Cowgirl, Unexpectedly. Vicki Tharp

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ as I fired.

      “Red, right.”

      Stupid distractions. That was the sort of thing that got you killed. One shot remained and it had to count. I wouldn’t miss again. I blocked out the shouts of Jenna and Santos cheering me on and the friendly jeers from Quinn and Alby. Clearing my mind, I focused on the sights and on my body and found that sweet spot between heartbeats. I fired.

      “Hot damn,” Hank said. I only heard him because he was so close. I’d hit my mark.

      “Dead center,” he announced to the crowd.

      I put the rifle down. Jenna whooped, and she and Santos high-fived each other.

      “Atta girl,” Dale said from the top of the round bale. When I turned around, he was climbing down. Link had already left and Quinn and Alby were grumbling and paying up. If Hank was upset about losing, it didn’t show in the least.

      “Congratulations,” Dale said as he reached me. Before I could thank him, he added, “You’re now our official rifle instructor.”

      “Ehr…Excuse me?” I didn’t quite know how I felt about that. He was not asking me if I wanted to do it. He was informing me that I was doing it.

      “Someone has to teach these yahoos how to shoot. Every other morning besides Sundays. Right here, after morning chores.”

      “Yes, sir.” My response was automatic and the only proper one. He was the boss after all.

      Link, Santos, and Alby were already at the barn. “You two saddle up and get your assignments from Link,” Dale said to Hank and me. Then to Jenna and Quinn, he added, “You kids police that brass and take them up to the house then head to the barn. We’ll make reloads for target practice later.”

      Jenna’s face scrunched and she opened her mouth as if she was about to protest, but one stern glower from Hank and she closed it again. Heat rose to her face, but she turned and followed Quinn.

      “You still wantin’ me to give Mac that riding lesson?” Hank asked Dale.

      Ugh. I could work around the barn. I didn’t have to ride out. Surely, I could do plenty from the ground. My raw thighs had improved since yesterday, but I was a ride away from returning to a world of hurt and the abrasion on my side had oozed during the night and stuck to the bandages.

      Since I’d woken up late, I hadn’t had the time to change it. Now, when I made a sudden move, the bandage tore at my healing flesh and the pain made sweat pop on my upper lip.

      “Yeah, forgot about that. Throw her in the round pen and get her cantering. I can’t have her falling off and getting herself killed.” Dale was smiling and I hoped he was teasing about the part that included me dying.

      “My pleasure,” Hank said, with a shit-eating grin, and a tone that promised that for me, it wouldn’t be the least bit pleasurable.

      * * * *

      After saddling Sierra, I waited for Hank at what they called the round pen. Which is basically what it sounds like—a fenced in area about fifty to sixty feet in diameter. The fence, welded out of old drilling pipe, stood about six feet high with a good base of sand on the interior. Maybe this was better for the horses somehow or better for the rider in case they came flying off. Though the way everyone around here rode, I didn’t think any of them hit the ground too often.

      Jenna, Quinn, Santos, and Alby had all headed out. Hank was at the barn getting our work assignment from Link. When they finished, Link turned his horse and trotted out the gate after the others. I fiddled with my cinch the way Jenna had showed me, making sure it was good and tight before I climbed on. After yesterday’s fall, I preferred not to come off again if I could help it.

      Instead of walking around to the gate on the other side of the pen, Hank tied his horse to one of the bars, climbed up the rails, and jumped down beside Sierra and me.

      “Okay,” he said. “Gather your reins in your left hand, and place it on the horse’s neck and grab a handful of mane. Put your right hand on the back of the saddle.”

      I hesitated.

      “Don’t look at me like I asked you to kick the dog, Army. Grabbing the mane doesn’t hurt her.”

      I followed orders. He then reached down for my left leg. “What’re you doing?”

      “Giving you a leg up. Bend your left leg at the knee.” He grabbed hold—right hand around my ankle and left hand beneath my bent knee. “You’re going to bounce three times to get your momentum. On the third time, I’m going to help lift you up, and then you throw your right leg over the saddle.”

      Okay. Sounded easy enough. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite get enough momentum, and my left shoulder and side were not quite cooperating, so I ended up lying over the saddle, staring at the ground. Hank slapped a hand on my ass and shoved me up.

      Yeah, call me Grace.

      My face flushed. I reached down and patted Sierra for standing like a statue, and I pretended I couldn’t still feel the imprint of his hand on my left butt cheek.

      Hank had a private smile on his face, but cleared his throat after a second and shook it off, ready to get down to business. He started me at the walk and went into more detail about the proper way to steer with two hands, which he called plow reins, and then one-handed, which he called neck reining. Then he had me bump Sierra up into a slow trot that he wanted me to sit.

      “Heels down,” he said. He wasn’t satisfied. “More.”

      “I don’t bend that way,” I complained.

      “Stop, stop, stop.” He stepped up beside me, his movements as sharp as his temper as he eased my boot out of the stirrup a few inches so it ran across the balls of my feet, not beneath my arch. “Having your heels down helps anchor you in the saddle. If you balance on the balls of your feet, it’s easy for you to lose your balance and be thrown.”

      He grabbed my knee. “Relax,” he said, pushing down on my knee and up on the bottom of my boot, bending my ankle into an acute angle. “The tighter you hold on with your knees, the more you’ll make the horse feel trapped and want to take off with you. Sierra will let you get away with it, but you do that on Angel or one of the other horses and you’ll be in the next county before you get them stopped.”

      “I don’t ever plan on riding Angel.”

      “You know what they say,” he said, with an infectious grin, “Never say never.”

      I smiled back at him. I couldn’t help myself. “Angel would be an exception to the never rule.”

      As if placating a small child without the intellect to understand, he cooed, “Sure he is, Army. Sure he is.”

      Where was this Army crap coming from? The smile dropped from my face. “It’s Mac. My name,” I added when he quirked a brow.

      He pointed and clucked and sent Sierra on around the rail. “I know your name.”

      Moving to the middle of the pen, he watched me sit the trot for a round or two then had me bump up the speed and shift into a posting trot. I hissed as I moved up and down СКАЧАТЬ