Dirty Cowboy

by Alycia Taylor

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Well, now we’re in a bit of a pickle. We need someone to help take care of the foal and break the stallion we got last month. If memory serves me correctly, you spent a lot of time doing that with your dad when you were younger, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I did. I’d be happy to help. And, none of that secret payment where you slip money in my pocket while you hug me. I don’t need your money; I’m happy to do it for you guys,” I said with finality.

  “Bless you, Noah. You’re an angel. I already talked to Jackson and told him that if you’re up to it, your bull riding lessons will need to be cut down to half a day so you can have time to help with the horses. But I can pay you and I will. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I replied, “I’ll work with Jack in the morning, then I can help with the horses in the afternoon.”

  “Thanks, honey. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  We said our goodbyes and she hung up.

  I leaned against the door to Ella’s stall. “That means I’ll have to be around their ranch more often,” I said.

  Ella blinked at me, and I took it to mean, “I think that’s a good thing.”

  The next morning, I woke up and had a breakfast of eggs and grits with Jackson, then we went outside and spent the morning training grip strength by draping a towel over dumbbells and picking them up with one hand. Mine was a twenty-pound weight, Jackson’s weighed five pounds. The towel makes the dumbbell more slippery, which makes you have to grip harder. It’s one of the oldest grip strength tests in the book. We worked on that until lunch.

  After grilled cheese and tomato soup, I headed out to Sara’s stables to start getting to know the horses a little bit better. Naturally, when I got there, Princess Laci was leaning against a wall, talking to Rosie.

  “So, Rosie, what’s it like being a mommy?” I heard her say.

  “Expecting her to answer you?” I asked, propped in the doorframe with my arms crossed over my chest. “I’d reckon she can’t speak human.”

  Apparently, she wasn’t expecting anyone to be around because she jumped and whipped around in fright before realizing it was me. “Oh. You scared the crap out of me. And just so ya know, no, I wasn’t expecting her to say anything, not verbally, anyway. I just think there’s no better listener than a horse. What are you doing out here?”

  “I wanted to get to know the horses a little better before I start trying to work with them. Since Owen’s an ass and disappeared, I’m taking over.”

  “I hope you’re not actually going to break them.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with training a horse?”

  “There’s a very distinct difference between training and breaking,” she said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

  “And, that is?”

  “Well, training a horse is just that—teaching them to do certain things.” The way she was speaking sounded like she was explaining it to a stupid child. “Breaking, on the other hand, not so much. The way I see it, training is a mutual give and take. You work with each other to achieve a common goal. Breaking is when you become a dictator and force them to do what you want. Like if you’re potty-training a kid, you wouldn’t scream at them every time they peed themselves until they stopped just for the sake of not getting yelled at anymore. You’d teach them the potty is for peeing in, and show them it’s a good thing to use it so they don’t need to have their clothes changed every five seconds.”

  “I can’t believe you just compared training a horse to a two-year-old crappin’ his pants.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Well, how else was I supposed to say it?”

  “You could’ve stopped after the dictator line, and I would’ve understood it just fine.”

  “Fine. So, are you going to be a Hitler, or are you going to be a Dalai Lama?”

  “The Buddhist one,” I answered. Just being around her was making my heart beat a little faster than I would’ve liked, let alone hearing her talk that way about horses and the way they should be respected. I pushed the feeling down and kept a steely composure. “Now, if ya don’t mind?”

  “Not at all,” she said, turning to leave the barn. “By the way, you might wanna look into this new-fangled thing the kids are using these days—it’s called antiperspirant.”

  I looked at my armpits and, sure enough…sweat marks. Guess I didn’t play it as cool as I thought. “It is the middle of June in Alabama!” I called after her.

  “And, there’s a breeze!” she called back, not looking over her shoulder.

  She disappeared inside as I looked at Rose and Lisa.

  “Do you like her as much as I do?” I hated myself for asking the question, but I needed to get it off my chest. Lisa turned her head, and I continued. “There’s just something about her. Sass, class, and a great ass.” I laughed. “I mean, that’s definitely true, but when it comes down to it, I can see that she’s got a good head on her shoulders, you know? On the surface, she’s all the things I don’t want—a city girl, an actress, a little too stubborn for her own good, and she’s not stickin’ around. But deeper than that, she’s funny, she’s smart, and she feels things a lot more deeply than she lets on; I can tell.”

  I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was that drove me crazy about her. Or why it started all of a sudden, like a switch was flipped. I’d been involved with Jaime for over two years and never felt this knot in my stomach as I found myself feeling around Laci. Like I said, though, I’d never tell her that. I planned on pushing it down until August when I would leave for the PBR circuit again. Then I’d throw myself into that and get a laser beam focus going until I forgot about her. Easy as taking candy from a baby.

  “Hey there,” Sara called out as she walked into the stables. “Something told me you were out here, trying to get to know my babies a little bit.”

  “Yep, that’s exactly it,” I replied.

  “And how do you plan to go about that?”

  “Well, talking to them.”

  “Expecting them to respond?” She grinned.

