Page 80 of Headed for Home

The little girl barely gives her a peek. “Nope.”

“Figures,” I mumble.

But that’s probably for the best. Serves me right too. I need to keep my head in the game. Or practice. Either way, the kids are actually listening. An internal fist pumps at the accomplishment.

“Great teamwork, Colts. Let’s change things up a bit. Instead of throwing, roll the ball to each other. This is good practice for catching grounders.” I model the action of scooping and returning.

The kids are quick to comply. They do well and remain on task. That makes the rest of practice run smoothly but I can’t get Cassidy’s reaction out of my mind.

When the clock strikes six, I rush to pass out the shirts. The team erupts in cheers, no complaints about my hurried methods. Everyone is smiling as they show off their earned uniform.

I’m racing to the gap in the fence when Cassidy approaches. My stomach plummets at her forced smile. “What’s wrong, beauty?”

Her lips wobble but she tries to stay strong. “I have a buyer for Leita.”

Brenda jabs her heels into Leita’s sides again. The roan jolts forward, trying to fulfill her rider’s request. A harsh yank on the reins suggests she did the opposite. Frustration bubbles as I watch my horse fight to understand what this woman wants.

“I think she needs a bit in her mouth.” Brenda rattles the hackamore shanks as if useless.

I swallow a scream, reminding myself this is a business. “That’s not necessary. She responds very well.”

“Not to me,” the blonde retorts.

A sour gurgle twists my gut when her mixed signals almost steer Leita into the fence. “She only needs gentle pressure from your legs. Just take it easy. Try being softer with your hands too.”

“We’ll reach an understanding,” Brenda insists.

The tight circle she forces Leita into suggests that point will be met with the mare sour and ruined. The wind whips to stir the upset on my horse’s behalf. She’s trying her best to pleaseand adapt to these unfamiliar cues but she only receives more backlash.

Paisley cringes, done being the silent bystander. “Cass—”

A painful ache cramps my chest. “Not yet.”

“It’s obvious they’re not a good fit.”

“She just got in the saddle,” I argue. “We need to give her more than three minutes.”

“Why bother?”

“This is business,” I state. It’s a reminder I’ve had to repeat to myself too often when it comes to the roan mare.

“But there’s a limit.”

I follow my cousin’s gaze to where Brenda flops in the saddle like a rag doll while sending Leita mixed signals. “She’s supposed to be an experienced rider.”

My cousin snorts. “According to her?”

“Not just anybody looks for a barrel prospect in this price range.”

“If they want to win. She probably has a money tree in her backyard.” Paisley mimics plucking bills from branches.

Which would explain why she didn’t blink at the amount I’m asking for Leita. I even upped it to top dollar, in no rush to sell her. When that had no impact, I tried to hold off setting a date to avoid this disaster. The eager beaver’s patience only lasted a week.

The sentimental value I’ve tried to ignore is mocking me.Not attached, huh?Brenda treating Leita this roughly turns my stomach and proves I’ll have to find a different buyer. But letting her go is going to hurt no matter what.

“She’ll live her best life at Greener Pastures,” my cousin cuts into my thoughts.

“I refuse to let her go to waste,” I mumble absently.

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