me my scars are on the outside. People ask, I tell, and in the long run I feel a lot better for letting it out.” He smacked his chest twice with his fist. “You keep it in here, it’ll either eat you up or turn you hard.”
She swung through the gate and closed it.
“Hey, wait. Can you hold that for me?”
She couldn’t say no. Cinn was still poised and ready to run at the slightest movement, but when Trevor wheeled through the gate the horse bent to crop a few strands of grass at the edge of the ring.
“I’ve got some stuff to do in the house.” He nodded toward the halter. “See if you can get that on him and lunge him a little. But don’t work him too long. You know two twenty-minute sessions’ll get you a lot farther than one long one, right?”
“Right.”
“And when you’re done, go ride that chestnut if you want.” He nodded toward a muscular gelding in a nearby corral. “He’s got a big motor, needs to be loped out every day. When you’re done with that, stop up to the house for a bite of lunch and I’ll give you more. Work’s never-ending around here.”
She eyed him a moment, thinking she’d say no. She’d planned to just visit Cinn and go. But there was a day’s honest work to be done, and in her heart she wanted to do it.
She wasn’t sure she could. But she wanted to.
She nodded, and he grinned. “Enjoy your second chance,” he said.
Chapter 37
Sarah tightened the cinch on the Western saddle she’d put on the chestnut gelding, then grabbed the horn and pulled it to one side, then the other. Solid. She’d been amazed at how swift and sure the process had felt, as if she’d been doing it for years.
She had done it for years, but those years were a long time ago.
Pulling out a stirrup, she measured it against the length of her arm. Yup, she had it right. There was no excuse to put off the next step.
The horse turned and watched her as she fussed with the cinch again. He seemed to be wondering why she kept tugging and adjusting everything, why she didn’t just get on and ride already.
She was wondering too. Sure, it had been a long time. She hadn’t really been lying when she’d told Lane she was afraid of horses. But after the session with Cinn, she’d hoped she might be over it.
Lifting the reins from the horse’s neck, she looped them in one hand while she set her foot in the stirrup. Grabbing the saddle, she bounced on her right foot like she had so many times before. Before…
Don’t think about it. Just ride.
The horse turned his head slightly and rolled back an eye to watch her as she bounced again. Flash used to do that. He’d done that the last time she’d seen him, looked back at her with his eye rolling, and then…
She took her toe out of the stirrup and held onto the saddle, resting her forehead on the sun-warmed leather. She could do this. She could. She remembered her sister’s words.
Jeez, Sarah, let it go. What are you hanging onto all this stuff for?
“Sorry, boy,” she said to the horse. He nodded once as if he understood, or maybe he was just trying to ease the pressure of the reins. She fed out a little more and prepared to mount again. As she shifted her weight to the stirrup, the horse stamped one hind hoof. Like Flash. He’d been impatient sometimes, antsy. She felt her heart rate amp up and knew she had to calm herself before she could ride.
She pulled on the stirrup leather, opening the buckle so she’d have something to do if Trevor came out. She’d tell him she’d gotten the length wrong. She’d have to tell him something, because she couldn’t tell him she was unable to ride.
Maybe if she walked the horse a while she could visualize the ride. Roy had taught her to do that over and over whenever she’d come up against a problem—a tendency to run at the barrels too hard, or a subconscious ill-timed tug on the reins. He’d make her walk the course, picturing herself on horseback, doing it right. It helped. When she’d mounted again, the problem would be gone.
She lifted the reins over the horse’s head and led him along the fence. The horse moved at a level, easy pace. He was clearly