Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

Tanna rolled her eyes. “You’re a real comedian.”

Sutton playfully tapped her arm. “I ain’t joking. Getcha tack, Tex-Mex. We’re gonna have us a little rodeo.”

“Sutton—”

“I’m here, you’re here, we ain’t got nothin’ better to do, right? So catch your horse, get your tack and I’ll set up the barrels.”

On one hand Tanna wanted to defy his bossy behavior; it annoyed the piss out of her. On the other hand, she needed this push. Hadn’t she wanted someone around to help her today? Besides, Sutton knew barrel racing and wouldn’t feed her full of shit about her performance and technique if she sucked.

Oh, yeah, she was gonna suck it up bad. She just knew it.

But there was a spring in her step as she headed to the fence. She tossed two handfuls of oats in a bucket and slipped into the horse pasture.

Mickey’s ears perked up when Tanna called his name. She draped the lead rope over her shoulder and shook the oats.

That did the trick. Mickey trotted over, expecting a treat. Tanna looped on the lead rope and Mickey gave a disgusted snort. “You oughta know by now that everything has a price.” She led him out of the pasture and tied him to the corral while she grabbed her brush, saddle pad, saddle and training bridle.

When preparing him to ride, Mickey tried to bump her, she reacted instinctively, just like she used to—without fear. She shoved him back. “Dammit, Mickey. Behave.”

He snorted and blew out a noseful of snot.

“Thank you so much for that. Jerk.” Tanna brushed the dirt from his back and then smoothed her hand over the hide to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. She settled the saddle pad, positioned the saddle and fastened the cinch. She slipped the headstall over his head and inserted the snaffle bit into his mouth. Then she tied the reins around the saddle horn while she rechecked the cinch.

Sutton yelled over the fence. “How long’s it take to warm him up?”

“About ten minutes since I already rode him today.” She mounted up and Mickey went straight for the hay on the other side of the fence. “No way.” Tanna reined him back. “Work first. Then food.” Mickey continued to fight her; she continued to show him who was boss.

As soon as they were out in the pasture, the other horses showed up to run alongside Mickey. Mostly to taunt him that they could scatter at will and he was tethered. Even though Mickey wasn’t permanently boarded here, he’d taken the role of pack leader when he was.

Tanna urged him to a good clip. Bouncing along the rocky terrain, that niggling fear returned. One slip of his hooves at this speed and they could be on the ground, grinding to a halt in a mix of broken bones at the bottom of the ridge.

“Whoa.” Mickey stopped with little reining effort.

Then they loped.

Trotted.

Galloped.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Sutton had opened the gate to the corral and sat on the inside ledge where the electronic timers were placed at an event. The barrels were set up. Knowing Sutton, even the dirt had been raked.

You can do this.

Run ’em fast, run ’em hard.

Tanna blew out a breath and sat deep in her saddle.

She used Celia’s starting command. “Run ’em, Mickey.”

They were off like a shot and for once, she didn’t pull back.

Mickey knew exactly what to do. At this speed his body quivered with excitement as she directed him to the left barrel first. The corral seemed too close and she had that split-second image of crashing headfirst into it. But when she pulled on the outside rein to direct Mickey’s body to come out of the turn, he kept his head up and cut around the barrel. While she kept a decent seat, her body wasn’t in tune with Mickey’s.

Focus.

Her heart thumped as they approached the second barrel. At this speed it took every bit of courage to keep her eyes open. She gritted her teeth so hard pain shot through her skull.

Not gonna fall.

Not gonna fail.

Then they were in that breathless moment in the pocket where it seemed the horse was nearly on plane with the ground. Tanna kept her shoulders aligned with Mickey’s, not leaning too far in or too far out, switching the pressure on the rein from the inside to the outside.

Heading toward the last barrel. Mickey went into his turn too fast, making it too wide and in that instant Tanna knew why Celia’d had no luck shaving time off her scores. Slicing was almost impossible to retrain in a barrel horse.

Even as that thought raced through her mind, she kicked him into a gallop. Mickey tore down the dirt to the arena exit. “Whoa.” The horse could stop on a dime, she’d give him that much—and after he settled a bit, they loped to the outer side of the corral where Sutton sat.

She squinted at him. “Well?”

“Twenty-eight point three.”

This time last year she would’ve been devastated with that time—even in practice runs. But now . . . she’d take it.

Sutton held up his hand. “Slap me some skin, sista. That’s what I’m talking about. You did it! You cranked on the speed.”

Tanna high-fived him. “Turn and burn, baby.”

“Turn and burn,” he repeated with a grin. “You ready to go again?”

“Yep. But first, what did you see, as far as mistakes?”

“Until you do a few more runs, I can’t separate horse and rider.”

“Gotcha.” Tanna turned Mickey to the right and they trotted to where the alleyway would begin if they were in an arena. She wanted to test his anticipation level.