Chapter Five
Saturday. 6:45 a.m.
“Work those reins gently. Just a light touch as you drape ’em against his neck,” Skylar said to Brandon. “He’ll respond.”
“I need both my hands, but this stupid sling is so stupid and I can’t get my stupid hand on the stupid left rein.”
Skylar rolled her eyes. If she had to hear Brandon gripe about his immobilized shoulder one more time… At least he’d said “stupid this” time and hadn’t called them “fucking” reins again.
“OMG, Brandon, for the last time, you don’t need two hands for Western reining—”
“Crap, why does he keep doing that?”
Handsome stretched his neck, yanking the reins, causing Brandon to lurch forward.
Normally so withdrawn, once she’d gotten the kid on a horse, he’d begun to open up. At least, a little. While he was on the horse. He shut right down again when he dismounted. But for these moments when he was in the saddle, she could see through a crack in his armor. After a month of lurking in her barn after being relocated from a group home that had culminated in a brawl with five other boys over alleged stealing, ready to snap at her each time she tried to reach him, she’d realized the horses made Brandon curious—and a little vulnerable. How could one not be reminded of their place in the world when faced with a one-thousand-eight-hundred pound beast who could crush one’s toes just by accidently stepping on them?
Animals had saved her life. Perhaps they could save Brandon’s.
“’Cause you gotta give him more slack. You tug that bit too tight and he’s gonna pull on you. Would you want someone yanking a metal bar against your tongue and lips so hard?”
Her phone messaging system buzzed her cell. It was timed to send reminders if she left voicemails unanswered. She ignored it for now and trotted Patches up next to Handsome, reaching out, slipping the reins free from Brandon’s right hand and over the gelding’s head.
“Time out,” she said, her voice as soft as she could make it but unyielding. “Let’s take a deep breath.”
“More of this deep breathing BS?”
“Yup,” she said without missing a beat, but hell if she had another day of teenage prickles to endure on the heels of a fresh shoulder injury and a truck accident. He was gonna be a peach today.
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t, you’re never gonna keep Handsome’s trust. He’s putting up with your frustration right now because he trusts me and knows I’ve got his back. Think about this from his point of view. He’s at your mercy right now, but horses eventually let you know if you’re not playing nice. He’s bigger, stronger, and no matter how sweet and gentle, he’s got boundaries and can buck you off.”
“Yeah, well speaking of being at a tyrant’s mercy, is Anita still talking shit?”
Skylar took her own advice, inhaled a deep breath to bite her tongue, and pinched the bridge of her nose. He was so confrontational about everything. But Brandon was at the mercy of the Department of Family and Protective Services. With no other living parents or extended family, he was a ward of the state who could move him wherever they wanted. Thrown out by society. She knew what that felt like firsthand. It was why she collected strays like stuffed animals, why opening her home to a kid in need had felt like the right thing to do.
“Yeah, she is. But we’re gonna work through it. In the meantime, don’t become the tyrant to Handsome like Anita is to you. We square?” she said.
Her remark seemed to strike home. She sensed she surprised him sometimes by not scolding him for his foul mouth. But there were bigger battles to win. Battles of wills chief among them, and she couldn’t waste her energy on minor skirmishes. He exhaled hard, took a natural, deep breath. Once he was calm, she draped the reins back over Handsome’s neck, handing them off.
“Now give him more lead—there you go. A little more slack, and walk on to letter A… Perfect.” She smiled, proud of him, as he tapped Handsome’s belly and guided him along the rail to the letters she’d put up in various places to begin training Brandon.
Two months ago, he wouldn’t have calmed down, just would have stomped off to his room and slammed the door.
“And now, say you’re sorry for reining him too hard.”
“What the hell?” he muttered, vanquishing the barely established calm as Handsome plodded slowly across the corral. “I already told you I didn’t mean to.”
She raised an eyebrow to remind him that she was serious. That, and he hadn’t actually said squat by way of an apology. He’d grumbled about tyrants, but semantics. Whatever.
“Not to me, to him, kid. Pet him. It’ll build trust and let him know you’re gentle and just made a mistake.”
Brandon rolled his eyes but did so, and soon, the forced strokes upon the roan gelding’s neck, smoothed out into a natural caress, then pats as he reached letter A and whoa-ed.
“Okay then,” Skylar smiled. “Let’s dismount.”
“That’s it?” Brandon said, rolling his eyes. “I got up at six this morning for a lecture on reining and ten walks around the corral?”