Falling For A Cowboy. Karen Rock
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Harley,” she cooed, and he lowered his head and blew. His stamping hooves shifted through the straw bed. “Sorry I haven’t been around.”
Lifting the hard metal latch, she eased open the door and made to slide inside.
“Honey. That may not be safe,” her mother cautioned.
“It’s Harley.”
In an instant, she threw her arms around his warm neck and buried her face in his tangled silver mane. When had he last been brushed? The rise of dust from his pelt itched her nose, and she sneezed.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she crooned, and Harley dropped his head to her shoulder at last, nickering, shaking slightly in his withers. “Should never ever have abandoned you.”
Another rumble emerged from the back of his throat. His soft lips brushed against her jawbone and his warm breath rushed by her ear.
“I was scared. Still am. But I’m going to do right by you now,” she vowed, feeling around for a brush. Harley needed her and she needed him. That was plain.
An hour later, she and her mother led Harley by a corral on their way to the pasture. The rise and fall of excited children’s voices indicated a lesson in progress.
“You need to wear your helmet,” she heard an adult exclaim.
“Watch her back brace,” someone else warned.
“No! I don’t want to!” she heard a girl scream. “Please don’t make me. Please!”
Harley slowed and his ears twitched. She clucked to keep him moving, but he seemed more interested in the commotion. Was this the therapy program her doctor had mentioned? If so, good thing she hadn’t joined it. Why force people with disabilities to confront everything they couldn’t do? It was demoralizing.
“Is that Amberley James?” she heard someone squeal. She froze.
“Yes, it is!”
“Amberley!”
A rush of movement, color and shapes, closed in on the fence. Harley sidestepped but otherwise stayed calm.
She’d gotten recognized plenty in her old life. But now, she just wanted to be forgotten. Since she had stayed away from the news, she hadn’t yet heard how the rodeo community responded to her vision loss. Her mother and her agent resolved her former contract obligations. That much she knew, but little else.
Still, she couldn’t deny that a bead of warmth expanded inside at the children’s excitement to see her.
“Howdy,” she called in their general direction.
“Ride? Ride? Ride?” demanded a little boy. A blur of motion at his sides suggested he flapped his hands.
“Can you teach me to be a barrel racer?” asked a child who didn’t appear to have any hair given the bare flesh tone surrounding her head.
Cancer?
Her heart squeezed.
“Oh. No. I—uh—I don’t ride much anymore.”
“See!” cried the child she’d heard earlier. “Amberley’s blind like me and she won’t ride, so I don’t have to either. I want to go home!”
“Well. Ah...” She stalled, unable to agree with that sentiment. Riding helped her during the years her thick glasses made her feel different from other kids. Working with horses gave her a taste of success and achievement. She didn’t want this little one to leave defeated because of her.
“It sure would mean a lot to the kids if you’d join us today,” said a voice she recognized. Joan’s daughter, Belle, home from college. “Not to mention we’re a bit understaffed at the moment.”
Amberley winced, thinking of injured Joan and Harley’s role in it. She owed it to the Jordans to help. At least for today.
“I might take Harley around once,” Amberley said slowly, hardly believing the words as she spoke them. “If you will, too. What’s your name?”
The little girl bowed a head of what looked like blond curls. “Fran.”
“Alright, Fran. If I walk Harley around, do you think you might try for me?”
“Okay.”
A moment later, she guided Harley into the corral, surprised at his lack of hesitation. He stepped forward, sure-footed and eager. In fact, she’d never sensed him this excited, not even before a barrel race.
Was he showing off for the kids?
“Here you go.” With an oomph, Benny hefted Harley’s saddle over her horse’s back. She didn’t need her eyesight for this, she mused, while her fingers flew nimbly, fastening and cinching out of habit. A budding light of confidence flickered inside.
With a boost from Benny, she swung her leg around Harley, and her lips twitched up in an unstoppable smile. Settling back in the saddle felt good. Like coming home.
“Fran? Kids? You ready?”
“Yes!” they chorused.
“I’ll lead you around,” her mother called from below, but Amberley shook her head. She could manage this small-sized corral, and she’d discern the fence in time to avoid it.
Most important, at least for today, she wanted to imagine that she could ride Harley on her own. She owed it to her horse, to injured, shorthanded Joan, and to her mother, who needed to stop fussing and get her life back.
Maybe, in this insular little world, Amberley could pretend she had a purpose after all.
SWEAT TRICKLED DOWN Jared’s jaw as he rode his eleven-year-old quarter horse, Chance, behind a herd of ambling longhorns. Petey, a stray who’d become one of the ranch’s top work dogs, loped along. Overhead, a vast blue sky arched above craggy mountaintops. The musky smells of livestock and leather mingled with the sweet pine of the tree breaks in the clear, dry air.
Nothing invigorated him like riding in high open spaces, he thought, chest expanding in a deep breath. Well, nothing except winning under the big lights and watching Amberley’s eyes light up in a smile.
He tamped down thoughts of his best friend. Amberley wanted nothing to do with him. Last week, she swore she didn’t need his help, and her rejection stung, leaving a rawness inside that hurt anytime his mind turned her way.
How was she?
Had her vision worsened?
Picturing her holed up in her house, giving up, bothered him to no end. It killed him to think of his gutsy, fearless pal that way. She’d never been a quitter and had succeeded in everything she’d done. Not a day passed without him staring down at his phone, willing himself not to call.
To leave her be.
He was a man of his word.
With a slight tug of the reins, he guided his sleek gray stallion around a depression in the field and clamped his teeth. But it made no lick of sense for her to walk away from their friendship. She meant a heck of a lot to him, and he’d thought that went for her, too.
Guess he’d been wrong.
Or she was just being stubborn.
His money was on his second guess, but how to know for certain?
Don’t interfere with something that ain’t botherin’ you none, his pa always said.
But it did. Maybe too much.
Enough.
He swayed slightly in the saddle and forced his mind on the day’s tasks. His gaze traveled over the brown-and-white-spotted cattle, checking for stragglers. Black-and-white herding dogs prowled