Brave

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  Brave whimpered in agreement and swatted at the hay with one paw. Dylan reached over and scratched the top of Brave’s head. After a minute, he swung his legs over and lowered himself onto the ground next to Brave. The dog put his front paws on Dylan’s lap and lowered his head onto them. They sat like that, tucked into the corner of the barn with Brave half lying across Dylan’s legs and Dylan running a hand along Brave’s short, silky coat.

  “Dylan?” Grace called out. “Where are you?”

  “Back here,” he responded. After a second, Grace stared down at them over the hay bale. “Hey,” Dylan said.

  “Uh, hey.” She shot him a quizzical look. “You two comfortable back there?”

  Dylan smiled and ran his thumb along the dip between Brave’s eyes, where his fur was the softest. “Yep. We sure are.”

  “Well, I hate to break up the snuggling, but he has to get back out there.”

  “Hasn’t he had enough for today?” Dylan asked. He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but he’d had enough too.

  “Never end a training session on a negative note,” Grace explained. “We’re going to do it again, and we’ll stop when he’s calm and doing a good job.”

  Dylan sighed. “Okay. Fine.” He gently nudged Brave off his lap and stood up, brushing hay off his chaps. Brave stood up and shook himself out with a loud flap of his ears. “Come on, boy. One more time.”

  Much to Dylan’s surprise, it wasn’t one more time. It was two, then three. Brave wasn’t thrilled about the horse, but he seemed to have gotten something out of his system. Each time Rey went by, the dog was a little less skittish.

  On Rey’s last pass around the ring, Brave watched him go by nonchalantly. Finally he lay down in the middle of the ring, rolled onto his side, raised his front paw to his mouth, and began cleaning it.

  “Looks like he’s getting used to it,” Grace said, hopping off the horse and walking over to them. “He’s a quick learner, Brave.”

  “He’s brilliant,” Dylan beamed, his chest bursting with pride. He looked over at Grace and was flooded with appreciation for his new friend. She was the only shot he had at keeping Brave, and Dylan knew it. “Thanks, Grace,” he said.

  “You’re welcome. Brave’s a good dog—I hope you can keep him.”

  At the sound of his name, Brave scrambled to his feet, plunked his rump down on the ground in a perfect sit, raised his ears, and locked his gaze on Dylan. There was a desperate I’m such a good boy look in his eye.

  “I think he’s figured out how to get a treat.” Dylan laughed.

  “Like I said, he’s a quick learner.” Grace looked from Dylan to Brave and back again. She seemed to be thinking about something.

  “What?” Dylan asked cautiously.

  “I think you should try it.”

  “Uh . . . try what?”

  “Riding Rey.”

  “Riding what?”

  “Rey. The horse.”

  “I know who Rey is. I just don’t know if I want to ride him.” As if in response, Rey squinted suspiciously at Dylan.

  “Why not? You’ll never meet a sweeter or calmer horse. Brave’s doing great—now it’s your turn to try something new.”

  Dylan laughed, waiting for Grace to say she was kidding. But she held him with a steady, if slightly amused, gaze.

  “Go on,” she said. “Saddle up, cowboy.”

  So far, everything Grace had said or done had been right. She had taught Brave more in a couple of days than Dylan could have hoped to teach him in a month. And, if he was being honest with himself, she’d taught Dylan just as much.

  He threw up his hands.

  “Fine,” he said. “But I’ve never ridden a horse before—so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  ★ Chapter 14 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  Dylan looked straight down. Way, way down. His vision swooped and he gripped the horn on the saddle tightly. He sat uncomfortably atop Rey, amazed at the hardness of the leather seat—and how high off the ground he was.

  “Stop being so nervous,” Grace said as she adjusted the strap on the stirrups. “Rey can tell. You’re stressing him out.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Dylan shot back. “You’ve probably been riding horses since you were a baby.”

  She thought about that for a second. “Yeah.” She shrugged. “I guess I have been.”

  The horse exhaled sharply and stomped his feet, unhappy to have an inexperienced rider on his back. Dylan sucked in his breath.

