Tigger was being led back to the stall by Rodrigo, who would hose him off and feed him for the evening.
“No but…”
“Is this your farm? Does your competition prizes pay anyone’s paychecks?” he asked, cutting me off.
I remained silent in my response. His didn’t, either. His father paid my paycheck.
“No, it doesn’t. You are hired help, Emma. You are here because my father felt sorry for you. You are here out of pity. You have no say in how I treat my staff or my horses, none. Leave me and my horse alone.”
With that, he stormed off through the field up to the main house, his father’s house. His father William Reys owned the farm, and it had been in his family for generations. The farm had been revitalized when William took over from his father, and my parents came to help him. Horse racing, barrel racing, rodeo, was in their blood.
I was livid. I was a charity case; I knew that. It had been that way for the past seven years, since my world fell apart around me. I didn’t need Riley’s reminder that everything about my life had sucked, except for the horses. The only difference between us was at least he had a parent still around.
When Riley got to the front door of the main house, a mansion, he turned around and saw me still watching him with a smug smile on my face.
“Riley, tell your dad I said hi!” I called out.
While he liked to call me a charity case, I liked to remind him that his father only had disdain for him. I would not let Riley bully me without making sure he felt the same pain.That was, after all, exactly why he harassed me. He thought I caused him pain first.
He gave me a two-handed middle finger salute before turning around and storming into the house, slamming the door behind him. I hoped his father heard the slam and would lecture him about it. Anything to cause Riley as much pain as he had caused me was welcomed in my eyes. It fueled me, in a world where I didn’t have much to live for, except for the horses. I realized this line of thinking could make me a bad person, but was what it was. He’s the one who made me this way.
When the biggest jerk of the land was out of sight, I turned around and walked back to the stables to help Rodrigo with Tigger.
“Thank you for standing up for Tigger,” Rodrigo thanked me in greeting as I entered.
“Don’t thank me. I was happy for a reason to put Riley in his place. He was being an extra-large prick today. Did you see the way he was digging into Tigger? Tigger does best with positive reinforcement, not that abuse that Riley was dishing out.”
Tigger was standing in cross ties and snacking on some hay strung up in the hay net. I lifted the hair hanging forward between his ears and rubbed a small circle there. This was his favorite spot. His back right foot relaxed, and he shifted his weight. The tension left his body now that Riley was a safe distance away. He would be content here until we returned him to his stall and to Athena.
I hosed Tigger off while Rodrigo fed the other horses.
“They say horses have a good sense of character, Tigger. Are you able to tell who is good and bad around you?” I asked him.
Munching on hay was the only sound I got in response.
“Well, if you couldn’t tell, Riley is an asshole. He doesn’t care about you or horses in general. He only cares about titles and winning. I don’t think that asshole even thinks of you as anything other than his property.”
Tigger snorted.
I had a feeling the horse knew that Riley didn’t know anything about him. Sure, while horses should listen to a rider’s signals, the rider should listen to the horses. That was Riley’s problem. He knew nothing about horses, other than giving them commands. He didn’t know how to connect with them, just like humans. Riley had trouble connecting with others about anything meaningful.
Riley didn’t lift a finger to take care of the horses. To him, that was solely the job of the help: Rodrigo and me.
After grooming Tigger for the evening, I led him to his stall and let him relax with his feed. His eyes closed, trusting me to lock up behind him. This horse had a unique personality. He’s an old soul in a young horse’s body. While he barely tolerated Riley, he liked Rodrigo and me. However, we were chopped liver compared to Athena.
After finishing up the barn chores, I pulled my mare Athena out of her stall. She was an appaloosa with a stubborn personality. She was content to do what she wanted, when she wanted, except when I was riding her. When I was on her back, all she wanted to do was please me.
I led Athena out to the aisle and put her in cross-ties while I put on her saddle and switched out her halter. Then I led her out to the arena and put my own barrel-racing skills to the test.I never missed an opportunity to test my own skills. This evening I had the time and the drive to do so.
Riley thought he was a hot shot because he had won some rodeos across the southern east coast and had even ventured out to the Midwest. Riley Reys had nothing on Athena and me. I thought that deep down he was aware of that fact. He couldn’t possibly accept that I, of all people, would be a competitor, less one better skilled. It drove him insane, and he pushed Tigger harder because of it.That poor horse. While his breed was meant for racing, he didn’t share the drive to run fast like Athena did. There was nothing wrong with that. He would have been a better jumper.
I only competed locally when I had the time. The last time I did, two years ago, Riley got very nasty with me. He approached me in crowds and verbally bashed me and Athena. He booed while I rode and was just a grade-A jackass.
When he got home from the competition, which I had won in my division, he convinced his father that I needed more responsibility. William had agreed, and I no longer had enough free time to compete. I worked almost every day.
“Eighteen point seven is the time to beat today,” Rodrigo called out to me as I pulled myself into the saddle. The barrels were still left standing in the arena. I wasn’t surprised, though. Those barrels had been in the same place since I was six years old.
Rodrigo jumped up on the fence again and sat, waiting for us to take off. Two deep breaths later, I gave Athena the command, and we were off like a bullet. We closed in on the first barrel. I let up on her slightly, and she reduced her speed just enough to make it safely around the barrel. Then I urged her forward, and we crossed through the center of the course to the second barrel. I again let her slow down just enough to make it around the turn before giving her the command to speed up. We needed to take this last turn quickly to make sure we beat the time. The last barrel was untouched as we skidded around it, Athena’s hooves kicking up dust. We crossed back through the center of the course and crossed the starting line.
