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After managing to scavenge the last of the burgers off the barbeque, I crept back to my chalet without having to socialise. I took a full dose of my sleeping tablets instead of the usual half, and slept like a log. No nightmares haunted me which was welcomed with open arms.
When I finally awoke to the annoying screech of my phone alarm, I was amazed to see it had been blaring at me for nearly ten minutes. Usually, I’m awake before it even goes off.
With the dreaded foggy head from the tablets, I wrapped my dressing gown around me and shuffled towards the shower. I’d just stepped inside the bathroom when a sharp knock sounded through the door.
Who on earth is that at seven am?
I grumbled to myself as I trundled over to the early morning disturbance with the beginnings of a headache knocking on my skull. Pulling the door open, I couldn’t help my surprise at seeing Brady leaning against the wall. One leg crossed in front of the other, hat on, arms over his chest—he was a pleasant sight first thing.
“Morning, Miss Woods. Just checking you were up.”
I frowned. “I have an alarm for that job, thank you.”
One of his dark eyebrows raised and he quirked his lips into a playful smile. “We have quite an itinerary today, Miss. I didn’t want you to be late.”
I raised my eyebrows back at him and folded my arms in front of me. “I’m never late, but thanks for your concern.”
“Just trying to help.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I know you city girls aren’t too fond of the way we work out here.”
“I’m not a ‘city girl’ as you put it, but thanks for the label, cowboy.”
He grinned and pushed himself away from the wall. “Every woman loves a cowboy, Miss.”
“I prefer men, thank you. See you later.”
Feeling triumphant considering my hazy head, I pushed the door shut. I tried to calm my rising anger as I showered. I wasn’t going to let him get under my skin. How dare he think he had me all figured out?
I pushed him to the back of my mind as I made my way up to the main house for breakfast. Thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen. I munched my way through a stack of Belgian waffles before downing a glass of orange juice.
“Morning, Sophie. Sleep well?”
I looked up to see John striding into the kitchen. “Yes, thank you.”
He grabbed a plate of pancakes before settling opposite me. “I’ve put you on the itinerary for today and tomorrow. I know you can ride, but it has been a while, and for legal reasons, we still need to assess your riding skill ourselves.”
I smiled and nodded. “I know. It’s fine, honestly. I didn’t expect you to give me a horse and leave me to wander off into the desert.”
Devouring two pancakes in one mouthful, he said, “Some of the people you’re with are...tourists shall we say, so just be patient.”
“No worries.” I grabbed another waffle and then decided to drop a subtle hint about Brady. “Oh, would you mind calling off the early morning alarm tomorrow, please?”
“What alarm?”
“Brady. He was knocking on my door at seven this morning. Apparently he didn’t want me to be late.”
He chuckled. “Just ignore him. He hates tardiness. He usually does that to new guests, so don’t take it personally. Says it helps create a proper ranch life feeling.”
I snorted. “People come here for a holiday, not to get up at a normal work time.”
“I know, but, people love him. We have several people who come back year after year because of him. He brings me a lot of business.”
I struggled not to grimace. “Fair enough.” I checked the time. “I’m due on horseback in five minutes. Best not be late, eh?”
He laughed and nodded, wishing me a good day.
I paced over the dusty ground towards the sprawling barns and fenced corrals a few hundred yards away. A dozen or so horses were all saddled up, tied to a fence rail. A group of people milled around near them, Brady at the front like a teacher readying his class.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Ah, Miss Woods. Nice of you to join us.”
I fixed him a steely stare but remained silent. I could feel the burning stares of the other guests and tried my hardest not to colour up, but the burn from my cheeks was almost as bad as the heat.
He started running through the plan for the day, beginning with an hour-long riding assessment for each of us. Brady and three of his guys would evaluate the twelve of us, split into four groups of three. I didn’t even have to hear my name roll off his tongue to know I’d be in his trio.
As the others wandered off to their respective wranglers, I rolled my eyes as he approached me, and a husband and wife.