  “Steady there,” Grace said. She held the reins tightly and stroked Rey’s muzzle to calm him down.

  “When you see someone riding a horse, they don’t seem like they’re this high up,” Dylan said, trying to hide the nerves in his voice.

  “Yup,” Grace said. “It takes some getting used to. Just stay calm and confident, and he’ll feel your energy and respond to you.”

  Dylan took a deep breath and tried to do as she said—but how was he supposed to stay calm when he felt like he was twenty feet off the ground? He looked over at Brave, who was not-so-happily tied to the fence across the corral. Brave had made incredible progress, but Dylan and Grace had agreed that it would be best to keep him out of the way while Dylan was learning to ride. If Dylan got nervous, Brave could really freak out—while Dylan was on top of a giant horse.

  Brave whined at him from afar. He was still not used to being restrained, and he wasn’t afraid to let everyone know how he felt about the new turn of events.

  “I’ve been sitting up here for a while,” Dylan said. “When do I stop sitting and start riding?”

  Grace smiled. “Sounds like you’re ready to try a walk.”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Dylan said. He couldn’t believe that just a few days ago he’d been playing video games with Jaxon, and now he was dressed in cowboy duds sitting on a horse. It didn’t feel real.

  Grace handed over the reins. “Keep a light grip, but let Rey know you’re there.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” Dylan’s heart was pounding.

  “You will,” Grace said. “And remember—patience, persistence, and consistency. You’re the boss.”

  The horse snorted as he sensed the passing of the reins. He took one lumbering step backward, unsure of what to do. Dylan yanked the reins in response.

  “Careful—it’s not a brake,” Grace explained. “Start out a little snug on the reins but don’t yank. Use your legs to tell him what you want him to do.”

  Again, Dylan understood the words but not the message. There was only one way to figure it out, though—and that was by trying it. Dylan exhaled slowly, closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them. He gathered the reins until he felt light contact with the bit in Rey’s mouth, then he squeezed lightly with his lower legs like Grace had taught him. This was Rey’s cue to walk forward.

  At first the horse didn’t move. Frustration rose in Dylan’s chest, but he heard Grace’s instructions in his head. This was what she had meant by persistence, he guessed. Not to mention patience.

  He kept up the pressure with his calves until the horse took a few rocking steps forward, just like Grace had said he would.

  But no sooner had Rey started to move than Dylan began to panic. Now not only was he high off the ground, but he also felt off-balance and precarious—and like he was struggling to keep himself in the saddle. Grace had warned him it would feel rough at first and given him some tips on how to handle it. Now that the horse was moving, though, Dylan seemed unable to recall—let alone follow—her simple directions.

  “Remember—face forward and keep your body relaxed,” Grace coached him from the side. That sounded nearly impossible to Dylan. Riding a horse was like trying to remember a dozen things at the same time, and by the time he remembered one, he’d forgotten all the others.

  As Rey walked, Dylan rocked front to back and side to side. Fighting to stay in the saddle, he reflexively squeezed Rey’s sides with his legs—which the horse
just took as a cue to go faster. Suddenly the horse was trotting, and Dylan was bouncing up and down on the saddle so hard, it felt like his brain was rattling and someone was kicking him in the rear over and over again.

  “How’s it feel?” Grace asked.

  “Feels g-g-good,” Dylan said, his teeth knocking together. Riding looked so easy when he saw Grace and the other cowboys do it, but now he knew how hard they must have worked to get that good. He didn’t know how Grace rode so gracefully when he felt like a circus clown doing slapstick.

  Brave barked at him from across the ring.

  “Don’t worry, Brave,” Dylan called out to the dog. “I’m going to survive this.” Dylan wanted nothing more than to get off the horse, shake out his legs, and walk away before anyone got hurt. But he reminded himself that if Brave could learn something new, so could he. They were in this together.

  “Stay with it now,” Grace said. “Don’t give up.”

  Dylan took a couple of deep breaths, feeling his pulse throbbing in his neck.

  “Look up,” Grace said. “Look where you want to go, not at the back of Rey’s head.”

