‘So, strengthen her left side?’
‘Always a good idea.’ Sierra tipped her head. ‘Take the left barrel first instead of the right, so that you get her weak side out of the way. Then you have two right turns and the straight for her to pick up speed on.’
‘Huh.’ Skye stepped backwards and raised one hand, bringing Smokey to an abrupt halt. ‘That’s so obvious I’m embarrassed I never thought of it.’
As Skye brought Smokey over, Sierra asked, ‘What are you coming in on?’
‘Late nineteens, some twenties. Once, we got eighteen-nine-nine.’ She sighed. ‘Nothing faster.’
‘Yet,’ Sierra reminded her.
‘Yet,’ Skye affirmed.
They walked side by side, Smokey and Bandit between them, from the round pen towards the arena, past a string of five resort horses that were tied to the hitching rail outside the barn, waiting to be saddled. A few guests had filtered down from the resort in preparation for their ride, and Sierra played her part, smiling and greeting each of them by name.
Benji patiently showed a teenaged girl how to groom Zephyr, Mav’s Mustang, and although his back was to her, Sierra followed his big hands as they moved in long strokes down the horse’s neck. It wasn’t a stretch of her imagination to imagine those capable hands on her skin again – not after last night.
When she had climbed onto his lap in the truck, all she had wanted was for him to snap and lose control. Just once. Just one last time, so that she could have momentary relief from the heavy emptiness. Still, she hadn’t been surprised that he’d stopped given how drunk she’d been. Benji wasn’t one to take advantage. But, strangely, and though the moment had passed, Sierra sorely regretted the last few tequila shots that had pushed her from tipsy to intoxicated. Because the need had been real and raw – and it hadn’t stopped since.
But the problem, the red flag she couldn’t ignore, was that it would mean more to Benji, who couldn’t seem to accept the fact that Sierra-Before, the woman he had loved, was well and truly gone.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Benji looked up from grooming Zephyr.
Their eyes met.
Sierra looked away almost immediately, but that didn’t stop the zing of recognition, of hurt, between them. And even though she tried to ignore it, it hounded her. His voice was in her head, telling her that he hadn’t been with another woman in seventeen years. His scent surrounded her, clinging to the jacket she wore. And try as she might, Sierra wasn’t entirely sure that she would ever escape him, regardless of how much she wanted to. And she wasn’t sure he would ever escape her, irrespective of how much he should try to.
‘Start her on the pattern at a gentle trot first,’ Sierra instructed Skye.
‘Left barrel first?’
‘Let’s start right, then try left and see how she does. We’ll do the same at a lope and then at full speed once she’s warm.’
Skye grabbed the reins and put her left foot in the stirrup, but not before Sierra saw the saddle she was using. It wasn’t a barrel saddle. It was a trophy roping saddle, with the name ‘Jesse James Jones’ laser engraved on the fenders beneath ‘Arizona High School Rodeo Association’.
Sierra knew TJ relatively well. He had been a team roper during the same time that Benji and Mav had been competing. Before he had made the switch to bull riding, TJ and his parents had even stayed with them at Hunt Ranch back in their Junior Rodeo days.
‘Nice saddle. I’m surprised TJ parted ways with it.’
Skye ran her left hand gently over the wrapped horn, and for the first time since meeting the wrangler, Sierra noticed the middle and ring fingers on Skye’s left hand. They veered off slightly from what, Sierra knew, could only have been a bad break that hadn’t set properly. ‘It was a gift – back when I couldn’t afford a saddle that fit.’
‘It’s probably a little heavy for barrels. Feel free to use one of mine next time.’
‘I have a second-hand Billy Cook Barrel Racer I picked up off Marketplace actually. I just prefer the feel of this one.’ Skye chuckled without humour. ‘TJ was actually the one who got me interested in barrels; he paid for my first lesson.’
‘Small world; I didn’t even know you knew him.’
Sierra wanted to ask how he was doing after his accident, but before she could even open her mouth, Skye said, ‘I don’t. Not really.’
Sensing that there was more to it, but knowing how much prying questions could hurt, Sierra didn’t continue the conversation. ‘Let’s start. Right first.’
As Skye started guiding Smokey through the pattern, Sierra watched. While Skye was a great rider with a solid seat, it was immediately obvious that she was holding Smokey back.
Sierra didn’t stop the drill, just called out, ‘Good!’ when they had run the pattern twice, once from each side. ‘Take her through again, this time at a lope!’
As Skye pushed Smokey into a faster gait, Sierra saw those little subtleties Skye had probably missed from the saddle. Even though Skye had worried that she was taking Smokey too wide, she was actually doing the opposite and pushing Smokey way too close to the barrel. She also wasn’t completing each barrel, so that she lost seconds correcting her horse’s line of travel at each stage.
Skye loped down the centre line and came to a halt right in front of Sierra. She patted Smokey’s neck and looked up warily. ‘Okay, let me have it.’