  “I’m getting the sneakin’ suspicion you talked to Laci.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” she asked sweetly.

  “Lucky guess. So, to what do I owe the pleasure, dear Sara?”

  “Oh, I’m just coming around to pick your brain,” she said with a sly smile.

  “About what?” I questioned suspiciously.

  She stared at me for a few moments. There were a couple of times she started to speak, but stopped during the first word like she was changing her mind. This went on for about a minute when she seemed to decide what she wanted to say, and that was, “What do you want?”

  “Hmm. A cheeseburger and a ninety-five ride would do.”

  “Good to know,” she said. “But, I meant what do you want out of life?”

  That was an unexpected question. “Why the sudden existential crisis?”

  “I’m just thinking about Lisa and Brad and how they were so happy and alive one day, and gone the next.” I could tell this was about to get really heavy really fast, and weirdly enough, that didn’t bother me. “I can’t talk to Laci about it because I don’t want to upset her. She seems to finally be starting to get over the hump, and if I start talking about this with her, it might pull her straight back down. So, what do you want out of life?”

  I was still confused about that earlier feeling concerning whether or not I wanted to settle down and have a family, but I knew one thing was for sure. Everything I wanted in life boiled down to one simple statement, so I cleared my throat and said it: “I want to be happy.”

  “Aren’t you happy now, sweetheart?” It must be a mom thing to instantly assume you’re unhappy when you say something like what I’d just said because her response is exactly what my mom probably would’ve said. A chuckle bubbled up in my chest and I let it out.

  Sara, however, frowned. “That doesn’t answer my
question.”

  “Yes. I am. But I mean, who doesn’t want more out of life? I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie, for one. My bucket list’s got at least a hundred things on it that are all geared towards me getting an adrenaline rush. The top thing’s to go skydiving. But beyond that, I’m starting to realize that I want what my parents have. I want to fall in love. You know, just like in those awful romance novels with those half clothed couples on the cover. I want a woman to be crazy about me and allow me to spoil her, and I want a white picket fence to keep my kids and golden retriever safe.”

  “You’re still young, sweetie. You’ve got plenty of time to find all of that. But what about bull riding? You didn’t even mention that.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I want to make it to the top. I want to be the best there is and have my kids be proud of their daddy. I remember that when I was little. I spent all my time hoping I could be as great as my dad one day. I thought being a bull rider—and such a good one, at that—was the world’s coolest, manliest job. I guess I kinda want to have a son to look at me one day with that same kind of admiration, you know? I want him to tell kids on the playground that his dad can kick their dad’s ass and that nobody’s braver or stronger.”

  “Mmhm,” she responded with a small nod. She looked as though she was really thinking hard about something, so I shut up and waited for her to speak again. When she did, she asked the heavy-hitting question: “And, why is it so important for you to come off as the manliest man there is?”

  “Why’d you really come out here?” I used my favorite tactic to avoid letting myself think too much—answering a question with a question.

  “I told you, to pick your brain.”

  “About my masculinity complex?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, Sara, I think you know that. But why does it matter to you?”

  “Because you like Laci.”

  Can mothers read minds? Unwilling to give up the truth about that crucial bit of information, I picked at a spot on the bridle I had in my hands and thought of the best response. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a lucky guess,” she smirked. “Plus, I see the way you look at her. You try to hide it, but there’s a little sparkle in your eye that you just can’t mask.”

  “Uh…sparkle?”

  “Believe it or not, my mom’s a real romantic at heart. She used to always tell us when we were younger that you can learn everything you need to know about someone by looking in their eyes. Maybe you haven’t realized it yet, but you like her.”

  Good, I thought. If she thinks I haven’t realized it, I can ride that. “I don’t think so.”

  “Trust me, sweetie, you do.” She started to walk away, eerily like the way Laci had, and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell her.”

  With that, she was gone.

  I stood there for a moment, wondering what the hell just happened, but quickly came to the realization that I probably wasn’t going to figure it out. So, I focused on what I was there to do. Get to know the horses. And what better way was there to get to know the horses than to see what they could do? I took Greg out of his stall and put a saddle on him. It was obvious from the get-go that he wasn’t a fan of it, but, at least, it was something I could work with. I put the bit in his mouth and started to lead him around a little, trying to let him stretch his legs and get used to my presence before I mounted him. When I touched his muzzle and he didn’t flinch or shy away, I figured that was as good a time as any. I put my foot in the stirrup, and in one swift motion, I was on his back. He was taller than Ella, and a hell of a lot less experienced—obviously since I was supposed to be training him. He didn’t like it when I tried to get him to speed up. Instead, he dug his heels in and stopped each time I nudged him.

  I let him walk around at his own pace for a minute while I thought. Laci had a point. I had to make sure I trained him instead of breaking him. I wondered if the term “breaking” had actually come from “breaking” someone’s spirit. Judging by the way Laci had explained it, that would make sense. I leaned down to have a little chat with Greg as I rode. “Alright, buddy, my goal here is to make you into the best horse you can be, okay? I want to be your Dalai Lama, not your Hitler.” I rubbed him along the neck and gave him a small nudge with my heels. To my surprise, he started to speed up a little bit.

