“Are you worried?” He had a wrinkle between his eyes, a worry line that spoke volumes.
“No, sometimes this happens,” he said with an air of confidence. Zoey didn’t buy it, though. Maybe they hadn’t known each other long, but when he was sure of something, he always looked her right in the eyes. This time, he’d purposely avoided her gaze.
He rode into the herd, unchallenged by the lead mare. She didn’t seem to care if he or his horse were there. Apparently, they’d been accepted as part of the herd. Or the mare knew that Hunter was the real boss. Either way, she backed down and let him get to work, cutting the horses he needed out from the rest of them. He’d ride them over the ridge, and Zoey stood at the top to make sure they didn’t come back over.
The process went fairly quickly, until the Dalmatian. She kept dogging from side to side and using the other horses as a fence between her and Hunter. His horse was tiring out—he’d had a long day.
After a few minutes of trying to steer Perdie in the right direction, he pulled his rope off his saddle horn and tried roping her. But by this point, she was too skittish and kept ducking her head.
Thirty minutes, one agitated Hunter, and no roped horse later, Zoey decided to jump in. “How long have you had your Dalmatians?”
“A few months,” Hunter said, reeling in his rope for the umpteenth time.
“Maybe she’s afraid of men, and if she’s been out on open range, that would only compound the problem, right?”
Hunter leaned back on his horse and nodded—grudgingly. She didn’t really blame him, though. They were both exhausted, and this was a frustrating situation.
“Can I give it a try?”
Hunter ran a hand over the back of his neck. “To rope her?”
“Why not?”
He breathed out long, and she got the feeling he really didn’t want to say yes, but he did anyway. “Be my guest.”
She slid off her horse with her rope in her hand. Sometimes she couldn't get a harness on, but if she could get the rope around their neck, they knew they needed to behave. Walking up to her and talking softly would keep her from getting spooked. At least she hoped so. Truly, some horses just didn’t like men or respond well to them. Rarely did it go the other way.
Walking slowly toward the horse, Zoey spoke in a soft voice. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m not going to hurt you. We just want to bring you down to the farm. You’ll love it. They have all the hay cubes you can eat, rubdowns, and room to run around.”
Zoey inched closer. The horse snuffed and pawed at the ground, but then she slowly calmed and held still as Zoey got closer, talking to her all the while about the benefits of barn life in the winter. Finally, when Zoey was close enough, she reached out a hand and patted the mare’s neck.
“Well, I’ll be,” Hunter breathed out behind her.
“That’s a good girl,” Zoey said. “You’re such a good girl. I’m just going to put this rope around your neck now.”
Loop ready, Zoey lifted the rope and slid it over the horse’s neck, no problem. No problem until she started tightening it. The mare started backing up, then acted like she might go into a crow hop. Zoey held fast to the rope.
“Zoey, get away from her.” Hunter spoke up, his voice higher than normal.
Zoey’s mind focused, playing her options out in quick succession. In the rodeo, when a horse started acting up, she’d always been able to get it under control by mounting it. As soon as it had a rider, it calmed down. Well-trained horses did that, and Hunter had trained this one, so she knew this horse was good to go.
So her options were limited. She could back off and let the horse run off with the rope hanging from its neck, potentially causing damage to the horse if they had to leave it with the rope, or … or she could hop on.
She moved in.
“No, Zoey!” Hunter yelled, voice frantic. “Don’t—”
But it was too late. She grabbed onto the mare’s mane, swung her leg, and hoisted herself up. The horse calmed under her weight, and Zoey shot a grin at Hunter. She’d done it. She’d calmed his horse and captured her when he couldn’t.
Their eyes locked. Where she expected admiration, she found fear and horror.
“What is—” Before she finished getting her sentence out, the horse went into a full-tilt crow hop. Zoey had a pretty good grip on her mane, but she hadn’t expected the mare to freak out. In the surprise of the first buck, she lost her grip and tumbled off the horse.
She hit the ground shoulder first, and her head slammed into something hard and sharp. A deep yell, followed by clomping footsteps, came at her—the mare reared up, and Zoey barely moved away before her hoofs came down. The rumble of them hitting the ground reverberated in her body.
Then Hunter was there, throwing his arms in the air and scaring the horse back and away from her. Her mind whirled, a frenzy of thoughts and adrenaline, as she relieved the entire moment scene for scene in a blink of an eye. She rolled to her hands and knees and tried to push herself up, but her arms went weak and she fell to her elbows. Ouch.
A hand came under her arm and held her steady so she didn’t face-plant in the dirt. A warm drip slid down her face as Hunter gently turned her body and helped her sit. His hands trembled against her—either that or she was trembling. She couldn’t tell. Stupid, hard, sharp thing—whatever it was she’d hit her head-on.
