Page 112 of Praying for Thunder

“Yeah.” The older one nodded, not pleased with the notion. “Soon, too. Why do you think you’re home? Watch this.” To Rya, he shouted, “Ry! To the dirt!”

Her shiny black horse made her shorter blond hair stand out even more, and her smile even more contagious. As instructed, the horse turned around and then picked up speed after Rya made rapid clucking noises. She beamed, “Good, girl.” Once across the field, they stopped at the entrance of a fenced arena—the dirt. It was big and had a big barrel at each end.

Her brother called out, “Nice and easy to warm up.”

Preparing reins in her hand, she hunched forward in the saddle, her bottom lip blowing air up to move her bangs from her eyes. The horse changed, too. It became focused on what was ahead. Then I heard her shout out, “Yah!”

That horse took off like his ass was on fire, and he loved it.

A brother chuckled. “So much for warming up.”

Rya and this horse were a blur, racing across the arena toward the barrel furthest away.

The first brother snickered, “This is them warming up.”

“Holy shit,” uttered a younger one.

The older cheered, “Yes! Now take her tight!”

It was incredible to watch Rya handle an animal that outweighed her by over a thousand pounds. I guess, to say she was in control isn’t adequate. It was more like they, her and the horse, had blended. Were unified. One trying to please the other. Or both trying to please each other.

Magical…

The brothers were of different ages, but all older than Rya. The youngest was in his twenties. They sat on their horses, as if owning them. The horses knew who was in charge. Completely different relationships versus the understanding between Rya and her friend.

Their cowboy hats and chaps, alone, told me how different we were. The only leather I wore was on my feet and the decrepit cut on my shoulders.

Once around the barrel, Rya now raced her way back toward the barrel closer to the entrance. On a dime, she circled that one, also, then raced back to the prior barrel. Incredibly, the horse ran even faster, right out of the arena.

“You’ve done real good with her, Bert,” said a younger brother.

Another sunk in his saddle. “Dad sees them dollar signs.”

Bert nodded. “Ready to see her Reining.”

Jaws dropped.

Bert grimaced. “He wants her doing both. Barrel and Reining.”

A brother grumbled, “Gonna run her to the ground.”

“When does she get pulled from school?” asked one of them.

Bert pet his horse. “Monday is her last day.”

What?

A brother asked, “Does she know?”

Bert shook his head. “No. She’ll be hitting the road with us soon.”

A brother blew out air. “He owns her now.”

“Just like Mom.”

Trying not to appear as sad as he was, Bert told Rya, “Get Sable ready for some Reinin’.”

“Same horse?” asked a brother.