  Dylan realized he’d been staring at Rey’s mane, trying to steady himself. He exhaled slowly and looked up—only to realize that the horse was heading straight for the fence.

  Dylan panicked. What if Rey didn’t stop? Where were the brakes on this horse?

  “Turn him!” Grace shouted.

  Dylan’s mind went blank. How was he supposed to do that?! Blood pounded in his ears and then, as if someone had turned down the volume, the world went quiet. He was watching himself on a silent film, moving steadily toward the fence. Would Rey crash into it or jump over it? he found himself wondering. And which was worse?

  Brave let out a loud series of barks so intense it startled Dylan back into himself. The fence was just a few feet away when, in a flash, he remembered how to turn. Dylan gently pulled the reins back with his left hand while applying pressure with his left leg. Sure enough, the horse responded, turning around Dylan’s left leg just like Grace had described. In an instant, they were out of danger and riding parallel to the fence.

  “Yee-ha!” Dylan shouted. “Did you see that!?”

  “Nice!” Grace called out. “You’re getting it!”

  Even Brave could tell that something had changed, and his cries shifted from fear to excitement. He yipped and pawed at the ground.

  Now that he realized he could guide the horse, Dylan started to enjoy himself. His tensed muscles relaxed, and he sensed how to stay upright in the saddle without sending the wrong cues to the horse. It wasn’t like talking to Brave exactly, but it was similar in some ways. Dylan had to take charge—he had to stay calm, make simple commands, then give the animal a chance to respond. If he got frustrated or rushed, the horse would get confused and either stop responding altogether or, worse, do something unpredictable.

  Dylan turned the horse again and headed back toward Grace. He saw the excitement on her face and it struck him: He was really riding a horse. Dylan couldn’t help it—he sat a little taller in the saddle.

  “Let’s give Brave a chance to get in the game,” Grace said. She unhooked Brave’s leash from the fence but held on to it loosely. “See if you can get him to sit and stay from up there.”

  For a second, Dylan’s brain got scrambled as he tried to sort out the different commands he would need to give his legs, arms, eyes, mouth, and dog. Then he took a breath and called out to Brave. “Sit!” he said confidently.

  Brave quieted down but stood exactly where he was, watching Dylan and Rey, his tail wagging.

  “Sit,” Dylan called out again. Still nothing. He twisted his upper body to the right ever so slightly so he could see Brave better. When he did, he pulled his right leg in without realizing it, applying pressure to Rey’s side. Suddenly, Rey took a sharp turn and picked up speed—headed straight for Brave.

  Brave’s tail stopped wagging and dipped between his legs. His ears went back, and a low, steady growl emanated from his throat.

  “Stop!” Dylan said to the horse, but he’d forgotten the actual command or movement or whatever he was supposed to do. He looked up and saw Brave’s amber eyes go wide with panic. The dog tugged hard on his leash, and Grace held him steady with both hands.

  “Squeeze with both legs—your whole legs!” she called out to Dylan. “And pull back—but not too hard or he’ll buck.”

  As Brave snarled, Dylan frantically tried to execute the series of steps Grace was giving him. His heart was beating hard in his chest, but somehow he managed to get Rey to come to a full stop. They were just a couple of feet from the dog, who let out one final yelp.

  “Nice!” Grace said. She stepped over and patted Rey on the neck. The horse sputtered and toyed with the bit in his mouth.

  Dylan let out a nervous, relieved laugh and adjusted the cowboy hat on his head. “That was terrifying,” he said. “But also kind of cool.”

  “I knew you’d like it up there,” Grace said.

  Dylan looked down at Brave, who also seemed relieved now that the horse wasn’t coming right at him. Brave stood up on his hind legs and waved a paw at Dylan.

  “Now you know what they say,” Grace said. “You’ve got to get back on the horse.”

  “I’m still on the horse,” Dylan replied.

  “Cute. I mean try again.”

  He sighed. “No breaks on the Garcia Ranch, huh?”

  “Nope.” Grace shook her head. “Go.”