  “It’s almost like you can understand me,” I said aloud. “Like you heard me say I want to work with you instead of making you do all the work.”

  I guess she knows what she’s talking about, after all.

  I took Greg on a couple of laps around the pasture, then took off his saddle and led him back to his stall. “That’s enough for today,” I told him. “You did a great job. Princess Laci knows more than I gave her credit for.”

  “You’re damn right I do,” a voice crooned.

  I spun around. “Jesus, Laci, don’t sneak up on a guy like that,” I spit out.

  Her lips turned up with a sly grin that made me wonder what they tasted like. “Sorry,” she said softly.

  “What are you doing back out here? Come to give me tips on personal hygiene?”

  “Actually, I wanted to apologize,” she said.

  “Again? What for this time?”

  “For being kinda bitchy.”

  “You already apologized for that,” I pointed out.

  “Not properly. I never told you exactly why I was being that way.”

  “Oh?”

  Well, this was going to be good.

  Chapter Eleven

  Laci

  Things can change in the blink of an eye. For example, one minute, I was convinced I’d never want anything to do with Noah Tucker. The next, I’m thinking he may not be as bad as I’d originally thought. That moment came out in the stables when I was having a nice little talk with Rosie, asking her how she liked being a new mommy—of course, I didn’t actually expect her to answer. I didn’t expect any kind of response, which is probably why Noah scared the hell out of me when he came out of nowhere. Getting the hell scared out of me doesn’t typically signify a turning point in most of my relationships—and the actual act of getting scared didn’t—but the conversation that followed gave me a new perspective on Noah Tucker.

  “Expecting her to speak up and answer you?” he asked. “I’m fairly certain she can’t speak human.” Well, no shit, Sherlock. I admit, the thought did cross my mind to say just that, but then I remembered what Sara had said about him putting up a wall. In a moment of weakness, I decided to not be a royal bitch. I politely informed him that I had no expectations of getting an answer. Something changed in the way he looked at me as I explained that horses are simply the best listeners out there. A minute later, I was enlightening him to the differences between breaking a horse and training one—being a friend as opposed to being a dictator—and, to my pleasant surprise, he actually agreed with me.

  Every other trainer I’ve ever come into contact with has seemed to find my concept of gentle training a little on the absurd side, or so they’ve told me. I’ve gotten responses such as, “I’m the expert, here,” or “Breaking and training are the same thing.” And truth is, I pretty much expected the same reaction and response from Noah. Ever since I learned about the type of cruelty horses can endure, I’ve held the stance that nonaggressive training is the best way to go. Being all Hitleristic and forcing your methods on a horse only breaks their spirit. And yes, they’ll do what you want them to do, but only so they don’t get punished, as opposed to working together to achieve a common goal and forming a bond. It’s really not that much different than it is with people. It was another reason I decided not to be so standoffish to Noah. It damn sure wasn’t getting either of us anywhere.

  I was a little shocked when he didn’t give me a hard time about my potty training analogy, too. In fact, Noah actually seemed to be on board. He didn’t pull any of the pretentious crap I’d heard from other trai
ners. No, he just said he didn’t want the horses to fear him. The moment those words left his mouth, I realized there was more to him than I had given him credit for. And, the more we talked, the more something inside me wanted things between me and Noah Tucker to change. Something else was suddenly more than a little attracted to him. And…

  I panicked.

  I can’t explain what happened, but my mentality shifted to that of a twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to talk to a boy. So, I delivered a verbal kick in the shin. I gave him hell about how sweaty he was—in my defense, he really was pretty sweaty—and then I marched away and headed inside, running into Sara as I barreled through the door. She was on her way out to look for Noah, so I told her where he was and mentioned the conversation we’d just had. Her response set my head to reeling.

  “Well, honey, the fact that he agrees with you has gotta mean something,” she said.

  What exactly is that? I had no clue how to take her point, so I spent the next fifteen minutes pacing and talking to myself like a total loon. And when I say I was talking to myself, I mean I had a complete external monologue going on that would have made Shakespeare proud.

  “Something? What is that something? Does his ability to agree with me mean I should just change my opinion on the guy? I mean, what does it really change about him? Really? All it means is that he actually understands my point of view. Or was he just saying that to be polite? And if he was, why was he being polite now? Damnit, Aunt Sara, why’d you have to go and get my wheels spinning by saying that to me?” I stopped and stared myself down in the mirror. “Well, Laci, if he really does think horses ought to be treated with kindness, he can’t be all bad. Can he? No. No, he can’t.”

  That little epiphany brought me to the conclusion that my last half-ass apology really wasn’t sufficient. I needed to do it right. I needed to own up to my behavior and admit that I had been a complete wench and shouldn’t have taken my insecurities out on him. So, I waited for Sara to return to the house so I could be sure I didn’t interrupt whatever she’d gone out there to say to him—and to make certain she didn’t see me apologizing or I’d never live it down—then I walked back out to the stables.