“This is Breakneck.” Hollie narrowed her eyes at the name. “She is what cowboys callrank, meaning she’s got a vicious buck. She’s almost three and we usually wait until a horse is about four or so to compete, so next season she’ll be ready.”
I loaded her up, pulled the lever, and out she went.
Her first buck was a winner and every buck after was equally strong. I let her go the full eight seconds because I knew she could handle it. When the box rolled to the ground, I smiled. Meadowbrook had high hopes for her.
When we finished up, Harlan toted all the equipment and tack to the barn. Cade led the girls to pasture one to visit with Tillie. Which, conveniently, left Hollie and I alone for a minute. I hopped the fence and circled the chute to where Hollie stood on the platform. I lifted my hand to help her jump down, and she slipped her fingers into mine. Her tennis shoes hit the dirt with a thud.
“That was incredible, Jesse. I think we need to go to a rodeo.”
“You definitely do. Meadowbrook horses are so fun to watch.”
She turned her shoulders toward the pasture where the kids were hanging on the fence. Slowly we moved that direction. “So what makes them buck in the first place? I’ve always thought they were afraid, but all of them seemed really calm.”
“A lot of people think that, but scared horses are dangerous. They have to have decent manners to make it on the circuit.”
“So you just train them somehow?”
I nodded. “They do have to have a little bit of bucking instinct in them, and Tag is really good at figuring out which ones have it then drawing out their full potential. Some of our champions are big teddy bears once you take that flank strap off.”
“Bea told me Tag’s very gifted with them.”
“He is. I wish I had his skill.”
“What are you good at?”
I gave her a sideways glance, finding her eyes on me as we walked. “With the horses?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Or something on the ranch.”
I hummed as I thought. “Roping. I grew up chasing cattle, and I loved it.”
“Like using a lasso?” Her eyes brightened and she bit down on her bottom lip with a smile.
“Well, we don’t call it a lasso, but yes.”
“What do you call it?”
I huffed a laugh. “Just a rope.”
“Oh.” She laughed too. “I would love to see you do that sometime.”
“I could teach you. It’s not hard.”
“That sounds fun.” She looked toward pasture one and hung her hands on her back pockets. “Do you guys have any horses that you just…ride? I mean, you have trail horses, right?”
“The guests ride our pets and some of the older horses.”
We chatted some more about the looming financial burden of retiring horses. Then I explained the typical schedule at Meadowbrook: riding the walking or roping horses, making sure our champions get exercise, getting stalled horses to pasture and back, desensitizing the skittish ones, getting a dummy on the trainees. We stopped a ways off from where the kids were giggling and just talked. She asked questions, and I answered them, proud to tell her about the work I did every day.
The kids had moved down the fence toward Windy Foot, our gentle giant who was getting up in age. They held handfuls of grass out to him, which he dutifully munched.
“Can we come out and watch tomorrow?”
I smiled, thrilled she would want to. “Whenever you want. We are always doing something in that ring.”
“We’ll have to do that.” Her eyes roamed over to the kids and she took a heavy breath. “This has been so nice. The girls are going to be upset when I call them.”
“You guys need to head?”
