Page 28 of A Cowboy in the Streets

Cookies on your desk. I swear they’re not poisoned.

Adam

Cool. Ben can have the first one.

James

Father of the Year

Did I overthink the entire cookie-making process start to finish, from questioning whether I should make oatmeal raisin out of sheer spite to wondering if Adam preferred chewy to crispy? Absolutely I did.

Buttercup.

What the hell was that about?

And why did it make me feel…warm? As warm and soft as the inside of the cookies I had baked him, hoping he liked it that way.

Like that was an appropriate way to feel about my boss.

I wasn’t here to catch gooey feelings for a grumpy cowboy. I was here to train an unrideable horse.

I was here to prove my dad wrong.

With that in mind, I headed for Belle’s stall.

“Morning, Ted,” I said as I passed him in the aisle.

“Hey there, James,” Ted greeted me with a smile.

He seemed a little aimless. Not lost, exactly. But unsure. I paused. “Do you need something?”

“Nah. Just missed the horses, that’s all. Figured I’d say hello to my old friends. I haven’t spent as much time here as I used to.”

Before his wife died. That’s what he meant. I nodded in understanding. “I keep a bag of carrots in the breakroom. You’re welcome to them.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll do a deep clean of the saddles, too. Might as well since I’m here.”

It almost sounded like he was asking for permission. “That would be great.”

“Good.” He grinned. “I’ll do that, then.”

For the rest of the week, I focused my attention on Belle. I spent the next week slowly and carefully rebuilding her foundation. The more time I spent with her, the curiouser I became. It was clear that she loved people and was eager to please. She also had a sly sense of humor, often knocking over the bucket of grooming brushes at the end of a session to show she wanted more scratches. What was it she hated about riding?

Some horses hated work, but Belle was far from lazy. Another possibility was that she simply hated being told what to do. That would pose a bigger obstacle to overcome if she was ever going to be a reining champion. Reining was all about communication, discipline, and eagerness to do the work asked for by the rider.

Something told me that obstinacy wasn’t Belle’s issue. I hoped I was right. Otherwise, she was going to need a new career, and I very much doubted Adam would be thrilled about that.

The lore surrounding Belle was almost legend at this point. She had only been ridden once, no tack. No saddle. No bridle. Just the weight of a rider she loved. Maybe I was a sentimental fool—my dad would certainly say so—but the story of Belle’s first and only ride stuck with me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the key to everything.

So that’s where I started.

On Thursday, while giving her a thorough brushing, I kicked over the bucket, used it as a stool, and leaned over her back to continue brushing her other side. Under the guise of grooming, I gave her most of my weight. She didn’t seem to notice, much less care.

On Friday, I didn’t even pretend. There in her stall, I sprawled over her back, giving her my full weight, letting my legs dangle a bit. She grabbed a mouthful of hay and chewed contentedly.

When Saturday rolled around, I figured Belle had earned her break. Our first week had ended on a high note, and that was something to feel proud about. Tomorrow the real work would start.

I bit my lip. Maybe I should text Chloe and cancel the whole sewing circle thing. Ted had made it clear he took weekends seriously, but still. There was so much work to be done. Belle and Magpie were scheduled for a day of turnout, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t work with another horse.

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