As Bluebell trotted along the perimeter of the pen, Spencer remained in the middle, tracking her as he pivoted on the heel of his boot to rotate in unison. Then, moving the whip into his other hand, he dropped his weight onto his left knee and, like she’d been doing this all of her life, Bluebell promptly turned around and began trotting in the other direction.
“Very good, Bluebell,” he praised. This was going better than he could have ever anticipated. Sure, any horse with even a little training knew how to lunge, but the willingness and attentiveness Bluebell showed was what impressed him the most. The horse not only wanted to please but knew how to take every direction he commanded.
After trotting for some time, he asked for a lope, and the horse cantered beautifully, her stride long and graceful. To his relief, she was sound at all three gaits, something they definitely took a chance on by purchasing her without a test drive.
The two worked in the round pen for almost a half an hour before Spencer decided it was time to finally try his luck in the saddle. Bluebell had proven incredibly trustworthy on the ground. It was time to see what she did with a rider on her back.
Dropping the whip to the sand, he uttered a soft “whoa” and the mare’s hooves instantly planted, her hind feet sliding expertly underneath her. Had she been a cutting horse in her previous life? Spencer could see it—the way she moved with such agility and precision, reminiscent of those highly trained horses that could turn and stop on a dime. Whatever the discipline, it was evident she was a good mare, possibly even fit for the lesson program Spencer’s grandmother had recently dreamed up. She was safe, sane, and sound—three things Spencer would never take for granted in a horse.
He approached Bluebell slowly, and she turned in to meet him in the middle of the pen. With every step, his confidence in this new horse grew.
“Hey, girl.” Running his hand down her dark mane, Spencer spoke softly. “You up for a ride?”
Her low nicker was well-timed, like she agreed.
Spencer adjusted the cinch again, pulling it another notch to tighten the latigo before he placed his boot into one of the stirrups. He didn’t swing his leg over just yet. He wanted to give her a chance to refuse or show signs of discomfort before he fully sat in the saddle. But, like everything else up to this point, Bluebell was unfazed, completely at ease with this next challenge.
“Okay. Let’s do this.”
Grabbing the horn, Spencer hoisted himself up and over, sitting astride the blue roan.
“You good with this?”
He couldn’t see her face but could hear the telltale licking of her smacking her lips.
“Alright, girl. Here we go.”
He collected the reins and relaxed his seat while he squeezed his legs gently to urge Bluebell into a walk. She did just that, picking up his prompts without hesitation. While some horses required specific cues like neck reining, Bluebell seemed to understand his leg pressure and balance in his saddle alone. She was absolutely push button, responding effortlessly to his guidance. With loose reins and subtle shifts in his weight, Spencer maneuvered her around the pen with ease.
“Someone put a lot of work into you,” he said, reaching down to pat her on the neck. He didn’t even have to ask for a stop verbally, simply sitting back on the pockets of his jeans was enough to signal his request. Bluebell halted instantly. “Good girl, Bluebell.” Another pat, followed by a scratch along her longmane. “You’re worth every penny Nana Jo spent on you, and then some.”
They spent the better part of the afternoon in the round pen, and when Spencer decided it was time to give the mare a well-deserved break, he rode her all the way back to the barn before climbing down from the saddle.
Nothing bothered her; not the pair of birds that zipped back and forth in front of them, chirping as they flew past, not the wind that picked up, making the leaves rustle and the pines sway, and not the shrill call from the rooster that announced their arrival back to the barn. Bluebell was calm and steady, taking everything in stride.
He wondered if it was premature, but he thought about sending Trinity a text to let her know about Bluebell’s progress. After all, he’d promised Mia he would keep them posted. But were they really ready to give lessons? Or was it just an excuse to contact Trinity? Because he’d wanted to talk to her again. Sure, they had the paint samples to choose; he could also use that as a reason to reach out. But he’d seen her the night before, and in some ways, it felt too soon to check back in.
Stop second-guessing yourself,he thought as he put his saddle away in the tack room and brushed Bluebell before leading her back to her stall.
There was no reasonnotto text Trinity. They were friends after all, right? He didn’t need to read into it.
Using that logic, he punched out a quick message, feeling like it was appropriate to do so.
Just wanted to keep you updated like I said I would. Took Bluebell out for a ride today and she did fantastic. She should be ready for lessons next week if that’s something you want to get on the calendar.
Leaning against the stall, Spencer rested his back against the rough wood, his boot heel tapping on the lowest rail as he readover the text. Was it too much? Too forward? Too soon? Was there a way for him to unsend it? Should he just chuck his phone into the manure pile and move on?
He chewed on his bottom lip and sighed.
“What are you huffing and puffing about?” Nana Jo broke his concentration when she appeared in the doorway of the big barn moments later. She crossed the aisle and came up to him just before Spencer jammed his phone into his back pocket and shoved off of the stall.
“Nothing.” He wasn’t about to tell his grandmother that he’d sent a text to Trinity. The woman would pry and prod, and who knows what she’d get out of him. He wasn’t good at keeping things close to his chest. “Just putting Bluebell away. Spent some time in the round pen with her today.”
“How’d she do?” Nana Jo folded her arms over the stall door and gave the mare a long look. “Did I throw away my money with this one?”
“Just the opposite.” Spencer joined his grandma at the rail. “She’s highly trained, and super motivated. Not a mean bone in her body. I’m not sure how she ended up with that horse trader, but I’ve seen horses like her sell for five times what you paid.”
“No kidding?” Nana Jo flicked one of her long gray braids over her shoulder and smiled. “You think she’ll make a good lesson horse?”