  Dylan steered Rey back out into the ring. Now that he knew he could stop—and stop under pressure—he felt more confident in the saddle, like he and Rey had reached some kind of understanding. And sure enough, the more comfortable Dylan felt, the more easily Rey responded to his movements.

  When Dylan and Rey had circled around the ring again, he called out to Brave. “Sit!” Dylan wasn’t sure how to describe it, but something in his voice sounded different to his own ear. He’d said the same word, but he’d somehow said it in a new way—with more conviction. Brave sensed it too. As soon as the word rang out across the corral, Brave sat.

  “Stay,” Dylan said. Brave didn’t budge. Dylan nudged Rey with his heels and the horse broke into a trot. Dylan wobbled on the saddle but held on as they picked up speed, moving around the circle with a loud clopping sound.

  Brave didn’t move. He watched Dylan and the horse intently, pulling a little against his leash as they went by.

  “Change it up a little with Brave,” Grace suggested.

  Dylan pulled the horse to a stop. Brave wanted Dylan’s attention—he ducked his head and scratched at the ground with one paw. Dylan made eye contact with the dog and waited until he was calm.

  “Brave,” he said, “come.”

  Grace let go of the leash as Brave dashed straight toward Dylan, stopping a few feet from Rey.

  “Sit.”

  Brave sat.

  “Stay.” Dylan rode Rey about ten feet away. Brave watched him go, a longing look in his eye. “Good boy. Come!” Brave ran over to him and sat down by the horse’s feet.

  Brave was closer to the horse than he’d ever been—and totally calm about it. At that moment, Dylan began to understand that it wasn’t about one perfectly spoken command to the dog or one just-right tug on Rey’s reins. It was about more than learning the mechanics of how to train or ride an animal. He and Brave were building a true bond.

  Brave, who had definitely been through some tough experiences in his short life, was growing to trust Dylan. And that was worth all the hard work in the world.

  ★ Chapter 15 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  Dylan was bone tired by the time he arrived home, and his body was sore in places he never even knew he had. He walked into the house with Brave by his side, the two of them taking over the mud room as they took off their dirt-streaked gear. Dylan slipped Brave’s bandanna over his head and scratched him under the collar. Brave closed his eyes and let out a happy snort.


  Dylan’s mom passed by the door. “How did it go— Whoa, you look like cowboys!”

  Dylan smiled appreciatively. “This cowboy is exhausted,” he said. “And starving.”

  “That’s good, because I have a big dinner planned. Chicken-fried steak and sweet potato fries.”

  “My favorite,” Dylan said. Brave let out a hungry bark, perhaps because he could smell the fry oil coming to temperature in the kitchen. Dylan’s mom only made chicken-fried steak on special occasions. “What for?”

  “Can’t a mom make her favorite son his favorite meal?”

  “I’m your only son,” Dylan said. “But sure. I won’t say no.”

  “The truth is that I’m proud of you, that’s all,” his mom said, pulling him into a hug. “You’ve been working really hard to hold up your end of the Brave bargain.”

  “It’s been a lot of work,” Dylan admitted. “But fun, too.”

  His mom pulled away and wrinkled her nose. “Smells like a lot of work. Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I get dinner on the table.”

  Dylan wanted to stay in the hot shower forever, but the scent of dinner lured him back downstairs. As he reached the kitchen doorway, he heard his mom’s voice and paused just outside the room to listen. He peeked in and saw Brave sitting by her knee as she stood at the counter, observing her every move.

  “You’re waiting for me to drop something, I know,” she chatted cheerfully to the dog. “But I’m onto you, dog.” She reached down and patted the top of his head, and Brave sniffed her palm. “So were you a good boy today?” Brave opened his mouth and yawped at her. “That’s what I thought.” She pulled plates down from the cabinet. “Do me a favor and set the table, Brave.”

  “We’ll work on that next,” Dylan said, stepping into the room and taking the plates from her. “He’s a quick learner.”

  “That’s what he was just telling me,” his mom said.

  Dylan couldn’t help noticing how nice it felt to see his mom happy instead of irritated. Over on the table, her phone vibrated and sang a little tune.