasn’t her. It was the answering service. He let the call go to voice mail while he tried to calm down.
Breathe. Think. What’s the next logical step?
Besides showing up at her trailer, throwing himself at her feet and confessing his love for her? Begging her to stay?
That’d be a good place to start. Problem was, it needed to be more than a fifteen-minute conversation between his emergency calls, and that was all the time he had to spare right now.