“Dave, you can take Georgie, the bay gelding here. Sheena, you can have Barbie, the palomino at the end there.” He locked his eye contact on me with a sly smile. “Sophie, you can take Cody, the buckskin.”
I plastered a false smile on my face, ignoring the rising tension between us. “Thanks. I’ve always loved a nice dun.”
“Actually, Cody doesn’t have a dorsal stripe, so he is a buckskin. Brush up on your knowledge before trying to be smart next time.”
My mouth dropped open and my temperature soared through the roof. How embarrassing. Trying to ignore Dave and Sheena whispering to each other, I wandered over to my horse.
He was a solid bulk of muscle, pure power emanating from every fibre of his body. His creamy coloured face displayed no emotion whatsoever. Big brown eyes stared back at me, glazed over with a blatant boredom. I chewed my lip as I realised this chap was a proper workhorse. He wasn’t here to be fussed and made a pet of—he had a job to do and that was it.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. It’d been nearly eight years since I last rode. Had Brady given me this horse because he was difficult?
Whilst he was busy helping the other two, I took my time to check over the tack—to help steady my nerves and also, just to be sure. All I found was a loose girth, or cinch, to be correct out here.
“Are you not on board yet?”
I turned around, rolling my eyes at him. “I was checking my tack. Is that ok?”
“There’s no need to check it. Unless of course, you don’t trust me?”
“I was taught it as good practice. Just a habit.”
Without wasting another second, I put my foot in the stirrup and swung myself into the saddle. I had ridden Western on a few occasions before and actually quite enjoyed it. The saddles were so comfortable it was like being in an armchair.
I clicked to Cody, easing him forwards. We followed Brady and the other pair into the nearest fenced area. It was a huge space, at least twice the size of any dressage arena I’d ever ridden in. The surface was just the loose dirt of the desert we were in, but the horses seemed more than happy with it. I thought back to my old dressage horse, Bubbles. She would have freaked out at this and the thought of getting her perfect hooves dirty, let alone having no soft rubber to bounce on.
Brady called both of us women into the middle whilst he watched Dave jog around for a while. He shouted out instructions every couple of minutes, altering his legs and hands here and there.
I sat for around half an hour, watching Dave and Sheena strut their stuff. They weren’t bad in all honesty, just a little rusty.
“Right. Your turn.”
I looked down to see amusement written all over his face. He patted Cody’s neck, his dark eyes twinkling. I pursed my lips and nudged Cody forwards.
Walk, jog, lope—none of it a problem. He was like a rocking horse, so easy to sit and relax to. I was grinning from ear to ear by the time we’d had our few minutes of fame. Brady remained silent for the entire duration, his arms folded over his broad chest.
I walked Cody over to him on a loose rein, saying nothing as I halted in front of him.
He pulled his lips into a thin line. “Not bad. You’re typically English though. Relax on the reins, remember his bit has a long shank which puts pressure on his poll. When he gives, you need to loosen the contact. This isn’t dressage. You’re also rather rigid through your back, you’re sitting on the saddle rather than in it. You need to loosen your shoulders, your hips and your legs. Let him carry you rather than you trying to carry him. He is well established in self-carriage if you give him the chance to show it.”
I balked at this words, trying to ignore the stab in my chest. “Anything else?”
“Talk to him more, use your voice. Our horses are all voice trained. Use your weight through your seat to move him instead of your legs. If you’re in tune with him, you will be able to think what you want and he’ll react to it as you picture it in your head. Don’t be a passenger or an instructor, be a partner.”
Receiving constructive criticism had never been a problem for me. To ride at Prix St George’s level dressage, it came with the territory. However, this guy was talking to me in a way which irked me. Whilst his advice made perfect sense to me, the way he said it got under my skin.
I let out a deep breath, determined to take it on board and try and improve. “Ok. Care to watch and advise?”
“Not today. It’s time to get out on the trail. At least I know you can manage him.”
He left me there, mouth agape, as he fetched his own horse from the barn. He never even looked back.